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1?. ' II. JACOBT, Proprietor.
Truth and Riht God and oar Country.
Tw Dollars per Annua.
BLOOMS BURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER. 28, I860,
A & V -
STAR OF THE NORTH
miLIIEtD KTKBr WIDSIiriT IT
Office on 3Iain St., 3rd Sqnarc below Market,
TERMS : Two Dollars per annum if paid
within six months Irom the lima of subscri
bing : two dollars and titty cents it not paid
within the1 year. No subscription taken fur
a 1im period than fix months; no discon
tinuances permitted until all arrearages are
paid, unlets at the option of the editor.
fl'ht let ms vj advertising will be as follow :
Oue square, twelve line, three times, SI 00
Every subsequent insertion, 25
Oue square, three months 3 00
Jii9 year, . . . .
. 8 IK)
BE E.imST. . '
Be earnest in thy calling,
Whatever it may be
Time's amis an eve (falling.
AuJ wilt not wait fur thee !
. With real and vigor labor, ,
. And thou will surely rie ;.
- Oil. ufltr um ill jr neighbor .
To bear away the prize !
But form thy purpose graeiy
,-,- lueu quickly push along, .
sAud prosecute it bravely,
. . . With resolution strong.
. .. , , Thou wilt no: be defeated, .
.. , B-tJpresing firmly on.
.. . , F.ud all at ln;;th completed--Thine
object f u ly wot; I
' V earnest in devotion,
" ' Old age l drawing nar ;
r'A bubble ou Time' ocean,
: Thou soon wi I disappear !
In practice, and in spirit.
' Here worship thou the Lord,
- Anl thou shall then inherit
A rih mid dre reward.
""life for life.
A TALE or Tilt alCVOUJriOM-
Fattier, i there no hope for hint ! I
the Brvish uei eral so hearties as K con
demn aim 'no noble, o brave, e young, to
' ww ittibbi wimjfT ' - -
Three word were spoken by a pale tear
fnl girl, of great bfcty, in the midJle per
tiiu ot the Revolution which gave freedom
hnmf on our beloved soil. During that
period whn cruelly was bnt too prevalent
among both parties when ories, Amur--hh
born, if possible, were mow relentless
4 han ihe British.
Hie father, a noble looking man of mid
vile turned a glane out of the window
l unU Ixng Ilanl Sound, the green wa
ters ef which could be een spafkling be
yond a grove that fronted hi dwelling ienr
Hurl Gte lie turned tn thi to hide from
her hi emotions, for she was hi" only child
end he feared that bet young heart would
break when he should tell her all the pad
tiewa that now lay heavily on hi benrt.
Sneak, father, tell me, is there no hope !
I. will go myself, and kneeling to 'he tyrant
will plead lor the life of him whom I love
only as woman can love," sbs continued.
"Ala ! rr.y chil.l, mercy is dead in the
Itrittsh General" breast hi heart is cal
lons to pity ! I have riLed much by plead
ing ftir him. but for your cake would a!inol
le willing to die in Nathan's place."
'Cruel, cruel fat ! When is he to die !
There must be some hope for hi rescue
" He was a favorite of Wahin;tmi and he is
at White Tlaius ; I will po to him."
A!a! my chi d," said the lather, "you
nust nerve jour self for the news. It is al
ready .oo !ate.','
"Dead I deait '." shrieked the poor girl
'Oh, father, say not so !"
"Alas! my "child I cannot. He was
hung at sunrUe, and was refused even a
tJible to look at ere be was summoned be
fore hia Maker."
For a moment the poor grl stood silent ;
not a tear came Irom her eye, but a wild
light illuminated them. A flh bright as
ire itself gathered over boll; face and brow
she clenched her fair hands together un
til the nails seemed to enter the flesh, and
iu a cold, bitter tone, she shrieked .
-Life for life ! I shall be avenged ! yes,
Child, dear chi'J, be calm," said the
lond parenL , I . .
'"Father, I am calm,' very calm ! Calm
nlmost a be 1 - And I swear be shall be
revenged if my own hands have to reach
ihe tyrant's heart who sealed his doom ! I
1 oveJ, oh, how I loved him ! and were not
our betrothed vows plighted! 1 will act as
m widow as a widow of a soldier ought
ta act " t . -
'JIy dear child, yoo will bring ruin upon
rfurhead.M ' ; ; -". ' ;
"Not yours, father, but to jic what is ruin
r.aw ; . Bat I will net be raL. I will go to
my room and pray, and think of hira who
lies cold in death." ' ; 2 ' " .
She tamed and left the mom, while the
father still stood lookiog froci the window
out upon the - waters, which were dashed
wiih a rising storm, and the nhi trees, which
already began to writhe beneath, the force
of th3 rising galex. Hkb some huge giant
wrest':!? with tome onforseoa n4 myste
rious power. , - ; .
Meanwhile bis daughter had gone op to
hsz room, ia ooe of the chetirlal gable of
Sta o' J fashioned house, and forgetting to
f ray ia the m.ad laciult cl! her wronged
f.tirt, sra &Uo gazing out apoa the torra,
4.rI.Uh was not wilder than tha tuoiult in
htr own hart.
Frcrn her e!evat.?d position she could
lock over tha ireo tc-ps and the seried
trlszitf lite a ba-linrj tee!, marshaled ta
3; c i.l sulphurous flames and
She could see the eddying of Hurl Gale
tossing with whirls the foam caps, while as
driftiw.g snow, in tVe air the breakers
tumbling up against the rocks, as if they
would hide their dangers from the bold
Suddenly the sound of a cannon was
tnaanrt a iwt .Kd InrtlrAr! nnnn fhn nnit slid
saw that a 6hip of war Irtd hove to above
the narrow corse at the Gate. A signal for !
a pilot was flying at .the foretop, and the
hated cross of St. George flew from the
-With one wild cry f fierce delight, the
fair girl bounded from the room.
"lite for lire! Nathan Hall shall be
What was her idea ! : Within nolher
room in the howe was the ctaifctitig f a
brother, who had long since been laid un
der the sod ; and to this room sire Bed, and
was soon arrayed in a suit of such clothing
as the young men generally wear when
they go on a boating expidilion. Without
the IeiM hesitation she cut the long glossy
tresses ol her hair,' and in a brief period
she bore the appearance of any young man
of eighteen! not more than her ase. Hav
iue made these arrangements, with a ra
pidity that only desperate resolve could
cause, she instantly lelt the house, passing
down the avenue before her father's face,
he little thinking that the apparently spruce
young waterman, who choe to breust such
a storm, wa the person of his accomplish
Hurrying down to the boat-house which
fronted th avenne, she loosened one ol
those small, light skiffs, which still are the
mode's oi the pilot at Hurl Gate, hoisted a
small sail, and in a lew moments was out
upon th last of tle flood tide as IrwJy and
boldly as if she were in a nout hhip inswad
of so small and frail a boat. It was noth
ing lov her to brr upon th water, being rear
ed clo.e W it, and hur.dreds of times bad
she beeu darning over the wave-j, but nev
er in such a -ale as thai. Yet coolly she
ous whirlpools and rocks, and hedig to
ward lve - frigate, whitrh, impatient for a
; pilot, foarl already fired another gun.
Within le-s than twenty minutes from
the lime she started she had luffed along
side the man of war. Having caught the
thrown out to her and tautened the boat
she munted the vesel" side and stood
I upon the qu-ir;er deck in the presence of
' the commander.
J ' Are you a pilot?' said the latter, im-
,:l am, sir," was the reply.
Ynng lor such business. Could you
. lake u tkmagh Hurl Gate '
"As well as my lather, who has been a
' pilot heve these 'thirty years," was the re-
"Why did he not come out instead of
' Wilding 4 boy like you in blow as fresh as
J "Because he is laid up with the rheuma
' tijm, sir ; and then he knows I can pilot
i yon through as well as be can. Sir Henry
Cliu;oii knows me, sir."
"Ah, doe T well, that's all right. Can
we bear away yet?"
"No nor within an hour till tbe tide
"That's bad ; ihis gale keeps rising. Is
there no ancorage hereabouts ?"
"No sir, not within twenty miles, where
your ancorage would hold "
. "Then we must go through."
"Yes, sir, as soon as the old tide comes.
I would not risk it till then, for if the cur
rent should catch you on either side of the
bow, you would go on the rocks sure."
"That's true snough young man. Let
me know ihe ery earliest moment we can
"Aye. aye, sir."
' And while the English commander turn
ed off to speak to one of his officers, the pa
triot camly went to the gang-way and look-
! ed over the sides, a. if watching for the
But what was passing in her heart at
There were between three and four hun
dred souls In that ill-fated vessel. She had
lost the only loved one besides her father
on the earth, wheo Nathan Hall was hung
as a spy that morning. She wa not think
ing bow many hearts would be broken by
her intended act, she was not thinkiog of
the mother in England who would soon
mourn for Iier dead. She was only think
ing that she would join him in spirit land,
and that dearly would bis loss be avenged.
For her own life, she cared not not even
did she think of that worshipping father,
who sadly, paced bi's room, believing she
was praying for patience to bear her loss.
Meantime, there were three or four hun
dred hearts beating with gladness that they
bad got over a long and sickening voyage,
aad soon would be anchored in front of the
sheet of green, even though the storm hov
( ruig over them.
: At last, after looking towards the home
ill which she was born she knew it would
bo her last look she turned and went to
tbe commander and said : ' '
' ''Tbe tide is slack, it changes sudden,
and we had better fill away."
The comnatder gave the necessary or
ders to his lieutenant, and next moment
the main topsail, -which tad been staid
aback and the vessel headed', for the nar
row channel where a thousand crafts have
ere this laid their oaken bones.
As she approached the channel, and saw
the black rocks, the whirling: eddies, the
the danger. But so calm and fearless was
the young pilot, that calm re-assurance had
a li-orrre in every heart so clear above the
gale his bugle line voice sounded as be
gave the orders :
"Port steady so luff a point," &c.
Tlrey were more than half trough. The
tumbling breakers of tbe "punch bowel'
and the "hog's back' had been passed a
few hundred fathoms more, and they would
Then one quick glance towards heaven,
and the disguised girl cries :
"Port port hard!"
The helmsman obeyed The ressel
eased off before the wind, and flew on wiih
accumulated speed fore moment, and then
was no more! With a crash that sent her
tall spars tumbling over bow, and sent her
crew reeling to the deck, she brought np on
a huge rock, near a perpendicular shore to
Then, amid the rnsh of waters, the cur
rent of officers, and the shontof frightened
men, was heard the shrill cry A
'If an) of yon survive this wreck, 50 tell
your British General that Nathan Hall has
been avkkrkd ! and that by a woman too!
Sink ! sii.k ! and my curses go with you
And before a hand could have reached
her, had they wished it, she leaped into the
eddying tide, and ere she sank, the proud
ship with its shivered spars and sails, its
flag still flying, and its crew of stout men,
was going down in the cold dark waters,
and the murdered Nathan Hall was aven
ged. And thus this brief sketch is closed. The
guns of the sunken frigate rest beneath the
tide of Hurl Gate ; but the memory ol the
Patriot Pilot livea in more than one breast
that Old Blind IIos."
The Mobile Register is responsible for
the following mirth provoking incident :
For twenty three years old Jake Willard
uau cuiuvaieu .-. t oi.i:..
and drawn therefrom a support for self and
wife. He is childless. Not long ago Jake
left the house in search of a missing cow.
His route led him through an old worn out
patch of clay land, of about six acres ;n ex
teat, in the centre of which was a well, 25
or 30 feet deep, that some time, probably,
had furuUhed the inmates of a dilapidated
house near by with water. In passing by
this spot an II wind lifted Jake's 'tile"
from his head and maliciously waited it to
the edge of the well, and in it tumbled.
Now Jake had always practiced the vir
tue of economy, and he immediately set
about recovering his lost hat. He ran to
the well, and finding it was dry at the bot
tom, he uncoiled the rope which he had
brought for tins purpot-e of capturing the
truant cow, and after several attempts to
ca'ch the hat with a noose, he concluded to
save time by going down into the .well
To accomplish his purpose he made fast
one end of the rope to a stump hard by,and
was quickly on his way down the well.
It is a fact, of which Jake was no less
oblivious than the reader hereof, that one
Ned Wei's was in the dilapidated building
aforesaid, and that an old blind horte, with
a bell on hia neck, who had been turned
out to die, was lazily grazing within a short
distance of the well.
Some wicked spirit put it into Ned's
cranium to have a little fun ; so he quietly
slipped up to the old home and unbuckled
the bell strap, and then approached with a
slow measured "ting-a-ling" the edge of
"Dang thai old blind hoss!" said Jake,
"he's a comin' this way sure, and ain't got
no more sense than to fall in here. Whoa,
But tbe continued approach of the "ting
a ling" said just as plainly as words that
Ball would'nt whoa. Besides, Jake was at
the bottem renting before tryiug to "shin"
it up the rope.
'-Great Jerusalem said he "the old
cuss will be a top of me before I can say
Jack Robinson. Wboa ! I say ! Dang
you, whoa !"
Just then Ned drew up to the edge of the
well, and with his foot kicked a little dirt
"Oh, Lord !" exclaimed Jake falling up
on his knees at the bottom. "I'm gone
now whoa ! Now I lay me down to sleep
w-h o a Ball I pray the Lord my soul to
whoa, now ! Oh! Lord, have mercy on
my poor seul whoa, Ball !"
Ned could hold in no longer, and fearful
thai Jake might suffer from his fright, he
Probably Ned didn't make tracks with
bis heels from that well and maybe Jake
wasn't up to the top of it in short erder
Maybe not. But if Jake finds out who sent
you this, it will be the last squib you will
Lore and Lightning.
A lady who her lovo had sold,
.Atk'd if a reason could be told"
Why wedding rings were made of gold ?
1 ventured thus t' instruct her :
Love, ma'am.and lightning are the same
Oc earth they glance from heaven they
. came ;
Lore is the soul's electric flame, '
And gold its best conductor. -.'
An exchange has the following : ,
lien scorn to kies amoxi? theme!v.
The two Srpuews.
At the parlor window of a pretty villa,
near WaTron-on-Thames, sai, one evening
at dusk, an old man and a young woman.
The age of the man might have been wms
seventy ; whilst his companion had cer
tainly not reached nineteen. Her beauti
ful, blooming face, and wclire, light, and
upright figure, were in strong contrast with
the worn countenance and bent frame of
the old man but in his eye, and in the
corners of his mouth, were indications of a
gay self-confidence, which age and suffer
ing had damped, but not extinguished
"No U6e Vooking any more, Mary," said
he; "neither John Meade nor Peter Finch
will be here before dark. Very bad, that,
when a sick uncle asks his two. nephews to
come to see him, they can't come to see
him at once. The duty is simple in the
extreme only to help me to die, and take
hat I choose to leave them in my will! '
Pooh ! when I was a young man, I'd have
done it for my uncle with the utmost
celerity. But the world's getting quite
"Oh, sir !" said Mary.
"And what does 'Oh, sir !" mean ?" said
he. "D'ye think I shan't die? I know
better. A little more, and there'll be an
end of old Billy Collett. He'll have jefi !
this dirty world for a cleaner to the great
sorrow (and advantage) of his affectionate
relatives ! Ugh ! Give me a glass of the
The girl poured some medicine into a
glass, and Collet, after having contemplated
it for a moment wi'h infinite disgust,
managed to get it down.
"I ll tell you what, Miss Mary Sutton,"
said he, "I don't by any means approve of
your :Oh, sir!' and the rest of it, when !"ve
j told you how I hate to be called 'sir' at all.
Why, jou couldn't be more respectful if
you were a charity girl, and I a beadle in a
gold-laced hat. None of your nonsense,
Mary Sutton, it you pleate. I've been your
lawful guardian now for more than six
-nnm lis. and you ou;ht to know my likings
l i-ii- .1
and my disliking."
"My poor father often told me how "ou '
disliked ceremony." said Marv.
"Your poor father told you quite right,"
said Mr. Collett. "Fred Sutton was a man
l of talent a capital fellow. His only fault
was a natural inability to keep a farthing
in his pocket. Poor Fred! he loved me
I'm sure he did He bequeathed me his
only child and it isn't every friend would
"A kind and generous protector you have
"Well, I don't know; I've tried to be a
brute, but I dare say I have been. Don't I
spenk roughly to you sometimes? Haven't
I given you good, prudent, worldly advice
about John Meade, and made myself disa
greeable, and unlike a guardian ? Come,
confess you love this penniless nephew of
"Pennile, indeed !"
"Ah., there it is," said Mr. Collett. "And
what business has a poor devil of an art int
to fall in love with my ward ? And what
business ha my ward to fall in love with a
poor devil of an artist ? But that's Fred
Sutton's daughter all over! Haven't I two
nephews? Why couldn't you fall in love
with the discreet one the thriving? Peter
Finch considering he's an attorney is a
worthy young man ! He is industrious in
the extreme, and attends to other people's
business only when he's paid for it. He
despises sentiment, and always looks to the
main chance. Bui John Meade, my dear
Mary, may spoil canvass forever, and not
grow rich. He's all for art, and truth, and
social reform, and spiritual elevation, and
the Lord knows what. Peter Finch will
ride in his carriage, and splash poor John
Meade as he trudges on loot."
The harangue was here interrupted by a
ring at the gate, aad Mr. Peter Finch was
announced. He had scarcely taken his
seat when another pull at the bell was
heard, and Mr John Meade was announced.
Mr. Collett eyed his two nephews with a
queer sort of a smile, whilst they made
speeches expressive of sorrow at the na
ture of their visit. At last, slopping ihem
"Enough, boys, enough !" said he. "Let
us find some better subject to discuss than
the slate of an old man's health. 1 want to
know a little more about yoo both. I
haven't seen much of you up to the present
time, and for anything I know, yoo may be
either rogues or fools."
John Meade seemed rather to wince un
der this address; but Peter Finch sat calm
"To put a case now," said Mr. Collett,
"this morning a poor wretch of a gardener
came begging here. He could get no work,
and said he was starving. Well, I knew
something about the fellow, and I believe
he only told the truth, so I gave him a shil
ling to get rid of him. Now I'm afraid 1
did wrong. What reason bad I for giving
him a shilling? What claim had he on
me! What claim has he on anybody?
The value of bis labor in the market is all
that a working man has a right to; and
when his labor is of no value, why then be
roust go to the devil, or wherever else he
can. Eh, Peter! That's my philosophy,
what do yon think?"
"I agree with you, sir," said Mr. Finch ;
"perfectly agree with yoa. The value of
their labor in the market is all that laborers
can pretend to all they should have.
Nothing acts more perniciously than the
absurd extraneous support called charity"
''What results from charitable aid!" con-1
tinued feter. "The value of labor is kept j
at an unnatural lerel. Stat chanty is Stare
robbeTy private charity is public wrong.'
"That's it, Peter," said Mr. Collett.
"What do you think of out philosophy
"I don't like it T don't believe ill" said
John. "You are quite right to give the
man a shilling. ld have given him a
"Oh, you would would you V said Mr.
Collett. " You're very generous with
your shillings. Would you fly in the
face ol all orthodox political economy, you
"Yes," said John ; "as the Vandals flew
in the lace of Rome, and destroyed what
had become a falsehood and a nuisance."
"Poor John!" said Mr. Collett. "We
shall never make anything of him, Peter.
Really, we'd better talk of something else
John, tell us about the last new novel."
They conversed on various topics, until
the arrival of the invalid's early bed time
parted uncle and nephews for the night.
Mary Sutton seized an opportunity, the
next morning afier breakfast, to speak to
John Meade alone.
"John," said she, "do you think more of
yoor own interest-of our interest.
occasion for you to be so violent last night,
and 10 contradict Mr. Collett so shockingly?
1 saw Peter Finch laughing to himself.
John, you must be more careful, or we
shall never be married'
"Well, Mary, dear, I'll do my best." said
John. "1 was that confounded Peter, with
his chain of iron maxims, tha made me fly
out I'm not an ice-berg, Mary."
"Thank heaven, youVe not !'' said Mary;
"but an ice-berg floats think of that John
Remember every time you offend Mr.
Collett, you please Mr. Finch."
' So I do," said Johu. "Yes, I'll remem
"If you would only try to be a little mean
and hard-hearted," said Mary ; "just a Ut
ile to begin with. You would only stoop to
May I gain my deserts, then ! ' said
Are you not to be my loving wife.
Mary ? Are yoa not to sit at needlework in
my studio, while I painl my great histori
cal picture? How can ibis come to pass
if Mr Collett will do nothing for us ?''
'Ah, how, indeed?" said Mary.
here's .ur friend, Peter Finch, coming j
through the gale from his walk. I leave i
you together.-' And so saying, she with
drew. "What, Meade," said Peter Finch, as he
entered. '"Skulking in doors on a fine
morning like this. I've been all through
the village. Not an ugly place, but wants
looking after sadly. Roads shamefully
muddy. Pigs allowed to walk on the foot
path ! '
"DreaJful !" ec!aimed John.
"You came out pretty strong last night,"
said Peter. "Quite defied the old man. i
But I like your spirit "
"1 have no doubt that you do," thought i
"Oh, when I was a youth, 1 was a little I
lhal way myself," said Pe'.er. '-But the
world the world, my dear sir soon cures '
jus of all romantic notions. 1 reizret, of!
courts, to see poor people miserablo ; but !
what's the use of regretting ? It s no part j
ui ute uu.'ineya oi iue superior classes iu i
1 . u u...: 1 . 1 1
interfere with ihe laws of supply and de-j
maud; poor people must be miserable.
What can't be cured must be endured "
"That is," said John, "what we can't j
cure, they mut endure "
"Exactly so," 6aid Petfr.
Mr. Collett was too ill this day to leave
his bed. About noon he requested to see
his nephews in his bed room. They found
him propped up by pillows, looking very
weak, but in good spirits as usual.
"Well, boys," said he, ' here I am you
see ; brought to anchor at last. The doctor
will be here soon, I suppose, to shake his
head and write recipes. Humbug, my
boys ! Patients can do as much for them
selves, I believe, as doctors can do for
them they're all in the dark together the
only difference is, that the patients grope
iu English, and the doctors grope in Latin."
"You are rather skeptical, sir," said John
"Pooh !" said Mr. Collett. "Let us
change the subject 1 want your advice,
Peter and John, on a matter that concerns
your interests. I'm going to make ray will
to day and I don't know how to act about
your cousin, Emma Briggs. Emma dis
graced us by marrying an oilman."
"An oilman !"
"A vulgar, shocking oilman !" said Mr.
Collett, "a wretch who not only sold oil,
but soap, candles, turpentine, black-lead,
and birch-brooms. It was a dreadful blow
to the family. Her poorgrandmolher never
got over it, and a maiden annt turned
Methodist in despair. Well, Briggs, the
oilman, died last week, it seems ; and his
widow has written to me, asking for assist
ance. Now, I have thought of leaving her
a hundred a year in my will. What do
you think of it? I'm afraid she don't de
serve it. What right bad she to marry
against the advice ol her friend-.? What
have I to do with her misfortunes?:'
"My raiud is quite made up," said
Finch, "no notice ought to be taken of her.
She made an obstinate and unworty match
and let her abide the consequences."
"Now for your opinion, Johu," said Mr.
"what right had she to marry as you
observed with great justice, sir. Let her
abide the consequences, as you very
properly remarked. Finch. Can?t she carry
on the oilman's busines? 1 dare say it
will support her very well."
"Why no," said Mr. Collett; "Briggs
died a bankrupt, and his widow and chil
dren are destitute."
"That does not aller the esse," said Peter
Finch. "Let Briggs' family do something
"To be sure1.-' said Mr. Collett. "Briggs'
family are the reople to do something for
her. She mustn't expect anything from us
must she John?"
"Destitute, is she?" said John. "With
children, too ! Why, this is another case,
sir You ought surely to notice her to
assist her. Confound i', I'm for letting her
have a hundred a year."
"Oh. John, John ! What a break-down!"
said Mr. Collett "So voj were trying to
follow Peter Finch through Stony Arabia,
and turned back al the second step! Here's
a brave traveller, for you, Peter! John,
John, keep your Arabia Felix, and leave
sterner ways to very different men. Good
by, both of you. I've no voice to talk any
more. I II think over all you have said."
He pressed their hands, and they left the
room. The old man was too weak to speak
tke next day, and in three days aflsr he
calmly breathed his last.
As soon as the funeral was over the will
was read by the confidential man of busi
ness, who had always attended to Mr. Col
leu's affairs. The group that sat around
him preserved a decorous appearance ol
disinterestedness ; and. the usual preamble
to the wilPhaving been listened to with
breathless attention, the man of busiuefs
read ihe following, in a clear voice :
"1 bequeath to my niece, Emma Briggs,
notwithstanding that she shocked her fami
ly by marrying an oilman, the sura of four
thousand pounds; being fully persuaded
that her lose dignity, if she could ever find
it again, would do nothing to provide her
with food, or clothing, or shelter."
John Meade smiled, and Peter Finch
ground his teeth but in a quiet and re
spectable manner. The man of business
went on with his reading
''Having always had the opiuion that
woman should be rendered a rational and
I independent being and having duly con
sidered the fact ihal society practically
denies hwr the right to earn her own living
I hereby bequeath to Mary Sutton the
sum of ten thousand pounds, which will
enable her to marry, or to remain single,
as she may preier."
Johr. Meade gave a prodigious start upon
hearing this, ana Peler Finch ground his
teeth again but in a manner hardly per
ceptible. Bath, however, by a violent
effort, kept silent. The man of business
went on with his reading:
"I have paid some attention to the char
acter of my iiephew, John Meade, and have
been much grieved to find him posessed
with a feeling of philanthropy, and with a
general prelerence for whatever is noble
and true over what is base and false. As
these tendencies are by no means such as
can advance him in the world, I bequeath
him the sum of ten thousand pounds
hoping that he will thus be kept out of the
workhouse, and be enabled to paint his
great historical picture which, as yet, he
has only talked about.
As lor my other nephew, Peter Finch,
he views all things iu a sagacious and
selfish way, and is so certain to get on in
life, that I should only insult him by offer
ing any aid which he does not require ; yet,
from his affect ion a', e uncle, and entirely as
a testimony of admiration for his menial
aculeness, I venture to hope that he will
accept a bequest of five hundred pounds to
wards the completion of his extensive libra
ry of law-books."
How Pe'.er Finch stormed, and called
names how John Meade broke iuto a de
lirium of joy, how Mary Sutton cried first
and then laughed and cried together ; all
these matters I shall not attempt to de
scribe. Mary Sutton is now Mrs John
Meade; and her husband has 'actually be
gun the great historical picture. Peter
Finch has taken to discounting bills, and
bringing actions on them ; and drives about
in his brougham already.
A Pclpit Anscdotb. Some days 6ince
we chanced to be in company wtih several
eminent divines, who were relating num
erous amuning anecdotes of the pulpit.
Among others, the following struck our
fancy as one deserving of record :
'1 was,' said ihe reverend gentleman, at
tending divine service in Norfolk, several
years ago, during a season of some excite
ment. While the officiating clergyman
was in the midst of a moot interesting dis
cussion, an old lady
tion arose, clapped her hands, and exclaim
'Merciful father, if I had one more feath
er in my wing of faith I would fly off to
Tbe worthy gentleman thus interrupted
immediately replied :
'Good LorJ, stick it in, and let her go;
but a trouble here !
That quieted the old lady.
The man who wailed for an opportunity
has gone ; and the man who was fired with
indignation, has been put out.
1 loons L Etij Kuidrrrd tj 1 Slavi Wimsi
Thk Mukdkress Caught and Huso. Re
liable intelligence from Fultoa, Calloway
county, Mo., apprises xtt that a shocking
tragedy occurred within eight miles of -that
place on Saturday last. In the house of a
Mr. Barrres was -a female slave ol irascible
and dangerous temptJT, who had frequently
been enraged at Mr. Barnes' daughter, Su
sanna J, a young lady of some eighteen
years of age. Saturday morning the slav
Teney was sent to work in a cornfield, and
the family set off (o attend a meeting of
some kind, leaving Miss Barnes alone at
home. On returning from the meeting they
were horrified to find Iter shockingly beat -to
death, and the floor and walls of the
dwelling bespattered with blood. The din
ner table had been set evidently by Miss
Barnes, and her knitting work lay dis
arranged on the kitchen floor. The kitchen
showed blood and signs of a struggle.
Blood marks were visible along the wall
of the east room oa the floor and walls of
which was much more blood, and the
room exhibted plain traces of a violent
strife. Next 'he blood was traced to the
west room, where the murder had been
committed, and where the corpse was
i found lying in gore.
The 6lave woman was called, and found
to have changed her dress since morning.
searching, the dress was found in the
field, hidden and bloody. A shovel was
found bloody and battered. When con
fronted with her bloody dress, the woman
confessed that she had killed Miss Barnes.
She was placed in custody of Deputy Con
stable Henry Willing, who rode off in haste
lor the jail, at Fulton,
When within three miles of Fultoo, he
was overtaken by a party on horses, who
look the prisoner from him, led her to a
tree not far off, and there hanged her till she
The above information was received by a
German contemporary, from the office of
the German paper published weekly at
Fulton. St. Louis Democrat.
Angels in the House A correspondent
of the lndependeid sends the following as a
I know a man. He is not christian.
His daily life is not in accordance even
with principles of morality. He has three
beautiful, well behaved children. The oth
er day he told me this incident of one of
them his little girl thiee years old. Said
Perhaps some people would think it
sacrilege, but 1 don't; but for some time
back 1 have been in the habit of reading
the Bible and of having prayers every night
before the children go to bed. I have done
it because it has a good influence on the
children, and because I hope it may have a
good influence on myself. Last night 1
went to the Lodge, (he is a Mason,) and
did not get home till after ll o'clock. The
children of course were all abed, and I sup
posed, asleep. Before going to bed,I knsdt
down by my bed to pray, and had been
there but a moment, when I heard'Nobie
get up from her bed in the next room, and
her little feet come pattering across the
floor toward me. 1 kept perfectly still, and
she came and knelt beside me without say
ing a word. 1 did not notice her, and in a
moment, speaking just above her breath,
she said, "Pa. pray loud." I prayed, I
kissed her, and 6he went back to bed; and
I tell you, G , I have had nothing affect
me so lor ihe last ten years. I have thought
of nothing else all day long but just that
little' Pa, pray loud ?"
Twklvc Ykars. The Opposition have
been "out in the cold" a long weary time.
It is twelve years since they elected a can
didate for President. In 1843, Gen. Taylor
was elected on the "Rough and Ready" cry
just as Lincoln has been successful on that
of the "RaiUpliiter." Democrats can af
ford to let the Opposition have the Presi
dent this time, but if Lincoln does not save
us the trouble of electing another President,
we will unite upon one candidate in 1864,
and keep them out twelve years longer.
'Good evening, Miss Brown ; it is very
'Looks very much like a storm.'
'Are you well this evening !'
'Your father's 6ick.'
'Your mother looks smart.1
'Pon my honor,' muttered Pluggins to
himself, 'she's the veriest Miss I ever saw.'
"Sm hcrc, my friend, yon are drunk,"
"Drunk ! to be sure I am, and have been
for the last three years. You see my broth
er and I are on the temperance mission.
He lectures, and 1 tei a frightful example."
A tocmo lady was discharged from one
of the largest vinegar houses ia Boston last
week, because she was so sweet that she
kept the vinegar from fermenting. A sour
old maid is wanted to fill her place.
An Irishman tells of a fight ia which,
there was bat one whole nose left in the
,11. n. f ,. n - 1 1 11 1 1 1 1 ' ' '