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A. K. RUE E:11, Proprietor.
Wna. M. PifitTEß, Editor.
VOL. LX.
TERMS OF PUBLICATION.
The CA num 1101.11L7)18 'published weekly on a largo
eheot containing.twenty eight columns, and furnished
•to subscriboin at $1.50. if paid strictly In advance;
$1.76 If pald within the yoamor $2 in. ell cases when
payment Is delayed until after the explmtio i of the
year. No subscriptions received for a loss perldd thin
six months, and nono'discolitlnned until all arronrages
are paid, unless at the option of the publisher. Papers
sett to 811b9CrIbOrll livhnß out of Cumballani.l county
inset be paid for In advance; or the payMentressumed
by some responsible person living in Cumberlandeoun•
ty. These terms will be rigidly adhered. to in all
eases. .
ADVERTISEMENTS
Advertisements will be charged $l.OO per square of
twelve Iluni for three insertions, and 26 cents for eseh
subsequent insertion. All advertisement* of less than
twelve lines considered all a square.
Advertisementiinserted before Marrisgen and deaths
S rents per line for firet insertion, and 4 cents per line
for subsequent insertions.. Communications on sub.
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5 cents per line. The Proprietor will not be regqponsl•
bin in damages for errors in advertisements, Obituary
notices or Marriages not exceeding five lines, wilt be
inserted-without charge.
JOB PRINTING
The Carlisle' Herald 3011 PRINTING OFFICE Is the
largest and moot complete establishment In the county.
Four geed Preens, and a general variety of material
suited for plain and Fancy work of every kind. enables
us to do Job Printing at the shortest notice and on the
most' rOasonable terms. Persons 14 want' of Bills,
Blanks or anything In the Jobbing linJ, will find it to
rihe Interest to giro us a call.
"ficitentf Coca 3111:0tIntiOR.
11. S. GOVERNMENT
President--.l.mrs Boantiras.
Vice President—Joan C. lIRLOAINIUDOII, . ,•
Secretary or state—Don. Lewis CAM.
Seeretary . of interior-30m Tnoursos.
Seerotary of Treasury—How= Coon.
Secretory of Nor—Jons B. FLOYD.
Secretary of Novy.-10000 TIMM.
Post Master fienerollomern norm.
Attorney General—JsnoutAn S. BLADE.
Chief Justice of 'the United States—lt, B. TAISZY.
STATE .GOVERNMENT.
Govornor—Wzudeet F. PACM.
Secretary of State—WILLIAM M. Mum
Surveyor Seneral—Wm. 11, Kent.
Auditor Clonerel—Tune. E. Cocusett.
Treesurar—llessr S. Ideansw.
Judges of the Supreme Court—E. Dram, J. M• ARK
6TRONO. W.ll. LOWRIE (I. W. WoODWARD. JOU!. M. READ
COUNTY OFFICERS
President Judge—Mon. Jamei H. Graham. • ,
"Assi.ciato Judges—Lfon. Michael Cocklin, Samuel
Woodburn.
District Attorney-4. W. D. GiDelon.
' Prothonotary—Philip Quigley. . •
Recorder &e.—Daniel, S. Croft.
Register—S. N. Emmingor. •
?Ugh Sheriff—Robt. McCartney{ Deputy, S. Keepers
--County Treasurer—Alfred L. Spongier.
•
Coroner—W.l , ld Smith.
County Commissloners—Samuel Megai!, Nathaniel
fickels, James ll.,Waggoner. Clerk to Commission.
era James Armstrong. .
Directors of the Poor—Wm. Gracey, Jno. Trimble,
Abraham Nosier. Superintendent' of Poor House—
Ilenry Snyder. -
BOROUGH OFFICERS
Chief Burgess- Joe.ll. Blair.',
Assistant Burgess—J. B. Alexander.
Town Council—John Outthall, J. Worthington,
.3,
B.Thompeon, Wm. Bents, Themas Conlyn. John Camp.
hell, A. Illoneemith, 11. 8. Ititter r J. Goodyear. • .
Clerk to Council.—Jae. U. Masonholruer. • • '
high Constables—Geo. Gently, Wm. Parke. Ward
Couetablen—Jacob Bretz, Andrew Martin.
Justices of the Peace—A. lc,. Bponaler, David Smith,
Michael Holcomb, Abiri. Behulf. .
C IitIRC IiES.
First Presbyterian Church, Northwest angle of Can.
tre Square. Rov. Conwayi.P. Wing Pastor.—Services
every Sunday Moraiig at 11o'clock, A. M., and 7 o'clock
P. M.
Second Presbyterian Church, corner of . 13outb If anover
and Pomfret streets. Rov. Mr. Ealle, Pastor. Services
commence at 11 o'clock, A. M., and 7 O'clock P. M.
St. John'. Church, (Prot. Episcopal) northeast angle or
Centre Square. Rev. Jacob B. Morse, !Lector. Services
at 11 o'clock A. M., and 3 o'clock, P. M.
Englleh Lutheran Church, Bedford between Main
itte. !author streets. Rev. Jacob Fry, Pastor. Service/
at 11 o'clock A. .11., and 6). o'clock P. M. •
German Deformed Church, Louther, between Han
over and Pitt streets. Bev. A. 11. Kremer ' PaMor.—
Services at 11 o'clock A. Al •tued 6 o'clock P.lll
Methodist E. Church, (first charge) corner of Main and
Pitt Strode. Rev. Geo. D. Chenowith, Pastor. Services at
11 o'clock A. M. and 7 o.'clock P.
_Methodist. E. Church . (second charge.) Eov. Alex. D
°Menu Fenton Services in Emory M. E. Church at 11
o'clock A. M. and 6 P M.
. . . .
St. Patrick's Catholic Church, Pomfret near East at.
Rev. James Kelley, Pastor. Services elery other
Sabbath at 10 o'clock.. Vespers et 3. "
Gorman Lutheran; Church comm. of Pomfret and
Bedford streets. ltov. C. FILITIE, Pastor. Services at
11 o'clock, A. 31., and 0% o',Flc.ck, P. M.
-Whentar
proper persons are requested to netlfy us. , .
DICKINSON COLLEGE'
Rev. Charles Collins, D. D., President and Professor of
Moral Science.
1107. Herman M. Johnson, D. D., Professor of Philoso.
ohy and English Literature.
James W, Marshall, A. Id., Professor of Ancient Lan.
images.
Itev. Wm. L. Doswell, A. M., Professor of Mathematics.
William C. Wllaoo, A. N., Peofassor of Natural Science
and Curator of the Museum.
Alozender Schein, A. M., Professor of liebrew and
Modern Languages.
Samuel D. Hillman, A. M., Prtnelpal of the Grammar
Sekund.
11111Gahn, S. Stamm, Assistant in the Grammar School
BOARD OF SCHOOL DIRECTORS
• Andrew Blair, Presldent, H. Saxton, P. Qulgloy, E
Cornman. C. P. numericll,J. Hamilton, licieretary,Jason
W. Eby, Treasurer, John Sphar, Messenger. Meet on
the let Monday of each Month at o'clock A. M. at Ed.
*cation Hall.
CORPORATIONS
Derosrr DLNl.—:•President, nenderson,
Cashier. W. M. Beate= ; Asst. Cashier J. P. Hasler;
Teller, Jae. honey,; Clerk, C. II Mader; Messenger,
John Underwood; Directors, R. M. Ilenderson. John
Zug, Samuel Wherry, J4l.oorgas, Sidles Woodburn,
R. O. Woodward, Col. Ifinry Logan, 'Lush Stuart, and
James Anderson.
OODDIALAND ,VALLAT lull. ROAD Comrewr.—President,
Frederick Wetter Secretary and Treasurer, Edward.lll.
Biddle;-Superintendent - 0., N. Lull; Passenger trains'
twice a day. Eastward•leaving Carlisle at 10.10 o'clock
A. M. and 2.44 o'clock P.ll. Two trains every day
Westward, leaving Carlisle at 9.27 o'clock A, M., and
3.30 P. M.
CARLISLE CAE AND WATER CoEßANE.3—Presldent, Lem.
uel Todd ;.•Treasurer, A. L. Sponsier ; Superbstendent,
V.A. Keg nedy ; Directors, F. Watts, Win. AL Dracut,
E. bl, Biddle, Henry Sexton, It. C. Woodward, John B.
Bretton, Y. Gardner, and John Campbell.
CUAIDERLAIIIII VALLEY DANw.--Preldent, John 8. Ster
rett; Cashier, H. A. Sturgeon; Teller, Joe. C. Hoffer.—
Directors, John S. Sterrett, Wm. Her, Aleichoir Beene
men, Richard Woods, John C. Dunlap, nat. C. Sterrett,
H. A. Sturgeon, and Captain John Dunlap,
SOCLETLES
Cumberloot Star Lodge No. 197, A. Y. lb meets 'at
.Idarton ltall 011 the lad .and 4th Tuesdays otevery
Booth.
St. Johns Lodge NO 200 A. Y. M.' 'Meets 3d Timm
day of each month, at Marion '
Carlisle Lodge No 01 1. 0. of 0. B. Meets Monday
syeping, at Trouts building.
FIRE -COMPANIES.
• The Union Fire Company was organised In 1:1159.
'Preece -a, Cornman•, Vice President.' Samuel
Wettel ; Secretary, Theo. Cornman ; Treasurer, P. Mon.
er. Company meets the Arist Saturday In March, June,
September, and December.
Th e Cumberland, Fire Company was Instituted-PO:en.'
sir, .1.8,1801).' President, Robert McCartney; Secretary,
Philip. Quigley; Treasurer, 11. S. Ritter. , The company
-meets on the thlrd,-Saturday of January, April, July,
Ind'October.! •
•
The Good Will Gm Company waslnatituted In March,
1855. President, ti. A. Slurgeon; Vice President,George
. Weise, Jr.; Secretary, William I). Wilbert; • Trcanurer,
Joseph W. Ogliby: The' Company mute the second
ThoredaY or Jannory, April. July,'and October; •
The limplre nook and• Ladder Company wen Institut.
'ad in 1859. President*, Wm. Al. Porter; Vice President,
Geo. 11M:idol; Trimmer, John 'CLanphell ; Secretary,
John W. Porte. ' The company meets en the first Saban.
day la January, Aprli, plttly and , October.. • . ,
Y, id. C. A.
~ R ooot=ltleoloi Hon.' • • • '
monthly-mectlog-,Thlrd Tuetdof Eteoltig.
Prayer c owl ing —Sunday Aftetooon at 4 o'clock. .
Reading ROoul- and" LlbrarY—Admleclon .11ce, ciao
'very evening (Sundaysoxecpted)
. front 0 to 10 o'clock.
rtraogore ospaclolly.welcome...,; . • •
IMATES OF POSTAGE..
rootage on all tetteispronirhalronneo weight or an!
der ¢s propld, ascot ,to llallrbnlla• otOregoni
' which 11110 cams prepaid. , ,
'Potnagiron the lieraBr•-4within - the Cduriti, 'fnno.
Within 180/Ml4lB tarifa per year.. To toy part , or the'
Uniceillllates 20 conta.•.rostao on all tranalens papers
unJer 8014nees wellillit, 1 cant p•rrpaid. ortoo ppte
unpald: - Advartlied lottitta,toloscharirotl) ll th flokoolf:
of adoorthinif. ; r ; I‘,
LECTED P;OETRY.•
• .
.' Selected for the lterald..
A' BALLAD FOR THE DAY. •
- AB WRITTIN Con, 4ND BUNG BY
The • Pittsburgh DelegatiOn to the Chicago ConitentiOn
DT AN OLD TOWNSMAN
Tho Star Spangled Banner."
Where the eon of the South fin; the Palmetto grove,
And the whip.drlver strides o'er his cotton plantation,
You have heard, and with shame, hew a' base diction
, • ntroye
To model a chip for our tempeat•tose'd nation.
Hot ship,_ whore away/ rifted , roas round you lay,
Oh, a treasonntained crew there was gnawed that
day;
And the banner TIM bore, no bright star from it
flaah'd,
But a cloud, so of night. o'er Its blue field wee
dash'd I
•
Not thus Is the flog trefling out to the breese- - , .
Unsullied iffloets from the ramparts we've Minded;
And the oat and the many from the isles anethe ems,
The motto of Freedom anon have re•gilded,
And,' our Nostrum., imperil% ni
Wo'll greet Win aa ults, while we slog to our 'glee.
God, stand by the land, Ileare,n'e pure' ether hath
•
fanu'd,
And, our Country, we pledge thee, with one heart
. and handl*
Let the dastards who threaten go voice to the winds—
From Michigan's Lake shall go forth as in thunder,
(Yet, tnmpor'd so mildly, to gentlest of minds)
Such tones as will nerve us to deeds—the world's
wonder.
And;our.norainee, irboaver he be,
We'll welcome as ono, while we sing In our glee—
dod, stand by the land, Ileaven'spure ether hath
fann'd,
And, our Country, we pledge thee, with one hoar
andlaud I
In the eaves of our homes, to l the pet sparrow builds,
And the vine clings so ciciee to the trees of our gar
dens;
shell the Vulture destroy, and the blooms of our fields
De blighted by discordeour human heart hardens ?
No—no—,brothers, no? to avert this we gcr7-
In the strength of our:manhood we'll strike back
the blow ;
And with foot to the Rock, 'neath the flag of the
Free
We'll :hout for the right; lads, and—ova nountssi
0 men of the land? what la North? what is South t •
O.r■ mother hat nurturd ue, tenderly—kindly;
'And did we but lint the wine words of her mouth ; -
Who . - Would dare drift to 'ruin thus madly - and
blindly i, . . •
—,-Come then, say-0 to-day for the witoth.- land we
• . pray--
Shall the OLD ship go down t our fond dreams fade
away.?
Never—navor I dear Vnlon I we'll atlllellog to thee
And,wlth bleialugawlll crown thee• Lin ouisolutugs
OLD SAVEETHEADTIS
BY ANDREW HALLIDAY
When old Aunt Patterson used to toll me;
as we sat togother'by her parlor fire, that oho
was once a very - pretty girl, .and that all the
lade of the village were over head and earn in
love with her, I wondered very much. I should
mention that I was a-very small boy then.
Looking•up from the foot-stool on which I was
accustomed to sit, at aunty's wrinkled brow,
her sunken cheeks and closely approximating
nose and chin, •I could never realize to my im
agination the picture which she painted of
herself "when she was young." She was a
pretty-girl then, she said, with blue-eyes and
bunch of flaxen curls hangingdown her hack
for all the world like a blossom of a luxuriant
laburnum tree. There was a picture of just
such a girl in .aunty's parlor, which aunty
said wan a picture of herself at the age of seven.
It nover occurred to me, or indeed to any one
else who knew her, to doubt aunty's word.
But how could I believe that old Aunt Patter
son had ever been anything like that ? The
girl in the picture bad rosy 'cheeks, and over
her shoulders flowed aprefusion of flazeneurls
which were now represented by a brown wig
with an unnaturally white and well d, fined
parting. In ber dimpled band the child had
an apple as'rosy as her own cheeks.. Oft, as
I sat at aunty's feet, would I lookup at: those
dimples, and wonderingly Compare them with
the blue veins of the shriveled hand .which I
held in mine. What evil geni wrinkled that
damask cheek, and dimmed those brilliant eyes?
Ah I I knew 'not then what a potent magician'
is time. Aunty's story Was like a fairy tale
to me.
Side by tilde with the picture of ",rosy
cheap" there hung another; it was that of a
handsome young man with bright, dark, pier
cing black eyes and curly black .hair. And
thereby hangs another of aunty's take.. This,
was a picture - of Robert, Almon, who wont to
South America five-and-thirty years ago.
"Robert and 'I were old sweethearts,'' aunty
used to tell me; oho-was poor, my dear, and
rather wild, and my father would not consent
to our marriage.' He leekMy father's repea:
ted denials so much at beart`lhat he resolved
to leave the country.' •- "I will .go to South
;America, Lizzy," he said, "make a fortune,
and comeback and marry you. Your father
will not object to my marrying you when lam
rioh." I cried bitterly, you tnoy be sure,Tor
as I said, I loved Robertdearly. Well, Robert
carried - out - his resolution; - I. gocup - onainorn - -
log before it was light, and met him at the
old bridge to bid him good-bye. I wag to
flurried on leaving the house for fear'that my
father should awake and discover my pnrpoee
that I forgot to 'put on my bonnet; and 1 re
member that, as I ran, thewind blew my curls
about so that Irony person had seen me they ,
must have thought merinad. But nobody was:
up so early. I found-Robert waiting for me
on - the old bridgo. Aftera few hurried words
we parted. ' But before he left me, he bogged
a lock of my hair as a remembrance against'
the time when he should return end claim me
for his bride. I ha& plenty of hair to give
him; and was rather willing to give It; but we
bad- nothing to - cut it off withnothing but
Robert's pen-knife. -But love laughs at, Ws
sor-rnakere, tny dear, as well 118 at 100katliiill'a,
and Robert laid one of my curls , upon his
walking•stick, ' and just Whittled It off; and
then I took one of his in tbesame,way,though
I MA not do it ao neatly, and* made Robert
cry out a little. could have laughed if my
heart bad not been . so full. I stood on the
bridge watching him until,lie,was out of sight
among the trees,- and then I went hack home,
orying all the.way."
. 1 dare say aunty told me this story 'a score
of Bash, and always le the gloaming of the
evening, between the lights. , But 'she' never
carried her early history beyond the parting -
on the old bridge. All the romance ended
thefe.What followed was prosaic enough.
Aunty several year's for Robert'
out-hearing any news of hitif; and, at length,'
believing him dead, - ehemarried Mr. Grainger
the iron-founder—more,-I,believe, to-please ;
her father Utak hersel. ' •
At the-end.of twenty years Mr. Grainier'
died, and left aunty. very. well off-r-ro well off,: •
indeed, that before the year, of Mourning was
otit she Wee beeeiged - by 'dorens• of r EilljtOra
Aunty Talked theta 'all - for 'elan time,' sad
remained .a widow Bath' ;my.uriole •
Patterson, whom the took . for. better, cor'„ :
;worse, and, alas l' found' hieri'altogetlier
,for
the worae and none for' the better. Niemen ,
iresta•kind•liearted,teniatedul,' and'atrangly
attached to Whielley toddy,c_and;-.wita,!•by,
rn ettas :dilligent-hrlils, business,' ,Wbtab 'mar
tlfiit of - actountant, — When' he mode
Ma, ono, lasvocoonnt earth; there watt aifery,' •
small balanialeft in favor Of aunty.. 4.greitt , •
PP 181 R, WOR
.
.' proportion of what the Iron-founder had made
out of pots and pans had gone in double-shot
ted jugs of teddy. Aunty was a widow a gee-,
and time before she heard anything of her old
- sweetheart, 'Robert Alison.. - Then she heard
he was married and doing well in South'America
She used to lay great stress upon the., feet of
his being married. Possibly - that was rather
' a conselationdhanotherirlso. She mighthave
• felt DM reproach had she heard that ho was
still Single, as that might have been taken to
imply that be had remained a bachelor for her
wake; whereas she had married and buried
two husbands. . • • ' ,
Some ten or fifteen years after the .death of
Mr. Patterson,
news came to th ,town that l
Robert Alison had lost his wife, an was com
ingol4 home with his only son. Old Mrs.-Joyce.
who had a nephew in South America, from
whom the news'oame, called one evening to
show aunty the letter. Aunty, at this time,
was getting old and frail, 'and occasionally
showed symptomsof falling into dotage. When
Mrs. Joyce read her the letter she laughed
childishly, and Said how glad she, should be to
See her Robert again; and then; when Mrs.
Joyce went away, she told me the old, old sto
ry of her'courtship with Robert, and of their
parting at daybreak on the old 'bridge.
I was turd have said, a very little boy when
•aunty' first related to me the story of her early
love. I was nearly a man now,'and had come
to spend my college holidays with the good
old lady.. Orie evening, about six weeks after
Mis. Joyce called with that letter from South
America, aunty and I were sitting by the part
dor fire as of old.- - It was nearly dark ; but I,
did not like to lightthecantiles, for aunty loved
to sit, and talk by the fire between the lights.
TheSeMbro shades of evening seemed to have
something in harmony with her mood at such
times. She sat opposite the picture of Robert
Alison, looking into the fire, and merrily . rub
bing her hands. Suddenly the fire burned uri
into a flame, and. threw a flash_of light up - on
Robert's picture. Aunty, who haddong been
silently gazing nt the burning coals, cast her
up to the handsome face,'and heaving a sigh,
muttered half to herseif half to me : " He
was a fine fellow, but he's dead now ; at the
bbttom of the sea, my dear," she added, more
paintednddressing me. I was startled for a
moment, thinking that aunty might have heard
some furthernews—perhaps that the ship in
which Robert was coming home had boon
wrecked. I now saw however,' that she' was'
only wandering in her mind, as she had often
clone before !of hide. Presently, when. the
.flickering light of the fire again fell on the
picture, she laughed, and began to babble-a
bout her flaxen hair that streamed in the.wind
that morning when she went to bid Robert
sood•by. , "There's some of it left yet," she
aid; "Robert has got the lock that he -cut .
off with his pen-knife.' Did I over ahem you
the,lock that-I took from Robert in return?" I
had seen it anrany a time •;-‘• but I said that I
should like to see it. I don't thinkauntydould
'have ' been a very sentimental person ; for,
though she kept this look and . cherished it,
she never wore it about her person, as women
do wear these things. Perhaps she thought
that, after the iron-founder and. the• account
ant, it would have looked like affectation. She
kept. Robert's hair in a little red box, with
rings and brooches, and other ornaments of the.
kind., 'She never took any putienlar care of
this box, or the hair which it contained ; but
always spoke of the souvenir and of Robert
simply as pleasant remembrances of the,past.,
She took the box from its place on the mantel
shelf which it usually ocoupiod,opened it and
took out the hair. The look was a single jet
black curl, and, as aunty gently straightened
it out, it slipped from her grasp and . twined
itself round the third finger of the left hand
exactly over her'two wedding rings.
"Why, aunty," said I, "that's an omen'
Robert is certainly coming home to marry you "
"Marry me, child l" she replied t.."l've had
enough of marrying. Robert will bo five-and=
thirty years too Into.. I remember that; look
curling around my finger before I married Mr
Grainger, and I thought oomothing would
conie of it—and so something did come of it,
but it was not. the something that I expected.
Robert got married—and so did 1. We swore
on the old bridge to live and wait for each oth-
er ; but ouroaths went down on the stream that
flowed underneath, and were carried away to
the ocean of oblivion. Yet, it seems but yes
terday since we parted." Aunty paused, ap
parently overcome by emotion, end, ere' she
could - resume, the fire fell ip and burst into a
steady brilliant llama. My attention, which
was suddenly attracted to the blaze, was al
most immediately diverted by a noise as of
some one entering the room —and at the same
Moment a scream from aunty. On looking up
I *discovered the presence of a stranger. My
gaze no sooner fell uponhis countenance than
I also uttered a cry of surprise.
"Robert—Robert I" cried aunty.
Had the picture stepped down from its frame,
or was this some conjuration of the fancy ?
There,
his hai in his hand,:and his glossy
black hair hanging imolustering curls round
his handsome head, stood the very embodi
went of the picture of Robert Alison."
"Robert—Robert Alison I" cried aunty a
gain.
The youngman advanced towards me, and
bowineifititi, - "My name is Robert Alison."
"I ktiew it—l know III" oried aunty, with
almost-frantic joy ; and rising from her chair,
she rushed to the young man and threw' her
arms around his nook. Poor aunty had been
dwelling in imagination upon her old sweet
heart, and seeing his very counterpart before
her, was lost to all sense of the! . possibility cff
'kis being the same p,ersou froth whom she bad
parted forty years before. I myself was pus
sled, and it: was noose moments before Mash-
ed upon me that the person before us might
`be Robert Alison's son. The young man was
seriously embarrassed, but kindly -took the
good old soul's embraces without attempting
to disenchant her. While she hung round him
calling him her "dear Robert;" I explained to
the young man that I was her,:nephew, and
that aunty, who was fast sinking into dotage,
had taken him for his father, to. hom as he
might know. she was attached in her youth,
lie said ho knew that, and that his father was
coming in presently:" Meantime, aunty hung
about him, calling him by-endearing names,
and reminding him of their young days, and
of their sorrowful parting on the old bridge:.
"Ron'tyou remember, Robert, the old bridgei
and my flaxen curls shining in, the wind dint
tnornrug when I came to say, farewell I Come
—come and sit by me," and when the young
man took a seat by her aide, she stroked his
glossy curie; and, turning to me, saidproudly:
..You.see it is jet black es I told you—biaok
and glossy, And ail in burls, just like,the.one.
that ho gave me forty.years ngo." • •
The candles.were now alight, and neltunty
said these wordy, her eyee fell upon her own
shriveled fingers, which embraced the free'',
young hand of her old a weetheart'a eon, ..Fór
ty years 'ago !" be repeated with a 'sigh !
"dear, dear, what a foolish' old , woman I ant I
lam wandering in my wits." Here she palm:
ed, and covered her face with her hands. At
length ale Bald more calmly a I have been
dreaming young man, as if, time' had been
standiniretlll.for forty years, You Can't be
my. Robert Alison,• but you must . Robert
eon. ;Look," said, she before be had
.
tions to"roply, .3here le your portrait, juet .fte
if you had eat for it;" and moseying, elle took
the Dandle, and led the younginuutto:the pia
lure. Meanwhile ti,knook, emir to the,.`door, , ,
anti ati,old.gray:bierded ma . OnteredAt rny
',Mistrese',Rattereant' . '-,eald stranger,,
' '
1 etepped - up riuletly to hlm,:and.ttelte4 hint.
J. he-was Mr, Allisen=—ltobert . Alliona:
load yoe,"nlid.bewautid to,See Mistress Pat
tireou. wise still standing with , the
young the light' upau " thb Xlo=
tura hail&
.vg,s!LssT.
MI
CARLISLE, PA., FRIDAY; JUNE '22. 1860.
. pointing to.aunty r " that is - Mistreat' 'Patter
eon." The old man started,. and seized my
arm as if for support,. Aunty etill stood there
shading the light,. and the, old Mari,, grasping
my arm more tightly,‘Ternafnedlasingat her
'abstractedly.. At length, turning.. to mt.': he
said, in a low voice: "Exotuta ane,." I have
suetained a shook. Forty years ago that was
the prettiest girl in, this town; daring that
time 'I have thought other as - she Wes then.
I meet her now when both She and I are Vert:
lug towards the grave.. I, shouldn't have
recognised my'old aweetheart,4nd dare say
oho will not recognise me." I went ail to
aunty and told her who had come, she gazed
at.his snow-white hair, and thin, sallow face
and said, calmly holding out her hand, ...well
Robert, and so_we have •met at lest, after
forty years." "We have," returned:old Ro
bert Allison and having been old sweet
hearts, there will bo no harm in an embrace,
especially as am a widower and you are a
widow." And the old man took aubty in his
arms, and kissed her right heartily,.
I.Telly expected a "scene," bat .1 was
greatly relieved to find : that the old sweet
hearts were by no miens disposed to be sen
timental. Tho old man end his son - stopped
and vs,Oped, and, after supper, entity grew
quite chatty and cheerful, and talked in a
light and airy way of old times". Arid at kat
she brought out Robert's black curl; and the
old man laughed, and said he could not sup
ply any more according tilhat sample. "Nor
do I suppose, Mistress Falterson,"lie added,
taking a locket from his neck, f. that you can
execute an order according to that `!' and so
saying, he took out the tresses of titian hair
which auntzhild giien him on the old bridge
forty years before. There were !tears in
aunty's eyes as she looked upon the f.wo locks
lying side by side in her lap.
* * * * * * *
Robert Allison, settled down in his native
town, and was once more minty's sweetheart.
He was a constant visitor at her house, and
often walked out with Mr to the hid bridge
where they parted in youth.. The neighbors
laughed to eee the old couploalwayeltogether
and said, pleasantly, that the boat thing they
could do, since they had - been sweethearts so
long, was to.get married: But aunttalways
said she had enough of marrying. y...
Aunty Oki not livaieng after the . rival of
her old svrphtheart. '- The infirmities of age
came iipoW her very fast, and the lastitime she
went out she was wheeled in •a oh* to the
obi bridge; and Robert Allison walked with
tottering steps by her side. ~
• Aunty lies in the churchyard nov i . And
last year Robeit Allison was laid by per side.
The iron•founder and the aocountan reponci
hard by, but they have nothing to say to it.
lUrimoulayPo Companions4n the Tomb.
Baron Macaulay (says 4e London Post)
now lies close at the foot of . Weetinacott's
statue of Addison, whom he-mice so happily
described Ise the unsullied statesman, the ac
complished scholar, the master of pore Eng-
HA eloquence, the Consummate painter of
life and manners, and "the great satirist who
alone know how to - use ridicule without a
busing it ; who, without inflicting , al wound
eTected a great social reform ; and ,rho refs.
"Onciled wit and virtue, after a 1014 Ind 4E8.1
estrous separation, duriNg—rthich. -wit bad
been led astray by profligacy, and vrtue by
fanaticism." The remains of Addisp, how
ever,'are at souse'distance froth the lipet on,
whieh,tbe monumeat stands—theylvoire in
the charl of Henry -VII; and it was not
until three generations bad laughed and wept
over his pages that any tablet was raised to
his memory in the Abbey. Macaulay says
of the statue which now keeps watch over
the newlycovered grave :
"It represents Addison as we can conceive
him, clad in his dressing gown, and freed
from his wig, stepping from the parlor at
Chelsea into his trim little garden, with the
account of the 'Everlasting Club,' or the
'Loves of Hilpa and Shalum,' just finished
for the next day's Spectator; in his hand,"
Thickly strown near the graveief Macaulay,
I are the relics of men whose names are still
held in 'reverence, and whose works adorn
the literature of our criantry. As a poet, not
less than n brilliant essayist, Blacaluay has
earned a place among the great Men of the
past and present ; and in death the author of
the "Lays of Ancient Rome" and the ballad
on the " Spanish Armada" will face Thomas
Campbell, who won •the poet's fame by the
"Pleasures of Hope." A few feet from the
grave of the enobled poet of the nineteenth
century, stands the fine old piece of gothic
sculpture which marks the resting place of
Chaucer—the father of English poetry.
Just opposite to the tomb of Chaucer, "the
day starrel of Engligh poetry, is the monu-
ment of • Fairie Spenser, the sunrise of our
'poetry, who died, ns Ben Johnson tells, "for
lack of bread, refusing the twenty pieces sent
him by my Lord of Essex, as he was sorry
lie had no time to spend them." Fairly ob..
'iterated by the hand of Time, the tomb of
Spencer bears the inscription, " Here lies
the body of Edmund Spencer, the princeof
poets in his time. wheats divine spirit needs
no other witness than the work•he left behind
him." Beaninon 44 he dramatist, sleeps hero
too, but no memorial or inscription marks
hieresting place; it is', however, immediately
behind Chaucer's tomb. A,. Marble, much
defaced, erected bythe Countess of Dorset,
bears in very-illegible-character and inscrip•
Lion written by Ben Johnson for the tomb of
Drayton. Still nearer Macaulay'a grave there
is a small pavement stone with • the inserip.
Om "0 rare Ben Johnson!" which Aubry
sayirwas done at the charge ofJack Young,
who walking there when the grave was cow.
ering„ gave the fellow eighteen penCe to out
it. At a recent relaying of the pavement of
the Abbey the original stone was removed
and destroyed. A few feet, distant is the
monumen of Cowley, raised by George, Duke
of. Buckingharn. A monument raised by
Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, marks the
grave of Dryden--="Illorious John "—who
was followed to his resting place by mourn
ers in twenty mourning coaches, each driven
by six horses, and • at whose requiem, an ode
of Horace was sung, with inkaccompaniment
of trumpets and hautboye.
The, only • titled poet that sleeps in this
part of the Abbey is the Earl of Roscommon,
the femous master of-the.horan to the Ditch
esiof - York at .the Restoration. Another
companion of Macaulay is Nicholas Rowe.—
There also Matthew Prior and • John Gay,
and he whose tomb bore the inscription (in
imitation of that of Jonhnsoe ) !' C rare Sir
William Davenant I" and Satinet Johnsen-
David Garrick,. and Richard brineley Sheri.
deu, and Camden the father of English His,
tory May, the• historian of the LongParlia
•ment; Gifford, the editereftlie'Tory Quarter,
ly Revietv,;" Pair, and minterousethers.
At the opposite or horth•end of transept,
there towers ahove'the.othei rearble . gravee,
the stately Monninent of Chathnin; of whom
Macaulay wrote, and the worde are now .not
'lees ritylieablii te:hinirelf,—Urriong
,the
'emi ne nt - men Avhose:'hones , near.. him
scarcely One has left a ; morn preinlem*.and
none s niore.eplendjd name.,"
2b &tile Cases: -- J: Artitstronaolumble
Co.,C Wie.s,Tecommends the folloViag,tnethOdt
Brewn - tbi coffee in th e tunial 'Matinee, and
when nearly cool; bre ak infg itcand
istir it welt, to have eaclibeinel abated: - IThe
coffee 'should not be Warm intonghl;necialt the
egg: .thlrinea itkit ea it, •
pouod.or tcaea
Itldey before grinding "• %an . ; balliirl
foe use (twill iettle without Aiiilier 'trouble.
" r
lIHEROF' THE RILL.
Give me an enrwer If you *III,
Whither aoeat thou little rill
Leaping,,laughltig,idghi and dah
Like a happy child at play—
Cooling here the parched tongue,
'Flowiiig there the herbs among—
Wit h i gurgling, bubbling floa t
"Through the meadow, field and wood,
On mrudesion doing good." 2 •
Dosj wanderer; going still,
Now it turns the heavy Mill,
Now upon its bosom 414 e ,
Putllngboats of comineree ride.
' Pint !! spoke In , murmnis low,
"-Doing good:—for this 'flow."
• Now the deep, the rolling flood,
' • Echb'es louder, "dieing good."
In the ocesn'a trackless deep
Idle will Its water. sleep?
No: on sunbeams rising high,
Oload•borne, Coats it on the sky,
And, in rain descending, yields
NO:wings to the parched gelds,
Oyer 'grass and flowers strewed,,
•In rills gathered, doing good.
Thus, sta erit, It epee& away,
port again Ilka childhood play,
Babbling, singing as It should,
"On My mission doing good."
0 that they, who, life time long,
Idle time would catch Its song,_
And, like It, become a flood,
Barth to bless by doing good.
We take the following interesting deserip-
Lien of a strange people said to reside in the
interior of the Great Basin, from the Panama
Mar. It is entitled to full confidence:
WHO /WILT TUN CALM:TRU PYRAMID?
In our summary of the California news re
°sited by the "Winfield Scott," we noticed
the discovery of an antiquo pyramid• in the
Colorado region, and in a subsequent number
of-our paper published a long article in relit.
Con 'to it, from' the San Francisco h erald.
The. whole - subject must be a deeply intereet 7
ing'one to everybody; and from a - gentleman
now in thin pity, wo have Within a day or two,
derived additional information, which he has
had the kindness to put on paper for us. It
is an follows: ° • -
. •
"Your ,irticle on the antiquities of the Groe
Central Basin calls to recollection a comer
eation I bad in 1852, near that region, tha
*aver intense interest to ma at the time,
-“Far away heyonghthe Smith Pass, on the
head waters of the Gilll, river, lives John Brid
ger, a trapper of the plains and mountains
for, more than forty years, and, whose veracity
cannot be. questioned by any one acquainted
with him.. It is admitted by all trappers, that
ho is better aequainted than any living man
with the - intricacies of 'all the hiller.' and the
atreameThift lose themselves in the Great Ba
sins—(l say Beeline, because there are many
of them.) While trapping on the tributaries
of the Colorado,' an Indian offered to guide
Mr. Bridger end party to a people living tar
in the Desert; with whom'thay could barter.
"The proposition was accepted; and after
providing themselves with 'dried meats and
water, they struck right into the heart of that
Great Desert, where no white man before or
has since trodden, and which the hardy moon- •
taineere will only venture to skirt. After five
days' travel, the party arrived at thee moun-.
tains, or Buttes, rising in grandeur in that
solitary waste. These mountains were cov
ered with a diversity of forest and fruit trees,
with streams of purest water rippling down
their declivities. At their base was a numer
ous agricultural people, surrounded with wav
ing fields of corn and a profusion of vegeta
bles. The people were dressed in leather—
they• knew nothing of fire-arms, using only
the bow and arrow; and for mile after mile,
circling these Buttes, were adobe houses, two
and three stories high. Mi. Bridger was not
allowed to enter any of their towns or !modes,
and after remaining three days, bartering sear
let cloth and iron for their furs, he left them;
not, however, without before given to under
stand that they hold no communication with
any people beyond their desert home, That
these are the same people who once inhabited
the bloke of the Gila and the Colorado, and
left those monuments of wonder, the "Cams
Grande,"'which so deeply attracted the follow
ers of Fremont and Doniphan, and then van-,
Jelled as a tireani there can no longer be a doubt.
Their adobe houses attest it. •
"Months after this conversation with Mr.
Bridger, I hid another with Mr. Papin, the
agent of the American Fur Company. He
told me that another of the party, Mr. Walk-.
er, the mountaineer, -after whom one of the .
mountain Panes is named, and who is known
to he a man of truth, had given him the same
description of these isolated people—and in
my- mind there is not"the shadow of a, doubt
of their existence. • • "
, c 0 The tinkled. Is one replete with interest to
the antiquarian, as well as to all others; and
I am in strong hope that the recent discovery
iu.the Colorado country- will have-tlie:effect
of bringing to light, and to the knowledge of
the world, '
•not only th3exietenoclof these peo
ple in their desert home,. but also their origin
and history."
ETRANCIE PEOPLE IN TILL WILDE/LEM-THE
The people here spoken of, wo are inclined
to believe . , are the Moquis—a race of people
residing in the Great Basin, who answer in
many particulars to the description given by
Bridger and'Papiti. We believe that Captain
Joe Walker, the veteran mountaineer and
trapper, is the only white man in this coun
try that has ever visited this strange people,'
and from him' we , gathered In the course of
a long conversation, a most interesting -ac
count of their country and manners. The
most Implicit confidence may be planed in all
his statements: He is entirely free from ex
aggerating which' we often find among great
travellers.
Throdgh the very, centre of the Great Ba
sin runs the Rio Colorado Chltplito . or Little
,
Red River, •It takes its rise in the mountains
that skirt the right bank of the Rio Grande,.
flows almost due west, and 'empties into-the
Colorado at a point on the same parallel Of
latitude with Walker'', Pass. About 100 miles
north of this, and running almost parallel
with it, is the river Ban Juan. Baoh of these
streams is about 260 mtlea long. Betio/act'
them stretches an immense table land, broken
'oecasionally by • Bierraa of no great length,
which shoot up above Ale general elevation.
About half way, between the two rivers, and
Midway In the wilderness between , the Colora
do the Rio Grande, in the country of the •
Moquis. from . the -midst of the plain rises
abruptly on all
,sides a Butte of considerable
elevation; tie top of whiah leas flat as If , some
great Power had aliced.olf theauminit,..
,Away
up'bere the Moguls have built three , large Vil
lages, where they rest at night , perfectly an
eure from . the outwits of the fierce tribes who
llrit•to the north - and mist of them. The eldOe
of thie table mountain Oro 'tiniest p'erpenilionl
lar 'cliffs. and' the top can Only be reaohad'up
steep flight of 'steps, • out In the ablid
Around baeo la a plain of arable land,
1,1110141 M Moguls oultivate.ytith great aseldity; •
'lleretheyralan :kinds. of
; grain, melone t
and'Yegetablim. Th'ey' nuinbir of
orobardi; With many kinds'of feult_treee, The
peaches •th ey, rale Oapt:..•:.Vtalkor ire, •
,partitli4ar!y :One- .•!%$97-,..harrlaygellooka' of
:whoop and : goats,
; but yeryboasto'of, • bur 7 „,
' den !or cattle : baroileeei'inolfenlive • ,
Yoney-Itlnd: add . -hospitable, to:etrititgerii,' and •
make verYAltile , .reelistanee whetrattioked,i , oe
Thultarllke Navajos' who 'dull in thi moan-
!MAZY. q. iIAILDA.OOII.
THE DIOQVIS.
IZEM
IM
tains' to the Northeast of them, are in the bob
it 'of sweeping Joan upon them every two or
three-years, and driving off their stock. At
such timei they gather up all that is moveable
from their forme, and fly for refuge to their
mouataitl • stronghold. Here• their enemies
dare not follow them. When a stranger ap-'
proaChes, they appear on the fora the rockti
and houses watehing'hie movements. One of
their villages at, which Capt.. Walker stayed
for several days, is five Or six hundred yards
long. • The houses are generally built of
stone and. mortar—some of them of adobe.
They. are' very, snug and comfortabfe, and
many of them are two and even three stories
high.. The inhabitants are considerably ad.
vanced in•soMe of the arts, and' manufacture
excellent woolen clothing, blankets, basket
Work and pottery. :Unlike most of the Indian
tribes of this country, the women work-within
doors,•the men performing all the farm and
out:floor labor. As a rota, they are lighter
in-color than the Digger Indians of California.
Indeed, the women are tolerably fair, in con
sequence of not being so much exposed to the
sun'. Among•tbem,- Capt. Walker saw, thfoe
perfectly . white, with white - hair and light
eyes. He saw two others of the same , kind at
the Zuni• villages, nearer the Rio _ Grande.
They were no' doubt Albinos, and' probably
gave rise to the rumors which have prevailed
of the existence of white Indiana in the Basin.
'The Moquia•have probably assisted nature
inievelling - the top of tho mountain as a site
for their villages. They have, out down the
rocks in many places, and have excavated out
of the Bala rook a - number of large rooms,
for manufactUring woolen cloth. Their only
arms are bows and arrows, although they nev
er War with any other tribe. The Navajois
carry off their stock without opposition. But
ufilike almost. every other, tribe of Indians on
the continent,,they are scrupulously honest.
Capt.. Walker says the most attractive and
valuable articles may be loft exposed, and
they will not touch them.
Many of the women aro beautiful, With
forms of faultless symmetry. They 'are very
neat and clean, and dress in quite a pieturi:
esque costume of their own manufacfure.
They wear a dark robe with a red border,
gracefully draped so as to leave their right .
arm and shoulder bare. They have most
beautiful hair,.which they arrange with great
care.' The condition of a female may be
known from her manner of dressing the hair.
The Virgins part their hair 'in the middle be
hind,-and twist. each parcel around'a hoop six
or eight inches in diameter. This is nicely
smoothed and oiled and isotopia to each oide .
of the'head,- something, like a large, rosette.
The effect is very striking,- The married ,wo
men wear their hair twisted into a club be
hind,'
The Moguls farm in the plain by daland
retire to their villages on the mountain at
night. They Irrigate their lands - by means of
the email streams running out of the sides of
the mountain. Bometitnes when it fails. to
snow on the mountains In winter, their crops
are - b 4. For this - reason they always keen
two or three years' provisions laid up, for fear
of famine. Altogether, they are a most ex
traordinary people, far in atvance of any. Ot
her aborigines yet ditioovered on this continent.
They have never had any intercourse with the
whites, and •of.course their civilization origi
nated with .themselves. What'a field is here ,
for the adventurous traveller I We have rarely
listened to .anything-more Interesting than
Capt. Walker's plain unaffected story of his
tiaigle in the Brest Basin.
. .
GRANDMA SUSAN.
Grandina Susan was an old lady, who once
lived in a little lonely brorirt cottage, just be
low the village of C-. She was poor
and earned her living 'by nursing the sick,
raising a little garden Ett u IT,and knitting socks.
Everybody loved the old lady because • she
was good. She was happy too. Her face,
1:10 calm, so sweet,. so heavenly, was a sermon
to all that looked upon it; for though it was
plain, even to 'homliness, it shone with the
light of Divine Presence which dwelt in her
soul.
" You always seem so happy, " Said I to
her ? one Sabbath, as she was trudging albne
to church with her bible in her hand.
- - -
"I am always happy, " said SuEqtri3 "my
peace is like a river. Bless the Lord, omy
soul l"
" What makes you so happy, Susan ? "
"You are always alone in the world,
you are poor, you aro feeble, you work hard,
and yet you are happier than any princess.
Tell me your secret, Susan."
" Perhaps its because I have none but God
to look to," said Susan. "Rich people have
many things to trust in and care for, and are
always anxious about troubles ahead. I have
nothing to care for; because, you see, I leave
it all'to the ',Ord. If He can' take care of
the big world, I know ,He can surely take
.Aare of such a poor old woman as lam ; and
so Vleave everything to Him, and Ho does
tako care of me, blessed , be his holy name I "
"Bat,.Susan," said I, " suppose God
Should take away your health, or command
his lightning to burn your cottage, or the
first-frost to destroy' your garden stuff-sup.
pose •
The old lady there broke in upon my re
quest with a voice and look I never forgot
Said she:—
" Suppose 1 I never & suppose. • I can't
suppose the Lord•will do anything that_isn't
beat for me. It's this supposing that makes
people unhappy. Why not wait till the sup
pose comes, and then make the best of it ? "
- - - - - -
Oh wise'old lady I Ohlhankful Grandma
Susan!
When Grandnia Susan died, she had but
one regret. She told it to a friend in these
memorable words :
"Tell all the children 'that an old woman,
who is near to death, is vay much grieved
that she did not begin to-love the Savior
when she was a little girl., Tell them youth
is the time to serve the Lord."
Well, Grandma Suaanisgone to the world
of love,now, but I hope my children will takA
her advice. She bad travelled all the rusty
' road of life. She had , learned that the. best
thing for comfort on that Journey is to love
the Savior. She hew, because ahe had tried
it. What say y . on to this , boys and girls.—
You. have the Journey to make. The road
lies before you, long, (perhaps) dusty, rough,
dan,gerous. Will you venture upon it with.
out_Suaan'a secret? I hope not.
lianotset or A Idair:—During the henry
etorm which . prevalted at Savannah. Georgia,
on . Saturday night last, a drain on Weet & l oad
street was broken down, whertalady (nay/ the
lispress), who reildes near the . place of the
accidept, heating It break In,. and knowiag
that persons hurrying hotito wonld 'certainly
get in, and probably, loose their ]lies; by be
ing carried through the sewer into' the river,
went to the spot and stood Were ainidet 'the
retention/ 'atom andtiretiohing rain, warning
paesernrby of their danger. There ebe stood
for i long time alone, saving stiveral%gentle:.
men from at, least a tuner° wetting, and would
not retire until, policemen hid been stationed
Oare to PrePillt Alriher accident. ' • ''"
. .
• "Take heed of Or*"mi
'toiirrow,Ao•m or,
row," says 'Ltither; " fur .aliiitt• lives' : forty
years beforelhO kiwis himself to be O'fool,
and by-the time he his Ilfe
men'die before they, begin to
Anything Midas , to'uchedivas turned iota .
gold. In these days, toticlutt'mair'witlitiild
and WM! turn Into auythlog.
f $1 50 per annuli' In advance
$2 00 If not paid in- Advance
TALE .GATHERER
" A snapper of isnconsldared trifles."
Old Songs. •
Old songs! they ring upoh the brain,
Like whispers from the fsr•oft spheres,
And with' their thrilling spell revive
The garnered lova of bygone 'years.
Whet though beneath the sod they
Or mould on Memory's shelves apart,'
81111, still a hallowed beam they ahod,'
• In hues immortal round thu Watt.'
Old wagel I never guessed hew large
,A apace was In this heart of nano,
Till, one dullove, by chance I found
A well•woin book, wlrse every line
Came back tome, le clear an though
But yesterday I'd lard It down;
And there I found the wlshed for clue,
That spoke of days forever flown.
Oh, wt.& amid the world of doubts, - •
Of light and shade In which we stray,
' We see some charm by which to drive
Sbme tempoinry.gria away, •
Let them who love such pleasures, court •
'•
The favorites who entrance the tkirong:
'or me, I'll find acme !muffler seers°,
And lull me with some dear old song.
PalmAtas.—The French prepare more per.
fumes than any other people. In the sputh
of France and in Piedmont vast :crops of
floivers7are groin. Cannes and d , lice furnish
yearly about 13,000 lbs. of violet blossoms.
Both cities are famous also for their orange
blossoms, the latter producing 100,000.1b5.,
and the former-double that quantity, and of
a finer odor. Cannes abounds, too. in the
Acacia Ferneeiana, and affords yearly 9;000
lbs. of its finely scented blooms, Careful
treatment is required to extract the Aerial
oils.
,These are so largely mingled with
other vegetable juices that 600 . lbs . of rose
leaves yield only about an ounce of otto of
roses: The orange blossom, however, is
richer, and 500 lbs. of flowers yield about
two - pounds of Neroly oil. Ono perfume
manufactory at Cannes requires yearly about
140,000 lbs. of orange blossoms; 20,000 lbs.
of acacia blossoms; 140.000 lbs. of rose
leaves; 32,000,1b5. of jessamine blossoms
20,000 lbs. of violets, and 8,000 lbs. of tu•
hems, besides many other fragrant mated.
als.
'Hair, you aeon but a bright lily groir,.
Before rue hands have plucked it t
have you marked Imt (ho fall of the arow, •
' .Before . the moll bath emu (eked It?
Brave you felt thO wool of Eho bearer t
Or rowan's down ever)
Or have amolt e the Mit of the briar, •
Or thq Nord In the flro t "
Or have tasted the bag o' the beti
Oh to white, ohYse soft, oh ao sweet la she.
lien Johnson
Aremrs.—Rumor says that aprons will
soon be in Vogue: We regret their coming
as 'a Godsend, for now wo may expect some
reformation in • household arrangements.—
With them come visions of light. cakes roast
beef unconverted into charcoal, and rich Ins.
cious coffee that would, put the Turks in a
good humor with female society. What vis•
ions of comfort are careful!) tucked away in
the capaciobs pockets of the matron who
does this graceful addition to a ladies ward.
robel What little tender bill t-do ucx are often
hidden lothe . dainty receptacles attaehed to
its sides. Yee, gentlemen may, well be ,io
love with aprons and in love with the fair
wearers.
Tne highest charity is to pay'libeially for
all things had or done for you; because .to
underpay workmen, and then be bountiful,
is' not charity. On the other hand, to
when by so doing you support idleness, is
most pernicious. Yet you cannot refuse to
give street alms, if your charity has r.o oth
er channel ; you would fool that refusal in
such a case was a mere pretext to save your
money. But if your wealth is wisely and
systematically given, then the refusal of idle
appeals does no harm to the 'heart. dl
To•Blorrow:
Dorn tell me of to morrow—
• There is muck to do to day, ,
That can never be accomplished, -
If we throw the hours away.
'• " Every moment has its duty—
Who the future can loretoll?
Then why put off till to-morrow, .-
what to-day can do to well t
"May I be married ma?", said a lovely
girl of fifteen, to her mother the other morn•
trip " Married!" 'exclaimed the astonished
matron, "what put each an idea into your
bead?" "Little Emily, here, has never seen
a wedding, and IA like to aninsa the child,"
replied the obliging sister, with fascinating
simplicity.
Drzus.—Every man ought to pay his . debts
—if ho can. Every man ought. to help'his
neighbor—if he can. Every man and wo,
man' ought to get married—if they cue'
Every man should do his work to suit his
customers—if he can. Evervmai should
please his wife—if. he .can. Eiery man
should trike Hsu/am—if he can.
It is easy in the world to live after.tho
world's opinion 3 it is easy in solitude to live
attar our_own;.but_the_great.man.is ho-who r
in the midst of the crowd, keeps with petfect
sweetness the independence of solitude.
Chance and changolove to deal with men,e
settled plans, not with their idle vagaries.
If we desire unexpected and unitringinable
events we should construct - an iron frame
work, such es we fancy may compel the fu
ture to take one inevitable shape; then;
comes in the unexpected, and 'Shatters our ~
design • in fragments.
An editor wanting a Hoe to nll up the yob
um a, gave—
Shoot folly an ebe fllee.—Pope.'
In Betting up the above, the 'dull bpd It thus:
~
"Shoot Polly u she ales —Poll" •,
A Bell= once advertised:" That as all
men peed bread, lie wishes the public to
know that he kneadsit. lie is desirous of
feeding alL.who are hungry, and hopes his"
good works may be in the, month of every'. '
one. He is well disposed: towhrds all inian„,"
and the best kred people arming us will find'!
him be hopes, one'of the' bed ?Ireaci men in
the City." '
Teach 'your children ,to.wait'upois them
selves, to put away a thing Arbon done with'
it.' But do not forget that 'yen were once 'a
child.—The griefs of the little ones ire (AO •
Liberty ;not descend to ,atileaple I,n
people must raise themselves to liberty :: it is
a blessing that must be earned, before it eau;
be enjoyed.. ,
.TnEns will always be thin in4nrtnnt,'dif.:
15
feeetice between a coquette e,moinau pf
sentio:and modesty; while one ,ecturts.aiitry.,,:
mas t every man will Constthe j other..,
The Chineso picture of-ambition
Mandarin trying torcatalin'eamiti,ly putting
ash. on hie ' . tail." • . , t.
•••.4 - 4 - 4•44.41- 4
Piarise,nothi4;becausa it seems iVelllC.:*•
The fftee and lecuete: have done, more hurt .4.. t
than legit and lions did. • .., 4..4 1•• 1,
Navin% be afraid to Adele:nib's - that strives
to plater+ 'erifybodf pletiees , atobbo; ,s :- -
•• • •
'A •
without tongue ,.
often prcaches
betteition a a
skull that has one., • • .• ••
-NO. 38.