THE STAR OF THE NORTH. W. U. JACODV, rr>prieur.] VOLUME 11. STAR OF THE NORTH. rvßLrmnro KYEHY WEDNESDAY BY MM, JL JACOBY, Office oil Main St, tnl Agjinie below Market, TERMS:—TwoDollaTsperannum if pakl ■within aix months from tire lime-of subscrib ing: two dollars ami tilty-cls-iif not paid with in the year. No subscription taken for a less period than six months; tro discontinuance permitted until all arrearages are paid, un fess at the option of tire editor. The If i vis if adveitising will he as fallows : One square, twelve lines, three litrreß, St OO Every subsequent insertion, 25 One square, three months, 3 00 One year, '. . . 8 (H) Choice IJoetrn. IJIE 01# SCHOOL lIOISE. BV MARY I.OBBIXS. t'lose by the wide unshaded street, A step beyond the wood, Just yonder where the two roads meet, Our old brown school-house stood. j No beauty decked its lowly roof, Its rough unpadded side,, As old and grey, it stood aloof From lashtou's restless tides. But close beside it was the wood, Our boundless playhouse stored With every p easaut thing, and good, That childish hands could hoard. There, summer, noon, and brie! recess, j Beneath the oaks, we played, Or pluck the pale-wood Hewers to press, j Or rustic arbors made. And something in the life we led, Some nameless subtle spell, Even on our books its sunshine shed j We loved them all so well. What dreaois of all we'd be and do, Each thumbworn page unrolled ! What glorious futures beckoned through Those walls smoke stained and old ! We saw not that a spectre stood Among those phantoms bright, And pointed where beside the wood, The grave stone glimmered white. That old brown school house —I can still ■ Its homely face recall ; The broken | ar.es. notched window sill, > The noon-marked desk, and all; Remembering what a happy throng Of boys and girls once met Together there with rtiirth and song, Untouched by care as yet. The graves that just behind it lay, The quiet, grass grown graves, . I low often at the close of day, 'We walked among their waves. Ah ! some who walked t! ere with us then And loved the quiet spot, In grass grown graves for years have lain, Their bright dreams all forgot. i And sometimes, when I sadly gaze Upon the altered spot, And dream of those past sunny days, Those dear ones who are not. ! I think it meet that shadowy wood, And school house old and grey, And even the graves that near it stood, ! Should all have passed away. Still on the wide unshaded street, The wagons come and go; But yonder where the two roails meet, j Stands no brown school house low ; And they who met there day by day, i A happy childish brood, * j No more together will they play, In field or mossy wood. Yet pleasant memories are ours— They cannot change nor fade— Of summers when we gathered flowers, Beneath that vanished shade. BIBMCAI. AUTHORITY —Mr. Justice Wood-' wood, of the Supreme Court of Petinsylva- 1 sua, in a recent address before the Pltiladel- ! phia Law Academy, stated that he found it j impossible, on one occasion when he was j practicing law. by any reasoning of his own \ to dissuade an old man client from convey ing his estate to his sons and sons-in-law in consideration ol their bond to support him nnd his wife for life ; bui remembering that he was a reverential reader of the Bible j the Judge turned to the 33d chapter of Ec- { clesias'icus, and read to the old man as follows : "Give not thy son and his wife thy bro- ther and friend, power over thee, whilst thou -4ivest, and give not thy goods to another, lest it repent thee and thou entreat for the same again. "As long as thou livest and hast breath in thee give not thyself over to any. For tetter it is that thy children Should seek to (ftse, than thou shouldst stand to their cour tesy. At the time when thou shall end thy days arid finish thy life, distribute thine in heritance. ' " Are those words in the Bible ?" asked the Aid man. "Indeed they are," replied the Judge : "though they occur in one of the Apocrtphal Books." "Nor matter for that," he repped ; 1 I will take the advice/' And the scqpal proved, added the Judge, that it was weft he did. A LUCKY PURCHASE.—A man in New York recently bought p clock at auction for fifty cents. About A week ago he sold the clock to another man, who after taking it home, discovered that ft looking-glass in the back of the clock was brriken. He took out the glass to have it repftteed by a new one, when he discovereC,r.otes ol the Bank ol England to the amoaß of ten thousand dol lars. It is reported iftqt the heirs of the estate to which the are go ing to commence an action fortije recovery of the money. A PERSON having occasion to notify doc tor to visit his wife, said to him as he was stepping into his chaise, "Now, doctor, you'll drive on to kill won't you?" "Yq# certainly," replied the doctor." BLOOMSBURG. COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY. NQVEMBER 2, 1859. Rinaldo and Lucinda—A Modern Romance. BY FHARPSTICKS. CHAPTER f. 'Tvras night, and dark as a coal pit. The rain poured down on terra flrma like onto a pack of hungry wolves upon a string of sausages, and the thunder kicked up a rum pus similar in sound to that of an empty , hogshead filled with pebbles about the size of a prece of cheese, plunging and ttimb ling down a frightful precipice of unfathom able depth, and the bright swords of the murky clouds plunged downward toward , the earth as if trying to bore gimlet holes : into some potato patch for the accornrao- I datron of live larmer. The wind smiled aloud almost demonia cally, as if conscious of ita superhuman strength to Uy prostrate the gentle holly hock, cabbage plant and hen-coop; all na j ture was attacked by a spasmodic convul sion, which seemed to be beyond the pow er ol an M. D. to allay. CHAPTER 11. While nature was cutting the didoes in the preceeding chapter, there sat at the stained glass window of a mortgaged man sion (situated upon the summit of a lofty eminence, and closely surrounded by the peaks of far distant mountains, whose sides were enshrouded by the green foliage of innumerable dead trees and stumps, whose fibred roots were stretched out like fisher man's net left to dry in the sun, whose genial warmth imparted life to the indefati gable spider,) a lovely maiden of faultless proportions, only five leet ten, by thunder, with o}os lika unto two knot holes in a slab Her hair was of the color of the glowing embers on a Christmas hearth, and hung over her shoulders of alabaster freckless like unto several cows' tails thrown care lessly over a fence. She sat apparently musing, with a cu cumber in Iter hand, and a torn cat on her knee, when the silence was broken by the monotonous sound of a Jew's harp at the window. Her eyes started from their sockets, and she was about to fall prostrate upon the floor, whan, at the moment, a flash of lightning revealed to her the form ol tier devoted Rinaldo at the window, and in an instant she was at his side, when he threw his ponderous arms around her symmetrical form and pressed her to his stomach for the lapse of a min ute without intermission. Overcome at length by latigue he wilted, and his arms dropped to his side like unto the closing of a pair of tongs, when he belched forth in the following strain, which can be appreci ated by none save lovers : "Dear Lucinda ! Beautilul Lucinda! what have 1 not suffered for three ? How I have waded streams, climbed mountains and jumped fences ! How I have stubbed my toe more than a hundred times against some infernal stick, stone, or something of that kind, and barked my nose against some cussed missile, ail for thy sake, Lucinda.— Speak ! and say you'll be mine. Fly to the land of the rhinoceros, hy ppopotamus and gyasticntis, where we may enjoy our love undisturbed 'neath a '.ropicul sun. Do this and spare me, ah !" A bright tear stood sparkling in the right corner of her left eye—agitation seemed to have laken possession of her vety soul— her frame quivered like a plate of jelly, and she was about to collapse, when they were startled by the sound of something of quashy nature tailing at their feet, and in an instant they were covered with pumpkin seeds. 'Twas her pa throwing pumpkins. Rinaldo attempted to escape by escaling the pickets, but unfortunately his coat tail caught, and he was at the mercy of the old man's rage, who renewed the attack with another shower of pumpkins and other veg etables too numerous to mention, which caused him to belch lorth in the Rgony ol despair. Lucinda seeing all her earthly hopes vanish—her dear Rinaldo suffering the penalty of his rash presumption, and fearing the frenzy and wrath of her pa, made a lunge for the clothes line—seized a clothes pin nnd plunged it into her buzzum. Rinaldo, observing this, extricated himself by a desperate effort, rushed to the wood shed and plunged head first into the swill barrel. The old man flew to the scene of the first slaughter—gazed with a frightful look upon the mutilated carcass of his be- 1 loved daughter for a moment, and then rushed to the mansion of his former bliss— opened the pantry, seized a bottle, and re galed himself with a horn of old rye. HEKOI-M OT POVERT. —Talking about the heroism displayed upon tbe field of battle, what is that compared to the heroism of poverty? Think a minute over the idea.— The hod carrier who supports himself and a family ot eight children and two dogs on a dollar a day, displays more true heroism than is required to effect a conquest on a battle field. General Sabre will lace a bat tery of a hundred guns without flinching, but if called upon to lace an unpaid creditor four times a week, as Trowel the bricklayer does, when out of work, he would grow low-spirited and take to arsenic in a fort night. The heroism of the battle field is kept up by brass drums, clarionets, and praise from the newspapers. Such heroism may or may not be a belter principle ; but there is no questioning the courage required in the prosaic duties of life—the bringing up a family by eheddir.g perspiration at the rate of ten cents an hour. Is there? "I'M TIIINE TILL DEATH," as the rope said to the man about to be hanged. What a Newspaper does for Nothilg. The following article should be read and pondered well by evety man who takes a newspaper without paying for it. The result of my observation enables mo to state, as a fact, that the publishers of newspapers aTe more poorly rewarded than any class of men in the United Stales, who invest an equal amount of labor, capital, and thought. They are expected to do more service for less pay, to stand more sponging, and "dead-heading," to puff and defend more people without fee or hope of reward, than any other class. They credit wider and longer; get oftoner j cheated; suffer more pecuniary loss; are ofieuer the victims of misplaced confidence than any other calling in the community People pay a printer's bill more reluctantly than any other. It goes harder with them to expend a dollar on a valuable newspaper than ten on a valueless gewgaw; yet, every body avails himself of the use of the editor's pen and printer's ink. How many professional and political rep utations and fortunes have been made and sustained by the friendly, though unrequit ed pen of the editor ? How many embryo towns and cities have been brought into notice, and puffed into prosperity by the press? How many railroads now in success ful operation would have foundered but for the assistance of the "lever that moves the world ;" in short, what branch of industry or activity has not been promoted, stimula ted by the press? And who has tendered it more than a mis erable pittance for its mighty services? The bazars of fashion and the haunts of appetite and dissipation, are thronged with an oagor crowd, bearing gold in their palms, and the commodities there needed are sold at enor mous profits, though intrinsically worthless, and paid for with scrupulous punctuality ; while the counting-room of the newspaper is the seat of jewing, cheapening, trades, orders, and pennies. It is made a point of honor to liquidate a grog bill, but not of dis honor to repudiate a printer's bill. THE KNICKERBOCKER tells the following good story of an interview of an American with the Emperor of Brazil: " I was suddenly aroused by a hearty voice addressing me in French. 'You have rather an obstinate mule there.' I looked up. In front of me was a young man in a cocked hat and dark undress uniform,moun ted upon soine animal which, from my then confused condition, I cannot now feel sure was of the nature of some of the lan cers had passed me ; others were endeav oring to force the narrow passage on one side. What I replied to this remark, or whether I replied at all, I know not. 'Use your Bpurs,' said the same voice, and then, as if suddenly aware of my destitute pre dicament, it added, 'Well, a lance.' An order was given to one of the soldiers at my side, who dropped his lance to the pos ition of a charge., and obeyed at once. At the application' of the cold steel, my mule made a bound, the counterpart of his acro batic performance on the way up. I re member striking heavily against somebody; it may have been the Emperor, or only one of the guards. I heard loud laughs, and shouts, and screams. I have a dim percep tion of seeing women, baggage, and many mules. Something was overturned, and then all became dark before my eyes. How long I remained unconscious I can not tell—probably not more than a few minutes. On opening my eyes, 1 found myself upon the ground, my shoulders sup ported by one of the soldiers, while a sec ond was sopping my head with a handker chief wet with cold water. My clothes were muddy and torn in several places. In the middle of the path, as unconcerned as if nothing had happened, or as I thought,' with a diabolical leer in his eye, stood the wretched cause of my troubles. At my ride, surrounded by several ladies and offi cers in uniform, was the same person who had addressed me just before the accident. As I looked around and made attempts to rise, he said, 'Ah, you feel better; it was no; much after all.' Whatever I may have thought, I coincided in the opinion by re- j plying, 'A mere trifle.' 'Monsieur is Eng. lish ?' he asked. 'Non. Monsieur, Ameri- j can.' 'Where are you going?' 'To Rio, j Monsieur.' 'Alone ?' 'No, Monsieur, 1 havo i some friends somewhere about here.' 'Ah, i yes ; I met them a few minutes ago on the : other side of the mountain ; Baron was | with them. Well, take care of yourself, for there are places on the way down where a fall will not be so pleasant as here. Adieu.' With these parting words and a hearty laugh the Emperor (for he it was) mounted, and in a few seconds the cavalcade was hid from my sight by a turn in the pathway.' A GREEN good natrred money-making up country fellow, who said everything dryly, "got things fixed," and struck up a bargain for matrimony. Having no particular re gard for appeatances, the parties agreed to employ a not over-wise country Justice to put on the tackling. He commenced the ceremonies by remarking that "it was cus tomary on such occasions to commence with a prayer, but he believed that he would omit that." After tying the knot, he said "it was customary to give the mar ried couple some advice, but he believed that he would omit that. It was customary, too, to kiss the bride, but he would omit that also." The ceremony being ended, the bridegroom took the justice by the button hole and clapping his finger on his nose, said" Squire it' 6 customary to give the mag istrate fire dollars—tut 1 believe I'll omit that." Truth and night-—Cod aid oar Country. OCIObER. Season of soft sun and miid aire—of falL ing leaves and ripened crops. Fruitition of i the year! When gathered haTvests swell the barns and fill the cellars so that (here shall be no winter of want or discontent.— ! The early morning sparkles with Irosl or ' dew-drops, at noon the sun's rays reach us delightfully tempered by the haiy atmos | phere; and the cool evening, bringing the family round the bright fire, closes the day with charming contrasts. But like the flowers, and a thousand things neat us, the beautiful changes, and the peculiarities they bring, are unregarded by too many j They are gradual, and the well tempered mind falls into unison with them, and ex pands with the pleasing trnths they teach. With us who are pent up by bricks and mortar, the change of seasons has not the fascination it has to the dweller in the coun try. Trade and traffic engross our sordid attention. We have the bright and beauti ful pass by without a shade of regret in our eager thirst for gain—the only sunshine gleaming for our delighted eyes being the glare of gold, and our mtiric its tinkling sound. Many, however, who have always lived in the country, know little country life. They forget that "There's a beauty all around our paths, If but our watchful eyes Can trace it midst familiar things, And through their lowly guise." The grass grows at their feet, but they have only deemed it fit to tread upon, or their cattle to graze; that it is the basis of all our prosperty and sustains the world, are facts which have never occupied their thoughts. The tree drops its foliage on the earth, and presents its ' naked branches to winter storms and winds, yet they have not reflected upon the office of the leaf in per fecting the fruit, or in contributing to their own comfort and health. The voices of nature are peculiar '.o the months, and change with the seasons; bat they regard them not, though they are lull of attraction and lessons of wisdom to be observing mind. How many have passed early life near a pine wood, the grand tem ple of nature, and yet never sat in silent contemplation amid the ever returning mur murs among its branches, like the dull dis tant sound of marching armies or mighty ocean waves washing a trenching shore ! How many near an ancient forest of oaks see in it excellent timber only for railroad ties or ships, or fuel for the fire—forgetting its effect in the landscape, its wings of shel ter, or iu indtspensubitify as an a'.mosphcr-, ic agent. The springs flow on in their joy ous course, and they drink and are Ratified; or the hills are parched, the watercourses dry, and they famish; yet without pausing to trace the cause of either, and live a list less anil unobserving life. Nothing seems ' to arrest their attention or inform the mind, j Such should not be the case. We ought to < look at not only what is useful, but what is beautiful, and good, and true—and the j change of the months and the return of the ' seasons ever bring food to the reflective j minds. These are the suggestions which October brings to us to-day; because Octo- j ber will faithfully discharge its offices of the season, and be true to i'self. Such should ; be our fidelity.— Harrisburg Telegraph. j We're Got a Baby. The following letter which bears internal ; evidence of being a bona fide.epistle, was picked up in one of the streets of Ulica, New York, recently: UTICA, (N. Y ) May Hlh, 1859. Brother and Sister Stebbins, —We've got a lire baby at our house, a little girl baby— j that's so. How I wish this might find you j in the same situation. But our baby is not one of your common babies. She laughs (and cries) so pretty you can have no idea how handsome she is. it is decided by the ' best of Judges (her mother and me) that she is the handsomest child that ever lived; and every body says, "What a pretty child I —how much she looks like her father." ; Children will resemble their parents you j know. I wouldn't take twenty dollars for I her; no sir, no temptation. Perhaps you j think I'm a fool. Who cares—guess you'd j be a fool if you had such a baby. I wish 1 your domestic affairs would come to a | crisis (cry-sis.) You must excuse all mis-' takes, for I'm so delighted and transported 1 that I expect there is a right smart chauce j that I may go crazy. Why you cant think how I acted the day the little stranger came along. Mrs. Broad man anil 1 were the attending physicians, anil what she didn't know I didn't either Felt a little considerable scared; looked for my hat, two, three several times, and won dered how far it was to Texas. But after the excitement was over wasn't 1 tickled some. If it hadn't been for that white hat of mine I couldn't have told which end my head was on. I went up stairs a dozen times or less after my hat—went and looked at the baby anil forgot it every lime. Sold a man some goods on "tick," and charged him to 'One baby sixpence per ponnd.' But I'm calmer new • think I shall en tirely recover. Begin to think that baby ain't such a cunning thing alter all. It's quite a night institution. It takes one-halt the bed, and right in the middle, and 1 have to sleep all around on the edges. Can't roll over and kick as I used to—might wake up the baby. And if I just happened to roll on the little thing in the night, then there's a luss, for my wife would make a great ado if I should kill that baby. She sleeps with one eye open. I'll tell you how I get along at nights.— The other night I went to bed as usual, got into a snoose, when my wife'called ' John ! John ! there's a moose in my band box, and it will ruin my bonnet." Wall 1 rolls off the bed-rail and mate away for the band box Mouse takes the hint and leaves and I bal ance myself on the bed-rail again, go to sleep, dream of the old song which says, "Bless me this is pleasant, riding on a rail." Bat sooa I am awakened by my wife (watchful creature; calling, "John! I guess that mouse is in the lower bureau drawer, where all the baby's things are." Bo I got up once more, and make a plunge for the bureau, and mouse leaves as | usual, while f, like the Quaker, wish for some profane person to d—n that mouse.— j Well, I got on the rail once more and dream of sending to Chicago for mouse ' traps. Well, f dream away awhile, till I am once mere awakened by the old familiar call, "John ! John ! the baby wants tending to." Well, I sit up and hold the light, while she ■ Well, no matter, you know what I mean. But I must keep>till and stand it *. ! for the dear little baby—mother's precious lamb. Good bys ; yours jas much as possible. DIOOTON. P. S.—Our baby's namejis Fanny Louisa. N. B.—Don't forget the baby's name. The Boaod Daneei. Under the head |of ' round dar.ces," the Baltimore American includes polkas, schot tishes, redowas, mazourkas, German waltz es, &c., and, uses plain language in pictur ing them asjindelicate and indecent: We will suppose Mr. and| t Mrs. X. to be at home. Entering the parlor of their fine house, they discover their eldest daughter, a hand BO we sprightlyp*irl of sixteen, stand ing on the polished, uncarpeted floor. She is not alone. In close proximity is seen a miserable caricature of humanity. The crea ture is an exact copy of a tailor's print.— Its clothes are of the latest cut and of per fect fit. Its hands are gloved, its feet shine in patent leather. Its abundant hair, pro perly greased and elaborately curled, is parted most nicely from the center of its low forehead along the top of its head down to the very nape of its neck. From its jaws hang shaggy whiskers. Its shirt bosom has many horizontal plaits. Its expression is conceited, its demeanor impertinent. Is it a human being or a French poodle ? While Mr. and Mrs. X. are asking them selves this question, the poodle seizes their daughter closely about the waist, and whirls her around the room. Her arm and head repose on the dog's shoulder, and her breast is pressed close to his breast. In this atti tude they move through the mazes of the waltz. But suddenly the waltz ceases, and a new and abominable series of movements begin. Hugging each other more tightly than ever, the dog backs the girl from one er.d of the room to the other, the girt backs the dog, then they wriggle, they twist, they I squirm, they bob up and down, they go through motions in the last degree object ionable, because of their indecency. All this time the pair do not relax their em brace; on the contrary, it is tightened, and so, with heated blood, with panting breath, bosom heaving against bosom, and limb pressing against limb, the round dance is executed in the face of the astounded and enraged Mr. and Mrs. X. Supposing this performance to be the first the mortified parents had ever witnessed, or heard of, what would be the result? The result would be that the French poodle would leave the house with a very significant assurance that he was not a fit companion for virtuous women. Yet Mr. and Mrs. X. will take their daugh ters to the Virginia Springs, to Cape May, Saratoga, or Newport, and see them night alter night locked fast in the embrace of ; men of whose character they know little, | perhaps nothing, and smile at the disgusting ; exhibition. Nay, it would be a source ol j extreme mortification if no one should ask ! the Misses X. to participate in the indeli j cate performance. And what is true of ' Planter X. and his wife, is equally true of ! Manufacturer T. and Merchant Z. and their ] wives. Wherever you find people who are ' anxious to ape the fashions, you will find I their daughters indulging in the lascivious i excitement of the round dances. Nay, worse ' than this. You will find people well edu cated and well bred, who will not permit their own daughters to indulge in these dances, countenancing them by their pres ence and tacit approval. And thus, year af ter year, the round dances continue to be practiced in all fashionable places and cir cles, increasing more and more in freedom and license, until now there is scarcely any liberty a aide-whiskered puppy may not take with a young lady, provided he does it in public. As a specimen of the past utility of the Logio Class in the University of Edingurgh, an acecdote is recorded, in which the son of a Baronet, who resided not far from town, acted a conspicuous part. He was called up by the worthy Professor of the time, and asked the question. "Can a man see without eyes?" "Yes sir," was the prompt answer. "How sir?" cried the amazed Professor, "can a man, see without eyes? Pray, sir, how do you make that out? "He can see with one sir," replied the ready-witted youth; and the whole class shouted with delight at bis tri umph over metaphysics. "I do not wish your assertions to pass for truth, madam." "You can easily prevent it, sir, by repeating them yourself." LIOGR OH. Why should sullen clouds of sadness Frown upon thy yout'hlnl face ? Why, when summer's joy and gladness, Smiles and breaths in every place ? Time enough for sobs and sighing, When lite's pleasures are all gor.e, But when these remain undying, Nature's cry is, laugh, laugh on ! Why should timid hearts stand blushing,' Fearing, lingering on the plain ? While tire merry streams are gushing, Dancing in their glee again. Time enough to fear life's troubles, When unfriended and alone; But when trials are but bubbles, Let them pasß, and s'.ili laugh on ! Why those down-cast eyes despairing, Withering care and chilling looks ? While the lily blooms unceasing, Smiling by the laughing brooks ; Time enough to fear the wringing, Sorrow brings in dreary tone, But wkita Hummer birds ara singing. All their music says, laugh on ! Why despond when songs of glandness Echo through the forest trees ? When no moaning zephry's sadness, Singing through the verdant leaves ; Time enough—lor life is wnsting, Bid it not in huste be gone, Urge it not—'tis quickly hasting, To retain it, laugh, laugh on ! 'Look aloft,' when theughts are swelling, Bursting every heart-felt tie; Listening stars your fears are telling, Wafting them beyond the sky ! Vex not then thy heart with sorrow, Sigh not then in mournful tone ; Think not of the coming morrow, While 1 live, I say, laugh on ! An Exciting Scene. Years ago when I was a youngster, I be came an assistant of Dr. B , the superintend ent of a public insane asylum. As in all insane asylums some of the patients were docile, and tractable, and had the treedom of the high-walled garden, while others, being violent and dangerous in their mad ness, were confined to their rooms. Some times one of the last named gentlemen would get lonse, a fact which ho usually announced by breaking things generally, upon which announcement the doctor would repair to the spot at which he was "elevat ing the ancient Henry," and advancing up on him with a steadfast gaze, would march him off to his room. We had one lunatic by the name of Jones, large and strong as an ostrich. He had broken out of his room two or three times, but had always gone back dociley when any of us made our ap pearance. The asylum had a saloon in the centre with a door at each end; and one of the doors requiring fixing, once upon a time, a carpenter was engaged upon it, when in trundled Mr. Jor.es, and quietly possessed himself of a long sharp chisel. When the carpenter looked around, the madman gave a grin, poked the chisel at hint; where upon the terrified man of chips scuttled out and locked the door—then, while the enemy was battering away at it, he rushed around and locked the door at the other end. Having thus caged Jones, he gave the alarm; and I, supposing it was an ordinary case, which I could control, unlocked the door and entered boldly, whereupon he made a rush at me, I incontinently bolted. The doctor was sent for. He came, recon noiiering through the key-hole, and ascer taining the enemy was at the other end of the room he opened the door, and saw at once that he could do nothing with the loose maniac. Here was apparently a di lemma. A crazy individual, as strong as a horse, perfectly uncontrolable, and armed with a weapon. To capture him by force was a difficult and dangerous undertaking, and to starve him out would be a tedious affair. The doctor did not hesitate long. "Alfred," said he, "go down into the sur gery, fill the larget syringe with hartshorn, and bring it up." | I caught the idea,—rushed down and brought back a quart syringe with harls ! horn diluted—for 1 don't want to kill the man. Then the doctor, the carpenter, and myself formed an army of invasion. We threw open the door and entered in the following battle array: I being the shortest of the three, marched first, holding a chair in front of me by the back, so that the legs might keep off a rush if our popgun flashed in the pan. Then came the carpeu- I ter, with the syringe resting on my shoulder like a flying artillery. Finally, in the rear, in the safest place, like all great generals, came Dr. B. The lunatic sat at the other end of the hall on a chair, eyeing us keenly and sav agely. Slowly, very slowly, we advanced towards him. The nearer we got the more wicked that chisel looked, and the handle seemed to increase, until it was very long. When we got within a lew feet of him, he jumped up, and sprang towards me. Whiz! spatter! splash ! went the quart of harts horn into his countenance—down he went like a log—it would have knocked down a battalion ; and while he was catching his breath we caught him.— Recollections of a Physician. AN industrious tradesman having taken a new apprentice, awoke him at a very early hour on the first morning by calling out that the family were silting down to the table. "Thank you," said the boy, as he turned over in bed to adjust himself for a new nap, "thank you, I never eat anything in the night!" The difference between an attempted ho micide and hog killing: One is an assault with intent to kill, the other is a kill with iufent to salt. [Two Dollars per Antnft NUMBER 43, Broderick nnd Terry. A correspondence of the New York 1 ri ferine, writing from San Francisco, under the date of September 12th, 1859, gives the fol lowing account of the circumstances which led to the duel, (then anticipated:) "Terry is a Texan, and an ultra Southern politician, and during a long residence in the State, he has, of course, been a bitter political enemy of Broderick, the leader of the Northern faction ol the Democracy,— This political hostility prepared the way for the personal quarrel which arose about the Ist ol July, and led to this duel. Broderick, while at the table of the International Hotel, said that Terry, who had formerly been Chief Justice of our Supreme Court, was a corrupt man. A friend of the latter, a Mr. Perley, requested Broderick not to speak in that style at a public table : Broderick re peated the language. For this, Perley chal lenged him; hut Brodariok refused to fight, first, because Mr. Perley was a British sub ject, not an American; secondly, because Mr. Perley vi as not his equal in political position; and, thirdly, because the interest of his party demanded that he should not fight until after the election. An account of that aflair may be lound in thel'/tfeunsof July 28th. "Between the Ist of July and .he 7th of September, the political canvass was ao companied by the bitterest personalities, and Broderick in his speeches did not spare the name of Terry. The latter was ultra Southern in his morality, as weil as in his politics. On the morning after the Bth, the day after election, before breakfast, while Broderick was still in the height of his rage and mortification over the first news of tho overwhelming deleat of his party, he re ceived a polite little note from Terry, to which none ol the objects made to Parley's challenge would apply. "David S. Terry is a lawyer, about -10 y'ra of age. The only public position which he ever held here was Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, a position for which he was not fit lor in either learning, talent or moral character. He was on the bench during the Vigilance Committee time, and he was for a lor.g time held a prisoner by that body for having stabbed a member of the Commit tee. He is very brave, but coarse, and his general reputation is that of an honest man, who, while on the bench, could never be approached with offers of bribery. •'Rumor says it was understood several weeks ago between Terry, Gwin, and Den ver, that they should all challenge Broder ick in succession. Gwin is no shooter, and it were better for him, if he must fight, to be third on the list; but Denver is reputed to be a formidable antagonist in a duel— cool, and a good shot. He killed Edward Gilbert, the editor of The Allr, in 1852, for ridiculing Bigler, to whom he (Denver) was then Secretary of State." now the Pyramids Were Built. A correspondent suggests that the mode by which the 6tones used in building the pyramids of Egypt were raised to their places, was by piling up immense inclined planes of sand, up which the blocks were pushed on rollers. The statement, often repeated, on high authority, that the pyra mids were built before the Egyptians ac quired the art of writing hieroglyphics, however, which they do contain, do not convey that full knowledge of the state of the arts among them, at the time the pyra mids were constructed, which is to be lear ned from the writings and pictures in their tombs and temples, in regard to the state of their arts at a subsequent period. But we have the less valuable authority of Herodo tus, that the blocks of stones were lifted from one course to the other, up the steps ol the pyramid. Remains of Cheops' grand causeway, for transporting the blocks quar ried from the rocks on the east bank, are still seen leading up to the great pyramid from the plain—a shapeless ridge of ruin ous masonry and sand. According to Her odotus, it was 1,000 yards long, 60 feet wide, and 48 feet high ; was adorned with figures of animals, and was a work of ten years. Some of the stone used for the co ping over the passages are seven feet thick, and more than 17 feet long. Lifting these stones up the side of a pyramid 450 feet high, was certainly a work of great labor; but as a feat of engineering, it was mere child's play compared with some of tho trumphs of modern science and skill—for instance, lifting the Meuai bridge on to its piers, or raising ou end, and placing on its pedestal, the monstrous monolith which adorns the city of St. Petersburg. A LOVE-SICK swain, in order more fully to ascertain the sentiments of his lady-love, closed the letter with the following verse: "If you were a dog and 1 was a hog A rootin' away in the yard ; If the old man should say drive that hog away VVould you worry or bite very hard V' An exchange says a sentiment so sublime deserves an answer, and venturos to sup pose the lady's reply : "When I am a dog and you are a hog, A wandering from the sly, I'd not breathe a bark, but merely remark, "Go it, porkie! root, hog, or die!" MEN often abstain from the grosser vices as too coarse and common for their appe tites, while the vices that are frosted and ornamented are served up to them as deli | caciea. I To get angry at nothing, and to be sur j prised at nothing, are said to constitue two steps towards perfection.
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