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131 W. LEWIS.
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CAMPBELL, M'Conncllstown.
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R. F'. HAsiza 4 T, Spruce:Creek.
H. B. MyTiNomt, Water Street.
SILKS A. CICESSWELL, Manor Hill. '
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Dr. M-•MiLtx.s., Jackson tp.
SAALUEL_WVITTY, ShirleySbUrg.
S. B, YOUNG, Three Springs.
M:F. CAMPBELL, Esq., Mapleton.
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The Old Man Lganed on his Friendly
The old man leaned on his friendly staff
With a tottering step and sloW,
,As.he picked his way, of a..unday morn,
TO the church where be loved to go. .
His hair was white, and he scarcely line*
A friend As, he passed him by,
":Sofeeble and frail was his memory now,
And so dim was his cloude4 eye.
He sat in a homemade chair at r,l cli ;
In front of the preacher's stand,
And listened, as if in a pleasant dreapi,
To the words of a better land.
The sunlight fell on his silver leeks,
And his white hair turned to gold,—,
And I fancied a sunlight shone from heaven,
On the heart of that pilgrim old
But the autumn leaves have fallen now,
And the old man sleeps below--
We never shall see him pass again,
With his totteringstep and slow.
THE SPROUT FAMILY.
The Sprouts were exceedingly numerous in
the village of Arrowford, which is -- sittiated
about fifteeen miles above Alesbury Falls,
and were quite wealthy. They had settled
the place, having removed from the eastern
part of Pennsylvania some twenty years be
fore, in number, then, about a half a dozen
fainilies, and now almost every respectable
looking sign-board in the place has the name
of Sprout on it, and two-thirds of , the farms
around were 'called Sprout farms, in conse
quence of being or having been owned by
them. They were a thriv,i ng., but-close-deal
ing and cautious set of men ; always active
and enterprising in matters relating to their
own interest—honest, but exceeding exact in
their dealings with others and each other and
possessing-just about as much public spirit,
generosity, and charitable feeling, as is com
mon to that class of men. fn their emigra
tion they had left behind them but one soli
tary branch of the family; and that one being
poor ar.d unable to join with the more fortu
nate, was of course, soon forgotten, so that,
,in - the_lapse of so,man • y years, be had grown
almost utterly out of remembrance.
The original settlers,. being brothers, un-
des, and cousins to each other, had now pret,
:ty generally disappeared, and the younger
branches in pursuance of their father's ori
ginal plan, were practising the rule of inter
marrying, for the preser.vation of the family
wealth. Dne of these affairs, in which love
and interest were so intimately connected
.that the reader would feel little pleasure in
being introduced•to the parties, was in prep
aration on a fine summer morning, whea I
happened to be in the village on business.
The birds were flying about and singing
„among the tress whieb shaded the neat, low
,00mfortabla houses. The walk before the
,doors was swept clean ; and the girls peep
ed out'of some of the windows in,clusters—
,their cheeks bearing visible marks of indus
try of the morning, fresh and glowing with
health and exercise. ..xerything seemed
lively and cheerful ; and I took 'my post by
.the front window of the ,tavern bar-room,
that I might mark, at once, what was going
forward within and without.
The landlord happened to be a brother of
the groom, and iii the course of the morning,
the Sprouts assembled there pretty generally,
1. ins. 2 ins. 3 ins.
25 371 50
50 75 100
00 150 200
1 50 2 25 3 00
•'3 in. 6 m. 12 m.
$3 00 $5 Ofl $B . OO
"
5 00 8 00 12 00
" 750 10 00. 15 00
9 00 14 00 23 00
" 15 00 25 00 38 00
" 25 00 40 00 60 00
Staff
to drink punch and smoke a'cigar with the
was to be happy man, who has chosen that
also as his post, probably from considera
tions of superior gentility ; for no place in
the village accounted by them so respectable
as the village inn, on all such occasions.
They were a well dressed, decent set of
people, with a good deal of apparent family
pride, and remarkably fond of the terms un-,
cle, cousin, &c., if one might judge from their
endless use of these cozening appellations.
Towards noon, a Venerable pedestrian,
glad in a thread bare coat, old velvet breech
es; soiled waistcoat and hat and shoes as
venerable looking as himself, armed with a
rough walking stick, and seeming much fa
tigued, was seen travelling down the' street
towards the inn. The novelty of the sight
attracted every eye, and the stranger having
arrived opposite the inn, deliberately unca
sed a pair of old spectacles, and, having sur
veyed the landlord's name on the sign a few
moments, made for the house. The way
was cleared for him, and when he reached
the middle of the bar-room, he inquired for
Charles Sprout, the landlord.
Charles came forward.
"Cousin Charles," said he, "I am very glad
to see you," offering his hand at the same
MEE
Cousin Charles, however, seemed wholly
indisposed to this familiarity, with one who
did not look likelnving a loose five-penny
piece in his pocket ; am] asked abruptly
drawing back,:
"Who are you 3 1 don't know you."
am Nicholas Sprout," replied the old
man, '!your father's own brother ; and I have
come down that I may see my dear rela:-
tions in•this pleasant town befoie I die.
"1 suspect," said Charles, smiling con
temptuously, !fit would have been as well to
have stayed at home. But how are we to
know who you are ?" Assertions do pat
pass current here, when coming from men
of your appearance."
There was a general titter, among the
young men at this colloquy; - but an old
Sprout, who sat unnoticed in the corner, hav
ing looked sharply at the' stranger, left the
room, and, calling to one of the younger men.
"This is bad business for some of us," said
he,'"sure . as the world ; it is Nicholas Sprout,
and .he'll be more easily admitted than gotten
clear of, my word for it , a poor soul, he has
come down for maintenance, no doubt, and
the disgrace of our family comes with him.
.I'll be off however. See that -you do not
send him to me."
Saying which, he hastily departed.
A general whisper now spread around,
and operated like shot among a flock of
quails. In fifteen 'minutes, them were but
three Sprout faces remaining. These the old
man was endeavoring to convince of his re
lationship ; and as he did it so pointedly
as to silence even their jokes and scoffs,
they told him of the wedding, and adVised
him as he could-not be entertained in the
village, to go down to the CroSs-roads, where
he could stay till the busy time was over, for
a trifle, after which he might have an oppor
tunity of seeing some of his old. relations,
who could not see company now. As to the
young folks, they knew nothitig_about him ;
Charles said, would not be worth while to
ca1;1 on them. The poor old man, howeyer,
wished to go to-the.wedding. But they oh:-
jected to, the distance, the badness of the
road, his clothes,,his mean appearance ; and
still persisted in his going away ; until at
last the tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks,
and with a full heart he turned and went out
of the house.
Compassion and curiosity induced me to
follow him, which I did, leaving the trio of
young Sprouts highly pleased- with the idea
of having got clear of their troublesome vis
itor. But I was thunderstruck, when I reach
ed the street,- to find every door where a
Sprout lived shut ,close--.every soul gone
from the street. I stood and saw the old
man go to three of their doors in succession,
and knock and go away. At last he came
back, and sat down on the curb stone, oppo,
site the tavern, and I confess my heart was
too full to go to him, as he hung down his
head and wiped away the tears with an old
handkerchief. • •
He had not remained there long however,
before a gentleman, on an elegant horse,,rode
up to him, dismounted, and sat down by the
side of him, entered into earnest conversa
tion. There was something so singular in
this, that the Sprouts, beginning to suspect
that their relative might not be the poor,
friendless soul they supposed, one after an
other half opened their doors and stood on
the sills; while orte or ..two ventured to stroll
down to the piazza of the inn, where now
the three young gentlemen whom we left in
the bar-room had taken their seats and were
listening to the conyersation over the way.
The respect and familiarity with which the
gentleman treated the old man went so far to
confirm. these suspicions, that a good deal of
HUNTINGDON, :APRIL 25. 1855.
mancnuvering among the Sprout party soon
followed. The surmise spread abroad, and
in half an hour a dozen or more were ool
lected in .the inn, and several ventured to go
over to the strangers.
Just at this crisis, a splendid gig drove - up
and a genteel young man sprang out of it, ex
claiming ."T.a. ! father what's the Matte; 1"
"Nothing my son," was , the reply;
our good relations, for the most part, have
forgotten us, and those who remember us are
so busy that we must go down - they say, to
the Cross-roads and put up for the nigh,t."
The secret revealed, it was amusing to see
how the faces of the mistaken relatives of
the old man changed from white to red and
back again.
They looked at each other, lost in.amaze
ment—stupefied enough to be sure.
At length Charles ventured to speak.
"My dear - uncle, if you will honOr my
house so much, You shall have every accom
modation it can afford."
"No, no I would not put you to any incon
venience for tlie world ; we can go to the
Cross-roads."
"Indeed you shall not," said a dozen at
once, for all the Sprouts came flocking around
by this time, every °tie inviting their dear
relative home, pressing him, entreating, al
most pulling bin 4 by force; insisting thern,
were no accommodations at the Cross-roads.
As this scene was going on,' the strange
gentleman, who had come on horseback, step
per! over to the inn, and while drinkinia
glass of -punch, whispered to Mrs. Sprout,
that old Nicholas Sprout was worth a- hun- :
dred thousand, and that his - relatives would
lose a round sum probably, by this unlucky
breach. This news spread like electric fire
through the village ; and Children came run
ning out to see their dear, dear old uncle, and
tears of - joy at meeting, and the rp,pst.
sing invitations, were as plenty now as grass
blades in the meadow. The village, and all
that it contained one would have thought,
was at his service. But he constantly shook
his head. It - was to busy a-time with them,
he said ; and his Clothes' were old ; his ap
pearance mean ; he might disgrace them ; he
would at any rate, yo back to the next tav
ern on the road - ; and fro_m his purpose all the
protestations of leisure, the praise of his per : .
son, and even :of his old
,clothes,' could not
move him ; and that night he slept at the
Blue-ridge inn, on his return home.
From this place, that morning, he had set
out on foot for Arrowford, leaving his com
panions behind that he might make a trial of
the estimate his long unvisited relatives set
upon him and-which he deemed could only
be fairly tested by presenting himself before
them in the garb of his original poverty.
Reader, perhaps you may :smile at this
simple tale. Doubtless you fancy the Sprouts
a set of rascals. But, be assured, they are
not the only people in the world who value
rich relations far higher than poor ones.
Waverly Magazine.
Necessity of Sleep
No person of active mind 'should try to
prevent sleep, which, in some persons, only
comes when rest is indispensable to the con
tinuance of health, in fact, sleep once in
twenty-four hours is as essential to the exis
ence of mamalia as the momentary respira
tion of fresh air. The most unfavorable eon : .
dition for sleep cannot prevent its approach.
Coachmen slumber on their coaches, and
couriers on their horses, while soldiers fall
asleep on the field of battle, amid all the
noise of artillery and the tumult of War.—
During the retreat of Sir John Moore, sever
al of the British soldiers - were reported to
have fallen asleep upon the march, and • yet
they continued walking onWard. The most
violent passion and excitement cannot pre
serve'even powerful minds from sleep; thus
Alexander the Great slept on the field of Ara
bele, and Napoleon on that of Austerlitz.
Even stripes and torture connot keep off
sleep, as criminals have been known to sleep
on the rack. Noises which serve at first to
drive- away sleep, soon become indispensa
ble to its existence ; thus a stage coach stop
ping to change horses, wakes all the passen
gers, The proprietor of an iron forge, who
slept close to the dirt of hammers, forges and
blast furnace; would awake if there was any
interruption to them during the night; and a
sick miller, who had his mill stopped on that
account, passed sleepless nights until the
Mill resumed its usual noise. Homer, in the
!Iliad, elegantly repre,sents sleep as overcom
ing all men, and even the gods except
Jupi
ter alone.
The length of time passed in sleep is not
the same for all men it varies in different
individuals and at different ages
.; but it can
not be determined from the' time passed in
sleep, relative to the strength or energy Of
the functions of the body or" ,mind. From
six to nine hours is the average proportion,
yet the Roman Emperor, Caligula, slept only 1
three hours, Frederick of Prussia, and Dr.
John Hunter, consumed only four or five
hours in repose, while the great Scipio slept
during eight. It is during in fancy that sleep
is longest and most profound. Women also
sleep longer than men, and young men. lon
i ger than old. The sleepleSs nights of old
age are almost proverbial. it would appear
that carniverous animals sleep in general lon
ger than herbiverous, as that superior activ
ity of the muscles and senses of the former
seem more especially to require repair.
Influence of Inventions on Social Life.
The following is a condensed abstract of
a recent lecture by James T. Brady, Esq.,
delivered before the Machanics Institue, of
this city, on the .above subject. He began
with an etract from a pOPtilai author, who
complains that history has been more em
ployed in recording the crimes of ambition
and the ravages of conquerors, than preserv
ring the remembrance of those who have
improved science and the arts. He said that
it is melancholy to reflect that the great me
chanics who constructed the mighty works
which yet attest the power and taste of
Egypt, Greece, and Rome, are nameless to
their posterity. Whe;.e rne,n have improved
in comfort and happiness, it has not been by
the action of government, nor any peculiar
c capacity of race, so much as by their own
struggles against unjust restraints. Yet no
politiqal ch:inge could greatly ameliorate their
social condition. This improvement was re
served for mechanical genius and skill, which
we should appreciate more than any other
people. We are full of "notion," and espe-
I cially•inventive, and the consideration of this
I
1 truth will prove more useful than' many of
1 our participations in the low strife of - Vulgar
„politics. Amongst the great inventions which
I •
affected man's general condition, was the in
vention of gunpowder, . which deprived the
I castle tyrant of his former audacious sense
of security, . and equalized - the conflict of
Ipeasant and prince., The grim mines on Tho
Rhine, and elsewhere, illustrate this fact.—
The poet or romancer may sigh over them,
but they show where civilization made its
progressive steps. That muskets; still en
slave those who carry them, shows the won
derful influence of discipline and authority.
But mechanism will one day enforce its de
served function, and free the millions of the
pid World. Then mankind will not, as at
present, in Russia, perish to settle the dis
putes of diplomatists, or the'struggle for "bal
ance of • power."
Discovery has been the grand means of
improvement. The mariner's compass led to
many blessings, including the addition of
this continent to the known world. Steam
yielded its countless benefits. It has brought
our States into close associations and sympa
thy. Printing, "the greatest of the arts,"
gave Society voice and tongue. It spread
knowledge far and wide. The people are
heard in the best of histories—the hourly re
cord of all that is done, felt or thought,
throughout the globe. The newspaper is the
library of the poorest. But invention has
,cheapened and mu!tiplied books, so that the
labors of the greatest minds are accessible to
the millions. Thus the Scriptures reach all
mankind.
The gen ins of mechanic's has supplied the
greatest wants of both rich and poor. The
ancients were not acquainted with the sweet
associations of the fireside for their houses
had no chimneys. The companionship of
the clock cheers and guides the humblest,
aot as the year 807, when the King of Per
sia presented one moved by water to Charle
magne, or Pope Paul sent one to King Pepin
of France, in 756. The invention of clocks
belongato .the Sarace.ts, *but they are not
now what was said of the instrument made
by Richard de Wellingford, in the fourteenth
century—miracles ; "not only of genius, but
of excelling. knowledge.' 7 All Europe re
sponds to the tick of Yankee manufacture.—
The daily laborer has a more comfortable
home than sovereigns could boast of old.—
Beckett's splendid style of living, A. D 1160,
was described in this, that his sumptuous
apartments were every day in the winter
strewn with clean straw and hay.
After enunciating many additions to our
comforts, resulting from inventions, and re
ferring ,te the brilliant cheerfulness of the gas
which illumines modern streets, he said that
there was a lesser light whose, direct social
benefit would make even the former lustre
pale. Any one who remembeis his sensa
tions when he rose in t,he darkness of a cold .
night from a.cosy bed, to strike a light with
a patience exhausting, ,combination of Sint,
steel and tinder, will be gratefull for the
.ben,e ; fieen t inven for ,of Lucifers and loco-focos.
He should have a grand monument. ,But
mankind do not most honor those who shed
light on the world. The victor whose deeds
shroud acountTy in gloom receives more ap
plause. How beautiful, too, is that discov
ery by which the blessed sunlight has been
allured by genius to perpetuate the faces of
dear friends; and the genial influence of that
artist of God, fertilizing what it falls upon,
keeps their memory ever green in our love.
But there was a nobler view of the subject
he had in hand. The triumphs of inventive
talent have elevated the mechanic arts, and
those who practice them. The artificer is
welcome and honored in the associations of
science. The labor of. the hands has attain
ed much dignity, and would receive more,
but for a strange aversion to it common even
with us. The mechanic often sacrifices a
son to obscurity in a profession for which.
may not have aptitude or inclination. The
eagerness to rush into the learned professions
is fortunately receiving some check. To the
genius, talent and industry, which mechani
cally apply the powers of nature in develop
ing her resources, and the achievement of
useful mechanical results, we may confident
ly look for the distractive superiority of our
people. Excellence in contributing towards
this reputation should be esteemed second to
none. And we should learn to think lightly
of the mind or heart of him who would not
cheerfully turn away from the exploits of
Cmsar, Hannibal or Napoleon, to dwell with
joy and emulation over the triumphs and the
fame of Fulton, Whitney and Morse.—
[Thus ended the lecture amid loud applause.]
MECRANICS.-St. Paul was a mechanic
—a maker of tents from .
. goat's hair; and
in the lecturer's opinion he was a.model me
chanic. He was not; only a thorough work
man at his trade, bat was a scholar, a per
fect master not only of his native Hebrew, , but
of three foreign tongues, a knowledge of
which he obtained by - close applieation.to
study during his leisure hours, while serving
his apprenticeship.
.It was a custoip arnong
the Jews to teach their sons some trade—a
custom not confined to the poorer clases, but
was also practiced by the wealthy, and it
was a common proverb among them, that if
a!father did not teach his son a mechanical
occupation, he taught him to steal.' This
'custom was a wise' Onte; and if the fathers of
the present day would imitate their example
their wrinkled cheeks • would not so often
blush for the helplessness, and not unfre
quently criminal conduct of their offspring.
Even if a father intended his son for one of
the' professions, it would bean incalculable
benefit to that son to instruct him in' some
branch of mechanism. His education would
not only be more complete and. healthy, but_
he might at some future time, in case of fail
ure in his profession, find his _trade very con
venient as a means of earning his bread; and
he must necessarily be more competent in
mechanical from his professional education.
An educated mechanic was a model machine,
while an uneducated mechanic was merely a
mechanic working under the superintend
ence of another man's brain. Let the rich
and the proud no longer look upon mechan
ism as degrading to him who adopts a branch
of it as his calling. It is a noble calling--
as noble as the indolence and activity of
wealth is ignoble.-:-.Lecizsre by Rev Dr. Ad
ams.
The Shadow of Death
We have rarely met with anything more
beautiful than the following, which we find
in an exchange paper: ,
"All that live must. die,
Passing through Nature to Eternity
Men- seldom think of the great event of
Death until the dark shadow falls across their
own path, hiding forever from their eyes the
face of the loved ones whose living sroi:e
was the sunlight of their ekistence. Death
is the great antagonism of Life, s and the cold
thought of the tomb is the skeleton in all our
feasts. We do-npt want to go through the
dark valley althongh its passage may lead to .
Paradise, and with Charles Lamb, we do not
.wish to lie down in the mouldy grave, even
.with the kings and princes for our bed fel
lows. But the'fiat of Nature is inexorable.
There is no appeal or reprieve from the great
Law that dooms us all to dust. We flourish
and fade like the leaves• of the forest,jand
the fairest flower that blooms and withers in
aday , has not a frailer hold on life than the
mightiest monarch that has ever shook the
earth by his footsteps. Generations of men
- appear and vanish like the grass, and the
countless multitude that swarms the world
to-day will to-morrow disappear like foot : .
prints on the shore.
"Soon as the rising tide shall boat,
Each trace will vanish from the sand."
In the beautiful drama of lon, the instinct
of immortality so eloquently :uttered by the
death-deyoted Greek,
, : lands a deep response
in every thoughtful soul. When about to
yield his young existence as a sacrifice to
Fate, his betrothed .Clercanthe a.sks if they
shall not meet a,gain, to tv,hich he replies ;
have asked that dreadful question of the
hills that look eternal, of the flowing streams•
that flow .forever; of the stars among whose
fieldscf azure my raised spirit bath walked
in glory. All were dumb. But while.l gaze
upon thy living face, I feel there's something,
in the love which mantles through its beau
ty that cannot wholly perish. We shall
meet again; Clemanthe."
VOL. 10, NO. 45,
. 'Faithful
A•case of woman's devotion has recent'y
been brought to our knowledge, which cer
tainly equals any thing that we have ever
met with in the realms of rorrilpee. The
circumstances occurred in till's city, and are
perfectly well authenticated. While the
small pox was raging here a few weeks ago,
a young man employed in a store
.on Lake
street was seized with the disease. It was,
of course, improper for him to remain there,
and the people with whoin he lived, who"
were distant relatives of his, refusied = to per
mit him to stay in their house. The reitilt
was ; that he was taken to the pest=house.:
It so happened that he was engagett to be'
married to a most estimable 'arid amiable
young lady. No sooner did she hear of his
condition than she determined at once that
she would nurse him. She underwent vac
cination, and then went where they had ta
ken her betrothed, to the pest- house. Here
she found him,-;alone, sick, wretched,.deser
ted by all the world: And 'here she remain
ed like a ministering ongel, waiting 'beside
his bed of pain, soothing his distresses and
attending to his wants. He died. But how'
consoling must have heen his last morrients.
Though all the world had forsaken him,
she, whom he loved better than all the world,
remained faithful to the last. Her hand it
was that smoothed
,his pillow; her eyes still
beamed upon,him , with mournful but unaba=
ted affection; into her ear he poured his last
words of love, of sorrow, and , hopes that in
this-world might never be fulfilled.
It recalled to our mind, when we hearttit,
the words that Bulwer puts in• the mouth of
one of his characters: "To be watched and
tended by the one we love, who would not
walk blind and bare-footed over the world ?"
—Chicago Tribune.
Dead Subscribers.
The story below has been going the rounds
of the press for several years: and as it can
lose nothing by being old, we give it for the
benefit of non paying patrons, in the hope
that they will save us the trouble of publish
ing their obituaries ; by making immediate
payment :
A long winded subscriber to a newspa
per, after repeated dunning's, promised that
the bill should be paid by a certain day if he'
was alive. The day passed over and no
money reached the office. In the next num
ber, thereafter of the newspaper, the editor
inserted among .the deaths a notice - of.hs
subscriber's departure from this life. • Pret
ty soon after the announcement, the subject
of it appeared to the editor—not with . a.l - tale
and ghastly countenance usually ascribed to
apparitions, nor did he wait to be spOken to,
but broke silence.
"What sir, dtd you mean by pnbliShing
my (leap - i t !"
"Why, sir, I mean what I mean when' I
publish the death of any person, viz: - to let
the world know that he is deaV':
"But I am not ilead.”
"Not dead : then it is your own fault, for
you told me you would positively pay your
bill by such a day if "you lived to that time.
The day passed, the bill is not paid, and you
positively must be dead, for I would not be
lieve you would forfeit your word."
"Oh, ho, I see that you have got round'
me, Mr. Editor ;-but say no more about it—
here's the money. And harkee my wag,
you'll contradict my death next week."
"0, certainly' sir, just to please you ; tho'
upon my word, I cantt help thinking - Soil
were dead at the time specified and yot"have
come back to pay this bill on account of
your friendship for me."
A GAME AT SEE-SAW—Forei4ners; trying t 6.
acquire a knowledge of the English langange,
may receive aid from the following•isee4aw.
"Brudder Pete, did you see him 'sdAV.de
afore you saw him saw it ?"
"De intellectual stupidity of some niggers'
is perfectly incredulous ;.why, of I seed him
saw it, it is consequential ensurance that his
saw he sawed it afore he seed it, but he'
couldn't help seein'ob pie sawen, consequen
chiily he must saw it afore he seed s it, I.vhiclu
is absurdlyretliclus—darefore l'seed him see
it afore Now him saw it."
LC?' Scene in an Apothecary , Shop" after
the passage of the Main LiquoVlawl l -two
nice young men enter. "Conerri, what.
will. you Jake ?" "Well, I guess-4'll take a
prussic acid smash." Clerk to 'E l econd gent
—"What's yours ?" "1 , 11 take: hurning
fluid cocktail:"
Lrnmotts.—Some out• exchanges• men
tion the fact of a "Know-Nothing" having
been turned out of the society fordinking an
Irish whiskey punch with a German silver
spoon in it.
The papers have discovered some grass
from the "path of recitude." We fear that
path must be sadly overgrown with grass—
it is so little traveled now-a-days.
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