DT D. A. & O. H. BUHHLER. VOLUME XXII. 1 From the Louisville Journal ♦ Welcome to Koitanth. •T C. U. WILLMOIIII. Wellcome. thrice welcome, thou noble Butratigh, Boma from captivity over the sea! Note a thrall of the Northern Barbatian—. Welcome, to dwell in America, free Here are the eyes that have ofteciest wept for thee, Tears, which the joy of thy presence shill dry ; Here are the hearts that have most fondly kept for thee Lowe, through eternity newer to die! Let the bells proudly be ringing; Peal forth the trumpet and drum, Shoot, for the hero is come! Cannon be echoing—voices be singing, 111 thy hued Hungary may net be home to thee There newer more with thy kindred to rut— Here. in thie beautiful lend they any COMO to Zoom for them all in the beautiful West ! Yet there are heroes here willing to die with thee, Striving thy fatherland once more to see— Thousands, whose whits will evermore sigh with thee, ! that brave Hungary may yet be free!" Heard shall that prayer be in Heaven; Thunder of wrath shall reply, Pealing aloud from the sky— "Tyranny'. shackles are soon to be riven Tyrant, prepare thee to die !" Ay ! Aare is surely a glorious strife to come, One day to humble that proud Northern Sear; Though it be not in ihy own earthly life to come, Yet shalt thou hear of it—thou shalt be there! From the bright kingdom of Glory descending then, Tyranny's minions before thee shell flee ; Fierce in the contest triumphantly blending then, Hungary—Europe—thy spirit shall free! Let the bells proudly be ringing; Peal forth the trumpet and drum, Shout, (or the hero is come! Cannon be echoing—voices be singing, Noble Kossuth, welcome home !" [From the Flag of our Union MIRY DIRWELL'S GRIEF. BY WAS. E. C. LOVY.RINO A kind-hearted husband and an affec tionate father was Mr. Joseph Darwell ; bat there were times when ho appeared passionate, cruel, relentless ; when love for Lin family was forgotten, and the distress of his wife and children had no power to soften his heart. These times never occurred, except when Mr. Damen had been many days absent front home, and returned from a scene of dissipation abroad, morose, irritable and ill-hutuoned. Mr. Darwell lived on a neat little farm, of his own, situated ahont twentrdive miles from New York. lie was much esteemed by his neigbors, and had the reputation of being an upright, generous matt. Al though three or four times a year he was accumomed to meet his old companiontii. in New York, aad pass in 'veiling two or three weeks, speading his money lavishly, and indulging in ruinous excesses. At the end of that time, exhausted with his diattipatimi, remorseful and sullen,he would go home to his ; never recovering his wonted cheerfulness, until the pleasant society of Lis wife and children, together with his imhits of iudastry, had worn a way t..e effects of long indulgence. Os one oces‘sion iu midsummer, Mr. Har well kati been absent frost I • two weeks; and his family were anxiously expecting his return, when, in the forenoon of a pleasant day, little Mary, kis youngest child, espied him, riding rapidly up the road. An Mr. Darwoll dismounted from his horse, Mary ran out to meet him, and wel come him with a kiss. But the morose fath er pushed her rudely from him, and with contracted brows, strode past Ler towards the house. "Where's Spot 7" he asked. "I dou' know, father," replied little Mary, running towards the kennel. "He is near the pease somewhere." Mr. Darwell called the dog in a loud and impatient voice ; but Spot was old, and letting grown deaf in his service, did not hear. "That accursed dog !" muttered Mr. Pannell, angrily. "lie is never to he found when lie is wanted. Where is Wil liam, Mary F" "In the field at work, I suppose," replied the "The timidly. "Waat is the matter F" cow is in the clover," exclaimed Mr. Darwell. "I will go and drive him out, papa !" cried Mary. "But here is Spot." A large, shaggy, good-natured dog, with dim eyes and blunted teeth, came trotting up to his master, wagging hie tail for joy. Spot was an ancient servant in the family; and little Mary loved the dog with all that fondness which children are sometimes ca pable of bestowing on favorite animals. "Come along, Spot I" muttered Mr. Darwell, hurrying away. Spot ran on before, and little Mary fol lowed timidly at a distance. The clover field was not far from the house, and soon Mary saw the cow feeding on the delicious herb. Then the sensitive girl remembered how Spot tore the cattle's noses and ears when set Avon them, and thought she would rather drive the sow out of the field, than see the faithful dog perform his duty so savagely. "Papa I papa I" she cried, "don't set .Spot bn, please I Let me drive the cow out." Mr. Darwell turned angrily on his child, .and ordered her to return to the house.— Mary went back sorrowfully ; and a mo ment after, she heard Spot's savage, angry bark. Looking around, she saw him jumping at the cows throat, while the per secuted animal plunged madly in terror at the dog's jaws. It took but a minute for Spot to bring the cow to a broken fence, where she had entered the field; but here, instead of jumping out, bewildered with fear and pain, she tin 6ff in another direction.— The dog, unable to hold her on account of the decayed state of his teeth, chased her asoned-the field, making her so wild, that it was in vain for Mr. Dowell to try to drive out 44 0nree us& a dog Su thy! 1" mattered the ago man. 4 4Bere, Spot, here 1" But the dog was deaf, sad did set hear. All Mr. Datwell's shouts wore weavailiug. Spot still worried the cow around the field, jumping at her throat and tearing her ears. under the impression, doubtless, that he was doing his muter good service. Exasperated at the dog's deafness, Mr. Darwell ran to the house, entered ab ruptly, and without speaking to his wife, whom he had not seen for so long, took down his rjfle, that hung over the great fire-place M.t,be kitchen. Little Mary clasped her hands and be gan to cry, for her father's angry man ner filled her timid heart with fear. Mrs. Darwell, who knew her husband's sullen mood, looked on in tearful silenee. Co at something dreadful was about CO Eijipen, Mary followed her father in the direction of the field. At a distance, trembling with childish apprehension she saw him raise the gun, examine the per cussion sap, and take deliberate aim at Spot, who was still worrying the cow. "0, don't shoot 1 father, don't shoot !" shrieked the poor girl. "Don't kill Spot." And, half-distracted in view of the death which threatened her old favorite—the faithful servant of the house—she ran for ward. Mr. Darwell, governed entirely by his angry impulse, heeded her not.— She saw the flash of lurid fire burst from the muzzle of the rifle ; a sharp report fol lowed ; and with a low, dismal, piteous cry, old Spot staggered away, and sank on the ground. "Here 1 take this to the house 1" shout ed Mr. Darwell, lowering his rifle, and throwing it down. "Quick." Mary could not but obey. With a heart bleeding with anguish, she ran to take up the rifle. As she did so, her eye fell upon the wounded dog, as he lay panting and bleeding on the turf. "Quick !" said her father again. Mary ran away, and rushing into the house, dropped the gun. "What's the matter asked her moth er, with anxiety and alarm. "0, poor Spot 1" sobbed Mary. "Papa has shot poor Spot 1" "I)ear child !" said Mrs. Darwell, ten derly. "Don't cry." But little Mary was disconsolate, and her mother was herself so much affected, that she could not refrain from tears. After sending the child to the house, Mr. Darwell drove out the cow without diffi culty, as he could easily have done at first, had not his foolish anger prompted him to require the services of poor old Spot. Mr. Darwell was conscious of having acted in a moat foolish and brutal manner. This remorseful feeling, added to the pangs he felt before, in consequence of his dark recollections, touching the time and mon ey he had spent in ruinous, unsatisfactory dissipations, made him almost fiendish.— His horse, which stopped to clip a spear of grass, as he was leading him to the barn, he whipped most unmercifully, and an inoffensive calf, that happened to be in his way, received an angry blow. l'uor 9141 faithful Spot, shot whilst doing what he deemed dutiful service, was all this time left bleeding on the turf. As soon as Mr. Darwell had disappear ed, little Mary, trembling and in tears, ran out to see if the old dog was dead. Reader. did you ever, when a child, be hold a dumb animal that you loved dearly, die a death of anguish ? If so, you can imagir•.e poor Mary's distress. Her soft, affectionate heart bled with unavailing sorrow, as she saw poor Spot moaning and gasping on the ground. His mouth, his feet, and the weeds and grass all around him, were covered with his blood. With heart-rending moans he writhed upon the turf, staining it, which ever way he turned. The bullet had pas sed through his mouth obliquely, tearing his tongue and breaking the bones of both his jaws. Perceiving that Spot was not dead, and gathering hope from what she saw, Mary ran back to her mother with the news. "0, I hope he won't die 1" she exclaim ed, fervently. "But, there, he suffers so much! Perhaps it would be better if he was dead." She went back to her old companion— the playmate of her infancy and childhood. Spot had crept near the fence, leaving a crimson trail upon the grass. He was still meaning piteously; and his mouth was severed with a bloZidy foam. Fearing to approach him too nearly, Mary watched him at a distance, her sweet face wet with tears of sorrow, and her little hands clasp ed in agony. "He is not dead yet," said she, return ing to her mother. "Do come and look at him, mamma 1 Perhaps you can do some thing for him." To satiety the child, Mrs. Harwell fol lowed Mary to the spot where the wounded animal lay. "0, look at him, mamma I" cried the broken hearted child. "Is it not too bad that ho should be shot? 0, it makes me sick to see his mouth bleed so 1" "Poor Spot I" sighed Mrs. Darwell. "Mamma, will he die ?" asked Mary. "I am afraid he will," replied her mo ther. "His jaw is broken." Lifting her streaming eyes to her mo ther's face, Mary artlessly inquired, if the Doctor could not mend it. Being answer ed in the negative, her sobs burst forth anew. "I would not cry about it," said Mrs. Darwell, wiping a tear from her own eyes. "Spot could not have lived much longer. He is a t.. deal older than you are, Ma ry ; and • e has been almost blind and deg for a long time." And she led the grieved child back to the house. All day little Mary occupied herself in watching poor Spot, and reporting his con dition to her mother. Sometimes he would appear better, and dhe would run joyfully to the house with the news. More fre quently, however, Spot would lay gasping on the ground, and seem to be dying; and Mary would hasten to carTy the mournful intelligence to her sympathising patent. Aha . ihse, QM poor ehild, gadng district. oily et tistv animal% enfferbgs, hired to awes& his; but as her sight •grew llr miller with the blood and fatal , wMeh err eyed his' math, sad her tar with• his low whine of distress, she ventured-near; lad when at bat he tamed toward ber his set GETTYSBURG, PA. FRIDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 31, 1851. fering eyes, as if in prayer for relief, she patted him on the head. She started back with a cry, for her hand was stained with blood. As Mary went to wash her hands, she thought Spot would be glad, if elle should also wash the blood away from his mouth. Accordingly she carried a basin of water to the spot where the animal lay, and poured it over his wounds. Mr. Darwell, meanwhile, was at work repairing such things about the farm, as had suffered from neglect, during his ab sence. To his son, whom he found indus triously employed, he spoke unkindly, ut tering unmerited reproofs, and with his faithful serving man, Tom Marks, he found fault without reason. When the men came home to dinner, Mary, with many tears, related to William the catastrophe of poor Spot. William was much grieved, and through his closed teeth, muttered something about his fath er's cruelty, which Mary could not under stand. William took counsel with Tom Marks, and it was decided that they ought to kill the dog, to put him out of his misery.— But Mary, who could not bear the thought of Spot's death, entreated them to spare hint. "Don't kill him I" she pleaded. "He'll get well, I hope, after all. Mr. Darwell being still morose and ill humored, nobody dared to speak to him of the condition of the dog; therefore was the poor animal left to suffer until night. Just before sundown, Mr. Darwell com ing home from the field, passed the spot where Mary still sat watching Spot. "She is fussing with that dead dog !" he muttered angrily. Approaching to order her to the house, Mr. Darwell heard a very faint moan.— He paused, and saw old Spot lying on the ground, gasping for breath, and Mary ga zing at him with a sorrowful face. A pang shot through his' heart; for he re membered the age and fidelity of that old doe, and the attachment which had always existed between him and Mary. The grieving child heard her father's footsteps ; and with a timid, entreating face, she looked up, and said : "Spot is not DEAD yet, father 1" Mr. Darwell could not speak. Turning quickly to hide his emotion, he hurried to the house, leaving Mary with her old com panion. "What a fiend I have been !" he mut tered, contracting his brows with hatred of himself. The thought of the joy it had given him in years Fone by, to see the noble dog, strong, faithful and (affectionate, watch by the cradle of the infant Mary, and to see him at a later day, hold her little frock in his teeth, to steady her timid footstep, en dured her childish tyranny, licking the baby hand that sometimes smote him angrily, and perform all her commands, like an obedient, loving slave. He remembered how often he had laughed to see that dear child climb upon the animal's back, and clinging to his collar, compelled him to carry her about, and the tender care the dumb brute had always had of her, was fresh in his mind. No wonder, then, that the father's heart was filled with the bitter est remorse and anguish. Mr. Darwell entered the house, and in a kind manner greeted his wife, half apologi sing for his harshness. "I have been very unhappy," said he. I have not felt well. Forgive me." A moment after, he spoke of Mary and the dog ; and Mrs. Darwell told him the whole story of the girl's sorrow and dis tress, her watching and anxiety, her hope and fear. Shortly after, while they were conver sing, little Mary came in with a sad brow, and without a word sat quietly down in her little chair in the corner. "Come here, my dear," laid Mr. Darwell, kindly," Mary rose with a countenance full of grief, and approached her father. "My child," said ho, with emotion, "what is the matter T" Her little bosom began to heave with sobs, and big tears, starting from her red, swollen oyes, rolled down her cheeks.— But she oould not speak. "My dear," pursued her father in a trembling voice,"tell me what ails you." "Spot is dea 1" The words seemed to burst from her heart, and instantly she was convulsed with weeping. "Don't cry 1" said Mr. Darwell, in a choked voice. "I will buy you another dog." "I don't want another dog," sobbed Mary. "Why not, dear ?" "I could not love it as I loved Spot; and when I played with it, or fed it, it would make me think of Spot, and—" She could say no more ; and her father pressed her to his heart, which was so full of love, remorse and pity. On the following day, Mary saw old Spot buried under the tree, not far from the spot where he had died. For many months she remembered him with sorrow, and watched the sunshine, the rain, and the winter's snow, which fell upon the turf where the faithful old servant of her child hood lay buried. But other associations caused Mary to forget her girlish sorrow ; and among the tenderest of these, was the unfailing kind ness of her father, who was never harsh or cruel towards her or any one, or anything again. So Mary grew up a happy, bright eyed, affectionate girl, dearly beloved by her parents and friends, and loving every e; but she never knew, until years after the death of her dog, that this event was the occasion of the happy change in her father, who was never absent from his family any more. A GM THAT WILL MAKS A WITH.-- At the Franklin Agricultural Fair et Green. held. Mass, on Wednesday, a loaf of bean tifial white rye breed was ezbibitedliy the maker,, Bopbis qfilea4. of Ontionfialt4 little girt of eleven year., Imo ryitgrown oh her rather's tarns. That girl will 'never want sateen for bar hand, and than of** right kind. "FEARLESS AND IPREE." Wg.Tsax ETIVIITTE.—The Chicago Democrat says that the Yankee traveller who saw the live Hoosier has again writ ten to his mother. telling her his experience as lollows : "Western people are death on Ettiquette. You can't tell a man here that he lies, with. out fighting. A few days ago, a man was telling two of his neighbors hi my hearing a pretty large story. Says I— "Stranger that's a whopper." "Says he. .lay there,' stranger." "Anti in the twinkling of an eye I found myself in the ditch, a perfect quadruped. Upon another occasion, says I to a man I never saw before, as a woman passed— "That isn't a specimen of your western women, is it 1" "Says lie—'Yoo are afraid of fever and ague, ate anger,' ain't you 1" "Very much." says 1. 'Well,' replied he, "that lady is my wife, ant: if you don't apologize in two lithium/4 by the honor of a gentleman, I ',wear that these two pistols,' which he held ciwked in his hands, "shall cure you of thaidisor der, entirely, So don't lear, stranger !" "So I knelt down, and politely apolo gised. I admire this western country very much ; but darn me if I can stand so much etiquette; it always trims me unawares." known Sat.ssTtaa---sent out by Gen. Taylor in 1849, to make favorable arrange ments between the United States and Cochin Chin'', has just returned. He suc ceeded with Borneo, made a favorable im pression with the Malayans, and was bluff ed by Cochin China and Siam. The latter don't want anything to do with us barbari an.. THE WIDOW of Alexander Hamilton. our first Secretary of the Treasury under Washington, is now ninety-four years of age. and is in fine health and spirits.— She says that her husband wrote the out line of his papers in "The Federalist" on board one of the North River sloops. while on his way to Albany, a journey (or rather a voyage) that, in those days, usually occupied a week; and that public business so filled up his time, that he was compelled to do much of his studying and writing while travelling. Many per sons are under the impression that the widow of General Hamilton is not mistaking her for a lady, whose death, at a very advanced age, was aimouneed dur ing the past year. NEARLY BURIED ALIVI.—We learn from the Palmyra (140.) Whig, that a German woman in that vicinity, on Tues day last, was supposed by her friends to have died. A messenger was nett° town to obtain a coffin, but on his arrival forgot the dimensions. He re turne4l And unwrapp ed the body for the purpose of ascertain ing the size for a coffin. Upon taking the clothes off, the woman was discovered wide awake. Site is now doing well, and in a fair way fur recovery. A Wiwi( Taurn.—Tlte celebrated Dr. Johnson said that in epigrams truth was generally sacrificed to point; but we insert below a case in which truth adds point to the sentiment. At a celebration of the last 4th of July. in Paris, by a number of A mericans. the following was one of the toasts given at the banquet : "The Cartridge-box, the Ballot-bar, mut thr Road bex : The external, the internal, and the eternal preservatives of Republicanism." This (says a contemporary) is the best toast ever drank on the 4th of July, in A merica or Europe. It is worthy of being placed at the head of Lord Bacon's apo thegms. The true spirit of philosophy. patriotism, and beauty pervade the whole sentiment in every word and idea. The cartridge-box, in the hands of brave men. may be the defendance of republicism from "external" enemies ; and the ballot-box, kept pure. may preserve republicanism from all "internal" enemies. the Seces- sionists and Abolitionists not excepted.— But "the band-box" is the "eternal preser vative" of republicanism." and, it may be added,ofevery thing else worth preserving. FINDINO A SEAT IN CNOROII.—We re member to have heard of an instance in which a whole Congregation was discon certed, and an elegant discourse very near being spoiled, thus: A strange gentleman, respectable, but of rather rough plebian appearahee, entered a pawed church du ring the performance of service. Passing up the aisle, and seeing no pews opened for his reception, nothing disturbed or a bashed, he retired, shouldered ■ block of wood, re-entered, and while doors were flying open, placed hie block in the centre of the aisle; seated himself thereon with imperturbable self.possession ; and then, facing the minister, gave him marked, but very annoying attention to the close of his discourse, as though there had not been another auditor there ; and when ser vice was over, like an honest man, he de liberately took up his block again, and re turned it to its proper place. A venerable old lady, who had a singe• lar faculty for skipping 'hard words' in the text, came to the passage which says—'“And the Lord smote Abijah, the Hittite, that he died," which she rendered thus— AO the Lord smote Abijaii—lli to lite, that he did. An Englisman observed a stone roll down.a staircase. It bumped on every stair till it Caine to die buttum ; there, of course, it rested. "That stone," said lie. "resembles the national debt ohnv coun try ; it has bumped on every grade of the community, but its weight rests on the lowest." It is stated in the English papers that Sir John Ross intends to prosecute the search for Sir John Franklin next wring. provided he can get the means. A BAD Fix)---A dotneetio, newly engl /ed. presented to his muter one morning fit pair of boon, the leg of one of which wee notch longer then the other. save *owe h e ' you mod. thet these boots ere ttk of the Hoe lends r' nay don't how, sir-Zbet_whet bothers inn most it dot the psis down stake mein the sent An 1" OUR SALT RIVER TOTAIOR. Embarked on our enrage, our noun we'll pursue, Observing each object that rises to shag, Enjoying the prospect—but noting with are Wherever a rapid or rock may appear. And 111 look-out we'll keep lest the lubber shove, In the hest of their ardor, the seal of their love For the plunder and spoils, on our bows should be thrown. And use themselves up in their haste to come down. Away to the head of Salt River we so, Each heart bounding high with a patriot's glow. We're beaten—what of hi A good cause will ne'er Let its srlvocates sink into aloomy despair Clouds break into sunshine—the darknerrof night is the prelude which ushers the dawning of light; And the spirit that quail," not when *deem fate lowers, Enhances its virtue, increases its powers Then onward, on this thereat cruise °four lives; And whenever we driak to our' •'sweethearts and wives," Let us offer a pryer that the Power shove Will carefully guard the dear lend of our love; That no spirit of discord may ever the eliain, But the bond of ow Union unbroken nwastin And the banner of freedom be ever unfurled. The light of all nations, the hope of the world TOR MAINE LIQUOR LW: OR PAUL PERRYWLNKLE'S LAST GLASS. BY YALCONBRIDOZ Tea force of "circuntstances" has led men into most desperate measures ; the fa tuity of some, under the influence of Hove," has furnished endless foundations for the romancer; but the love of ardent spirits, the insane ptssion and mad infatuation for Rum has inveigled more bipeds into worse stupidity and utter-extravagant nonsense than all other evils and follies in the caw lope of human existence. With some the infatuation for fiquid perdition Illionles. a very serious, yes tragic aspect, while with others it takes such a broad. emphat ically comic and ludicrous ground. that the pencil of the caricaturist and pen of the humorist find endless themes in depicting the gyrations, genuflections. '•flip•flaps," &c., of a human critter under the force of aqua ardtente yea! Such a subject as die latter comes under our notice, in the ',ergot' of Paul Perry win kle, of Pipkinville, State of Maine. l'aul was what some people call a bruiser. Erg... he did sigh—nut after the flesh-pots of Egypt, but that abominable and atro.tions fabrication of the Amerinan dig nified with the name of French Brandy. Like most worshippers at the shrine ..f Bacchus, Paul wasn't fastidious as to what he drank, so it wasalcohol, although he preferred the dyed deep and more pill!. onous article French Brandy. It was the fortune--good fortune of Paul, who, by the way.etofficiated" on a stage-line, i. 0., drew the horses from Ptpkinville to another •'thriving village. "not tsr from a splendid Yankee town called Bangor—to live to own an act, by Legislature. that put down the damper on the entire flue of rum-sellers in the great Pine State of Main... That such a thing could be done as to stop grog selling. squash the rum business in that or any other part of the Christian world, was the richest joke of the season to Paul, and he enjoyed it up to the handle ? But tou less to his mortification titan surprise, one morning. after driving a "hull load" of the floating population into the aforesaid enter prising town of Bangor, and feeling. of all times in `is eventml life, a leetle ot the •darudest kind of thirsty,' as he said. Paul was very solemnly informed by the genus. loci of the quarters he had long patron ized— "Nar-a drop in my house, sir !" Paul looked. then looked again, at "boni face," and as he looked, his broad and per reedy humorous, his cunning gray eye. twinkled and his large and flexible mouth fairly ran over with humor. "Ha I ha ! Pipes," at length said Perry winkle, "that licker-law is goin' to play the d— and break things, I guess they reek on, don't they ?" "1 shouldn't wonder," responded Major Pipes. "Ha! ha! Well. I'll be dogged if they moon% be a mighty pearl set o' peeps down to Augusty, last session, to pass t'aul kind of a law—atop folks from selling link er, ha ! ha!" very heartily laughed Paul ; somebody present ventured to remark, that the law was going to bee pretty tough job to get over, anyhow. Perr"winkle turned on t'other heel as he !muted' against the bar that was, and eyed the speaker— "A tough job ! Why you don't pretend for to say, said Paul, "that rum senile can he stopped 1" "Yes. I ths." sa7s the speaker. "By them Augusty peeps of the Legis lature ?" "Fact ; nn sort o' use doubting it, sir," was the response. "Well," slowly and drily said Perry• winkle,"l din 1111 l ; I've lived around here about forty years, I've seen a good many funny things and heard amnia' sight of nonsense in my time, but I never did ex pect to see a man so dogged green es for to believe that rumaellin' rotehl be put down by thew peeps who go to Augusty to set in the Legislature for two dollars a day. lea unpoopible; it can't be did!" And this "opinion" Perry winkle flinched by a rap with his fist upon Pipes' bar— whack ! •But rot them peeps who set in the Le gislature down at Augusty, for to make laws for'ur as doesn't need 'am," eomin tied Paul. "Pipes, hand out the R. G.— I'm as dry as a powder horn ; drove clean in from Pipkin this morning without a dram." "Nar-a drop in my house, sir 1" again responded the ex-Publican. "Sho, Pipes, how you talk ; tell you I'm dry as a powder horn:" "Perry winkle," solemnly protested Pipes, "I tell you it's against, the, law, to sell, a. drop. of, ticker,, in Bangor, and rather than lose my ticker. I sent it op to Portland last night by express, and it's my Opinion you won't find a drop in town." “Not'a drop I" "Not a drop !" - "welt, all I said afora.l'rebroa around hare forty yaw. and ray up to Has. UM two Of three times," slid, Poirrf wand I rockod rye se* 'boat a. say el- efin tit as any other man, bnt I guess you couldn't git me to swoller that. nohow Set out the bottle. Major; dry as a pow der horn. I tell y$T:" "'l'har's the bolik." returned Pipes, vul garly called Major, with a sort of melan choly gaze at the piece of glass. ••Bottle ?" says Perrywinkle, trying to look funny and force up a chuckle, "why, there ain't anything in ii?" ••Nar-a drop!" calmly and solemnly re sponded Pipes. "Do you really go to say." said Perry winkle, ••that you habit got a drop of quor in your bar. Major—that them Au. , gusty peeps have shut von up?" “Nar-a drop in my bar. sir." answered Major Pipes. "an' more 'an that, ant a drop In my house; them Augusty fellows I have done the business clean, smack up, sir 1" emphatically said Paul, Has I said afore," he continued, "I've lived a• round here forty years"— • And thus soliloquising and looking very much "shocked,' he strode to the .door, sod mowing the street, entered another "grocery" where the criller was usually to he had in quantities to suit purclumers: But 10, the proprietor of this shop was war ing down his bar and fitting up for the shoe trade ! ni be doll rotted," says.he, "•if I don't helieie - lime of these Bangor folks 'tint a giuin 'keen! Ha! hat stop a fed. ler', grog, that would be a potty joke!— Haiha! ha l- -111-het- where they aintakeered st Auguaty peeps; maltu 'em quit **Alin' haver. Ho I ho : Ito! Alt. hero's the place." And down an alley-way papa Paul, in a titter at the idea of a man going without his bitters in Bangor. Now, this temple of &team war always kept open ••upon the sly." and hence the patrons were always expected to resort to a sort of deal and dumb alphabet and hocus-pocus formula to be understood. "Nt►rniu'," says Patti, se he stepped-in and closed the door, and faced the varnish ed and dusk•hroking proprietor of the RANCHIR ; ••Captain John. how is things !" ••Uh. workin, wurkiu I" was the ye sponse. ••llot morning." continued Paul. wiping his bronzed forehead and looking like ha felt, !Mt and thirsty as a smelting furnace. 6.l l ltew-w ! 'tie hot; guess, Captain John, I'll take-s gram. of yuur sweet Illajortn, my 0111 boy !" ••Umpli !" quietly responded Captain John. "A little live oak, Captain John." eon• nutted Paul, f tiling about in his "fobs" for the -equivalent.' ..I.!ve oak r aka the Captain. " Y.e.e.s, you understand ?" returns Paul, going through various wipes of his month and twirl oh his lingers. "Oh ! pot a"— "All`hat's the idea," says Paul, maid% short the Captain. • But you know"— "Oh ! shu, I understand"— "Exactly, Captain John." "Thitigii has .- ..Ha ! ha ! Yea, yes !" "Run Julio into the ground. Mr. Perry winkle! "You don't pretend to say"— "Yea, I do !" *.Exactly." can't"— "No, AIR I Not a drop in my house— sent it all to Portland. by express. yester day--eoulil not take any further responsi bility, sir." Paul Perry winkle was staggered, eon founded, astonished. After living around fur forty yeara. and indulging in his biller. as regular as cloek-work, to be wound up, his pendulum stoppad smack on the nail, was a knocker he couldn't get over, no way. Now. under ordinary circumstan ces, it he had been where liquor wasn't handy, or temporarily out, Paul might have got along for a spell. but now his research es had made him dry ; disappointments, nervous and mad. and he determined to have his bitter. or burst. Meeting a friend in the atreet, lie was told the article was certainly tabooed. none sold at any place, except the druggists, and then mid there in camas of sickness. The Mend said, people would get sick, and did get sick. and went to the druggist's and gook medi cine. "Well," says Paul, "dud.rot the if I aint sick, sick enough, and I'll have a horth too ; what to they ask for ; some dodge, I suppose I" "Oh, yes," says the friend. "fur gin, you ask for stomach bitters ; for brandy, you ask for a done of paregoric, and so on." • • • • • • ..1.11 u ke a good wrong dose of your paregoric, if you please. said Paul. address , . ing the clerk of she first "sholacary-pop" he came so. The clerk eyed Pent, then asked him if he wanted it for himself. •Yes—drink it right down—in dreadful pain." Paul's mouth walered and his eyes brietened as he saw the murky-red liquor gurgling from the mouth of the tincture- bottle into the graduating glass.' "Call that a dose ?" says Paul, holding the taper glass between hie fingers. Clerk said—.. Yes, find it strong, sir, too. ' . Down it wens—it was strong. Paul's throat, used as it was to scathing elixirs, couldn't go the pure paregoric, real es sence of alcohol and various bitter ooin• pounds, laudanum, &c. ; he gasped, laid ! down a ninepence ; "all right," said the clerk. Paul looked at him in horror, rush ed out, grasping his stomach as if he fear ed it would leave him, and mounting his box, he drove hack to Pipkinvilte. Hasn't drank drop" since—shuns a drug-store with the same horror a hog avoids a pump, suffering from an attack of hidrophobia— and was proposed as a member in one of the leading orders of Temperance in Pip kin, hist meeting-night. Paul Perrywlnklees first address will be dedicated to the "poem down to Augusty," Whoa he now comi&re the greatest body politic, moral and 'religious, on the face of oresoloa I TW9 DOJ LAU PIM ANNUM INVMBEB 34. agettulturat. CULTURE OF THE GRAPE IN THE WEST..—Grape Raising and Wine Making is becoming en extensive borings in Ohio and footle other of the Western States. The uCatawba" variety of grape is moat generally cultivated. and Mould to produce a quality of wine equal, if not so. perior, to any'si ii mported article,. The macros of its ,anulitistrire is thus der scribed by the Cincinnati Inquirer : The press lea eioaniontionstruistion combining mill and press together. The grape is put up into a hopper, at the bottom of which are two fluted rollers, which, rr• volving. erush, not grind the berry ; and thence it falls into the chamber. When sufficiently filled,' planks' are fitted over the pulp. and by means of a powerful iron screw, the juice is pressed out, running through a faucet into a large tank below. The firm quality of wine is obtained from the first run, air it is milled, after which the pulp is pressed over twice again, yielding inferior qualities et each process. The liquid. es it somas from the press. is a beautiful COW, and,rather too rich to imbibe freely. From the tank it is put into barrels, and after a time into bastes.' -Sorry,part-of •the process—ismarkedisy.....: cleanliness and neatness—in great sooty distinction from thritofEuropinin vintager, where the Hdelkious imported" is remit out by brottotsjeet. The quality of this year's wire will take equal tank with. if It dote note teed, the excellence of *het *field& TWA , . 1 ell at the prase it exhibited a , iinperionty over lain year-in theproperelht-: of 78 for that year and alk Au acre of Vin" w ill P m ", * 1.11 1:' ergo not under three handred , w ina ; fifteen hundred .. , *Altaiitthiga:v,, , lore be the .produet of an ecru - The peift: , cos obtained for the liquid at the preno Will not average over leventy.fivu cents to the ' gallon. The first Coet,pctil nide; the 114,; but fifteen cents. : .1 TIME OF PUTrIivoUP HOCASIt) is: question • L be determined by circumstances. Flo u there may be a good supply Mill ie the woods, u the nuts. of the utda l. belels, l and chums it' Is certainl*goid poOeY, i let the hogs enjoy them On /401. Ailif()„ they grow and fatten ; but mi. sautinhe supplf haematite - sax - the. hilipteMiddliii taken up and penned, as thee Malta! ' should always be kept . in stale, and never be permitted to fall silt', from the time they begin to thrive end pit un fat and muscle in the fall, until they are slaughtered. lfpenned up at the prep. er time, their course is onward, and hicks. less food to finish them. When the hogs ire first penned. they: should' have administered to there id thole, food, fur a few days, doses of nottintstil; phur and copperas; the first will Won purify their blood, the latter relieve them of kidney worms. These medicines sbradelr= be given to then* Ohio , other day Iktr,it week in messes of bran or meld. or . , tablaspoonfull at a doss formich holt- • Their food for the first week rweeshiseld be cooked pumpkins, apples, roots cml wav etablea, when'corn meal may 'be added. increasing the quantity. orates, daily. To wards the last of the feeding. the whole should be corn meal, which if possible. should be cooked. as hogs take nit tie fa- . ter upon cooked than upon unmasked food --besides which, the food goes furthrtr• Each pen should be furnished with a: rubb , ng post. and a trough. in which,st'ai times, should be kept charcoal. Wien wood. ashes and salt. The hugs should be provided with dry. covered sleeping apartments, to which they may retitle and sleep at pleasure, and have access to a yard. The sieepingaparlitteall. should he freely littered thrice a week, and cleaned out as often. Their food should be given Atm three times a day, at regular hoers, should receireAnsh water id OW * ' 4 have sesu the suap4uds throite fide thißir troughl on wiehltlityie, dna We thilaithf itith decided advantage. Wash . ly. Is. ,t` • -. :9 Besides their corn n they elimild„All, 1 ., roots or vegetables of souls kiiid larowe ,' into the pen. ' PINUOIVATIOO or Far MOD Otus.owki article itthe Women' Litneeti b,y W. Wright. of SOW* that thoi hunters of Ohio, in ancient times, bid ti curious way or poolerving. their bootee int from becoming rancid, by melting it along with the pciteder or fine shreds of the bark of the slippery elm—about a drachm of the former is a pound of the latter—rend then straining it. The bark coateanni notes an odor to the fat resembling that of the kernel of the hickory nut. Dr. Wright has subjected other fatty bodies, ineluding butter and lard. to the same alperiatent. and in every instance, he stales. with Doe- Ofoll. Butter thus prepared, he says. wan . a year afterwards as sisal and free front disagreeable odor as oa the day if Irma wade-4 foot, if it really be s foe: of le mean interest to housekeepers and ossiti _ . . potiolood4liko rodo' wait, ol000d.:. he sod rigged moo.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers