BY D. A. & C. H. BUEHLER
VOLUME XXIII. }
2 0 A11011T.
(Most readers will remember a poem entitlad
"The Modern Belle," published several weeks
since, and which was much admired for its truth
ful home,thrusts. The following Parody is equal
ly as good f)
Therein, he sits in the bar-room,
In a place most convenient to stare,
He's clad in very fine broad cloth.
And his face is covered with hair—
Me smokes and spits and drinks,
And drinks and smokes and spits.
The saliva he ejects from his mouth
Ia much more plenty than wits.
Ilia mother goes clad in her cotton,
And faded and ragged at that—
She's minus of shawl and bonnet,
lint her inn wears an elegant hat.
tthe'a toiling and earning "The shillings,"
en weariedly night end day.
While he at the theatre and tavern,
Is throning them all away.
He never gets up in the morning—
If his mother calls him at noon,
He comes down cursing and swearing,
Because she called him so soon;
His eyes Sr. sunken and red,
His cheeks are hollow and thin,
Caused by last night'. debaucheries,
And indulging too freely in gin.
lie sits down to his breakfast,
And then finds fault with the huh;
His mother says, "The grease it needs
You weed to oil your moustache."
Mad§ he flies in a passion,
And hastily leaves the room,
'Jo the tavern he bends his footsteps,
And with wine dispel. his gloom.
From his vest there clsngles a seal
That is set with a brilliant red stone,
nut the sparkling toy is only we:,
Tho' this he never will own ;
On his fret are patent gaiters,
(hi his niollier'a there are none,
For all her honest earnings,
Bedeck the back of l)gr son.
At length he marries a lady
Who . . as rich as he thinks ahe's fair,
But finds her in truth as pour as himself,
And then gives up bi despair;
Two cheats make an even bargain,
Both am well mated for life,
Hie thought she had got a rich husband,
Ile thought he had got a rich wife!
LAST DAY OF EVE.
The following is the composition to
which was awarded the gold medal, in the
graduating class of Rutger's Female Insti
tution of Richmond, Va., at its first com
mencement.
It approached the evening twilight.—
The mother of mankind was placed Lc her
descendants in front of her tent, reclining
on a couch. The western wind fanned her
pale check, and played amidst her gray
locks. Near her sat" her husband. Eve
turned her eye upon hint with a look of
sadness yet of deep affection, and as she saw
his wrinkled brow, bout form, and head of
snowy whiteness, they seemed to call to
mind other days.
Inwardly she reproached herself. "AL,
mil' thus was it I saw him, when tirstgivcn
to him by our God. Whore has vanished
that manly form—where is the elastic
step—where the eye that beamed with
brightness—where now the rich and mel
low voice ? Alas, Low changed ! And it
was I who tempted, who destroyed him—
I, the wife—the cherished companion—l
bade him eat, and now what is he, who
but for me had known neither pain, nor
sorrow, mirage
And what remains of her on whose beau
ty he then gazed with unsated delight ?
A trembling, wrinkled form, just sinking
into the grave.
"Where is now that paradise with its
rich fruits—that balmy air which brought
on every breath a tribute to each happy
sense—those rays which warmed but never
scorched ? And sadder, sadder still,
whore now is all that blissful intercourse
with him, who made us rich in the happi
ness of living ? His voice is no longer in
our cars—driven from bliss—from scenes
so lovely—the earth cursed—sin, sorrow
and death, the inheritance of our children."
Our mother was overcome by the rush
of recollection. Her eyes, long dry, found
now fountains, and her aged form shook
with deep emotion.
It may be that Adam had been indulging
in musings not unlike to these, for ho was
startled as if from a reverie by the emotions
of his wife. The old man placed himself
beside her. She laid her head on the bos
om which had so often soothed its throb
ings.
"What movos thee, Eve ?"
"Oh, my dear husband, bow canat thou
show kindness to her who has done all
this ? Thou wast young and knew only
happiness, and all around was formed to
delight our every sense; and I, who should
have strengthened thy virtue, fell, ;and
dragged thee with me, the partner of my
sin, to this depth of ruin. And after a
few years of toil and anxiety, we are about
to lay these worn out frames in the dust.
"But for sin we had lived in perpetual
youth, and feared no change. The threat
ened death has worked slowly but surely,
and now with us his work is, nearly done.
"The first to sin - , meet that I
should first return to dust. Ilad the guilt
and the curse been only mine, I might en
dure it; but I see thee now, and I compare
thee with what thon•wast as it seems• to
me but yesterday.
"4 few days will lay thee low, I,et our
children plow us aide by sido in the cold
earth; I ICddw not- why it yet it seems,
to me there will bo oomfbriitt ortr bairn
Aiseobringttogether, m nowt
thing of toilioinnsuess
tif boilbrt as is now left in iffe,
yet I cannot endure the thought that I shall
utterly cease to be
"Adam thou hest given me words of con
solation. Is there aught that can cheer
me, now I am to bid thee farewell ?
"Thou nest yonder sun—thou wilt a
gain see it rise and set ; he is bidding me
a last adieu. Sense shall soon cease foray.
er, and no light shall again enter these
eyes."
The old man wiped the tearv , hich fell
on the wrinkled brow of his partner. A
sudden light was on his countenance, as if
a new lamp bad been lit up in his soul.—
Eve saw it, and it brought to her a gleam
of hope ; she gazed on his face as if death
had lent new powers to fade vision.
"First of women," said Adam, "claim
no prominence in guilt—together we sinned
—together we have born the punishment.
"But there is redemption—there is hope.
"Whilst thinking of the fearful change
which betokened in my heart that its part
ner was to be taken away, a heavenly light
••• : med on my thoughts, and taught me to
understand the visions which have so often
visited mo on my couch.
"We shall not die—there is a costly ran
som provided—we must sleep under the
cold earth, but we meet again in the fresh
ness of youth which we first enjoyed ; and
purified from all sin, we shall walk in our
Eden seven times more beautiful than
when we first roved amidst its fruits and
flowers. And there will be the thousands
who, inheriting our evil natures, will have
found a powerful Physician. And there
will be that mighty Physician whose pres
ence shall awake ten thousand harps to
melody.
"This earth too, so long, so greviously
crushed for our sin, will come forth more
than purified from every stain, and in
more than the beauty of its pristine youth.
"Thou wilt go a little before me to the
grave ; but we shall rise together, with the
glad shout of gratified jubilation, and with
us millions on millions of our posterity
ransomed from the curse."
Adam paused ! his eyes fell on the face
of his wife—a smile seemed to play in the
brightness of hope upon her pale lip, but
the heart had ceased to beat, and that sleep
had fallen on her which the trump of the
archangel only shall disturb.
THE SCHOOLMASTER.
' BY WHITTIER.
Jeremiah Paul was a short, round per
sonage, with a quick, I had almost said a
spiteful,little grey eye, a bald head in front,
and a short stiff cue behind. II e was a
wonderful man to look at, and his history
was no less so than his person. At one
period lie was the village schoolmaster, a
rare pedagogue and learned ; it is said not
only familiar with Dillworth's Spelling
book and Psalter, but also with such difficult
mathematical problems as are comprehend
ed in the abridgement of Pike's Arithme
tic. It may be readily supposed that such
a ripe and rare scholar would not be suff
ered to remain long in obscurity. Ilia tal
ents were not of an order to blush unseen,
and accordingly in his fortieth year, he
was honored with the office, and enriched
with the emoluments appertaining to no
less a dignitary than a Justice of the Peace.
But we are getting ahead of our story,
and with the reader's permission, we will
go back a few years and introduce him to
the wife of Mr. Paul. She, ton, was an
uncommon character, a great, good natur
ed, handsome romp who used to attend
school on purpose, to use her own phrase,
"to plague Master -Jerry." And, verily
she was a plague. She used to bounce in
and out whenever she pleased ; she pinch
ed the boys, inked the faces •of the girls,
and finally, to such a pitch did her audaci
ty arrive, that she even presumed to lay
hands on the nicely adjusted cue of the
dominic himself.
Jeremiah was leaning over his desk in a
musing attitude, engaged in a profound
mathematical calculation, respecting the
probadle value of the tenant of his land
lord's pig sty, when this outrage took
place. He had already placed the subject
in a half dozen different attitudes before
his mind's eye, and was just on the point
of committing his lucubration to the frag
ments of a slate, upon which his elbow was
resting, when a vigorous jerk at the hairy
pericranium, started him bolt upright in
a minute, and drew from him a cry not un
like that of the very animal which was
the subject of hiisciontifie cogitations.
Jeremiah did not swear, for he was an
exeniplary and church going pedagogue;
but his countenance actually hlukened
with rage and anguish, as he , gazed, hur
riedly and sternly around him ; and then
111-suppressed laughter of his desoiplea add
ed not a little to his chagrin.
4 4V? ho wh07.1 say." Ifeoeuld
articulate ho,more. Re was nearly choked'
with passion.-
"That great ugly girl there who pinches
rue so," said a little raggod urchin', with a
•
Jeremiah bonftonted the fkir deal.
pent, bitt it *at AM ? trepi 111140,
the .: i ° 1 4 14*40
mortice OAS '4OO Oho' )i4sii
% iitf,tbs:Th
that of thi htoofrigible aikido Tow
don. His interrogating glues 104'
GETTYSBURG, PA. FRID
by a look in which it would have been diffi
cult to say whether good nature or imperti
nence predominated.
"Did you meddle with my cue?" said the
dominie; but his voice trembled ; his situ
ation was peculiarly awkward.
"I—l—what do you suppose I want of
your one 1" and a queet smile played along
her mouth, for a pretty ono she had, and
what is worse, the dominie himself thought
so. Jeremiah, seeing that he was about
to lose his authority, hemmed twice, shook
his head at such of the rogues ns were
laughing immoderately at their master's
perplexity, and reaching his hand to his' ,
ferule, said, "Give me your hand, miss."—
His heart misgave him as he spoke. The
fair white hand was instantly proffered,
and as gently too as that of a modern belle
at a cotillon party. Jeremiah took it; it
was a pretty hand, a very pretty hand ;
and then her face, there was something in
its expression which seldom failed to dis
arm the pedagogue's anger. Ho looked
first at her band then at her face, express
ive of a rogish confidence, then at his fer
ule, a heavy instrument of torture, entire
ly unfit to hold companionship with the
soft fair hand held in durance before, him,
Never, in all the annals of his birchen
authority, had Jeremiah Paul experienced
such perplexity. Ile lifted up his right I
hand two or three times, and as often with
drew it.
"You will not strike me ?" said the girl
There was an artless confidence in these
words, and the tone in which they were ut
tered, that went to the heart of the peda
gogue. Like Mark Anthony before the
beautiful Cleopatra, or the fierce lender of
the Volscii before his own Virginia, the
dontinie relented.
"If I pardon you for this offence, will
yon conduct yourself more prudently in
future ?"
"I hope I shall," said the prudent young
lady, and the master evinced his affection
ate solicitude for the welfare of his pupil,
by pressing the hand he had imprisoned,
and the fair owner expressed her gratitude
for such condescension, by returning the
pressure.
They were married just six mouths af
terwards. Su much fur lenity in school
The Seven Children.
The funowing beautiful gem is ;tom
the German of Krummacher :
Early in the morning, as the day be
gan to dawn, the devout father of a family
arose with hie wile from their couch,
and thanked God for the new day, and fur
their refreshing slumber.
But the red glow of morning beamed in
to the little chamber where their seven
children lay in their beds and slept.
Then they gazed at the children one by
one, and the mother said, "they are seven
in number; alas I it will be hard for us to
find them Iood." Thus sighed the moth•
er, for there was a famine in the land.
But the father smiled, and said. "See, do
they not lie there, all seven? And they
all have red cheeks, and the beams of the
morning stream over them, so that they
appear lovelier thin ever, like seven bloom
ing roses. Mother, that shows us that He
who creates the morning and sends us
sleep, is true and unchangeable.
And as they stepped from the chamber,
they saw at the door fourteen shoes in a'
row, growing smaller and smaller, two by
two, a pair fur each child. The mother
gazed at them, and when she saw that
there were so many she wept.
But the father' said, "Mother, why dont
thou weep? Have not all the seven re
ceived sound and active feet ? Why, then,
should we be anxious about that which
covers them I II the children have confi
dence in us, should we not have confi
dence in Him who can do more than we
can comprehend.
"See, His sun rises! Come then, like
it let us begin our day's work with a
cheerful countenance."
Thus they spoke, and toiled at their la
bors, and God blessed the work of their
hands, and they had enough and to spare,
they and their seven children; for faith
gives strength and courage, and love ele
vates the soul.
TILE BIBLE BETTER THAN PISTOLS.--
The Rev. Mr. Washburn, Bible agent for
Connecticut, in his last report. relates the
following fact :—"One donor, who is a
stranger to the hope of the gospel, told me
that he had resolved to aid in giving the
Bible to the world as long as he had the
means to do so. He thought it indispen
sible to the security of property and the
rights of mon. He said he once heard an
irreligious and profane man whose busi.
nese required him to be often among stran
gers, say "that he always carried his pis
tols with him, and usually laid them under
his pillow at night; but when he saw a
ble its the house, that had the appearance
of being well used, he never look his pu
bis from his valise."
YOUTHFUL Ntoutcr.—Weiter''Scott,
in a narrative of his personal history.gives
the following caution to youth :— ll it
skiduld ever fall to the , lot of youth to pe
ruse these pages, let such readers remem
ber that it is with the deepest regret that I
recollect in my Manhoed the, opportuni
ties of learning which I neglected in my
youth ;'ihat 'through every pert of my i)t
entry career I, have felt pinched sind'him
pored in my own ignoratice ; and I would
this moment givohalf ebwreputotion I have
hodalte good fortune to squire. if;diy , do
iug.so..l could rest the remaining part op:
wt lowa foundation, oi,learning and
Thin 1. okra olio,tiefefitioro
wlietrilieehithea Illiekdoeket f h fil
Barnum Is on his track: . : '"' — '" ' "
"FEARLESS ANIt FREE."
PROVIDENCE PR96pl
BY RR.. YIT.
A poor boy. about ten
tered the warehouse of
Samuel Richter, in Da
the book-keeper for alms
nothing here," grumble
out raising his head frog
off !"
Weeping bitterly, th
wards the door, at the t
Richter entered.
"What is the matter I
turning to the book-kee
"A worthless beggar b
answer, and he scarce!
his work.
In the meanwhile H
towards the boy and re
close to the door, ha
from the ground. "Ha I
is that you pick up
weeping boy turned,
needle.
"And what will you do with it 1" asked
the other.
"My jacket has holes in it," was the
answer, "I will sew ult the big ones."
Herr Richter was pleased with his reply,
and still more with tire boy's innocent
handsome face. "Butare you not asham
ed," he se id, in'a kind, though serious tone,
"you so young and hearty, to beg? Can
you not work 1" •
"Alt, my dear sir," replied the boy, "I
do not know how , and I am too Hula yet
to thresh, or fell wood. My father died
three week. ago, and my mother and my
brothers have eaten nothing these two days.
Then I ran out in angoith, and begged for
alms. But alas! a single peasant only
gave me yesterday a ,piece of bread ;
since then I have not eaten a mor
sel."
It is quite custom: 4y for beggars by
trade to contrive tales like this, and this
hardens many a h cart againsulie claims
of genuine want. But this time the mer
chant trusted the boy'e honest face. He
thrusted his ham! into his pocket, and drew
forth a piece of money, and said:
"There is half a dollu ; go Ad the ba
ker's, and with half the money buy bread
for yourself, your mother, and your broth
ers, but bring the otherhalf to me."
The boy took the money, and ran joy
fully away.
"Well,"Raid. the Rudy book-keeper. "he
will laugh in his sleeve, and never come
back again."
"Who knows 1" replied Herr Richter.
And as bespoke Ire beheld the boy return
ing, running with a large loaf of black
bread in one hand, and some money in the
other.
"There, good sir 1" he cried, almost
brentilless,"thero is the rest of the money."
Then, being very huniry,be begged a knife,
to cut offa piece of the brea I. The hook
keeper reached him in silence his pocket
knife.
The lad cut offa slice in great haste, and
was about to bite upon it. But suddenly
lie bethought himself, laid the breath aside,
and folding his hands, rehearsed a silent,
prayer. Then he fell to his meal with a
heavy appetite.
The merchant was moved by the boy's
unaffected piety. lie inquired alter his'
family and home, and learned from his
simple narative that his father had lived in
a village, about four miles distant front
Danizie, where he owned a small house
and farm. But his house had been burn
ed to the ground, and much sickness in the
family compelled him to sell his farm.—
Ile had then hired himself out to a rich
neighbor, but before three weeks were at ,
an end, lie died, broken down by grief and
excessive toil. And now his mother,
whom sorrow had thrown upon a bed of
sickness, was, with her four -young chil
dren, suffering the bitterest poierty. He
—the oldest—had resolved to seek for as
sistance, and had gone, at first, trem. vil
lage to village, then had struck into the
high road, arid, at last, having begged
every where in vain, had come to Dantzic.
The merchant's heart was touched.—
He had but one child, and the boy appear
ed to him as a draft at eight, which Provi
dence had drawn upai him as a test of
his gratitude. "Listen, my son !" he be
gan, "have you then really a wish to
learn 1"
"Oh, yes : I have indeed !" cried the
boy, "I have read the catechism :1441114y.
and I should know a good deal more, hut
at home I always had my little brother to
carry, for mother was sick in bed."
Herr Richter suddenly formed his res
olution.
"Well, then," he said, "if you are good,
and honest, and industrious, I will take
care of you. You shall learn, have meat,
and drink, and clothing, and in time earn
something besides. "hen you can sup
port your mother and brothers also."
The boys eyes (ladled with joy. But
in a moment he cast Clem to the ground a
gain, and said sadly, "my mother all this
while has nothing to eat."
At this instant, as if sent by Providence,
an inhabitant of the, boy's native village
entered Herr Richter's house. This man
confirmed the . lad's story, and willingly
consented to carry tie mother tidings of
her son Gottleid, and food, and a smal sum
of money from the merchant. At the same
time Herr Ruttier directed his book.keeti
er to write a letter to,the pastor of *hired
lage, commending the widow to his
'tor the, with en additional mini enclosed tor'the,
poor fainily,•and promising further assist-
As noon as this was done Herr Hitcher!
at once furnished the boy with eleeent
clothes,atooon led him to his wife, whom
he accurately informed of little gottleib'e
story and of, the plane which he hid form . -
ed for him The gootl „woman 1000
premised her assistance in the latter, and
she 'faithfally Iteptlier word.' '
,
During the next fbdr years, crotileib
tended the schools of ihirgitet eirimMitri ,
WA 044.1! theh his faithful foster-father
took him into his countintroont, ip order
is edicste i him. /or business. Here, as
Attere..m.the Writing.tleak mron
the,eollo *ch. the timing
Languished himself, by the faithful ilubletfy
with which he exercised both. With all,
Y EVENING, JUNE
,4 1 1842.
RB HONESTY.
EON.
this, his heart retained iw innocence. Of
his. weekly allowance, he sent the hall
regularly to his mother until she died, af
ter having survived two of his brothers.—
She had passed the laid year of her life,
not in wealth. itLis true, but by the aid of
the noble Richter and her faithful son, in
a condition above want. •
After the death of his beloved mother,
there was no dear friend left to Gotleib in
the world except his benefactor. Out of
love for him. .he became an active, zealous
merchant. He began by applying the
superfluity of his allowance.. which he
could now Ldispose of at hie pleasure, ta'a
trade in Hamburg quilts. When by care
and prudenee, he had gained over a hun
dred dollars, it happened that he tound in
his native village a considerable quantity
of hemp and flax, which was very good,
and stilt to be bad at a reasonable price.—
He asked his foster father to advance him
two hundred dollars, which the latter did
with greiti readiness. And the business
prospered so well, that in the third year of
his clerkship, Gottleib tiad already ac
quired the sum of five hundred dollars.—
Without giving up his trade in flat, he
now trafficked also in linen goods, and the
two combined, made him in a couple of
years., about a thousand dollars richer.
years of age, m
e rich merchant,
tzic, and asked
"You will get
the man, with
his book, "be
boy glided, to
oment that lieu
'y" was the man's
looked up from
Ritchter glanced
ark ed that, when
inked something
my-little lad, what
he cried. The
d showed him a
This happened during the customary
five years of clerkship. At the end of
this period. Gottlei!, continued to serve his
benefactor five years more with industry.
skill and fidelity ; then he-took--the-place
of the book keeper, who (lied about this
time, and three 'years afterwards he was
taken by Herr Rich ter as a partner into
his business, with a•thtrd-part of the .prof
its.
But it was not God's will this pleasant
- partnership . should be of long duration.—
An insidious disease cast Herr Richter up
on
. a bed of sickness, and kept him for two
years confined to his couch. All that
love and gratitude coutil suggest,.tiottlaib
now did to repay his benefactor's kind
ness. Redoubling his exertions he be
came the soul of the whole business, and
still be watched long nights at the old
Man's bedside, with his grievinglyjfe,_uri
til, in the sixty fi lth year of his life, Herr
Richter closed his eyes in death.
Before his disease, he placed the hand
of his only daughter, a sweetgirl of two
and twenty years. in that of his beldved
foster son. He Jtad long looked upon
them as his children. They understood
him ; they loved each other, and in silence,
yet affectionately and earnestly, they sot
einnized their betrothal at the bedside of
their dying father.
It the year 1828, ten years after Herr
Richter's death, the house of Gottleib
Bern, late Samuel Weider, was one of the
moat respectable gtatlDanizie. It owned
three large ships. employed in navi
gating the Baltic and North Seas, and the
care of Providence seemed especially to
watch over the interests of their worthy
owner ; for worthy lie remained in his
prosperity. Ile honored his mother-in
law like a son, and cherished her declin
ing years with the tenderest affection un
til, in her two and seventieth year, she
died in his arms.
. As his own marriage proved childless,
he aoolc-the oldest son of each of his two
remaining brothers—•now substantial farm
ers—into his house, and destined them to
be his heirs. And in order to confirm
them in their humility. he often showed
the needle which had proved such a source
of blessing to !inn, and bequeathed it as a
perpetual legacy to the eldest son in the
family.
It is but a few years since this child of
poverty, of fortune and of honest industry,
pissed in peace from this wnifd.
Psalms xxxvii., v 37: Mark the per.
feet man, and behold the upright, fur the
end of that man is peace.
•
Elle Your Papers:
Having occasion, a few days since, to
look into the files of this Journal, publish
ed twenty and twenty-five years ago, we
we could not but think of the satisfaction
which every man would enjoy in the pos
session of such a record. A newspaper is
the daguerreotype of its time, and in those
diminutive, dingy sheets, we had before us
what our present village was, in full life,
as it existed a quarter of a century ago.—
The men of business, with their merchan
dise and wares, and products, each eulo
gistic as now of their stock in trade; the
politician, zealous in the maintenance of
his right, centred solely in him and his
party ; the competition and strife, the fears
and hopes of all, were bifore up as in real
life. Here was the announcement of the
marriage of those who have long passed
the meridian, and are in the "sere and yel
low leaf" of age ; and here, too, was the
record of the departed, whose affiliated
successors are among us still. The news
paper itself, with its grotesque advertise
ments and general typography. is the im
personation of the mechanic arts in those.
days, and exhibits the contrast between
that periodand this.
If every young man who takes a news
paper now, will file it carefully, in his old
age he will not only have a substantial
mirror of the events with Which he was
cotemponny, to gratify his euiloaity, but
will have a record of important.faets to be
obtained from no other source. The woo-
ble and expense of filing and biliding your
newspapers is slight, and will be weir*.
paid.-4antestown Journal. ,
To know how bad you are, yon !Mist
become poor,; to know how bad other peo.;
pie are, you roust,ltecenne Many .a
man keke it is a virtue that keeps him
triint'turning rascal, when it is only a Ina
stomach: Bd careful and'do
_not militate
principles ICI kiehno,es.
0148,1110 TIM POTATO. Cotor.-6.There
ia a capital atcpry told some one, who
, prayed that the Look woo td "blow/ the pa
tatOe otoo Whlth gowned to hare boon
salludn'itt,tht displiManre; and regard with
epeoish mulles the few platted oar baot•
'tfauto.ra 'volt Hiiaga:. , --Hoisett Chet
hare 'thy tough. orktlfat MI6 -SW
heaves, are remarksblytrallorel4y mode
crate and regular feeding of carrots t ow
or mice a day. •
ikkais Voisin's Dos•
' 4 have a bseloelor cousin," said Dan,
+!ivflo verrnisr 'sighted i hisiddition to
'which miefOrtune he is Crotsi-eyed. He
had been 'operated' upon for etribisime. on
the new mode,' bin it only . resulted in
changing the obliquity 16 a differiaditen
tion, and he designs, h'S 'apt, to havil 'it
set' back, for he likesr tIM old splint the
beet. As I said, hcrwever; he it very near
sighted ; !don't think he Ever saW•his big
toe, and I have 8111,12 hint 'blot out'his'aig
nature with his nose.' while' 'writing it.--
Hut that is neither Werner:There,' said
Dan. "Cousin Joe had favorite spaniel,
a handsome fellow. With hint; drooping
ears, and eyes that had's rentarkibly hu
mane expreslion. He Wall in affectionate,
faithful animal and his metier loved him
as he would have loved s ehild.' Well,
One morning last summer, while peeling
down' Broadway, I encountered Joe, wear
ing an unusually doleful astostst, and on in
quiry,l learned that Dish was wiry sick,
and was going wilier." "
"He acts very strangely," said Joe, "arid
I've shot him up in the kennel."
"Ah!" says I, "hydrophobia, perhaps;
won't he drink?"
u [Alia a fish," said Joe, • . 4bui wilts% est;"
"Won't eat ?"
"Not a mmael—not a crumb. I've tried
him with everything; I even hada chicken
broiled for him, yesterday, and buttered,
and ho wouldn't touch it.'
"Well;Thitt - strange;' ;"how
long has he been in that condition f"
"This is the filth day," replied Joe;
looking very serious, "and the poor fellow
can hardly stand." '. • '
"We were not fir from he's house 14
this time„ and I *Nailed to ' visit his pa.
tient, to which he gladly assented, and led
the way; uttering teeny an encomium tie
poor faithful Daeh, and expressing hieftiers
that we might not find him alive.
I.vcreir - continued Dia; - "Wit - iiiiitit hi;
and went to the kennel," and tin's face
grew redder and reddir. "Went to the
kennel, and there was the Ilog—ha, ha, ha
—there was the dog—ho! ha! ho--iiith a
great wiro muzzle on his jffliiir !" and
then followed a 'final guffaw, long, loud
and sonorous.
"Poor Dash!" continued Pan, tin' over:
ing his breath-z-J.how much worse 'than
Tantalde had been thy lot!" No Moder
had I locoed his masticater thin hdtell to
eating like a famished• wolf ; and :Cousin
Joe said he remembered now directing bis
man to procure'the muzzle; but his serv
ant had been discharged the next day; for
some offence, end the circumstance had
quite escaped hiethemory."
lilsellng.
The P Yankee Blade," which leap sharp
and keen as one of the genuine Damascus
manufacture, comments upon kissing. . — ,
We appeal to the experience,of all our,
readers who,know anything about kissing
dum, if he has nut cut right into kissing--
skilfully dissected the science •of the
thing : 1
The sweetness .of. kissing Equoth 'this
Yankee Blade] depends with. us &WON.
e.r on the slyness of the thing. Take our
word for it, the stolen draughts are the
most delicious. We would rather be "cut
up into. catfish bait" than kiss,* girl
company. Besides, there is great ,danger
in the promiscuous kissing which is induir
ed in at parties. Ten to one s if your lips
do not, at the very moment after they have
been revelling in the most ecstatic enjoy..
went, come pop! upon those of some Old
maid, so sour that you cannot get the UMs
of the bitters out of your mouth fora week.
No, no, kissing in public is not the way to
manage the thing ; it destroys the rimer
enoe with which man delights to wrap the
wondrous sex. end none but a bungler will
resort to it. If you wish to enjoy a kiss :
in all its raciness—a kiss at once. delicate. I
airy and spiritual. yet one that willosuse
every pulse in your body to thrill with
ecstacy—get your little °harmer into ,a
corner of a sofa, before a cozy fire, of a
freezing night—steal your arm around her
waist—take her hand gently in your own
—and then, drawing her tenderly towards
you, "kiss her with along, sweet kiss. as
If you were a bee, sucking honey from
a flower." There's true kissing for
you.
LIFE OF AN Horron.—The editor of a
paper publifhtil at Canton, Ohiq,, gives
the following description of his paper k
Pike and I published a newspaper
in 1817, among the Miami Indians, in the
State of Indiana.. It was a great partner
ship, that. We had two tidvence paying
subscribers, one who liquidated his sub
scription with beau, the other with saw.
logs. Godfrey, the chief, took five papara,
and could not mad a word. Our ,papitt
was called the "Peru Forrester," and,
printed in the woods, that Ude was appro.
priate. The town of Peru bads number
of magnificent names for its streets, , such
as Pearl, Broadway, dus., which streets
exhibited the animating and bikatfing,apac..
taela of stumps and trees as high as 4 man's
head.' stirring vents which, trans
pilot! in that city , imperiously dinnaqdeil
couple of ()brook:tars, ,nod gike, and,
Overeat., band to discharge ; this imporoot
function. Pike Wrote-poetry, and I dip
, pedinonsiderably into -State ;polities, and
discussad in a very leamodtmanner every
ques don et interest.* .the few ostlers and
Indians a , Besides , tieing art editor' and
. prihter, he kept the ~Broadway Hotel, was
postmaster, juatico of lbw peace, land a. .
genh peuiroger, canal contractor, merchant,
ovenseer•of the poor., painter, had been a
school : Iximter.t and a day ;laborer. was
twice widoWer, was brought up a Quak
er, and the last time I law him he was a
preacher—had married a third wife, was
en stiotioneer.aml what more I know not
Alonnglady Who had been insulted by
in ottlmild in her neighborhood, by way
of 'revenge, placarded the following lined
on her' doors and windows one night:
To be lie tebtr bold for the term Of her fife,
Hall-4by the way of a Wife I
telhe's old Nut ebtfrr 11001 Illritatured dad Wits
For further particulate—enquire within.
Ong 9519n1 r. lo emoninive ad: Wort
TW4) li/OffisfinViiiiiialtlMlNClNao a
17.0 ilpin Ilaw lo omen eeiloift
anal e',I4XLIEBERDeIes Vold
2MMI
MEM
11 §OPllRRFlntieeffilli 1 11Abilsiiory x 9
po, pi*:oll,9l,l9oftegit
pasture has a goo grow ,or t e yta
the seatlon Wilt be letilk"':""9118"
Clean and whitewash cellars.kdistribote
charcoal dust and plaster of Paris about
the hog-pens, stables, &c.,,and remove all
putrescent and unwholesome substance,.
The charcoal duet'and plaster of Paris
will absorb deleterious gasses, as given off
front vegetable and other matters undergo
ing decay.
Attend to insects, and destroy them.-..
Tf you have used six bushels of salt per, a
cre on your Winter fellows and' ross lands.
but few insects will annoy you other than
those which harbor iii treed, &c., and
where salt has been used but few Weed.
will be found.
SeCure manures from the influence of
the sun and rain, as feat as made. pla n e
them under cover, if practicable, and aug
ment their quantity by admixture of muck,
pond-mud, or even head-lands, as diving
the warm weather, stable manors decom
poses rapidly, and gives off large quantities
of ammonia, which should be received .by
such materials as are capable of retaining
IL. When muck cannot be had. rover the
top of the heaps with charcoal dust or
plaster of Paris.
If you have hog-pen manure which is
free from long staffs, mix it with charcoal
dust under a shed, and by turning it wee
sionally it will become pulverulent in tints
to_sowmith turnips, for which use it is
equal to ground bones, and at less than
one-third the cost.
Dr. Ileeawo.i. in hie ..gaviy on 'Aro.
meu", asps. "I have, made women my
study for a aeriee of years. but I never
found nos 'who
. atuttered. I meet with
any, uninhsr of moo,, every day, who oat.
Emmer t hnt never have I seed a wo m en
Who couldn't bloW,an unbroken .blast,",
• The Old Oak.Tirmst.
14rotrld, k wen AU lode,' • •
, - At rtipur/ sported NN .. •
duPgrednftwitni throng/like ghtsk
meth the old , mk
~ 24y itaberliiarlii oda thi,l64l4coli
iu reteriety Ire t
My inotbehtunitin 'shines om - Me
. ' Simeath Ibrahim& tree. •,, s,
Thesunsbintrfalls mi.intrtriin4right,
At freely- Wombed tint stet' ' ,l " d
fThertreeto mitt &melte dome ashigheill
• , The flowers4lbrorn as hth....
ig h " Q " #7 4141 ( 01 VI I ° 4 , nintrti
FOrpOirsootatoitnia,' r lai to kJ
The scenes 1 Weeit a ply t io.
' ArtSonti the old '
3
But
Igased g"°l3. loreltetalkirni ''..t4t.
Like 'autumn's lease.-irked'' l.
Sweep # 1 1'04140 wetooMeedit . 7 - I r .''
AmdeU:Rlanowithintha'tkle. ' • ." W. :4"1
Ilinimrneestisity, r, ,
And wish, 1., remit child segeirs., • iu fi
&Surat thedcdetere .
• • ,•• tfr in.ll/1
Ammons to; patsies IA Issemmildetiiil
othll Yo Proort4 4.010/0 eekillsi• Alien
You. 4 Donmaric. otaold.dre tu urol
Answer to lenigma--114or Gam!
Montgomery!'
A. rommo wiliblogtopengtositoslosbeeeriliee
told be lektettleettigt, if 4,1 1, 11 1011 1 ifef
the tint ailllo hie*** ,_. I mills , aro*
.nail ; 4 for the third, ao4 sok oat
4
price of the: Witt at &lit tats Otkittoi ails
in oath Dhoti I:' ` , . : , , , u , . i . Itlit , if , Art
I eIIENUIIMAI: I ki.l4,
_ .
I im composed of1151111111A;. , ,s ‘i! '4ll
My 7: 29 88 8.4 14Wiaa eib4rdedpsel. ttl .l.
My .34.15 6 111 8,710.19,41, ar, t uhdenblib,
My / 411/ 1 1 * Il lt ' t
~
5 44 2 2 448 II aWI 4,14 0411,:
.7 ,1 1 1 1
My' se 93 se 2941 61, ilk /tint of France. ,t‘
My 719 011' rt waii rwlobraKed ' bdaijilo
My 47 ss-soss atilie by irbick'Anbakili'
is Mown:m*4d by Napoleon , Bomlpene tor.
My, 517 44 4814 was.a,Britiob general. t' •
My 7 17 101421 wu a discoverer of Amor*"
My 7.28 47 24 47 12 31 was a kinB , of Bast a.
My 11'43 8 3941 was a ceiebtoted post.
My 28 916 45 29 21 17 30 wu oefsbbitsd
siontierer:
My 38 8 18 14 was a Roma* censor.
MY 8 2 3 1 5 50 29.17 48 woo aMonme Goissellim
My 28,49 2814. woo A 45151 of 0111110 1 1_ 1 _ i
My' 1044510 38 17 45 was a king of Spyibwaf.
My 7 9 10 01 49 12 wu a king of
My 33 15 10 80 37 31 *as *class of 'Of*: fe l t
My 7 3941 31 $1 10 18 31 wail Imo se Owlet
Mardine. , , • I .11 1
My Bo' if 86 31 13 44 is s . river in lamp..
.1,,
My 4 12 5 28 20 40 31 was a Roman gement.
My total was one of the most po* 4901-
11:TAnowerafmtawk.
citizerrios.
A gentleman ideriititer
OF bessity very •
' Through ell the cocustry fir autllorearo "
Aiciait could be found so faint,
llrofferedher in loartiaire to
The pinion orb° -could tiY. .
The fortune that she did poisons. , •
IyMt voald ewe it all,.
A tract of land. the soil being , good.
She had unto her ehare.
Enclosed by fence just fire raila
la e shap the piece wet aware%
The penuele each were lett feet keg;
As you "hell nodeuithad, , •in
And every nil about the plea%
Enelcieed four roodi of turd.
•
The acres and the rails the same
A. you will by this see,
As fifty dollars an Rent Oat,
Whet would he value be:
• J or i•ntwisc
1 , tJun
Fars y Mat . great elliwilen each polio etwiftl'l'l
The3;44` Pad ilk *hat kg tleliackewleniewliftl4,
The two foto a fabric kill. inc44lllo darl Jlva;
Bo dell forefathers theu.4ll. it their fiery 'ffka
AG/1M k 8 IS A GEM.—;-BYJINGOw
The akg is clear and brii&t, love, '
And all it blest but me, , •
1 cannot shed a Oar, , ,
But it I hed au,onion, and goalie ningintiA
tome tbbeCuo, I think I cohid Watt,' „
A CUTE Bor.--"Jantea my lion. , teltir“•
this letter to the post office sad pll
postage on it." . •
The boy returned higbly 041.4
said
"Father, I seed i iota men 'pettOilkeleti:
teri to a little place, sod 'erbeti
/ 1 " 41 4 9 OPPIO Mr* irlLfor.
bought • ginger' it•aammoriptil
—N. Y. Dutchman.
===IMI
is ..vxr,?9
:!1 'II