Newspaper Page Text
j Volnme TH, Wtunter 36,
( Whole number 348.
LEWISBURG, UNION CO., PA., DEC. 4, 1850.
& 0. fflCKOK, Editor.
0. N. WOE-DEW, Printer.
LEWIS BURG GifiONICM.
The Lewlabarg-ChroaiclCM iuJ
,,j Wadaexlay morning at Lcwiaburg, t'qioo
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ecriptions for six months or less to be aid in
a J vane. Diecontiooancee optional with the
Publisher except when the year ia taid up.
Advcrtisroienla handsomely inserted at 50 eta
per aquare one wrrk. $1 for a month and $5 for
year; a reduced price for longer advertisements.
Tao sqasres, $7; Mercantile advertisements not
neeeding one-fuartb of a column, quarterly, $10.
t.'asttal advertisement and Job work to be paid
tt when handed in or drlitered.
All communications by mail must come post
paid, accompanied by the address of the writer, to
receive attention. Those relating eiclurively to
the Editorial Department, to be directed to H. C.
KicKfiK. Esq , Edilur and all ou business to be
addressed to the 1'ublither.
OlGce, Market St. between Second and Third.
O. N. WORD EN. Publisher.
The boors are viewless angels.
That still go gliding by.
And brar each moment's record up
To Him who sits on high.
The poison or the nectar.
Our hearts' deep flower-cups yield,
A sample dill they gather awilt
And leave us in the Geld.
And some fly by on pinions
Of gorgeous gold and blue.
And some fly in wiih drooping wing
Of sorrow' darker hue.
And as we spend eaeh minute
That God to us hath given.
The deeds are known before His throne
The tale is told in heaven.
And we, who walk among them,
As one by one departs.
Think not that tbey are hovering
For ever 'round our hearts.
Like summer-bees that hover
Around the idle flowers,
Thry gsther every act and thought
These viewlese angel hours.
AnJ still they ateal the record,
And bear it far a ay ;
Their mission light, by day or night,
No magic power can stay.
6s teach me. Heavenly Father !
To spend esch flying hour,
That, as they go. they may not ehOA-
My heart a poison flower.
Preventive of Consumption.
The common fault of all consumptive
is, they give up too easily, nod abandon
the fortress of life before the eoemy has
had lime to sap or undermine its founda
tions. I believe consumption, taken in iis
first stage, is as curable as a corn or sore
linger. Gymnastic exercise, riding, sail
ing, amusement, society, abandonment of
thinking and intellectual pursuits, a culti
vation of the mere animal part, which is
I he only part that ever fail in such disea
ses, each and all of these remedies would
be in most cases, a sovereign and perma
nent cure. But the consumptive invariably
neglects them, and clls on the doctor with
hi multitudinous compounds, mopes in ihe
lick chamber when he should be out under
the blue sky, basking in the sunshine, and
inhaling the fresh, invigorating wind lies
in bed, when he should be wrestling, run
nir.jr and climbing up the rough peaks of
the mountains. If our American people
only knew the value of physical exercise,
and improved their knowledge, as the voice
of Nature dictates, they would not be the
sickly, care worn, haggard and feeble race
they are at present. Nine out of every ten
men and women, in the new world, espe
cially in large towns and crowded cities,
re nothing but walking corpses, galvan
ized into a kind of spasmodic life, by ne
cessity and love of gain. The mechanic,
in his dusty and close workshop; the
seamstress plying her needle ; the mer
chant drudging over his ledger, deep in
Ihe mysteries and miseries of profit and
loss, all are more or less self-murderers.
Labor without rest and repose labor as
understood amongst us, is but a life long
suicide ! Ilolden's Magazine.
A Yorkshire Ostler.
A company, whilst regaling themselves
with a g'ass and pipe one night, not long
since, in the M. P. public house, Long Pres
ton, were speaking of our beloved Queen
and her royal consort. Prince Albert, when
the folio ing colloquy took place: Ostler
at the inn : " How long is it since Prince
Albert was crawned P One of the compa
ny : "WhoaP Ostler: " Isn': Prince
Albert t' Queen !" One of the company :
No." Oatler, rather knowingly : " Yah
he is, she was crawned Queen hawiver
when I was hoos'lio near Bingley. I
know vary weel, for we had pudding an'
beef all abait Bingley : hi begow ! we
might ha' brosens if weed lik'd." (Laugh
tor.) One of the company : Thou means
Queen Victoria." Ostler : Na I don't,
they call'd her Prince Albert hawiver.
Oae of the company : Indeed, but you'll
mean Victoria was crowned Qveen." O.t
ler: " Whia er the both t' same!" One
of the company : Yes, in one sense ; they
re man and wile." Ostler : Well, which
t' Qieen ?" One of the company : "Vie
torn." Ostler : 44 Whia, begow, I alios
thou't l" Queen an' Prince Albert both l'
ame." Lws (Eng.) Intelligencer.
Law, like a razor, require a "strong
m o ,, nne8Sl od n excellent temper.
N.B. Many of those who pet once "shaved
with ease and expedition," seldom risk a
For the Lewiabarg Chronicle.
Oally sins voices rinc we are o'er the billows boawllnf,
Lijht and free as the sea fcarlngaot the tempest sounding;
let the gale rip the sail mirnatr'-T high our barque sr
Still om Oexaa's dark bins deck oar hearts will nam;
Surges sh timber crash om the briny deep we're
Echoes roar on the shore waves around oar ship are
Winds auy bowl elowis may scowl proudly Isn tor-
Kever will we ecase to love our Ocean Uoma.
Through the spray, dance away o'er the rippling aurfaca
Neat and trim, oa we skim, pent-up joys oa land deriding;
Let the breese sweep the seas, with the trusty pilot guiding,
Bid farewell to silver spire and gilded dome ;
Noble erew cry adieu friends and loved ones all must
fc-ave u" ;
Silent tears trembling fears aching bosoms mast not
Though the heart Seels the smart, broad Atlantic's am
Never will we cease to love our Ocean Uoma.
O'er the world, flag unfurled, with our starry banner
On we speed none to heed nought of hidden danger
Swift and free, full of glee, like a radiant meteor streaming,
We will ride the mountain wave aad drink ita foam ;
Storms may rave o'er our grave midnight shades around
Winds may oca all be peace Neptune oa his pillow
YDc we tread o'er the dead, with our hope above repotting,
Never wiU we eeane to love our Ocean Uome.
Lswusiaa, Nov. 1W0.
Trom the Chriatian Watchman k Reflector.
ROMANCE IN REAL LIFE.
BY OLD JACOB.
lam not quite up to telling stories like
the following, dear reader, but I was ao
much interested in the facts presented be
low, that I feel almost sure of engaging
your attention while I proceed to lay them
before you. You must let me tell you the
story in my own way ; you may rely up
on it as substantially true. The real
names of the parties concerned I have con
cealed. In one of the largest of our commercial
cities there lived a few years since, a rich
old merchant by the name of Bremen. He
was considered "good," ia mercantile
phrase, for half a milliou" or so. Now,
he hid not acquired all this by any sudden
and unaccountable freaks of fortune, but
by a long and persevering course of indus
try. He had attended closely to his busin
ess, had practised the most rigid economy,
had been punctual to bis engagements, had
dealt honestly with buyers and sellers, had
entered into no hazardous speculations.and,
though he hd met disappointments and re
verses, like many others, he found himself
at the sixty-third year of his age, ia pos
session of an annual income of some thirty
The residence of Mr. B. was, at the
commencement of his mercantile career,
not far from his store ; but as time is con
tinually bringing about changes, he event
ually took his abode "up town,'' some two
or three miles from the turmoil of business.
He was one of the most regular of man
kind ia all his habits. At just such an hour
he ate his breakfast, took his ivory headed
cane in hand, threaded his way either on
foot or in a "'Bus'' through the great tho
roughfare of the city, and presented him
self to his clerks and porters. At just
such an hour he entered his domicile.to re
pose and refresh himself after the toils of
Our old friend was regarded by some as
rather odd in his ways. He generally
talked but little, yet always to the point.
He haled long stories with perfect hatred,
and was more than once koowu to inter
rupt an agent ia his rehearsal of the wants
ol come benevolent society, by placing a
lea or twenty dollar bill over his mouth,
and then turning quietly around to his desk.
Nobody found fault with him for such
things. "It was Paul Bremen's way,"
people said, every one has his peculiarities.
At home, he had a way of looking his
wants, which was perfectly understood by
his Irish servant. At some expression of
countenance, James would say to himself,
"Faith, and that means the shoes I've
blacked," or, "And now he is wanting the
great coat," or "Sure, he's looking the
umberall a rainy day it's to be." The old
gentleman was not morose, or sour ; he was
simply a silent sort of man, saying no
mote than was really necessary (or the
transaction of the business of life. What
a short session a Congress of such men
would make ! (I throw in this observation
The house of Mr. B. was rather a mod
est looking tenement.considering his income
and the expectations of a certain class of
people called the world," though it com
prises in reality only a very small portion
of mankind. It was large enough.he said,
for himself and daughter an only child,
reader, and the only tenant of his real fine
dwelling, besides himself and servants.
Years had passed away since I be wife and
mother bad departed. She bad time, bow.
ever, to sow good seed in a good soil ; and
as the daughter grew op into lite, tbe fruits
of a Christian mother's care and prayers
were seen in all their richness and beauty.
And now, after this general introduc
tion, I must make you more particularly
acquainted with Annie Bremen. Of course
you will want to know a great many things
about her, and I will do my best to afford
I can not tell you whether her eyes were
black, blue, or grey ; whether she was of a
dark or light complexion. People differ
so much as to what and who may be call
ed beautiful, that I shall Lot undertake to
express any opinion in regard to this mat
ter, so far as Annie is concerned. Those
who knew her best said that she was beau
tiful very beautiful ; but they were her
very partial friends. Of one thingl am cer
tainshe was good f and if beauty and
goodness are synonymous terms, (which
some will deny.) then she was beautiful.
She was good she was a sincere Christ
ian tbe highest form of goodness in this
world. Like her father, she was accounted
something of an oddity, but not by those
who were well acquainted with her. That J
she should move ia the spheres of the mil-1
lionaires and half millionaires, and yet
manifest anything like a Christian charac
ter, would by some be accounted sufficient
ly odd without anything else to add to it.
One who well knew human nature, once
said, that they who had riches entered the
kingdom of God "hardly." But Annie
had entered it, and thus fulfilled those oth
er words which fell from the same hps.that
"with God all things are possible." That
she should be no slave of fashion, that she
should dare to dress to suit herself, that
she should look lar beyond the circle in
which her father's wealth had placed her,
out into the wide world, and in the midst
of ber own plenty to think of others' pov
erty ; in abort, that she should be a really
sensible, serious minded girl, may be regar
ded as a thing that one does not see every
day. It is true, she went out into fash
ionable society; she mingled with the gay
crowd that assembled in the halls of wealth;
but there were also the poor and the needy,
who, as often as they thought of her, (and
that was not seldom,) exclaimed, "Bless
her kind soul !" She might be seen al
most daily to enter the dwelling of poverty,
and dispense kind words and smiles, worth
far more, after all, than the silver and gold
which she always carried with her and
all this without ostentation. Her father,
who bad some idea of her habits in connec
tion with these matters, was well content
ed to let her become his almoner, as he
said to himself. He gave her most fieely
all that she asked of him, without so much
as a single question as to the use to be
made of it. There seemed to be a tacit
understanding between them, in regard to
Annie possessed a mind well cultivated.
She had read much, and thought much ;
and though not learned, she was intelligent,
and io company might usually be found, as
a sort of natural attraction, tn conversation
with the most intelligent gentlemen pres
Annie had arrived at the mature age ot
(do not start, reader !) twenty-seven, and
was yet in a state of single blessedness.
Somehow or other, she had not even fallen
in love, as yet. "Had she no offers ?"
What a 8impIetjuestion ! Did you ever
know half a million of dollars to go a beg
ging ! Offers 1 yes, scores of them. It
may be accounted as one of her oddities,
but whenever the subject happened to be
touched upon by her father, Annie would
say that she wanted some one who could
love her for hertelf, and she must have the
assurance of this and how could she, io
her present position f How could she
know positively that herself was sought,
and not the estate to which she was sole
heiress T If she could only be divested of
everything but what she was in herself ; if
she could actually be poor ah ! she often
tho't thus. If you please to call this a mere
whim, so be it ; it kept ber single till her
twenty-eighth year. The old gentleman did
not urge the matter very strongly, as may
be well supposed. A father is not likely,
in his circumstances, to drive his daughter
into matrimony, unless she wishes to en
ter it herself. Thus matters stood, when
Annie was led to form and to execute what
will appear a very strange resolution ; but
she was a resolute girl. We must now go
back six years.
One dark, rainy morning in November,
as our old friend was looking composedly
at the cheerful fire ia the grate of his
counting-room, and really indulging in
some serious reflections on the past and
the future the far future, too a gentle
man presented himself and inquired for
Mr. firemen. Tbe old man uttered not a
word, but merely bowed. There was that
in bis looks which said, "I am he."
The stranger might have been some
thirty years, or so, of age. He was dress
ed in black, a mourning weed was on his
hat, and there was that in bis appearance
which seemed to indicate that the fiiend
whose loss be deplored bad but recently
departed. The letter of introduction which
be presented to Mr.B.wag quickly yet care
fully perused, and as it was somewhat
unique, I shall take the liberty of submitting
it to the inspection of the reader :
" , Nov. 80, 18.
Friend Paul This will introduce to thee
my friend. Charles Copeland. He has come
to thy city in pursuit of business. I have
kuown him from a youth up. Thoumayest
depend on him for aught thnt he can do.
and shall not lean as on a broken reed. If
thou canst do anything for him, thou
inayest, peradventuie, benefit thyself, and
cause to rejoice
"Thy former and present frfend,
"it is not every one can get old Micah
Loomis' endorsement on his character,"
said Paul Bremen to himself, as he folded
up the letter of a well-known associate of
former days. "Old Micah is good for a
quarter of a million, or for anything else
it will do I want bim seems a sensible,
business like man getting old business
increasing must have some more help
now us well as any time."
The old gentleman looked all this, as he
stooj gazing in perfect silence on !li': man
before him. At length he opened his lips :
"Mr-Copeland.you know all about books!"'
I have bad some few yean' expert
'Any objection to a place here pretty
close work thousand a year V'
"None in the world."
"When can you begin 1"
A real smile shone upon the old man's
face. It lingered there like the rays
'of the setting sun among the clouds of eve-
nn. lighting up those seemingly hard,
dark features. A stool was pushed to
the new comer, books were opened, mat.
ters expluined, directions given, the pen
was dipped in the ink, and in short, before
an hour had passed away you would have
thought that the old man and the young
man had known each other for years.
In reference to our new friend, it will be
sufficient to remark that he had been liber
ally educated, as the phrase goes, and tho'
he had entered early into business, he had
not neglected the cultivation of his mind
and heart. He had found time to che
rish a general acquaintance with the most
noteworthy authors of the day, both litera
ry and religious, and with many of pu&t
times. After a few years of success iu the
pursuits to which he bad devoted himself.
misfortunes came thick and fast upon bim.
Ho found himself left with scarcely any
property, and alone in the world, save hi
two daughters. He was soon settle J in
the great city to which he had betaken
himself, and lived in a very quiet way with
his interesting charges, who were fast
growing up into life. How many sweet
and pleasant evenings did he enjoy in his
not very spacious but neat and comfor
table dwelling, after the toils of the day of
business were over !
As, year after year passed away, he
grew steadily in the confidence of his em
ployer, who felt though he said it not, that
in him he possessed a treasure. Very little
indeed was said by either of them not con
nected with the routine of business, and
there had been no intercouse whatever save
in the counting-room. Thus six years went
by, towards the close of which period old
Bremen was found looking with much fre
quency and earnestness at the younger
man before him. Something was evident
ly brewing in that old head. What coulJ
it be ? Aud then, too, at home he looked
so curiously. The Irish servant was puz
zled. "Sure,''said James"someihing's com
ing that's clear as a glass of whiskey.''
Annie too was somewhat perplexed, for these
lobk$ dwelt much upon her.
"What is it, father' she said to him
one morning at the breakfast lab'e, as he
sal gazing steadfastly in her face ; "what
is it t Do tell me."
"I wish you'd have him,'' burst forth
like an avalanche. ''Have known him for
six year true as a ledger a gentleman
real sensible man don't talk much
regular as a clock prime for business
worth bis weight in gold.''
"Have who, father! What are you talk
ing about 1"
"My head clerk Copeland you don't
know him do haven't seen anybody
else worth an old quill.
Annie was puzzled. She laughed, how
ever, and said, " Marry my futher's clerk
what would people say V
Humbug, child, all humbug worth
forty of your whiskered, lounging, lazy
gentry say ! say what they please
what do I care 1 what do you care 7
what's money after all 1 got enough of it
want a sensible man want somebody
to take care of it all humbug."
" What's all humbug, father 1"
" Why, people's notions on these mat
ters Copelaud's poor so was I once
may be again world's full of changes
seen a great many of them in my day
can't stay here long got to leave you,
Annie wish you'd like him."
" Father, are you serious V
M Serious, child T and be locked to.
Annie was a chip of the old Mock a
atronrr.minded. resolute cirl. A new idea
seemed to strike her.
" Father, if you are really serious in
this matter, I'll see this Copeland ; I'll get
acquainted with him. If he likes me,and
I like him, I'll have him. But be shall
have me for myself alone ; I must know
it. Will you leave the matter to me P
" Go ahead, child ; do as you like.
" Slop a moment, father. I shall alter
my name a little I shall appear to be a
poor girl a compatiion of our friend Mrs.
Richards, in II. street she shull know
the whole affair you shall call me by my
middle name, Pe ton I shall be a relation
of yours you shall suggest the business
to Mr. CopelanJ, as you call him, and ar
range for the first interviuw. The rest
will take care of itself.
"I see, I see" and one of those rare
smiles illumined hi whole face. It actu
ally got between his lips, parted them asun
der, glanced upon a set of teeth but little
the worse for wear, and was testing ll.er:
when he left the house for his counting
room. The twilight of that smile was not
yet gone when he reached the well known
spot, and bowed and looked good morn
ing" to those in his employ, for old Paul
was afier his fishion a polite man. On
the morning of that day what looks were
directed to our friend Charles
so peculiar fuli of something that the
head clerk could not but notice them, and
that too with some alarm. What was
coming 1 At last the volcano burst forth.
" Copeland, my good fellow, why don't
you gel a wife 2''
Hod a thunderbolt fallen at his feet, be
could not have been more astounded. Did
Mr. Bremen say that and in the counting
room, too? The very legers seemed to
blush, at the introduction of such a subject.
He actually, for the first time, mude a blot
on the fair page before him.
" I say why don't you get a wife 7
know just the thing for you prime article,
poor enough to be sure what of that 7
a fortune in a wife, you know a kind of
relation of mine been thinking of it some
time don't want to meddle in other peo
ple' affairs know your own business best
cati't help thinking you'll be happier
must see her."
Now the fact is, that Charles had for
some time past thought so himself ; but
how ihe old man should have so completely
divined his feelings, was quite a puzzle to
him. In the course of the day, a note was
put into Mr. Bremen's band, by James,
his Irish servant, the contents of which
produced another grim sort of smile.
When the moment for his return home ar
rived, Mr. B. handed a sealed document,
of a rather imposing form, lo Charles, say.
ing, " Copeland, you'll oblige me by leav
ing that at 67, II. street. Place it only
in the hands of the persin to whom
directed don't want to trust it to any
The clerk saw on the outside, "Jilrt.
Richardt, 67, . ttreet." The door bell
was rung. The servant ushered Copeland
inio a smull, neat parlor, where sat a lady
apparently twenty-five or thiiiy years of
age, rather plainly dressed, engaged in
knitting a stocking. Our friend bowed,
and inquired fur Mrs. Richards.
"Sho is not in, but is expected presently
will you be seated V There was an
ease, and quietuess.and an air of self-command
abuut this person, which seemed pe
culiar to Copeland. He felt at ease at once,
(you alwas do with such people;) made
some common-place remark, which was
iiTinicdiaiely responded to ; then auother ;
aud soon (he conversation grew so inter
esting that Mrs. Richards was nearly for
gotten. Her absence was strangely pro
tracted, but at length she made her appear
ance. The document was presented a
glance at the outside.
" Mr. Copeland !" Charles bowed.
" Miss Peyton." The younger Isdy
bowed; and thus they were introduced.
There was no particular reason (or remain
ing any longer, and our friend took his
That night Annie said to Mr. B., " I
like his appearance, father.'
" Forward march," said old Paul, and
he looked at his daughter with vast satis
faction. "The ould man's as swate to-night as a
new potato," said James lo the cook.
The next day, Charles Copeland came
very near writing, several times, To
Mi-s Peyton, Dr.," as be was making out
some bills of merchandize sold.
" Delivered the paper last evening V
Copeland bowed. " Mrs. Richards ao
old friend humble circumstances tbe
young lady Peyton worth her weight
in gold any day have ber myself if 1
" Ah, this is your prime article, Mr.
Bremen.1 Tbe old man looked no one
can tell bow he looked.
When did a man ever fail to find pre
texts to cultivate tbe acquaintance of a lady
io whom be was interested f Copeland
found himself quite often at 67, H. street.
He was sometimes disappointed in not see
ing Miss Peyton. , She was out, or had
an engagement in another part of the city.
He saw ber very frequently, however, and
matters went on to the entire satisfaction
of both parties.
" How much you remind me of Mr.
Bremen!'' said Charle, one evening, to
Annie, "I think he said you were a relative
I am related to bim through my moth
er,'' was the very grave reply. Mrs.
Richards turned away to conceal a smile.
Soniewhat later than usual on that night,
Annie reached her father's house. There
was no mistaking the expression of her
countenance. Happiness was plainly writ
ten there. " I see, I see," said the old
man the account's closed books bal
ancedhave it all through now in short
order. You're a sensible girl no foolish
puss just what I want bless you, child,
bless you." Thenextdty old Paul came,
for almost the first time in his life, rather
late to his counting-room. Casks and
boxes and books, seemed to be staring with
Copeland, you're a fine fellow heard
from Mrs. Richard proposal to my re
lation Peyton all right done it up well
Come to my house this evening never
have been there yet, eh 7 8 o'clock pre
cisely want to see you got something
" How much interest he seems to take
in this matter !" said Charles. "He's a
kind old fellow in his way a Utile rough,
but good at heart." (Yes, Mr. Charles
Copeland, even kinder than you think for.)
At eight o'clock precisely, the door-bell
of Mr. Bremen's mansion rung. Mr.
Charles Copeland was ushered in by our
friend James. Old Paul look him kindly
by the hand, and.turning 'round abruptly,
introduced bim to my daughter. Miss
Annie Peyton Bremen," and immediately
" Charles, will you forgive me this 7"
He was too much astonished to make any
reply. " If you knew all my motives and
feeling, I a-n sure you would.''
That the motive and feelings were soon
explained to his entire satisfaction, no one
" Copeland, my dear fellow," shouted
old Paul, as be entered the room, " no
use in a long engegement."
" Oh. father !'
No use, I say married now get
ready afterward next Monday who
cares 7 Want it over feel settled.
Shan't part with Annie, though must
bring your daughters here house rather
lonesome no words be still must have
it so partner in business Bremen &.
Copeland got the papers all d awn up to
daycan't alter it. Be quiet, will you 7
won't stay in the room."
1 have now finished my story, reader.
I have given you facts. I can not say.
however, that I approve of the deception
practiced upon our friend Charles. As
however, the Lord commended the " un
just steward because he acted tcittly,' so
I suppose the good sense shown by the
young lady, in choosing a husband for the
sake of what he was, and not for the sake
of what he might have possessed, merits
our approbation. It is not every one who
has moral courage enough to step out of
the circle which surrounds the wealthy,
and seek for those qualities of mind and
heart which the world can not give nor
The Gentle Word.
A gentle word hath a magical power
The weary breast to beguile.
It gladdens the eye, it brightens the brow,
And changes the tear to a oniiw;
In the genial sunt bine it sheda around,
The shadows of care depart.
And ww leel in iU southing end friendly tons
Xiwre's a balm Air the wounded hearL
Obt watch tHoa, then, that thy lips ne'er breath
A bitter, uneuUe word,
lor that which is iurbtiy and felly said.
Is often too deeply heard.
And though foe tbe mourn l it leaves bo trace,
(For prate will its woes conceal,)
Beiaeniber, tbe aptrit that 'a oalu and U U
Is always the lust to feel.
It auy aot be tn thy power, perchaaor,
To seewr a lofty plaoe.
And blasoa thy name u) hi5tury paga
As a friend to the human race,
But oft in the daily tanks of hie.
Though the world behold thee not.
Thy kind and coaaalerate words may tooths
A desponding brother's lot.
T Is well to walk with a cheerful heart,
Wherever our fortunes call.
With a friendly glance, and aa open hand,
And a gentle word fur all ;
Sinoe life is a thorny and difficult path,
Where toil is the portion of man.
We all should endeavor, while msing along.
To mafc it as smooth as we can.
This newly laid out town in Northum
berland couuty, has improved with great
rapidity. The Sunbury American.in speak,
ing of this place, says thst at the letting of
the Trevorton and Susquehanna railroad,
on the 28tb of May last, the whole giound
upon which the the town plot was laid, was
a wilderness. With the mouniaina rearing
their ragged heads upon each side, and the
thick woods covering the little valley be
tween them, it presented anything but a
favorable aspect. A single log cabin was
the only landmark of the place. Tbe sight
which now breaks opon the eye as you
descend the mountains, presents a beautiful
and cheering contrast. Where waved the
tofty forest, now ascends the wresthed
smoke from nearly one hundred neat cot
tages, and instead of the deathlike stillness
that hung over the valtey, comes up tho
clang of the workman's hammer.'he shouts
of ihe carters, the rumbling of the loaded
teams, and the thousand confused noises of
a busy settlement. Up the mountain road
labors a long train of wagons loaded wilts
coat from the neighboring mines, and
bound for the Susquehanna ; for tbe rail
road is not yet finished, but the enterpri
sing operators are determined to introduce
their coal into market. Down the valley
the line of rail road can be traced by tho
knots of men and lines of carts engaged ia
ex.ava'ion and embankment. Everything
is full of life, and indicative of successful
enterprise. The whole face of the country
is changed, and one can scarcely recognise
the spot. Progress and improvement are
stamped wherever the eye rests.
E!evea veins of pure coal lie ia tbe
mountain south of the town, and the moun
tain itself is divided to its base by Zerbe'a
run, affording easy access to them oa
either side of the stream. All of these have
been proved, and several are bow being
worked. This coal will find its way to
the canal over the rail road now in pio
gress, and thence to market. Trevorton
has every advantage to become one of our
most flourishing mining towns. Ita pros
pects at present are very flattering.
The I .'heat Indcstuial Ezuibitumi or
1851. Tbe London papers coauia aa
engraving of the building now erecting for
this, the World's Great Show, ll is lo
be composed, principally, of glass and
iron, and will be 1849 feet long, and 408
ft-t't broad, covering 13 acres uf ground.
The roof will be supported by 3,230 hol
low cast-iron pillars, from 14 to 20 leel
long, each of which is a water conductor
from tbe peculiar-shaped roof, which is
composed of a succession of low ridges of
glazed sash, which conduct the f-1 ling
water into numerous wooden gutiers,wbieh
discharge through the supporting pillars
The centre of the immense structtua ia
crossed by a transept 108 feet high.eneloe
ing a row of large elm trees that stand ia
the way, but are too large lo be removed
and must not be destroyed. The glass
used will weigh 400 tons, and covers
900.000 superficial feet. The roof and
south side will be covered with canvass lo
break the glare of the sun, which would
otherwise be intolerable, even io smoky
London. Besides the ground, walls, and
roof, to exhibit articles upon, there will be
a gallery 24 fecnt-Je, nearly a mile ia
length, hich can oe increased if necessary.
The cost of the buildibg completed, ia
about $750,000. The cubic contents of
this largest room ever built in the world,
will be 33.000.000 feet. It is to be amply
veuiilated. but what provision is msde for
wanning it, does not appear. The space
allotted for exhibition of articles from the
United States is 85,000 superficial feet,
which, large as it appears,will be found too
small. Any information required by those
desirous of becoming exhibiters, can be
obtained from tbe Central Committee, at
A Sabbath in New Orleans.
The New Orleans Creccnt, in speaking
of a recent Sabbath in that city, says thai
the different places of worship were all
thronged, and thousands listened, with
deep solicitude, to the exposition of the
Scriptures. We are happy to mark the
changes which are taking place, from
ytur to year, in New Oi leans, in regard
io the observance of the Sabbath. It ia
not long since Sunday was looked upon
as the best day of the week for the diffe
rent retail stores, and it was considered aa
mu;h a business day as any other. Tis
not so now. But few even of the small
stores now keep open on the Sabbath, and
the custom is looked upon with so much
disfavor, that it will soon be entirely abol
ished. Public opinion is becoming sirooyly
set against the open violations of God's
holy day, which have long prevailed ia
New Orleans, and they must ere long be
numbered among the customs that were.
A Chapter of "Jennys!.
New stores, and saloons, and hotels, are
christened Jenny Lind ;" steamboats,
locomotives, stages, and vehicles are " Jen
ny's ; on Change they sell " Jenny -ee
wheat; the spinning M Jenny" is eclipsed
by this singing Jenny," st least for this
M Jenny 'ration ; people delight in tracisf
their "Jenny "alogy back into Swedeat
all men seem to be studying verba in the
Jenny "-live case ; Jenny "rosily ia a
virtue no longer neglected even our only
militia Major- Jenny "-ral has surrender
ed to the queen ; fond mothers call theif
babes, sportsmen their dogs and horses,
farmers their cows and pigs, u Jenny J
in short, "Jenny" is the Jeoay 'wfitt
term for all these things, and for many
more, " Jvntw fwi."