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PUBLISHEII 'WEEKLY
Vol. 1.
POETRY.
nontfifal Oonro.
Oh,trontr for*ver are theshows,
The surlily hours when life was new,
end every path led on through flowers
Of sweetest scent and loveliest hue—
‘.
Wiien every little cloud that flung
Its transient shadow from :the sky,
'aB sure to l haVe a rainbow, hung
Irpcin it as it joerneYed By.l
Anil who shall chide is if we sn
A tear to-day, though 'shed in vain,
O'er sa much joy and beauty 'tled,
That never can be ours again :
I'or now it is we see how bright
Were those young hours we have resign'd
Now, when we're reached anther height,
And turning, sadly look behind•!
.Oh, had we seen them then, as now
We see them through the lapse of years,
Him fleeting had they seemed, and how
Replete with smiles and free from tears!
how gladly would lye have delayed,
If possible, their rapid flight,.
And kept them with us till we made
Them double all their sweet delight !
.Bat they are gone, oh, they are gone,
They never can again be ours,
'Fho•e sunny hours that led us tsn
In gladness through the blootning flow'rs;
Vith onward march and dark iiirray, •
The sterner years have emnii at last,
And pa•hed our little friends aitray ,
Away into the solemn past.
And now, with many a sigh Old tear,
As we move up the rugged hill,
At every step they will appea
- More lovely, more enchantim still!
-Like sparkling founts and shadly groves,
With all their coolness and (heir bloom,
:co him, who having left thetol roves
deeper in the desert's gintim.
• 11LL.P OSE ANOTHEAL.-4t isthe law
•itf Providence foviheallotments of moo
t; ind to be various. Tlae general wis•
• doin of this arrangement is apparent in
• the adaptation of all classes'. and events
• to each other, and in the ability of the
• t inspel to give .contentment in every
•condition of life. It is the duty dal! to
render to each other that assistance
. which God may put it-jo our power ,to
grant. In the language of Sir Walter
Scott, the race of-mankind Would perish
they cease to aid eachother. From
the tiine that the mother binds the child's
head, till the moment that some kind
assistant wipes the , deallt-damp from the
brow of the dying,vve cannot exist with
out mutual help.- „kl , l, therefore, who
need aid, have a night to asC it from
-their fellow mortals; no one Who holds
'the' power of granting can refuse with-
out guilt.
- Rsentac.--A proper and judicious
system of reading is of the highest im
portance. Two things are necessary in
perusing the mental labors of others:
namely, not to lead too much, and to
pay great.attention to the nature of what
you read. Many people peruse 'books
(Jr the express and avowed purpose of
consuming time; and This class of read
ers forms by far the majority of what
are termed the "reading public." Oth
ers stein read with the anxiety of being
made wiser; and when this object isnot
attained, the disappointment may gen
-way be attributed, eitheito the habit
of reeding too Much, or paying insufft
•eient attention to; what falls under their
come.
AliTiooTE To Poisoig,—A corres.
pondent of the London Litentry Ga r
;ate, alluding to the riutnerous cases of
deaths Irma accidental pOisoniog, and
particularly the melancholy fate of 'tbe
late Royal Acadeinian, Mr. Owen, adds
—!I venture to affirm, there is scarce
even'a cottage in ibis country 'that does
Mg contain so invaluable, certain,.
: Mediate remedy for such events; nothing
',Mtn* than a 4esert spoonful of made
mustard, mixed in a nimbler of warm
water, and drank immediately. It acts
- as an instantaneous emetic, is always
ready, and maybe used with safety in
~any C 4114 where,one is _required. By
'*making this ample antidote, known, you
may be the means.ofiriving mai:Tafel.
l.ow creature from an imtimel?end!
The Cheerful Zeart.
How wearily the little news-boy.
plodded . along the deserted streets' on
that New Year's Evel The cold rain
was beating fiercely upon him, and a
few tattered garments served to protect
him from its rage. All day long he had
been out amid the storm, and was now
returning, weary and hungry home.
The street lamps were lighted, and as
he pissed by them you could see by the
gleam that his face was pale and ema
tiiittid-=could see that, young ea he was,
something bad been there already to
attenuate his features, and give him that
wan and desolate look which can be
given only by some great affliction,
some pinching want or overwhelming
grief. You could tell at a glance that
dark shadows was resting upon his path
way—a shadow out of which there
seemed, just then, but little hope of es
cape. Born amid poverty and wretch
edness, and left fatherless while yet in
his cradle, his life up to that hour had
been nothing but misery—and the whole
record of that lite' was written in his
pale face and tattered rags. Yet, with
all this, as he passed along, a close ob
server might have noticed a strange
light in his clear, blue eye—oh expres
sion of kindly cheerfulness, such as we
may not often see in this world of care
and grief—for God's blessing was u pon
him—the blessing of a cheerful heart.
The sorrow of his life, however deep
and abiding, the gloom upon his path
way. however dark and tearful, dimmed
not the light that burned so quietly. and
- yet so steadily within. Like the Vestal
fire of old, it grew not dim, but threw
its rays far out over the great g!oom
around hirh—even now the cold storm
beat upon him unheeded. There are
waking dreams that come upon us some
time when we least expect them—bright
dreams of love, and home, and heaven
—beautiful visions of future, all glori
ous with its burden of song and gl,al
- ! and such a vision, of such a fu
ture, now filled and crowded and blessed
the heart of-that forsaken boy. He was
dreaming, as he walked along, of better
days to corne—of the time poverty in
his pathway should depart, and the
beautiful flowers should spring .up to
bless him with their presence--of a
bright home far away from that great
city, upon whose cheerfu th the
fire should not go out, an e hun
ger should never haunt him more. And
then into that dream of a better life—in
to that vision of a cheerful home far-off
among the green hills—came a pleasant
face—the face of his - beloved mother.
He could see her as she sat by the lat
tice at the quiet evening hOur, reading
the sacred_ Bible, with the last red rats
resting like a glory upon her brow,
while the rose-leaf trembled at the win
dow, and the little violets folded them
selves to sleep. Very plealant was the
picture there passing before the,gaze of
that ragged child, very glorious the
panorama of green hills and bright
flowers and singing'birds—Very beauti
ful that humble cottage. ha If covered by
the clustering foliage:—and his heart
thrilled and heaved with a strange rap
ture never known before, such rapture,
suChijoy as the stricken poor can never
know, save. when some good angel
comes down from the blue heaven and
beckons them away from the haunts of
woe and want in which they sutler, to
the free air and the blessed sunshine.
But the dream had passed—the sun
had set—the floa•.'rs rider!. the cottage
disappeared. Of MI that beautiful vis•
ion,, so cheering arid so glorious, no
trace remained; no ventage of leaf or
tree or bird; no letter of his mother's
Bible—=no lovelight °lbis mother's eye.
The.darkoess came around him, and he
found hiniself there amid the storm in
the silent streets of that great and sinful
city. So gathering 'hip garments more
closely about him, be hurried along to
his home with a prayer upon his lip
$1,50, per Year, if paid in Advance.
TUNKHANNOCK, PA., FEB. 21,1849.
and God's sunlight:in hi,l heart. Turn
ing into an obscure street, a few steps
brought him to the door of a wretched
dwelling, which he entered. Follow
now and behold a scene of whnt, of pen
ury, such as may be found sometimes in
this 'world of ours--a scene upon which
men look with unconcern, buton which,
thank God ! the angels gaze with joy;
a home where poverty struggles with a
britve heart and is conquered.
Before the fire sat a pale. sad woman
upon whose features the traces of great
loveliness were still visible though sor•
row had sharpened them somewhat, and
ghastly want _done much to dim their
beauty. Upon her high and queenly
brow the blue veins were clearly visi•
ble, as the blood coursed through them
with unwonted rapidity.—Her large
dark .eyes were dim with tears. Some
new sorrow had started afresh the seal
ed fountain of her grief—and now as
she gazed silently upon the red embers
in all the utter agony ofdespair, it might
seem that hope had gone forever and
God forsaken her.
'Mother?' said the boy, as heentered,
all dripping with rain, have come ut
last, and I am tired and hungry."
'My-son! my son !! replied the moth
er, 'there is no morsels of food in the
house' and her lip quivered. 'We must
starve! we must starve !—God help
us !' and her tears broke forth afreo.
Thus had it been for many a weary
month.—With scarcely food suffic l ient
to support life, that mother and her boy
had struggled, and suffered, and wept,
and prayed—and now that the cold win
ter was coming on, no wonder . that her
heart shuddered and her cheek grew
.
pale nt the hopeless prospect ahe'ai
How could they pass the dreary days
and long nights, the storm and the ter
rible cold, without food and raiment,
and shelter? - And then where could
they go when the heartless landlord
should thrust them from their present
wretched dwelling, as he had threaten.
ed to do on the morrow ? Verily the
gloom and the despair were great nod
fearful! And yet even at that desolate
hour an eve looked down from heaven
upon that friendless widow. There by
the hearth-stoneby the dying embers
an angel hovered—an earthly angel.
even in the guise of that cheerful child.
For
"Garth has its angels, though Its forms are moulded
flurof such clay as fashions all:
Though harps are wanting and bnght pinions folded :
We kllow them by the love-light on their brow."
'Mother,' said he, 'we will not starve.
God has not forsaken us. There are
better days to come, mother ! 1 saw it
in a dream, and in it 1 beheld your own
dear self, and you were singing a pleas.
ant song away in that blessed home.
Oh ! mother, cheer up! cheer up!'
When the little boy lay down upon
his wretched couch, that night, he was
changed. His mother's great despair
hod transformed him from a suffering
child into a strong-hearted man—from
a weak and helpless dependent, into an
earnest, thoughtful worker; henCeforth
his path was one of duty alone—and no
allurement, be it ever so bright, could
turn him from it. Before him glittered
forever a guiding star; and his intense,
absorbing gaze, from which neither
the cares, nor the vanities of life could
be for an instant diverted. ,Existence
had for him but .one object, and his ut
most energies were taxed for its attain.
ment.
Never did the sun rise in greater
splendor than on the New Year's mor
ning following that night of hunger,
gliding the spires and domes of the city
with Ili rays. The streets werealready
rapidly filling with the gay crowd seek*
ing pleasure, and men walked as though
new life had; been given them , by. the
general hilarity and the bracing air.
In the most crowded street was the
newsboy, but pottbe disconsolate, wretch
ed lad who had plodded his way through
the storm the night before l - to a desolate
hme and• a supperless bed.=You would
not have recognized him as he hurried
along. eagerly intent upon his avocation
and his face all radiant with the great
hope that struggled at his bean.
That night joy visited .the forsaken
fireside.—They had paid the lamllord
his rent, and still had sufficient left
wherewith to purchase food. It was a
merry New Year for them.
Years came and went. Great chan
ges had taken place. The boy had
grown to manhood. —H igh honors were
conferred upon him. Wealth (lowed
into his_coflers—his praise was upon ev
ery tongue. And at this very hour, up.
on the banks of the majestic Hudson,
his mansion stands conspicuous among
a thousand others for its taste and ele-
fiance-
He has but one companion—his aged
mother ! —the lonely widow whom we
saw some years ago, gaiing mournfully
in the fire, and watching the flickering
light. His_ influence was felt far and
wide, .and the poor and wretched of eve
ry class and kind come :Mound him with
their blessings.
Thank God ! thank God! —for eve.
ry suffering son of man, who comes up
from the deep shadow of despair into
the blessed sunlight, and, turning, gives
his word of cheer to the groping millions
beneath him.
Thank God! thank God, that scatter
ed here and there, throughout the world.
in many at humble home may be found
men and Women, unto whom life pre
sents but little of love, or hope, or joy,
and 'yet who pass alone amid its dew
late paths without a murmur, sustained,
and soothed, and blessed by this alone--
tt, cheerful heart.
COURTSHIP.-A lover should be
treated with the same gentleness as a
new glove. The young lady should
pull him on with the utmost tenderness
at first; only making the smallest ad
vance at a time, till she gradually gains
upon him, -and twists him ulti
mately around her little finger; where
as the young lady who is hasty, and in
too great a hurry, will never get a lover
to take her hand, but be left with noth
ing but her wits at her fingers ends.
It does not follow that because a
minister is small in stature he is small
also in , mind; but that does not affect
our EtOry
A clergyman of this class, was on
Sabbath to preach for a neighboring
church. The pulpit was so high, that
he was obliged to make a tempcirary
stool, by elevating a board upon bricks.
Having mounted the stool, he commen
ced announcing his text, which was
from John 16, 16, and got as far as "A
little while and ye shall not see me,"
when down went his stool, and the min•
ister disappeared.
How TO COUOH.-A writer in the
New York Sun says it is injurious to
cough leaning forward, as it serves to
compress the lungs and makes the irri
tation' greater. Persons prone to the
enjoyment, should keep the neck straight
and throw out the chest. By these
means the lungs expand and the wind.
pipe is kept free and clear. There is an_
art in everything, and the art of cough
ing is perhaps as important in its way
as any other.
MIS GUIDED AFFECTIONS.—The
Earl of. Shaftesbury once said; 'By a
small misguidance ofaffections, a lover
of mankind becomes a ravager, a hero
and deliverer becomes an oppressor and
a destroyer.' Who then can estimate
the valueof high and holy motive, con•
pled to a well trained mind, and the re.
quisite tact and skill in him• who is to
develop° the future statesman and phi.
lanthropist, yea, the future sovereign of
a republic? What- a responsibility
roes on teachers .of youth'.
The Raw materiall.
A green 'un in the New York Spir
it gives the following as his erpehenee
in the oyster line:--
'•I never seed any of the animals till
I went to New Orleans."
One night a friend olmine said urine,
"are you fond of oysters 7"
aint nothin' else,' says I.
'Reckon,' says he, can push more
than any living mare
can take the shige out of you,' says
I, and VII anti on that."
'Done,' says he, 'we'll bet suppers,
and go right out and get 'em.'
We went into what we called 'a roas
ted rat,' and arter we sot down. he ask
ed me how I'd take 'em.'
I didn't know what to say, and I told
him I'd take 'em any way he chose.
'Waiter!' he sung out; 'bring us a
dozen raw to begin on, then a stew, and
after that a dozen fried !'
Putty - soon a fellow with his shirt tail
hangin,g dowt► before, sot down a plate
full of nasty slimy lookin' things, that
made me gag to look at 'era. I thissent
say-a word for fear 'of bein' found out
but of I didn't imbide the brandy to.
keep them oysters is their places its a
pity—l was in for it, as Jonah said when
he swallowed the whale, and had noth
in' to do but swallow and gag.—My
friend seed I looked kinder down in the
mouth, and so he ordered in shampane,
as he said, to raise my spirits, and• it
-want long afore it did—it raised the
spirits and the oysters too; both come
up together. 1 bad the supper to pay
but settlin' the bill didn't settle my stom
ach.— How I got to bed I disremember,
but my friend and I had the-same room,
and he'd eat and drank himself into put
ty much the same fix as me. So we
spent the night performin' the cataract
Qf Niagary. I played the American
side and he played the opposite shore.
The full particulars of the performance
was found in'the small bills we paid at
the bar The next morin.'—l've never
said turkey about eatin' oysters since.
All this you see come, for bein' so orful
smart.'
THAT Am —The other day I was
holding a man by a hand as firm in its
outer texture as leather; and his sun
burnt face was as inflexible as parch
ment; he was pouring forth a tirade of
contempt on those who complain that
they can find nothing to do as an excuse
for becoming idle loafers.
Said I : 'Jeff, what do you work at ?
—You look hearty and happy; what
are you at 7" "Why," said he, bought
me an axe three years ago, that cost me
two dollars ; that was all the money I
had. I went to chopping wood by the
cord; I have done nothing else, and . I
have earned more than six hundred dol.
lars, have drank no grog, paid no doe
tor, and have-bought me,a little farm in
the Hoosier State, and shall be married
next week to a girl that has earned two
hundred dollars since she was eighteen. ,
old axe I shall keep in the draw.
er, and buy me a new one to cut, my
wood with.'
After I left him, I thought to myself,
'that axe,' and 'no grog!' They are
the two thingsto make a man in .this
new world. How small a capital.
Tbat axe. How sure of success with
the motto •no grog !' And then a farm
and a wife the best of all !—Messen•
ger.
Mr A joyous•looking Taylor friend
of ours was walking in the street the
other day, his portly person arrayed in
a very comfortable cloak. 'Where did
you get your new cloak from ?was the
query of an acquaintance. 'Oh, only
a present.' was the reply. 1 13uf it is
rather too short for you,' continued the
questioner. 'Yee, and so was Cass's
vote,. or I should not be wearing it f and
the cloak and the wearer passed on.
03. Industry and perseverance ec•
compile!) all things,
BY C. E. LATHROP:
ractory Girls.
Some ofthe Lowell Factory girls be
ing about to strike en acconnt oFthe
re
cent'reduction in wages, isaue the fbllow.-
ing piquant and' witty manifest oflii , -
ing their services to.tbe - public:" It
be sn'they are capable of alinest any
and are "remarkably fond'of be
bier"
"We are now wotking'out'out notice'
'and shall soon be out of employment—
can
turn our. lands to anything=don't.
like to be idle—but determined not to
work for nothing where folks cedar.
foci' to pay. Who wants WO We
can make bonnets, dresses, puddings,
pies or cake; patch, darn, knit; roast
stew and fry; make butter and cheese,
milk cows, feed chickens, and hoe corn ;:
sweep out the kitchen, put the parlor to'
rights; make' beds, split wood, kindle
firetir wash and iron, besides being re
markable fond of babies; infect, can do,
anything the most accomplished house:
wife is capable of, not forgetting gib
scolding on Mondays and Saturdays;
for specimens of spunk, will refer you
to our overseer! Speak quick I Black
eyes, forehead, clusiering lbcks; beauti
ful as Hebe, causing like a seraph, and'
can smile most bewitchingly; any eld'-
erly gentleman in want of a house-kee
per, or a nice young man in want' of a
wife, willingly to sustain either chem.-
ter, in fact we are in the market. Who.
bids? Going, going, gone. Who's the'
lucky man!"
"INFORMATION OF THE EIRAIN."•—••
‘So' old Dr. Quill. is dead, said Mrs
Partington, as she put an extra piece,of
butter to her bread; they do say that he
died of information on the brain ibuttbey,
mtisn't try to make me believe Bich an
Improbable story as that! Information,
on the brain, truly! why he was the
greatest fool I know on; I can't help
laughing at his presumptuous igno
rance. Why didn't he at one of his
lectures one cold night last winter; try
to make me believe, with tt blet
ordinance, that the sun was then *Ter'
the earth that it would be in the hottest
days in summer? and didn't he try to
suppress on my mind, - when he called
on me, that time is money ? Oh, the
daft! Why, there's cousin Slow—ho
has his whole time—he was never
known to do anything but loaf—and the
world knows how poor he is. Oh you
can't make me believe such stuff.
wonder what will carry me off, ipie died
of information!" and she rose from the
table; flushed with excitement.
RECIPE FOR MARINO GOOD BREAD..
—James Roche, long celebrated in Bal
timore, as a baker of excellent bread,
having retired from business, has furn
ished the Baltimore American with the
following recipe for making good bread,
with a request that it should be published
for the information of the public
"Take an earthen vessel ; larger at the
top than the bottom, and in it put-one
pint of - mill/warm water, one and a half
pounds of flour, and half pint.of malt
yeast; mix them well together, and set
it away (in winter it should be - in . a
warm place) until it rises and fa Ils
again, will be in from three to five
hours; (it may be set at nigh; if it be
wanted in the morning;) then put two
large spoonsfu I of salt into two quarts of
water, andmix it well with the' above
rising; then pat it in about nine pounds
of flour, and work your dough well(and
set it by until it becomes light. Then
make it out in loaves. The above will.
make four loaves.
41 A9 some flour is dry and other ruii.
ny, the above quantity, however, will
be a guide. The person making bread
will observe that runny an& new flour
will require one•fourth morel salt than
old and dry flour, The water, also,
should be tempered according to. thp
weather; in spring and faith should on
ly be milk-watni; in hot• weather, told
and in winter, want"-
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