Wyoming County Whig. (Tunkhannock, Pa.) 1849-1852, February 21, 1849, Image 1
, , ~ . . • . • . ..... . , . . . . . . - . . , t. ... . . .".. . . ( • ' ),.• .. • % . -. , . ~..3. . ..4. . { - • ,g_,:: l .. _ . . , . r• . , . .1, .•: 7. • ~. • . , 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"- E3l .. ,; =I rio. SI