By D. A. & C. H. BUEHLER VOLUME XXIIII Go Feel what I have Felt. (The circumstances which induced the writing of the following most touching and thrilling lines, are as follow. : A young lady of New York was in the habit of writing for the Philadelphia Led ger, 041 the subject of temperance. Her writings W 41140 so full of pathos, and evinced such deep emo tion of soul, that • friend of hoes accused her of being a mania* on the subject of temperance, whereupon she wrote the following lines Go feel what I have hit, On boar what I have borne-- Sink 'north a blow a fattier dealt. And the cold world's rood mom Then suffer on from year to year— Thy sole relief the scorching tsar. Go kneel es I have knelt, Implore, beseech and pray— Strive the besotted heart to melt, The downward course to stay ; Be dashed with bitter curse aside, Your prayers burlesqued, your tears defied do weed es I have wept, O'er a loved lather's NH 80a every promised blessing swept— Youth's sweetness turned to gall; Life's fading flowers strewed all the way Tbst brought me up to woman's day. Go see what I have seen. Behold the strong man bowed— With gnashing teeth, lips bathed in blood, And cold end livid brow ; Go catch his withering felines, and see There mirrored his soul's misery. Go to thy mother's side, And her crushed bosom cheer; Thine own deep anguish hide, Wipe from her cheek the bitter taw ; Mark her worn frame and withered brow, The grey that streaks her dark heir now, With fading frame and trembling limb; And trace the ruin back to him Whose plighted faith in early youth IPrrimised eternal love and truth, Hut who, lorsworn, bath yielded up 'That promise to the cursed cop, And led her down through love and light, And all that made tier promise bright; And cheinod her there, 'told wont and strife Thin lowly (Wog. ■ drunkard'• wile : And atamped on childhood's !fro w so mild That withering blight, the drunkard's child. Go hear and WA, and see end know, All that we want hath felt and known; Then look open the wine-cup's glow, Sae if its besot) , eau atone— Think if its Miser you will try, When all preelaipt, Vs &ink and die! Tell me I aar■ the howl! Hole is a feeble word; I hrothe—aemoa—my very sou! With slrong dugsest u stirred— When'ee I see, sr hear, or tell, Of the dark beverage of Hell! The Flowers There grew a flower within a tranquil valley, where a blue brook gurgleil. Sun beams flashed upon it in the morning and called it from its slumbers—and at night it slept beneath tke careful eye of the pa tient moon. Its tints were body as these upon a youthful cheek ; its petals were soft ma the lips of infants ; and its odors were like the incense burnt to Venus upon the altars of old. Its taper stalk bore _green awF glossy learea that fluttered at the coming of the breeze, like the sensitive heart of a girl at the sound of her lover's foot-falls--or glistened with early dew drops, like the eye of a child that is moved to tears. A maiden loved the blossom ; for she had found it while it was yet a bud—and sho nourished it, as the mother nourishes the babe upon her bosom. It became as dear to her as a living thing—and she call ed it her .piecole—her pet of blossoms.— Daily she came to watch its fair unfolding —and when, at length, it broke forth, sweet as a smile and radiant as a blush, in the full perfection of beauty, she sprinkled it with water from the brook—and, sitting beside it, warbled a song like the Trouba dour's with her wild and witching voice. And so far her affections went out to the valley flower. But when she loved it most, and came with her carresses to the place in which it grew, behold it had withered and fallen to the earth ! and she took it up with weeping, and hid it in her bosom—and she went no more to the tranquil valley. But lit became a perpetual monitor to the maid .:en—,and she found a sublime moral in her withering treasure. For when the tendrils of earthly friend ships reached forth unto her heart, she re membered her flower, and suffered them not to cling too closely to the lattice of her .sympathies—lest they, too, should wither, l and the pleasures of their brief endurance ibe swallowed up in the intenser bitter ►ness of their resignation. And when love breathed its matchless ,eloquence in her ear, and she was pleased with the impassioned earnestness of ita beautiful logic, she thought of the dead blossom at her breast, and suffered not her lips to respond too ardently—lest, when :she hatkpassed the turbulent Rubicon of feeling,,love should also decay, and'' leave ,her twice widowed. And Ashen beauty charmed her eyo— :and wealth displayed its attractions—and hope lit,its.silver lamps about her path— then thelata of the dower became a living "tempt, and her affections wire restrained and her desires tempered. So mig our bereavement often become .our richest pha—wi may our affections resultlin oar bestblessing. Happy is he who . .kimes the rod Abut chastens him—and An the •thicket of sorrow plucks the ama ranth orperpetnal good.—Btfir. Nxprese. At illanish, coettody, ,a Grimiest was diebseded. A orowd surrounded, the saf foM, sada. seem as the tolprit's head'fall, di people rushed as 'if irensed, to dip phases of to and paper is the 'trawling Mood; as Aunts eseinetoertain diseases, sod irides of their toonbers ea the kale!, lw 'their Wag littwit prises. The Indian Mother. The affection of Indian parents for their children, says Mrs. Moodie, in her Cana dian smiles, entitled "Roughing it in the, Bush," and the deference which they pay to the aged, is a beautiful and touching trait in their character. One extremely cold, wintry day, as I was huddled with my little ones over the stove, the door softly unclosed, and the moocasined foot of an Indian crossed the door. I raised my head, for I was too much accustomed to their sudden appear 1111C8 at any hour to feel alarmed, and per ceived a tall woman standing silently and respectfully before me, wrapped in a large blanket. The moment she caught my eye she dropped the folds of her covering film around her, and laid at my feet the atten uated figure of a boy, about twelve years of ago, who was in the last stage of con sumption. "Papouse die," she said mournfully, clasping her hands against her breast, and looking down 'upon the suffering lad with the most heartfelt expression of maternal love, while large tears trickled down her dark face. "Moodie's squaw save papouse —poor Indian woman much glad." Her child was beyond all human aid.— I looked anxiously upon him, and knew, by the pinched up features and purple hue of his wasted cheek, that he had not many hours to live. I could only answer with tears for her agonizing appeal to my skill. "Try and save him I All die but him. (She held up five of her fingers.) Brought him all the way from Matta Lake (Mad Lake, or Lake Shemong, Indiana,) upon my back, for white squaw to cure." "I cannot cure him, my poor friend.— He is in God's care ; in a few hours he will be with Him." The child was seized with a dreadful fit of coughing, which I expected every mo ment would terminate his frail existence. I gave him a tea-spoonful of currant jelly, which he took with avidity, but could not retain a moment on his stomach. "Papoose die," murmured the poor wo. man ; "alone—alone ! No papoose; the mother all alone !" She began re-adjusting the poor sufferer in her blanket. I got her some food, and begged her to stay and rest herself ; but she was too much distressed to eat, and too restless to remain. She said little, but her face expressed the keenest anguish. She took up her mournful load, pressed for a moment his wasted, burning hand in hers, and left the room. My heart followed her a long way on her melancholy journey. Think what this woman's love must have been for that dy ing son, when she had carried a lad of his age six long miles, through the deep snow, upon her back, on such a day, in the hope of my being able to do him some good!— Poor heart-broken mother! I learned from Joe Muskrat's squaw, some days af ter, that the boy had died a few minutes after Elizabeth lon, his mother, reached home. Autumn. We are now in the autumn of the year —the season of golden hues, and fading verdure. Nature's chill breath is imper ceptibly passing over leaf, plant, and flow er, and imparting to them all the tincture of approaching decay. The green carpet of creation is being superseded by ono of the yellow or more motley color, and all around and about us tell of the perishable nature of things. It is a season pregnant with refection, for it admonishes us that decay is an inherent principle of Nature.— It bids those of us who have not yet en tered the "sear and yellow leaf ' of life to prepare ourselves for that period, to hus band our resources for it, as the farmer does his harvest gathering, that we may look back on life's summer with ‘ a quiet glow of satisfaction, such as an autumnal evening's sun imparts to the landscape. To those who have already passed the rubioon of middle-life, it tells them that the advent of life's winter is fast approaching. Like au index to a particular passage of a book, it points to the termination of life's journey—to death and to the grave I Autumn is a chaste and gentle season; it has not the mold, frigidity of winter about it; it has not the coquetry of spring, nor the fire and passion of summer. Like true friendship, it brings a soothing balm ti the mind, without operating in fiery action, on the passions. Its winds are mild as a mother's voice ; its suns shine on the world calmly as a father smiles on hie beloved family. We would that an autumn breese would sing our requiems—weeeek no sweet er music l The world is all a fleeting *bow, rot man's illusion given ; The smile, °toy, the tears of wo. Deceitful shine, deceitful Bow i There's nothing tine but Heaven! •A new buildin; material has been die. covered and patented, wade of coke and other substances. It will cost about one• third of the eliy brisk. and is far superior in point of durability: Horne Tooke. being asked by..Georp 111. if hi played at cards, replied, 4,1 can not, yoOr majesty, all a king frOm a knave." GETTYSBURG, PA., FRIDAY EVENING, NOVEMBER 12,1852. The Curfew Tolls. he. Nothing could more fully or beautifully illustrate the finer traits of Mr. Webster's character, than the simple fact that when the hour of his own dissolution was at hand, hie mind should recur t 4 one of the most beautiful creations of poetry that could, without any impropriety, be applied to himself. How singularly appropriate are the two last stanzas to the great statesman's dying moments : The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, Tit ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the eight And ell the air • solemn stillness bolds, We where the beetle wheels his droning Bight, And drowsy tinkling. lull the distant folds. • • • • • Niteath those rugged elms, that yew tree'. shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell lorever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. • • • The boast of henldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour; The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Mr. Webster's beautiful country home, "the lowing herds" grazing in his mead ows, "the rugged elms" that encircle the mansion, and "the yew tree's shade" that hangs over the graves of his children, might well suggest the solemn reflections contained in the concluding atanzas.—Buf. Cour. Fired Step to Rubio. "My first step to ruin," exclaimed a wretched youth, as ho lay tossing from side to side on the straw bed in one corner of the prison-house. "My first step to ruin was going a fishing on the Sabbath. I knew that it was wrong; my mother taught me better; my Bible taught me better. I didn't believe them, but I didn't think it would come to this. I am undone ! I am lost !" Rorhaps he said, "It is too pleasant to be cooped up in church. What harm is there in taking a stroll in the woods?— What harm in carrying my fishing-tackle and sitting on the banks to fish ?" What harm ? Why, the harm is, that. God is disobeyed, who says "Remember the Sabbath day to keep it HOLY." The moment a youth determines to have his own way, choosing his own pleasure before God's will, that moment he lets go his rudder, his compass, his chart; nothing but. God's word can guide you safely over the ocean of life. Give that up, and you get bewildered; you are drifting.—child's Paper. THE DEATII OF \VEBSTER.—The fol lowing beautiful lines of T. B. Read, which the North British Review places among the first of American poets, will be read with interest: The grnst are falling from us,—to the dust Our flag droops midway, full of many sighs ; A nation's glory and a people's trust Lie in the ample pall where Webster lies. The great are falling from us.—one by one, As falls the patriarchs of the forest trees ; The winds shall seek them vainly, and the sun Gaze on each vacant space for centuries. Lo. Carolina mourns her steadfast pine. Which, like her main mast, towerered above her realm ; And Ashland hears no more the voice divine From out the branches of her stately elm. And Marehfield's giant oak, whose stormy brow, Oft turned the ocean tempest from the west, Lies on the shore he guarded long—and now Our startled Eagle knows not where to rest. The Two Sexes. When the rakish youth goes astray, friends gather around him in order to re store him to the path of virtue. Gentle ness and kindness are lavished upon him to win him back again to innocence and peace. No one would suspect that he had ever sinned. But when a poor confiding girl is betrayed, she receives the brand of society, and is driven from the path of virtue. The betrayer is honored, respected and esteemed ; but hie heart-broken victim knows there is no peaoe for her this side of the grave. Society has no helping hand for her, no smile of peace, no voice of for giveness. These are earthly moralities un known to heaven. There is a deep wrong in them, and fearful are the consequences. Are You Kind to Your Mother t Who guarded you in health, and oom• forted you when ill? Who hung over your little bed when you was fietful, and put the cooling draught to your parched lips ? WhJ'taught you how to pray, and gently helped you to learn to read? Who has born with your faults, and been kind and patient in your childish ways Who loves you still, and who contrives and works sad prays for you every dry you live f Is it not your mother, your own dear mother? Now let me ask you, "Are you kind to . your, mother?" "I feel," mos,ned a dying Cobbler, "that I wax weaker each succeedingly day, that I fast approach my end—a few stitches and all will be over. In heaven there is rest for the sole—earth bath no sorrow that Heaven cannot heel. Having said ay/ that he wished, he calmly breathed his lasi. Human Happiness has no perfect secur ity bat freedoni ;--freedom none but 'sir- Atte ..—vinue none but knowledge ; and neither ; freedom nor virtue nor knowledge bee any rigor or immortal bops, except in the principles of the Christian Faith, and in the amnions of the Christian Re ligion. • "FEARLESS AND FREE." Pn2ol IGe .4nwr4xl,4 MmengTr. WomanlN Faith and Patience. In the year 18—. I knew a beautiful young girl, whose father lived near the village of A---,South Carolina, and who was early wedded to the man of her heart. With the accomplishments of education. refinement and wealth, she had also, by the grace of 'God, that of sterling piety. At the death of her father, the busband found himself in possession of a very hand- some estate ; but it is hard to resist the stades of fortune and the sunshine of pros parity. Heat once became the devotee of the world, and a lover of pleasure. He soon loved to tarry long at the wine, then to follow strong drink ; he becanie involved in debt and was forced to sell rr uch of his property to pay his creditors. After a while, he removed and settled in the county of I—, where he purchased a piece of land for cultivation. At this time I went to live with him, and remained with the family about thir teen months. Aad during this period 1 never knew hint w go to bed, the night of Sunday excepted, without needing assist ance, from the effects of partial intoxica tion. It was a remarkable fact, that though this evil habit held him with a gi• ant's grasp, and had led him to degrade himself, 10 disgrace his children, and almost to break his poor wife's heart, yet such was the indelible impression made on him in childhood by pious parents, in regard to the secret! observance of the Sabbath, that I ever knew him to break it by getting drunk on that holy day. That devoted woman—Betsey, as he called her—l have seen that drunken hus band more than one hundred and filly times, laying aside her work, or putting down her child from her arms, to assist him, reeling and tottering front his horse. And during all this, amid indeed while I was there, I never heard her use an unkind word, or give him a rebuke. One fine, bright morning, I saw him start for court, dressed from head to foot in a neat suit, every thread of which Betsey had spite and woven with her fingers.—A las, I saw him return home ngant—•how changed ! sadly changed! Ile was not only beastly drunk, but one skirt of his coat was torn nearly off. and he was al most covered with mud and dirt. His wife met him as usual, only say= ing : "Never mind Billy, I can sew the skirt of.timLcoat so that it can hardly be seen, and to-morrow I will see what ! can do to wards taking that mud off." But again from the intemperate habits of the father and husband, their little farm was sold, and they removed further back, into the wild, rough mountains of G—, did not go with them, but I heard that there they rented a poor piece of bought an old house, and by this time they had a son large enough to plow. He ploughed the land, Reiser sowed the oats and wheat, and planted the corn, pulled the fodder, and helped - to gather in the crop io the fall. A delicate woman, reared in the lap of luxury and refinement, brought to such toil and drudgery ! And yet it is said that at the harvest time she would sing and praise God for his mercies in blessing her handiwork, and giving her family ••daily bread." Time passed on. Being in the village of C— on Saturday. I met a circuit preach er of the Methodist church, with whom I had long been acquainted. He asked me to accompany hint into the mountains, and preach at an appointment which he had promised to fill on the morrow. After some hesitation, I consented to do so. When the hour of worship had arrived, I preached Iron] the words. ••Come unto me, all ye that are heavy laden, anti I will give ye rest ;" whilst I wee pointing out to the ainner the happy results of coming to Christ, though he might have to labor, though sin wearied him. and though it op pressed him as a heavy burden, grievous to be borne, I heard a voice which seemed to come from the corner of the congregation, saying : "Thank God, I have experienced all that ;. I came to Christ ••laboring , weary," and "heavy Wen," and I found relief." I paused to listen, for I thought I had heard that voice before. It was Billy's voice. And soon in another part of the house, I heard a female voice thanking God for his goodness and faithfulness in hearing and answering her prayers. That was Bet sey's voice. r Then I heard the voices of children weeping, and saw them raising their hands to heaven in adoration. They were Bil ly's and Betsey's children. To my great joy, I learned that Billy hid for some time been a constant member of the church, and it was now no more a cursed, miserable family, but they were all now journeying towards heaven. Betsey had long been, and now Billy was a pil grim and a traveller to that "better cotire , try." Their home was blessed with peace and joy. Bee the power of woman's faith and pa. fiance. For thirty years had Betsey been besieging the throne of grace. And all this while she staggered not at the promis es of God, sod he at last heard her, and sent her heart's desire. Prayer opens heaven. ..My soul, wait thou only upon God. for my ppeetation is from him." A Pastor. Marks of the Goa%Wawa. No man is a gentlemen who, 'without provocation, woik, treat with incivility the humblest , orfils species. It is a vul. garity for which uo accomplishments_ of dress or address can ever atone. , Show me the man who desires to make every one .happy around him, and whose greatest so licitude is never to give just cause 'of of 'fence to any one, and I will show you a etlttletnan by nature ,and by prectiCe. Mmlb he may- never have worn a suit of broadcloth nor ever heard of* lezlcon. I am pround to any, for the honor of our species, that There are men in every throb Of Whose ban there is solicitude for the welfare of mankind, and whose *ter, brelib is perfumed with kind nese,. How to lay ap Money tbr a Rainy Day. A number of years go. Charles and Clara S.— were married in the city of New York. Charles was wealthy and in good business—very comfortable cumetances for a young man. which tend. ed, of course, to develops his naturally lib. era! disposition. Feeling thus happy and independent of the world's frowns. he pro posed to his youthful bride, one day du ring the honeymoon, to give her five thousand dollars for every “seion of his house" which should be engrafted upon the family tree—an agreement. as may be supposed, to which the lovely Clary made not the slightest objection. Time passed on—Charles faithfully performing his a. greetnent, and making no inquiries as to the disposition of her money by his better half, until they had beau married some ten years. Fortune, who had smiled with constancy, suddenly turned her back, and left him apparently high and dry among die breakers of Wall street. When the crisis had arrived. he went home with a heavy heart to announce the sad news to his wife that he was an irretrievably ruin. ed man—that his property had all gone to satisfy his creditors, and nothing was left. "Not exactly so bad as that, my dear," said Clara. "Wait a minute, and see what I have been doing." Thus saying, she ran up stairs, and soon returned with a deed in her own namq, of one half of an elegant block of houses id the neighbor hood, worth thirty thousand "You see I have been industrious," con tinued she, "and have !aid up something for n rainy day. If you had been seaman as your brother, we might have had the whole block by this time."—Kennebec Journal. Frew the , Musiool World. Mr. Clapp's Soliloquy. Another girl. What can Mrs. Clapp he thinking of I it is perfectly ridiculous ! There's four of them now, and this is four more than is necessary. I don't believe in girls—lovers and laces, ringlets and ro mance*, jewelry and jump-ropes, silks and satins ! what's to be dune 1 There's whole chest full of my old clothes that I've been saving to make my boys' jackets.— ' wile' Mrs. Clapp ever would think as I do. Another girl! Who's to keep the name in the family, rd like to know I I shall be extinct ! And now she wants to put up a note in church for "blessings received !' Well, I suppose my girl* will turn to boys, one of these days. (It's hard to be facetious when a man's to be crossed and thwarted in this way once a year.) Mrs. Clapp has a very obstinate streak in liar disposition in this respect. It's waste powder to reason with her; it seems to go into one ear and out of the other. If she gets going on one particular track, you may just fold your arms and let her take her time to get off it. She knows I prefer boys, thatwoman_doeis,jost as well as IdigAnqyA her name is Hwy. Well, there's a limit to human patience. I shall tell her very decidedly, as soon as her gruel pro bation is over, that a atop must be put to this. It's no use for a man to pretend to be master in his own house, when he is re/ I —Funny Fern. Rather Icy. A raw youth from Maine strolled into an eatiiig saloon in Boston, the other day, and being asked, as he gazed wistfully at the tempting dishes served out to the hun gry feeders, what he would have, threw down his hat and answered : "Pork and beans are about as good at anything ; I'll take a heaping plateful, I will." Having devoured the mess with happy like celerity, he rose, and saying "much obleeged," was about vamosing into the street. "Here, friend," cried the landlord, "you have forgotten to pay." "Pay I" said the youth, while lila eyes protruded with fish-like conve:itys•'didn't you invite me to eat ? Didn't you ask me what I'd have 1 If that don't beat all the notions I've sees in Boating yet—ask a feller to dinner, and then want him to pay for it I" "Well, go along said the landlord, too busy to dispute about a ninepence—"you are a cool one." "Why, yes. I'm jest so, Squire," wai the reply, •you see I've just got on my summer clothes." BIAUTITUL THOUGHT.—There is but one breath of air and beat of the heart be tween this world and the next. And in the brie' interval of a painful and awful suspense, while we feel that death is with us, that we are powerless, and He all powerful, and the la s 4, taint pulsation here, is but the prelude of endless life hereafter. We feel in the midst of the stunning ca lamity about to befall us. that earth has no compensating good to the severity of our loss. But there is no grief without some beneficent provision to soften its in tenseness. When the good and the love ly die, the memory of their good deeds, like the moonbeams on the stormy sea, lights up our darkened hearts, and lends to the surrounding gloom a beauty so sad, so sweet, that we could nut, if we would, dispel the darkness that environs us. A GOOD ONIC TO Go.--" Paddy, honey, will ye buy me watch 1" "And is it about selling your watch ye are, Mike !" "Troth it is, darling' , •What is the price r' wren shillings and a mutchkin of the crea ture." qs the watch a decent one f" "Our. and i've had it twenty years,•kod it never °pee desaved me." "Well here's your tin, and now tell me does it go well th Bedid an' it goes faster than any Watch in Connaught. Munster, Ulster or Leinater, not barring Dublin." '•Bad luck to ye. Mike. then you have taken we in. Didn't you say that it never chuta wed , you 1" ••6nre an' I did ; nor did it, forl minor pouted on it." - ♦ Bird Story. That ardent admirer of nature, Mrs. Child, tells a pretty anecdote about a fam ily of swallow, which the was acquaint ed with. "Two barn swallows,' she says. "came into our wood-shed in the springtime. "Their busy, earnest twitter ing led me to suspect they were looking oat a building spot; but as a carpeoter's bench was under the window. and very frequently hammering, sawing and planing were going on, L had little hope that they would choose a location under our roof. To my surprise, however. they soon be gin to build in the crotch of a beam over the open doorway. I was delighted, and spent more time watching thait "penny wise" people would have approved. It was. in fact, a beautiful little drama of do mestic love. The mother bird was so busy, and so important ; and her-mate was so attentive I Never did any new ly-married couple take more satisfaction with their first newly-arrangeti - drawer of baby clothes, than they did in fashioning their little woven cradle. The father bird seavettiv ever left the side of the nest. There he was. all the day long, twittering in tones that were most obviously the nut-pouringe of love.— Sometimes he would bring in a straw, or hair, to be interwoven in the precious lit tle fabric. One day my attention was ar rested by a very unusual twittering. and I saw him circling round, with ft large dow ny feather in his bill. He bent over the unfinished nest. end offered it so his mate. with the moat graceful and loving air im aginable, and when she put up her mouth to take it, he poured forth such a gust of gladsome souud ! It seemed as if pride and affection lied swelled his heart till it was almost too big for his little bosom. When the young . became old enough to fly, anybody would. have laughed to watch the manwuvres of the parents I Such a chirping and twittering ! Ruch diving down from the nest, and flying up again ! Such wheeling round in circles, talking to the young ones lathe while ! Such cling ing to the sides of the shed with their sharp claws, to show the timid little fledge- lings that there was no steed of falling ! For three days all this was carried on: with increased nativity. It was obvioulri,att infant flying-school. But all -their.lalkiiig and fussing was of no avail. The little things looked down, then looked up, but. alarmed at the infinity of spare, stink down into the nest again. At length, the parents grew impatient, and summoned their neigh bourn. As I was picking up chips one day. I found my head encircled bye swarm of swallows. They flew up to the nest. and jabbered away to the ycning ones ; they clung to the walls, looking back to tell how the thing wee done ; they dived and wheeled, anti balanced, nod floated, in a manner beautiful to behold. The [M.; pile were evidently much excited. They jumped on the edge of the nest, and twitter ed, and shook their feathers, and waved their wings, and then hopped hick again, saying. 'li'. pretty sport, hat we can t o it.' Three limes the neighbors came and repeated their graceful lesson. 'Fite third time two of the young birds gave a sudden plunge downward, and then fluttered and hopped till they lighted on a small upright log. koc keil oh ! sunli praises as were war dby the whole troop ! The air was filled with their joy ! Some were flying around, swift as a ray of light ; cub. er's were perched on the hoe handle and the teeth of the rake; multitudes clung to the wall. after the fashion of their pretty kind, and two were swinging, in the most graceful style en a pendant hoop. Never while memory lasts, shall I forget the swal low party. A MODERN ROMULUS-STRANOIC STORY...- Th. Delhi Gazette relates an almost incred ible story of the discovery of a boy, who had consorted with wolves so early that nearly every trace of humanity had been Inst. He walked, or ran, on all fours, and after his removal int) the service of an of ficer, he still delighted in the company of Jackals and other four-footed animals, which he would make his trencher nom pinions. He was never known to smile, and only ■poke once, to indicate that his head ac lied. He died suddenly after drink ing some water. Tbis poor creature was recognized by his parents, but they soon became disgusted and deserted him. His age, at the time of his death, was apparently twelve years. A GIANT AID Plaistow, in Esssex county. England, there at pre sent res ides a woman, aged 20, who stands six feet four inches in height ; the middle finger on either hand measures nix inches ; the length of her arm is twenty-eight inch es. It is within the last three or four years she has attained her present extra ordinary height. There is every indica don that two or three inched will be ad. ded to her present statue. The Kentish giant. Edward Crausar, is paying his ad dresses to this young woman, and they will probably be married. Crauser is on ly nineteen years of age, and stands seven feet nix inches. Eis father and 'pother are below the middle stature, and . his sis ters are dwarfish. WISDOW or TOWN IstDlg4.—..Pa, why don't you buy a hen, so we could have ail the eggs we want." NMv dear, one hen could not lay an the eggs we want," °Why, yes it would, Pa, we only use a dozen eggs a day, and a good hen would certainly lay the meg." Out ..devil"', says that this young lady is a 'sister of the one who thought that milk was pumped out of cows, and that We mil wee the pomp beadle• NIOVIIPAPIA ON Sur..—ln Pekin; China, a newipaper of extraurdinerreimi pubr Hefted weekly, on silk.. It is vial fcr hare been started more than a thouiland years Igo. An anecdote is related to the effect that in 1727 a public officer caused sonic false intelligence to be inserted in this newspaper, for which he was put to delith. Several numbers of the, paper 1$ Ice. served In the floy'i,ltibraryt.."l,ttillio'lw Tltity are smelt lett rout y dr* ls TWO DOLLANII 141 i ANIWM. )NUMBER 35. Handsome Men. Amer rem, a correspondent of the Bastion Olive Branch, thus replied to an individual who said rune body was not calculated.to win a lady', heart bonus* be was not handsome •'Begging your panlon. Solomon, that's a gruff nottake ! Its quite unessential that a wan should be ..handsome." Let hint pray the Clods, in the first plane, to make him a 01115ITLIMILM-11 gentleman at home as well as abroad. Let him stipu late for fine figure and courtly, manner, and leave it to , their discretion, after that, to shape his eyes, nose and mouth, pro. aided they dont make him perfectly hid- Sive- De from your plaid-panted. bord ered-vested, big-cravated, moustached. on. lope-sprinkled, bejewelled, brainless es geisha. Give us a well-informed, dressed, self•possessed, intelligent mos euline ; perfectly at home upon all sub jects; foreign and domestic ; neither crin ging to The great. nor oppressing the little; who punt one hand on his sword. and the other on his heart when a woman'. name is mentioned ; who raises no blush on the cheek of humbled innocence; who holds in contempt no living thing that God hid made ; • who esn pity the weak and erring without ,a pharassieal reviling.; who eau argue withontTose of temper , or dignity ; who scorns a bribe or an oath; who , has an arm tor trembling age, s smile lot ;init. ding infancy, and a elm& brave Wart: for the oppressed and defeneelesi:Sot ft ..pretly roan I"--'11 pink end While air Brainkss r —the tanned wore of it tail* hatter, shoemaker and perfumer 1-Aitsioy vett save the mark I frontenknore bawl" Annum:Yrs ,or Cm- CIROCILIM-40014 upon a time, during a debate in the UAL Rouse ut Represanunives, on a bill for increasing the number of hospitals, one Of the Western members arose antlabseired,i "Mr. aPeeker — * - ePinion Ist that tint gineralilg of utinkinti, in • giant,. its disposed to take the dieofilateige 4'olo giliefulity of mankind in tinsmt." ••Bit 1104111 p sit down, ..whispered tits Col., who sat near hint, "you are coming out at the same hole•you went in at." There is an old man in Heignutet' fitt the frontiers of Hungary and Turkey; who has attained the old age of 172 years. ' Ike is still in posaeosion of ill his familties, and smokes his pipe regularly.' NOl . ctithe one hundred years since he made his'third marriage with a girl of-ilineleeti f "whom he has outlived by forty;four est*. ' ' , Me American multi laibet4iti hi now /*bout 8004, iikibtabititer a witeitery of over 800 miles or: coast. They have built about twenty cities and towns. They have made treaties by which one. hundred thousand natives are brought under their laws and nearly a million have abandoned • VII - • prnii.Agn,.a plish this good has not exceeded a million and a half of dollars. The society' WIN for additional aid in their good work. The poet Crebbe once, in a fermenting mood, indited the following crabbed; crooked. cross and crusty criticism: Secrets with girls, like loaded smite With boy , . Are never valued tiU they make noire. To show how worthy; they their powers dhplev— To show how worthy, they their trans hesre? Like pence in children's pockets, arcrela Ile In female hosoms—.they must burn or fly The Woman's State Temperanee Con vention. in session at Syracuse, silopied a resolution to the offset that they. "will go by the hundreds, if not by the tlinnasnils, at the corning *million of the Nets 'York Legislature, and present petitions with their'own hands, to favor of the Maine Law." How light and °therm!•love.makes pen. pie. Till the khot is tied. they frel so spiritual that a porch of cobwebs support ed'by pillars of srooki, are quite as sub stantial an edifice as, they will everstand in need of. What a change a few months work—the cobweb* are superseded by pork and beans, and the pillars of smoke by bolsters made of cattails. A notice of a recent steamboat etplm *ion closes as follows: :spit& swim ashore. So did the chambermaid. She was insured for 117.000, sras.eOppir. bottomed. and loaded with roilon." A child was horn in Albany, the other day, having six fingers and , six toes. Its lace is perfectly round, there being an nose or eyes, but with a ronod hole,for the mouth. One who saw it lays th a t “when it cries it whistles." , Miss Brown, I have been to learn bow to tell fortunes," said a young fellow to a brisk brunette. "Just let me have your hand, if you please." "La I Mt. White, how sudden passe Well; go and ask my father." „ An author or a love story, in destnitokni his heroine, mays : ..innoeenee dwelle' the rich clusters of her dark tulli." waggish editor rug/eine that s dins tooth U comb would bring out, , I Loge is like honesty- much talked a bout, but little Understood. • • Cortes. in a leiter to Charles V., in 11. lustintion of the advancitil elate of aoltniir antoog•the Indians of 'Neale% says that ..they begged in the streets liked people." • AN ADVENT,ISEMKNT. Hen Pisa, and gekto and Bier 1 eel% Aud Oiaters amid and hi rthop'shell. Wuna tew for Oulu 'bat tiwww, Anti with ikspaich black buts and thew*. Mrs. Partington says the only way to prevent steamboat explosions is to Make the engineers "bile their water" ashore. In her opinion all the bustin' is caused by "cooLtug the steam" on board. An Irishman being in church whin 04 ettibialtue apparatus resembled eiesibul 'berme, fib itio beteg boded to bloc *Ma. lcuodkc tbo , noniones oar dial Ist trocal Ilaulal#ll4 cad couldn't row ..:.~.':~s.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers