- !' ' HOLHlXCiEU & IIUTC1IIXSOX, I WOULD RATHER BE RIGHT THAN PRESIDENTHenuy Clay. VOL. 1. W T1IC ALLIKilJAMil TILL he published every 1 iiiu 1 every Th unlay, ut es, viz : I in advance)! Sl.fiO first ?ix r.nfch?, 1.75 the following rates l'rr annum, (p:iyatie in If n.it P-iid wmun the If not iKii l until the expiration ot nr, 2.0.) A f.iilarv; o uotify a discontinuart at tii ei-iir-i'-ion of the term subscribed ft will b coiiaidervd u new eug.igemeut. j TEUM3 OF ADVEIITISINO: 1 insertion. 2 d (12 lines,) 5. do ? ;i 1 ; 1 ansire. i gqtuires, 12-1 lines.; 3 square.-, lines.) 1.00 1.50 .t 3 do Si. 00 2.00 .'i.OO Over three weeks andle33thrtnthrtionths, lb cents per square for each insertio months. fl.50 2.50 4.00 6.00 10.00 15.00 6 do, 12 do. $3.0t S3.00 4.5C 7.0t 9.0C 12.00 c, 9.00 12.00 14.00 20.00 35.00 1.75 8 lines or less, 1 gquare, (12 lines,) 2 squares, (24 lines,) 3 squares, (36 lines,) Half a column, Oue column, Administrator's find Executor's Notif. Professional or Business Cards, not- ceediug 8 lines, with pper, per ye 5.00 Advertisements not marked h the number of insertions desired, will bontin tifd till forbid den, and charged accong to the above terms. "ALLEGHASIAN" DIRECTO CHURCHES, IHIXISTSIKStc. 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 o'clock. ! 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. SELECT POETRY. 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 ! BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. From the PLreiiuWiealJoumul. of .T:m is: k in tne vve:u M. 31. z:2:.hri'iic; jiaim mails arrive. iU-'iTji. .i.tilv, at llj o'clo. v.' .-nern, -'at 11 " I MAILS CLOSE. 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 .. ; to iy o' i'..-t .In k t ".i- ' V. M. o:-;u on Saudav.-9 M. AVILMORE STATION. Cj. Exjires? Tmin, leaves at Mail Train, " K-t Exnress Train, " Mall Train, u ' Fust Line, 9.1" 7-4. 12.2 C.ll. tf.0:. t 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- me. ver 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 NO. 9.: 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- sa- C'OIWTY OFFICERS. 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. iii; ?,- 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, Henry Hawk. Cuuiity Surrfyor. Henry Scnnlan. Coroner. Peter Dougherty. Superintendent of Common Schoolt. H'Coriuiek. 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 uarr. 1.; 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; 1 i abroad, commenced the 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 7 o 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." peace, in.. 1 f 1, natuie. a iic laner is nsoa v nmn to 1C: 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- a!!v 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- as 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 tected ?" 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." ; 1 ill it; h r r
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers