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Protliyterim Rev. D. Harbison, lor.
Treadling every .Sabbath morning 10A
v'clock, and in the evening at 0 o'clo S110
Uth School at 9 o'clock, A. M. I'raiiieet
injf every Thursday evening at 7 o'cl-
Methoditt Episcopal Church Rev. jtA,
IVadier in charge. Rev J. M. Si, As
fijuut. Preaching every Sabbath, :i.'iatily
r: lui o'clock in the morning, or in the
vening. Sabbath School at 9 o'cloSA. M.
Prayer meeting every Thursday eve,' at 7
WtUh Independent Rev. Ll. R.well,
Pastor. Preaching every Sabbath ningat
lj o'clock, and in the evening at ;lock.
Ssbbiitli School at 1 o'clock, P. tf'rayer
netting on the first Monday evenii each
injath ; ftnd 011 every Tuesday, Irsilay
aal Kri l:iy evening, eiceptiug the t week
i:i e.i.'h Month. 1
Cinini.it in Methodut Rev. Jons flAMS,
Pastor. i'rea I)iiiLr everv Sabbath ng at
2 0 .clock. Sabbath School at lloek.
A. V. Prayer mfetiii every FridAj-nirijr
u 7 o' -io' k.. Society every Tucid-niijg
at 7 i) '. lock. '
1 . ., .-, r. s v . W v . T.i.oy i) , P i o r- ac h -Is;
' r;- Sabbath Morning at 10 0'
'" '.'..":, .r t'i:;-ii; Rkv. D A MiKIXS,
1 i-.r. t-vjsy S :bbath ut
3 '.'. k. Suobalh School at 1 o'cli'. M.
' V. ..V i'.::. M. J. MlT'-HELL, ,r.
S -r 1: ; -rv -ibb ith.inornin:' at Uiock
EBENSBURG, PA., THURSDAY. OCTOBER 20, 1859.
TIic Deserted EHuuse.
BY A I. F I: E ;) TEXXY80.V.
"e gone away
IIFE and thought havi
!Mde bv- side.
Leaving door and windows wide :
Careless tenants thev 1
AH within is dark as night
In the window is no light ;
And no murmur at thedoor.
So frequent on its hinge before.
Close the door, the shutter close,
Or through the windows we shall see
The nakedness and vacancy
Of the dark deserted house.
Come away ; no more of mirth
Is here, or merry-making sound ;
The house was b.iilded of the earth,
And shall fall again to ground.
Come away : for life and thought
Here no longer dwell ;
Rut in a city glorious
A great and distant city have bought
A mansion incorruptible.
Would they could have staid with us !
From the PLreiiuWiealJoumul. of .T:m
k in tne vve:u
iU-'iTji. .i.tilv, at llj o'clo.
v.' .-nern, -'at 11 " I
Kvrn, l:iilv. :it 5 o'clo M.
Y.-:?r:i. at ii 1 11.
US, The Mails from Uutler.Indi;n;i,L.a
l-'wn. .. M r'iNi'oii Tucsdi'.y an J F of
'.: v.ir!;, ut "1 t( lock, P. M.
I.. a- !.:..-! -u r ,,:i Mondays anu-s.
i! 1. -'. at 7 .. . lock. A. M.
SX The Mail iVotu Newman's Mil r
r'.l'u'.vu. ,.., arriv- 011 Nind:y and Tof
.'..'i -v. .,k. .! :: '. !(, ck. P. M. "
I.'-:;.- Kbcn-bur:' .'i Tuesdays nndr-
7 ,c .. ;
t ".i- '
Cj. Exjires? Tmin, leaves at
Mail Train, "
K-t Exnress Train, "
Mall Train, u
' Fust Line,
The jrifted writer who has won sur-h .1
wide anJ Lea u tii til refutation around the
.1 1 .7 . .
uuiii.-.Mic jicarui-stoues 01 thin country,
under the nauie of Giiapk (Ihha-h a,,,,
w. porn in 1 onipev, a quiet, agricultural
town m linoudajra county, JS. Y. Her
lamily name was tv.ra CJ. Clarke, which.
oy ner marriage with 31 r. Leander K.
iippineott, ot I'lnladelplua, in October
last, is apiui changed; but the ajipclla
tion by which she will be best known in
the history of American literature, is that
under which the made her earliest ap
pearance in the field of authorship, and
attracted a multitude of appreciative and
ad .uiring readers.
The firt years of her childhood were
.-pent with her parents, and a large family
of brothers and sisters in a plea-sant rural
home in her native place. Here she ac
quired that faee-to-face familiarity with na
ture, tnat wild passion ior out-door sports
and exercises which made her a sort of
l)ie A'ernon at an early age, and which, if
we 111:13-judge from her writings, the ex
periences of maturer life has never quite
taken out of her heart. Xo one but a
geDnine con 11 try-girl, with eye and soul
alive to all the enchantments of woods,
and water?, and verdant fields, could have
given the description of Heauty which we
find in one cf her published letters.
'Ueaury," s:is the joeound (J race, 'is 110
fragile, rouged, and powdered bail-room
Wile; but a wild, blooming, vigorous
nymph of the mountains, a bounding,
sparkling I'ndinc, amid green dells and
dashing water-tails. Her iye flashes not
first time that the delicate question of my
complexion had been touched upon with
out due regard for my feelings. I u as n. it
to blame for being dark, I did not make
myself, I Sce p;i;rer wcmen tian
my mother. I iolt that what she said was
neither more nor less than an insult ; and
when she went out to see about supper,
and left me alone, I brooded over her
words, growing more and more out of hu
mor till my naughty heart became so hot
"u ui'-T Willi aiKTr. Un,t if ..I-
t Ust. 1 bit 1I1V lm .,,,!
' -.7 t-r v- A
y stern, for I had made un niv mind rr
something great. Before I let you know
what this was, I must tell you that the
Onondaga tribe of Indians had their vil
lage not many miles from us. Every few
months, parties of them came about with
baskets and mats to sell. A company of
five or six had Wen to our house that very
mornir.g, and I knew that thev had their
encampment in our woods, about half a
mile distant. These I knew verv wll
and had quite a liking for them, never
1 1) 111 king ut being afraid of them, as tliey
ahvavs seemed kind rm,l r.-.r. l.u
"To them I resolved to ro in mv trouh-
e. They would teach me to weave bask
ets, to ush, and to shoot with the Ww and
arrow. Thev would nnt in?.l-f. ..- l..
j ' mi, riu'i v j
nor wear bonnets, and thev would nov
find fault with mv dark comulexion. T
remember to this day how softly and slyly
I slid out of the house that cvemnsr. I
never stopped once, nor looked round, but
ran swiitly till I reached the wood. I
did not know which way to go to find the
encampment, but wandered "about-in the
most spoiled by living in the house and
going to school, but he'hoped that, if thev
..,.1- 1.. 1 ' J
"iv tay auu gave me a new name,
and dressed me properly, they might make
someuimg ol me yet. Then I asked him
what he was called, hoping that he had
t;t me grand Indian name, like Uneas, or
JUiantouimo, or Tushmalahah ; but he said
it was Peter. He was a pleasant fellow,
and while he was talking with me I did
not care about my home, but felt very
brave and squaw-like, and began to think
about the fine belt of wampum, and the
head-dress of gay leathers, and the red
leggings, and the yellow moccasins I was
going to buy for myself, with the baskets
I was going to learn to weave. But when
he left me, and I went back to the wigwam
and sat down on the hemlock boughs bv
myself, somehow I couldn't keep home out
oi my min.j. 1 thought first of my moth
would miss the little brown
1 - 1 .
saw a i;rnt iriim-
J-JAjts of the Cinrts. President, II-I
Ta I jr, Huntingdon ; Associates, Ceor
EasL-y, Richard Jones, Jr.
rro'honolary. Joseph M'Donald.
Rtjitcr and Recorder. Michael Hassc
M'ri.Uaoert P. Lintoa. .
Deputy Sheriff. George C. K. Zahm.
District Attorney. Thconhiius L. Hey
Cuun'u Coihiuinxionert. Thomas 31 Cc al temperament.
back the glaring brilliancy of the gay
loon, but w:irm sunshine and clear star
light ; and her voice is not tuned to the
harp and guitar, but sink's with the wild
bird nnd laughs with the rivulet, llebe
herself was no luxurious habitant of a
marble palace, with fcilken couches and
velvet carpets, but reclined beneath the
shades and danced amid the dews and
moving splendors of the sacred mountains
of the (Jods. The Muses aud Graces were
all young ladies of rural propensities and
most unrefined habits."
A little incident of her childhood is
related in one of her juvenile works,
which shows the precocious development
of that spirit of enterprise and romance
which Fcems to be ingrained in her natur-
O11 a certain occasion.
gathering darkness, till I
inering through the trees at some distance.
I made my way through the bushes and
brambles, and after a while came upon my
copper-colored friends. In a very pretty
place, down in a hollow, they had built
them some wigwams w ith maple saplings,
covered with hemlock boughs. There
were in the group two Indians, two squaws,
and a boy about fourteen years old. But
I must not forget the baby, or rather pap
poose, who was lying in a sort of cradle,
made of a large, hollow piece of bark
which was hung frjm the branch of a tree
j i"t gupo-vine. me
young squaw, its mother, was swinging it
back and forth, now far into the" dark
shadows of the mnc and hemlock, now
cut into the warm fire-light, and chanting
to tne child some Jnd;a:i lullaby. The
men sat on a log, smoking irravelv .-m.l
silently; while the boy lay on the ground,
playing lazily with a great yellow hound,
which looked mean and st.irrrl ,.it
Indian dogs. The old s.iuaw was cooking
the supper in a large iron not. orrr a firo
built among a pile of stones.
?,- ir f Abel Lloyd. i it appears that the young madcap had call-
.t. ,.... - ed lorth the displeasure of her affectionate
Trcwrer. George J. Rodjrers. i otr, by indulging in a wild equestrian
Poor iint jHrecu.rn. Wiliiam P performance which had nearly ended in
D.tvi l O'llarro, Michael M'Guire. Jbroken bones. "It happened," says (3 race,
Poor House Treasurer? (I core e C. K. that I had on that day a nice new dress,
Poor yot. A7cararrf.Jjt.ucs J. '"Jxvluch I had sadly soiled by my fall from
Mercantile Aimrcixer. Francu 1 lerael . . . , J J, , ,
Auditor. 113 J. Lloyd. Daniel CoU-"e ?ouy so U1:1C wncu 1 reached home,
Cuuiity Surrfyor. Henry Scnnlan.
Coroner. Peter Dougherty.
Superintendent of Common Schoolt.
so that wheu 1
.1 il . , 1 1 r
my motner wns greariy aisjiieasea. x sup
pose I made a very odd appearance. I
vas swinging my bonnet in my hand, for
. had a natural dislike to any sort of cov
ering for the head. My thick dark hair
KnnXSI8LrRG IJOR. OFFICBad become unbraided and was blowing
JuuiccM of the reace. David II. Rofcvcr ruv eves. I was never very fair in
77. . i m i
tiarrison ICinkead. 'oninlexinn. and mv face. neck, and arms
KUT9r- Jolin D. Hughes. ad become completely browned by that
iou-n Courted. Andrew Lewi. Joshu . 1 V
rarrUh. David Lewis. Richard Jones, j P?1".8 exposure. MJ momer tOoK me
y the shoulder, set me down in a chair,
t very gently, and looked at me with a
. al frown on her sweet face. She told
i in plain terms that I was an idle, care
j j"-s child ! I put my finger in one corner
mv- mouth, and swung my foot back
TV n f - C i. - f r? I Tvam frt.1 4rtt Wlisk L'iM T u-ia rr f rnmn !
' un,"ti j t4'tt lUUru. 'litllU JiUip luiui. ,tv run . ti v.
Couttai.lr. George Gnrley. .outed my lip, and drew down my black
Taz Collector Gvorfro GarUy. .-brows. Khesaid I was more like a
-lt.,or. Uk 'ir.r l T. Davis. , .i l . - l t x-
he rf r.i ctu .-David J. Jones. f (1 joungsquaw than a white girl ! .Now
r, ,, , it p,.,ra ii ,;..n was too much it nvas what I called
itfing upon facts;' and 'twas not the
CVert to Council. James C. Noon.
Borowjh Treasurer. George Gurley.
Weiyh Matters. Davis L Lloyd.
School D.rrrtr.T f V. . V'C?UP.
2rkfer, Thomas M. Jones, Reese S.
i-'iWard Gln triHixn IlurU
or some time, I did not dare to n
f it. . - r
inrwaru, out at I.tst I went up to the old
squaw, and looking up into her good-hu
mored iace, said, 'I come to live with you,
and learn to make baskets, fori don't like
m- home.' .She did not say any thing to
me, but made some exclamation in 'her
own language, and the others came crowd
ing round. The boy laughed, shook me
by the hand, and said I was a brave girl ;
but the old Indian grinned horribly and
laid his hand on my forehead, saying,
'What a pretty head to scalp ! I scream
ed and hid 1113- face in the 3-oung squaw's
blue tioth SKirt. She spoke soothingly,
and told me not to be afraid, for no 113
would hurt me. She then took me to her
wigwam, where I sat dow n and tried to
make myself at home. But somehow I
didn't feel quite comfortable. After a
while, the old squaw took off the pot, and
called us to supper. This was succotash,
that is, a dish of corn and beans, cooked
with salt pork. AVe all sat down on the
grouud near the fire, and ate out of great
wooden bowls, with wooden spoons, which
I must say tasted rather too strong of the
pine. But I did not sa3 so then, by no
means, but ate a great deal more than I
wanted, and pretended to relish it, for
fear the3- would think me ill-bred. I
would not have had them know but what
I thought their supper served in the very
best style, and by perfectly polite and gen
teel people. I was a little shocked, how
ever, b3' one incident during the meal.
While the young squaw was helping her
husband for the third or fourth time, she
accidentally dropped a little, of the hot
succotash on his hand. He growled out
like a dog, aud struck her across the face
with his spoon. I thought that she show
ed a most Christian spirit, for she hung
her head and did not say auy thing. 1
had heard of white wives behaving worse.
"When supper was over, the boy came
and laid down at my feet, and talked with
me about living in the woods. He said he
pitied the poor white people for being shut
up iu houses all their days, rorhis part,
he should die of such a dull life, he knew
he should. He promised to teach me how
to shoot with the bow and arrows, to snare
partridges and rabbits, and "many other
thing. FIc said he was afraid 1 was al-
er, how she
lace at the surner-tal.lo. ml r.r. th
low, by the fair face of my blue-ed sis
ter. I thought of my young brother, Al
bert, crying himself to sleep,' because 1 was
lost. 1 thought of my father and brothers
searching through the orchard and barn,
and going with lights to look in the mill
stream. Again, 1 thought of my mother,
how, when she feared I was drowned, she
would cry bitterly, and be very sorry for
w hat she had said about my dark com
plexion, lhen I thought of myself, how
I must, sleep on the hard ground, with
nothing but hemlock boughs fur covering,
and no body to tuck me up. What if It
should storm before morning, and the high
tree above me should be struck by light
ning ! What if the old Indian shoulufnot
be a tame savage after all, but should take
a fancy to set up the war-whoop, and come
and scalp me in the middle of the night!
"The bell in the village church rang
for nine. This was the hour for evening
devotions at home. I looked round 10 see
if my cow friends were preparing for wor
ship. JJut the old Indian was alreadv
fast asleep, and as for the younger one l
ared that a man who indulged himself
m beating hw wife with a wooden spoon
would hardly be likely to lead in family
prayers. Upon the whole, I concluded
I was among rather a heathenish set.
Then 1 thought again of home, and doubt
ed whether thev would h iv -m- .,..,
worship that night, with one lamb of the
flock gone astray. I thought of all their
gnet and fears, till I felt that my heart
would burst with sorrow and repentance,
iui x uareu not c- aloud
'Suddenly, I heard a familiar sound at
a nine distance, it was Carlo's bark !
.Nearer and nearer it came; then I heard
steps coming fast through the crackling
brushwood; then little Carlo
of the dark iuto the fire-light, and leaped
upon me, licking my hands with joy. He
was lollowed by one of my elder brothers
arm oy my mof,er : To her I ran. I
dared not look her in her eves, but hid mv
iace in ner bosom, sobbing out, 'O moth
1 .11 - I
-seu me to ner Heart, ami bent down and
kissed me very tenderlv, and when she
did so, I felt the tears on her dear cheek.
"1 need hardly say that I
unuertook to make
to the promise of rising genius. They at
once discerned the sterling merit of their
contributor, reached forth to her the hand
of friendly welcome, spoke those words of
kindly encouragement which are so grate
ful and precious to the heart of thedmid
aspirant, and challenged for her writings
the public favor, which they have since
enjoyed in no stinted measure. In the
recollections of those eminent men, we are
sure there can be few brighter passages
than the effective sympathy which on this,
as well as on numerous other occasions,
they have accorded to the modest efforts
of youthful genius.
Among the poetical pieces which at
tracted the greatest share of admiration,
may be reckoned the "Ariadne," the
"Horseback Bide," and "Pygmalion."
They were succeeded by various composi
tions in prose, which at once attracted no
tice, piqued curiosity, and made the name
01 urace Orcenwood a prime favorite
among the numerous popular contributors
10 ine widely-circulated magazines of th
:vy. In connection wh other
labors, she was the editor of the "Lady's
ior a year. Jier lirst volume, en
uucd -Greenwood Leaves." was brought
out in 1n,m by Tick nor, IU-ed & Fields.
of Boston. It f'OIKItfc tC 1 .r.ll
tales, sketches, and letters, showing tho
genial powers and exuberant vivacitv of
the writer to singular advantage. In 1851
she published a volume of "Poems," and
an admirable juvenile story-book, called
"History of My Pets." A second series
of "Greenwood" Leaves" was issued the
followiug year, and also another juvenile
work, called "Becollections of my Child
hood." Bach of these excellent works fur
the perusal of young people (though not
without a charm to readers of every age)
has been received with cordial delight0 as
well in England as in our own country.
In the spring of 1852, Grace was ena
bled to carrv into efTer t 1
desire to visit Europe. She passed about
fifteen months in England, Scotland, Ire
land, Prance, Italy, "and Tyrol, gratifyinff
her native love of art by the sight of its
choicest specimens in the galleries of the
Old World, gaining fresh materials for
poetry in the scenery and suggestion of a
foreign land, forming an acquaintance with
secrai or the most attractive celebrities
in literature, and enlivening the social
circles in Englaud in which she was
warm by received by the resistless attrac
tions of her wit, piquanc3', originality, and
Young American freedom from the smooth
petrifactions of European society. She
returned from her transatlantic tour in
August last, aud has since prepared a re
cord of her travels, entitled "Haps and
Mishaps of a Tour in Europe," which will
soon be issued in Boston, by Ticknor,
Heed & Fields. This volume, it may be
predicted, will possess as great an interest
for the public in ; general, as any of hei
previous works. With her acute 11 ess of
.1 1 . ! n
uwaei auuii aim ne cr-iaiiing Tluw or spir
its, she is siugularly adapted to give a liv
r . , .1 . , . 1 . ,
nig, uaguerreorv pe sKcrcn or tier impres
sions, and has doubtless unbodied 111 this
production a series of salient comments on
life and society, as it passed under her
quick and penetrating e3"
In Uctober, IS;., slu;
mat 1 never again
an Onondaira wmwi,)'
if .1 . i . r 1
my sen, niougii my mother always held
that I was dark enough to be one. and 1
suppose the world would still bear her out
in her opinion.
While she was still a school-girl, her
parents removed to the city of Rochester,
where she enjoyed the excellent educa
tional advantages of that place, and gained
her' first experience of the social life to
which she has remained enthusiastically
iiiauueu. riung several years after
iace pays a ieeiing tribute to the tempo
rary residence of her earl v vears. "lin.
eufs, -rtas ior some years
Ull i t . . V
my weu-ueioved liome: here it was that I
spent my tew school-days : received my
tride oi book-kriowltdge; for much learn
ing has never yet made me 'mad' or 'blue.'
It warf here that woman's life first opened
upon me: 1101 as a romance, not as a 1 rv
dream, not as a golden herir.iw P !.,.,.,-
- - n v vvnuiy
il nil libi'iw'mtA 1.T1 . 1 1 l
L, UUb a d .re OI Iaor vtili!rs are pervaded by the genn-
and caic and endurance ; aa existence of inc spirit 0fJ poetry. IIcr t is the
"' e-ioiu, a,m iew successes, ol eager i0viuble utterance of
and great aspirations, and slow nnil r..,- rn 1 ,." ?
tial realizations. Lite has thus far been
to me severely earnest, profoundly real,
and my days of romantic pleasures and
ideal visions are vet to come."
publication of "The Little lMIgrim." a
monthly juvenile issued in Philadelphia
l3r Mr. Lippincott, which bids fair to prove
as great a favorite with young readers as
the collection of stories heretofore prepar
ed for their entertainment.
In the writings of Grace Greenwood we
discover the perpetual influence of her
personal character. There are scarcely
any authors whose productions are so much
the expression of their own individuality.
Free from the trammels of artificial liter
ary taste, acknowledging no allegiance to
the absurd restrictions of the schools, loy
al to the spontaneous inspirations cf na
ture, she um-s her pen in her true woman's
heart, and bodies forth those fresh, beau
tiful, and vigorous creations, which are
never the fruit of conventional training,
or or timid, crouchmf imitation. H.r
of whom mortal tongue can say little but
that be is Ixive.
Her familiarity with external nature is
revealed every where in her writings.
She rejoices in all natural objects. 'Eve
ry flower that blooms, every animal that
sports in the open air, every fresh plant
of spring, every sweet breeze of heaven,
touches the cords of sympathy within her
soul, and inspires the fluent melody of her
verse. But her chiefest strength is in the
warm glow of her affections. Herein sho
exhibits the true glory aud joy of a sincere
woman. Her thoughts ever'cling to the
old domestic fireside as the heaven of her
young imagination. The paternal hearth
stone is the weird Jacob's ladder of her
memory, peopled with angels, and open
ing the passage to brighter worlds. She
loves her parents, her brothers and sisters,
with a love that can find no expression for
its exuberant tenderness but in the impas
sioned language of poet-.
Her kind spirit i3 beautifully blended
with the sentiment of reverence in spite of
occasional audacious sallies on the detec
tion of falseness and pompous pretense.
"With the lively instinct of genius, she
worships it in others. Free from literary
rivalry, she is ever ready to do justice to
genuine claims, and has found her chosen
friends among those whom a less generous
nature would have shunned as competitors
ia the race fur fame.
It is not to be denied that she sometimes
gives offense to excellent people, who mis
take her frankness of manner for a want
of feminine reserve, and her sarcastic
pleasantries on social and public humbu-g
for a superfluous wickedness of temper
that delights in the wholesale slaughter of
the innocents. But all this is due to the
want of the earby training which inculcates
hypocrisy as a virtue, and fritters away all
robust, natural feeling in the niincino
phrases of polished apathy. Grace Green"
wood has been faithful to the d reams at
her childhood and in this fidelity lies the
secret of her success.
In the maturity of noble womnhnrl
her genius is doubtless destined to KtHl
higher triumphs than she has vet achieved.
Inspired with the lofty democratic senti
ment of the age, looking upon the course
of Humanity with thewnatural piety of
feeling which finds good everywhere and
always hopes for the best, she will yet aid
the approach of the era which has rarely
been better described than in her own
glowiug words: "While it is our3 to la
bor and to wait, it is a joy to know that,
amid her degradation, her sorrow, and her
crime, Earth still cherishes deep in her
bruised heart a sweet hope, holy and iu
destructible, that 'the day of her redemp
tiou draweth nigh.' The day foretold bv
the lire-touched lips of prophets ; the day
vvhose coming was hailed by the martyr
in hosannas that rang through their prison-walls
and went up amid the flames.
The day of the fulfilment of the angels'
song ; the day of the ojualiij taught by
Jesus in the temple, on the mount, and
l . 1
ov tne way-side
the day of the
the rest, and the free Jam of God."
in.. 1 f 1,
natuie. a iic laner is nsoa v nmn
spending a very considerable iortion of
her time- in Washington, Philadelphia,
and other eastern cities. Soon after her
removal to Xew-Brighton, she commenced
her career as an authoress. Her first
productions, under the signature of "Grace
Greenwood," were contributed to the Xetc
York Mirror, then under the editorial care
of George P. Morris and N. P. Willis.
The brilliant literary fame of both those
gentlemen did not make them indifferent
poetry is the
a ingaiy unagina-
carcruny elaborated, but both are free,
impulsive, often careering wildly in im
petuous flights, but always stamped with
the impress of purity and a generous pur-
In 1843, she removed, with her parents t 1 . s V - 1
. v " . i 1 i !itr parents, pose. In her freest strains, she sings a
t?hS"' VLe"itoS,BfiC !liC wild bird rings. The bobolink in
.ended until her recent marriage, although clover field is not more merrv th,n ;
clover field is not more merry than sho. is
in her mood of frolic gayety. At other
times, her song gushes forth in plaintive
melodies, like the sweet, sad warblings of
the nightingale. But this is never her
habitual state. Her temperament is too
iiiav.nm i.iju iuii 01 iee ior
all created things, to find content even in
the daintiest sweetness of rapt melancholy .
ner neanny spirit always rebounds un-
'.I . ...
uer tne excitement ot urecious human
ympathies,aud of trust in the "dear God,"
The Uxkindest Cut of All. A jew
eller, who shall be nameless, was applied to
by a nice looking man to make a gold rino
fur him, having in it a blade very delicate
and keen, concealed except on a narrow
scrutiny, and opening with a spring. The
bargain was made to furnish it for thirty
dollars. On the appointed day the pur
chaser appeared, paid the stipulated price,
which was fobbed very complacently, and
with an air of satisfaction put it on his
finger. The jeweller of course very inno
cently asked what he wanted to do with
such an article, to which the reply was
to cut open pockets with.
"Ah," replied the jeweller, doubtless in
amazement, "how can you do such things
wita such an instrument and Dot be de
The performer replied tht his art con
sisted iu diverting the attention of dcodIq
from everything that looked like design
upon them ; that he rubbed his forehead,
adjusted his hat, &c, and that discovery
came too late. He then bade him good
morning and went his vay. Shortly af
ter, the jeweller, as he walked round the
counter, was accosted by the clerk :
"What is the matter with j-our panta
loons ? How came 3-00 to tear them so ?"
"Nothing that I know of," was the an
swer. "Where V
' Why, just look !"
When, lo ! his pocket was found" to bo
cut by the artist, with his new instrument,
and his pocket-book gone, : with not only
the thirty dollars just paid, but four hun
dred besides. Verdict of the public :
Served him right I
JGfiSrA Pennsylvania editor, ia aa ap
peal to his pat rem s, sa3's :
"The edi tor wants grain, pork, tallow,
candles, vhhskc-, linen, beeswax, wool',
and 3113 thing else that he can cat."