" ' 1 .
1
.1. IIUHLLUiJI'"" 1 1
The whole art of Government consists in the art of being honest. Jefferson.
VOL
STROUDSBUR6, MONROE COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 1840.
N,o. '13,
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... . .
THE ISSUE IN OCTOBER NEXT
James 31. Power
AND THE
Whg Tariff of '42.
Win. S. Foster
AND THE
British Tariff of 46.
People of Pennsylvania, here is ihe issue
fsiilv Mated. The eleciion of JAS. M. POW-'
... , , ,, r7. ..., 1
Ell. win bo regarded all over ihe Union as cv-
o 1
llrnre not to be misunderstood, thai rhiNiS
SYLYANIA is not to b PROSTRATED IN J
TH E DUST, or her honest voters CHEATED
tlU MUi'JDU wnn mpunuy---wwe
,-ery vote polled for WM. B.FOSTER will be
deemed an xpresion in favor of Free Trade
and ihe BRITISH TARIFF of 1846,
Annie Lyle.
BY TLOREKCE GRAY.
Little Annie Lyle was ibe angel of our vil
lage. Her pretty flaxen ringlets had a world of
poetry in them ; and her mild blue eye looked
as if it had'beeu intended only for heaven, and
not for a world like ibis. I wish you could !
hare heard her laugh It was not like running
water, like bird's carol, nor like the sigh of a
zephyr ; but it w as a something made up of the '
muMc and silver and melody
of all combined,
She was like a sensitive plant in modesty, was j
our dear Utile Annie: and when you would i heard nothing of the absent boy.
lnk too earnestly in her eyes, ihe long lashes' Poor Annie I Many will not believe what I
drooped over them, as if the angels who kept ! am going to tell them, and will laugh al a child
watch there shaded them mercifully with their 'of ten being in love; but if pining for the ab
wirigs. , sent and thinking of him daily from ten to six-
The verv boys at school loved Annie. It is
trtte there was one now and then who did a 1
,-piieful thing towards her, but thev paid for
their iiKooienceif Edmund Dale heard of it. 1
U was Annie' self-elected defender, her coun-,
Hor in all her difficulties, and her constant j
companion. Why. they were like two lover!l
And I do not see why children may not love j
like grown-up folks. Certainly, Annie blushed J visions of future happiness had him for a part
if teased about Edmund, as much as you would,' of the picture. Poor Annie, I have said, was
fair reader, if teased about some one else; and still a girl an innocent, trustful girl though
as for Edmund, he was positively unhappy if a J fast learning the destiny of womanhood, and
day's indisposition kept Annie from school. j growing old prematurely.
They were once overheard demurely arranging Mauy a wan ine now bean tQ bo ,raced Qn
iheir future plans, for they had fixed it even ! Annie's' face ; and ihe dimples that once sport
ihcn that they were to be married when they! .j around her inomh ljke suriPiline aroimd rp.
grew up. Edmund had reelected a spot on his j neJ assumed a had) sober expressjon as if a
father's faim where their house was to be, but sorrowful ailgc la( como up from her sou and
he could no'l determine where to place the barn ; fixed himself there, lo tell the world what she
Never mind, dear,'aid Annie, coaxingly, you was l00 Jjroud l0 reveali ,hal her bearl wa,
know ir we get a home, the barn isn't so much j breaking. People at last found it out. They
raalter ; began to suspect lhat the widow Lyle's pover-
Annie grew up very beautiful. I can com-1 ly was greaIer lhan it seemed) .hough the chil
pare her at fifteen to nothing hui a viole), hack- j dren ajwaya ooked ,idy and not even they evcr
neyed as the Mmilimde is. She was so grace- j complained. So a kind neighbor undertook to
ful and light in her motions, that tho?e who aw . find oul lhe trulh Tfae youngcsl chi!d wa3 se
her tripping over the green, thought involunta- j dtlced ir)IO lhc house at dinner time, when his
Tlltrnt n ou'-illrliu vt.IMIitiif,fr... fl. I
inj viasn.iiw" s'ho hciu. ii: wuai
a happy voice was her., as hhe carolled ?ome
old fashioned air or aang in the village choir.
"But Annie did not always remain light hearted-
She was still a giil in years at in manners
when her father died. Mr. Lj'Ih had never
been thought a rich man, but viy body was
surprised to hear thai hl eu'ate proved msol-
vent. A email debt here and a Uge one ihere j
.oon ate up the farrn. and the w idow Lyle found
herself with three children and no roof to cover
them. But uhe was proud., and so was Annie,
who, from being the oldeut child, poor thing !
was the confident of her mother's troubles ; so
the debts w.ere all rigidly paid, the furniture,
though prized or many asancia'iuns, was sold,
and the bereaved family removed to a humble
cottage, with but one htory, and only two rboiC6
at that, on the edge of ihe village. Bot there
was a sweei-brier over the door, and on one
tide it M'ae half covered wvh ivy. So ai first
J ji Was thought a verv nleaiant olace.
c - r
J dt not know how it is with others, but I
could never blame the widow Lyle and Annie
for being proud and refusing to accept aid from
Mrangers. They were grateful for work, but
they would not take a cent without earning it;
j and those earnings were slight enough. The
j w''dow Lyle Had always been of delicate health,
and the cares of her HOW lot soon proved 100
m l fi, . v . i i 1 i i i
much for her. Yet she worked and worked,
night after night, she and Annie plying their
needle by candle-light, often far toward morn-
'o
'"H exhausted nature gave way
and she
was laid on a bed of sickness
The winter was just opening when this took
j place, the second winter after her widowhood;
anJ 1e syiI)p.llhjes of ,he , wh;ch a, fifSl
, , - , r i i r -
beat so warmly in her favor, had found time to
com. ioi mat any oouy loved her or little An-
nie !fs ; out then folks did not think of them
: so often, and did not any longer go out of their
way to assiM Mrs. Lyle's family. Thus Annie
found herself alone, with a long winter beforo
, anfj neccS!li,y of providing frorn day l0 day
.... J ' ,
,or all their wants. She struggled on for a
b
t t it t
wnue ami men ner heart came nigh breaking,
for she found that her utmost exertions
failed
m supply them with fuel and bread.
jju, where was Edmund Dnl nil .hi. iim
ho who should have saved her from suffering?
Times had changed since he used to wander
wiih her through the button-wood grove, their
light laughter making the stage traveller turn
back with a ' God bless 'them!' Edmund's fa
ther, too, had died, and died before Mr. Lyle ;
and Edmund had been taken away by his guar
dian, an uncle in the city. He had cried all
the afternoon before he had departed, and An-
n'0 had cried too, though her little lover
had
wiped the tears from her eyes with her apron,
and strove to soothe her. At first they heard
rom h'm occasionally, for he wrote long letters,
I . ... . -
'n his boyish style, to Annie; but these gradu-
ally became scarce, and for years Annie
had
teen constitutes love and it is more like true
love than many a thing that goes by lhat name 1
-then Annie was in love with the'bold, frank,
rosv-checkrd boy who used to fioht her battles
and bring her the first apples and strawberries
of the season. Now, when reduced infortune,
and often at the very door of want, Annie would
sigh and dream of Edmund Dale; and all her
wistful eves as he looked on the wholesome
food, and his eager appetite as he partook of il,
revealed the eccrot.
Poor little dear," said the kind-hearted
neighbor, " it would have made you cry to see
bow famished he was. But what can we do
for Annie ? There she aits, night after night,
straining out her eyes sewing, too independent
to ak aid, or I fear accept H, though her heart
ana health both break."
Jurt at this time the village school mistress
got married, and eome kind-hearted neighbor
proposed lhat Annie Lyle should take her place.
Everybody wondered Out no one had thought of
the plan before. Annie was very young, it was
true, but then all loved her; and so it was soon
Fet'led that she should have a trial, at least.
Ii was ii new world to Annie, and she trem
bled as she entered the cheerless school-room ;
ibut hor mother was sick at home, and ibis was
the ot.ly resource left from siarvation, or what
was worse, beggary. She could do all the
work of the family after school hours, and might
snatch a moment or two at night for sewing; so
she nerved her little heart to meet the contempt
uous looks of ihe bigger boys, and the sullen
behavior of the younger pupils. Dear Annie,
had she known all she had to undertake, she
would never have undertaken school teaching.
Annie was too young for her vocation. She
meant well, and won many to love herj but there
were a few unruly spirits not to be coaxed by
sweet smiles or gentleness, whose rebellious
habits weie sufficient to destroy all discipline.
The elders soon found it would not do, and poor
Annie herself feared it. Jaded and fretful with
the troubles of her school, she returned home
at night to wet her pillow with tears. At lengih
the disaffection broke out into open rebellion ;
and Annie, for once, tried lo enforce obedience.
The result was that the school broke up in dis
order, the bigger boys hooting at their " baby
mistress," a9 they called her, and proclaiming
a holiday in derision from her very seat.
Poor Annie went home sobbing, for her heart
was breaking. All her little dreams of comfort
were dissipated by this rude terminaiion of her
authority, and she saw it would be useless to
persist longer in her present vocation. She had
calculated the salary to a penny, and arranged
how it was all to be spent; it would just suffice,
with a little more she expected to make by her
needle, to carry them through the winter. But
now this bright vision was dissipated. She was
in debt, too; for, relying on the salary, she had
ventured to purchase one or two little comforts
for her mother; and debt was new to Annie,
and in her simple heart, allied with visions of a
jail. As she turned to go homeward, one or
two of the younger children little girls of six
or seven clung to her gown, and crying as
hard as herself, yet strove to comfort her. So
she struggled to compose herself, wiped her
I.: 1 .U Kt.l .1 ,i i i .i
C3 WHSU ,,,c UCrt,3 U,1U uauo l"e"'
god b'e-
As she went up the road, she had to pass the
farm-house where her father once lived. The
memory of the happy days spent there rose up
and choked her; but she resoluiely went on,
keeping down her tears by a strong effort.
When she reached the main sireet of the vil-
,3Se- she lurned as,de- ll wa3 ,he hrst l,me
she had CVer done RO-bl il eemed lo her as
if ever.vbo(1y llnew her disgraceful failure, and
"hal a hundred e'es were on her
Poor Annie! her mother's cottage was before
her, yet she dared not enter it. Should she go
home and tell how there was now no refuge for
them but the poor-house? She knew it would
kill her mother, and she had not the heart to do
so. Mrs. Lyle had said all along that Annie,
she knew would succeed as school-mistress:
and even been more fertile than her daughter
in picturing visions of returning prosperity.
Pier litile brother and sister, too, they must of
ten again be sent supperless to bed. Well
might Annie shrink from entering that cottage!
She lurned aside, sal down on a fallen tree,
and began to weep pileously. I am sure you
would have cried yourself, if you had heard her
heartbreaking sobs.
It was a bright, beautiful day in February
one of those mild, soft days when summer
seems to have come back into the lap of winter
but Annie saw not, heard not, the beautiful
things around her, and kept on crying as if eve
ry sob would tear her young heart to pieces.
She did not even know it was the old button
wood grove to which she had unconsciously
come. Sho did not see a young man who ar
rived in the stage, and immediately went down
the village street till he reached her mother's ;
she did not see him enter, and rc-appcar again
after an interval, taking the way that led to the
school-house : she did not see him meet some
of the little scholars who had tried to comfort
her, but who, with (heir tears now dried, were
having a merry blide; she did not see him stop
and speak to them, then look all round, and
then retrace his stops to the village hastily, p;nd
yet with a sad countenance. No, poor &nnie,
as she sat there crying bitterfy, sav none of
this. She only saw the approaching beggary
of her family: bo with her foCa buried in her
hands, and the tears trickling between ihe fin
gers, bhc rocked her body to and fro.
" Oh ! I wish I wo's dead," she said, "Eve
rybody will despise, yt, and moiher.it will kill
her oh ! 1 wish I was dead."
An early bird rejoicing in the glad weather,
hopped down at her feet, and looking up as if
in sympathy, piped his little song; but Annie
heard him not -she was thinking, by some
strange whim, how even Edmund had deserted
her, and her tears and sobs came faster.
Oh! I've not a friend in the world," she
said '"I'm all alone"
Nay ! not all alone, Annie," said a voice
at her side, which, though a strange one, seem
ed yet not wholly strange. "For I have noi
forgot my little wife, if she has not forgot me!"
Annie started to her feet, and her sobs ceased.
She even uttered a faint scream; for there stood
Edmund Dale, come back to claim her as his
bride. His arm was already around her waist,
and his bold and handsome face, still the same,
ihouoh older and more manly than when she
last saw ii, was looking kindly at her! Poor
Annie ! she had long warned some otic to tell
her griefs to: so she gave a long look into that
face, and sprang sobbing into his arms.
There was a wedding, you may be sure, a'
our village that spring. Some might have tho'i
Annie too young to get married, bui it is Mrange
how soon she learned dignity from the manli
ness of her lover ; and before the Juno roses
began to blow, you would scarcely have known
her, so rapid was the change from the child to
the woman. Yet Annie was still the same
sweet, graceful creature as before, only she had
more self-reliance, and more quiet composure.
Besides, Edmund would not listen to the mar
riage being delayed. He had come back rich,
for he had inherited all the wealth of his guar
dian, who had lately died; so he had parchased
the big house at the head of the village, where
old Doct. Newbury had lived the most aristo
cratic house it was tot)', within twenty miles
and how could he get along in it now without
a housekeeper 1 Mrs. Lyle, moreover, would
never get belter till she had a more healthy
apartment, and the children, it was a shame
they should have no place to play in when
there was such a fine lawn with noble old ce
dars at Newbury Hall ! So Edmund's argu
ments carried the day, and a merry time we
I had, I warrant you, when little Annie Lyle
went home to ihe old house as mistress, riding
in her carriage, with a servant in white favors
to open the gaies.
Bogs iu the Battles.
Very many of the officers attached to the ar
my of occupation, own remarkably fine dogs,
principally of the pointer and setter specios.
After the battle of the 8th began and the firing
became very intense, two dogs remakrable for
their intelligence, appeared to listen to the con
fusion for a while with great astonishment, and
then evidently holding a consultation, they star
ted off with great speed for Point Isabel, being
the first arrivals at that place from the battle
field. There was a brave dog, however, to re
deem the character of the specios. He posted
himself iu front of one of the batteries and
watching with the iutensest gravity, the ap
pearance of the discharged ball, would start af
ter it at full speed, expressing great surprise
thai il was out of his sight so suddenly. Ho
would then Wheel round, and watch the ap
pearance of another ball and then again com
mence the chase. He thus employed himself
through the action, and escaped unharmed.
Right of Way." Mr. Siddlesmith, you
tink we get de rail-road, eh ?"
" Oh yes, I think so."
" When yor link we gel him pretty soori!"
" Yes in four or five years."
" Four or five years? Why I read iv. (o pa
pers we get him "right of way."
The house fiies iu New OrJ'oaris are all dy
ing off the Delta thinks with yellow Jever. This
is worse, than lhe story the Roosters tell about
ibe catfish in the Maumee river shaking to
dath with iho aaut.
Another Fish story. A party recently fishing
in the Tallapoosa, observed an enormous catfish
break water near them, and float exhausted.
He was easily secured, and as he was evident
ly gorged with something which seemed still
alive, he was opened and a full grown possum,
still alive and grinning, taken from him.
Circulation of the Blood.
In describing the circulation of the hlnotl, it
is cusiomary to begin at the heart. The henn
contains four cavities ; two ventricles and iu
auricles ; that is, the right and left iciiutclfs,,
and the right and left auricle ; civuius which
fill and empty al erery pulsalion of ihe organ..
The motion of the heart is that of expulsion
and contraction ; a motion noi unlike 'bat nf a
bellows. By expanding, the cavniesarf drawn
full of blood, and by contracting, is thrown ou-;
thus, by receiving the blood from ihe larg, anil
pas.ing it into the arteries a constant circula
tion is kept up, from ihe heart, through the ar
teries, to all parts of the body, and back to iho
heart through the veins from all parts of ihe
body.
' The system of blood vessels, known by th
name of arteries, through which the blood pas.i
jes iu ila course from lhe heart, to every part
of the body, commences at ihe heart in 'he form
: of a large vessel, called the aora, of about ono
! half inch diameter in the adult man. From h '
i
point it passes upward and downward, giving
off" largo branche to ev ry portion of the tmu
Ult, lungs, leg., arms, head, &e. Fiorn ihu
; second arierte, thousands of others branch otf.
! spreading and branching off in every direction,
j increasing in number and diminishing in sizi,
' until every minute panicle of flesh and boim,
how ever small, in very abundantly stipphnl
! with arteries smaller than a human hair. So.
1 very extensive is this s-ysiem of vessels, tb.it
; not even a pin or needle can enter any part of
t the flesh without wounding some one or uior
' of them, giving origin to the escape of blood.
1 and so small as not to be seen by the eye vit.h
' out the aid of glasses. These extremely vua!l
arteries finally terminate by emerging into vein?.
I In this way all the arteries terminate, and all
the vein commence.
Tho veins, commencing at the termination
of the arteries, return to the heart, by following
! the course of the arteries back, so that a dc
! scription of the veins in general term, amounts,
! with a few exceptions, to an inverted descrip
! lion of the arteries. In the distribution of (he
; veins there is generally much le regularity in
i the corresponding arrangement of the arteries.
Having thus arrived at the right auricles of
! the heart, the blood has traversed its great cir
! cuit; From the right auricle, the blood pase
I into the right ventricle, from which it is thrown
j with some force, through ail pans of the lungs
i traverses the great pulmonary arteries which,
like ihe other arteries of the body, increase in
j number and diminish iu size until they emerge
i into veins. The pulmonary veios originaiing
from the terminations of the mitiMie exiremities
I of the pulmonary arteries, converge by dimin
' ishing in number and increasing in size, until
' ihey form one large vein entodng the left atin
! cle of the heart. By these, veins, the blood is
returned to the heart, entering the left auricle,
from which it passes directly into tho left ven
tricle, the cavity from which it started.
The weight of blood m ordinary adult man,
is about 24 pounds, measuring nearly 3 gallons.
The color of the b'lood is created by oxidation
of a minute quao.ti.ty of iron, which is carried
into the blood Vnh the nutritive principle.
The blood is icj all albumen, but it is albumen
mixed with, or dissolved in, water, and con
taining besides, the elements of respiration.
Tho proportion of water to othor parts is about
as eighty to twenty; that is, SO per cent, water
and 20 per cent, of album, respiratory element.
Casket.
moral Wastes.
A colporieur of the American Tract Society,
who visited the Western Districts of Pennsyl
vania, describes places where tho Sabbath i
unknown, except as a day devoted to hunting,
and fishing, and "buckweat ihrahing;" fm.ilie
that have never heard a berniou in their live ;
houses in which not a single book of any kind
19 to be found; shingle-cutters and hunters, liv
ing n ,na woods, or lining the water course
at intervals, where the gospel never come, and
no book is ever brought or read.
" Can you give me two halves for a dollar V
inquired a loafer of a retail storekeepRr.-
Yes," said the man, placing two halves on
the counter. 1 '
"To-morrow I will hand you ibe ''dollar,"
said iheloafer, pocketing the rnoucy.
'4