The Columbia spy and Lancaster and York County record. (Columbia, Pa.) 184?-1848, December 11, 1847, Image 1

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    NEW SERIES, VOL. I, No. 24.]
Printing Office—Front Street, Opposite Barr's Hotel
Public uten Office—Locust Street, opposite the P. o
TIMMo. —The CoLVni nIA SPY is published every
'Saturday morning at the low price of ONE DOLLAR A
YEAR IN ADVANCE, or one dollar aid fitly cents, if
ant paid within one Infiniti of the time of subscribing.
Single copies. THREE CENTS.
TERM. Op ADYCATist Nn—Advertisements not exceed
ing a square three times for SI. and 25 cents for each
additional insertion. 7 hose of a greater length in pro
portion. 03 - A librral discount made to yearly adver
Juts PPTPTING Stich am Hand-1411N Posting-141ln.
Cods. Labels, Pamphlets, Blank. of every description
Circulars, etc. etc., executed with us:airless and despatch
and on reasonableternm.
A vigorous prosecution of the War, the best means
to secure a speedy and
No. 42. No. 42.
Front St.‘,': Front St
31111123 L 2.ItITZWAR,
PTO. 42, Front street, directly opposite the
11 Bridge, and three doors below Black's nolo,
Would respectfully call the attention of the public
to his stock of Fashionable and Cheap Clothing,
which exceeds in extent, elegance, and variety,
any hitherto opened in this vicinity, and which he
pledges hint:elf to sell at prices lower than even he
has before offered. Just look at the prices:
Gentlemen's Fine Cloth Dress
Coate, from $5.00 to $lO.OO
Gentlemen's Fine Cloth Frock
Coats, front
Gentlemen's Fine Cloth Sacks
and Cuatees, from 2.50 to 5.00
Gentletnen's Fine Cloth and Caa•
&Mime Pants, front 2.00 to 4.00
Satin and Silk Velvet Vests, Plain
and Fancy, being the only kind
of this quality for sale in this
place, front 2.50 to 4.00
Roundabounts and Pea Jackets, 1.00 to 3.00
Shirts, plain and fancy, 374 to 1.50
Satinet Pantaloons, 1.50 to 3.00
Gemtlemen's Cotton Half-hose, 61 to ISa
.4 Silk Handkerchiefs, 374 to 1.00
.. Cotton do 6.1 to 124
Cravats, a new article, 37,5. to 1.00
Suspenders, 6.1 to 374
Umbrellas, 311 to 1.50
Leather and Hair Trunks, 50 to 1.00
Travelling Bags and Vulices, 1.00 to 2.50
Ladies"Pra veiling Bags, a beauti
ful article, 2.00 to 2.50
A Large Assortment of Fine and Medium Cloaks.
ALSO—A large assortment of
Such as Pants, Vests, Roundabouts, and Shirts, and,
in short, every article of apparel required by the
gentleman, the mechanic or the laborer, with a va
riety of fancy goods, calculated to tickle the taste
and secure the patronage of all classes and condi
tions of men.
My thanks are due, and I hereby tender them to
the world of my patrons, for former favors, and I
ant determined to prove the sincerity of my grati
tude, by untiring efforts to furnish a Fashionable
Wardrobe to every patron of the Colonade Hall of
Fashions, as cheap as the slicapest, and as good as
the best.
the place to buy cheap Clothing, No. 42, Front
Street, Columbia, Pa., directly opposite the Bridge,
and three doors below Black's Hotel.
For further particulars, mqiiire of the Cn ptain on
board. JAMES L. Pit ETSM AN.
Columbia, Oct. 9th, 1847.
N. B. A branch of the above establishment, where
all the articles enumerated, and at the same prices,
may be obtained, has been opened in No. 4, Shrei
ner's Walnut Front.
THE subscribers have jest received their supply
Fall and Winter, Foreign and Domestic Dry
Goode, to which they invite the attention of their
friends and the public generally.
Their stock consists of superior French, and
English Black, Blue, Brown, Mixed, and Olive
Cloths; plain and Fancy Cassimcrs, Sattinets,
Tweeds, Jeans; Velvet and other Vostings.
Gry do Rhine, Swiss nod Mattenna Dress Silks.
ALPACAS.—PIain, Plaid, and Striped, at 18,
25, 31, 37, 50 clv., &c. English, German, and
French Merinoes ; Plain Paris Cashmeres and De
Laines, Lama and Tarter Plaids.
French, Esrlston and Manchester Ginghams;
Prints of every style and price; Plain and Plaid
Linseys; Tuper Gauze and other White and color
ed Fla 'inch:.
sawn NGS.—Three quarters, four quarters,
five quarters, six quarters and ten quarters Bleached
and Brown Shectings, Blankets, Tickings, Checks,
Doeskins, &c.
A splendid assortment of Trimmings, Gimps,
Silk and Cotton Fringes; Thread, Victoria and
Bobbin Edgings and Insertings; Lisle, Victoria
and Brussels Lace, Collerettes, Gloves, Hosiery, &c.
frattit:k,:ka:l4 . l,
Loaf, Pulverised, Crushed. Havanna and Brown
Sugars; Syrup, L. IL N. 0. Molasses; Haney;
Rio, Laguayra and Javu Coffees; and the superior
Teas of the Canton Tca Company of New Yurk.
Oils, Fish, &c. ALSO :
China, Glass & Queensware.
of which will be sold as LOW as the
LOWEST, for cash or produce.
Thankful fur the liberal share of patronage
heretofore received, they will by strict attention to
business endeavor to merit a continuance of the
public's favor. J. D. S. J. WRIGHT.
Columbia, Sept. 3847.—tf:
Stoves, Stoves.
THE subscribers have constantly on band a
full assort ment of Wood. Coal, and Cooking
Stoves of every stze and description, Cannon
Stove.. Also, Headenburg's Patent
which has given full satisfaction in all cases.
The public are invited to call and examine for
themselves, at the Hardware Store of
Oct. 9—tf RUMPLE & HESS.
AFRESH assortment of all kinds of the best
spices just received at
septiV47.4l" YOUNG & CASSEL'S No. SO.
The following pretty lines were written by a lit
tle girl not yet in her teens, and are intended as a
thank-offering to a gentleman who presented the
authoress with a volume of poems. It gives us
pleasure to be the chosen medium of communica
tion between the gifted and the generous
For the Spy and Columbian.
I thank thee for thy gift to me
Of precious thoughts, and poesy,
And hope that thou thyself may'st ha
Sometime a peel;
For they of all mankind are bleat,
Tho' oftentimes with grief oppressed.
It canicra not within the breast.
And none may know It
Campbell has struck the Albin lyre
To 1.013e6 Or beauty, and of fire,
Such music from the Scottish µ•lre
Ne'er came before
save when the Poet, the Peasant's son,
Warbled a song, and such an one
As faille for the peasant horns, path won ;
That song ie o'er
Alas: my muse hail; fled sway,
"I' will come not till another ;My ;
Inert it hie gone I caormt say
I sing no more
Owego, Sept. 3p, 1917
Bets are the blockhead's argument,
The only logic he can %evil.
Ills nimor aud llt major;
'Tim to confess your head a wore•
Investigator thaii your purse,
To reason wait a wager.
You will never succeed—'tis useless hying,"
was the answer we received one day when talking
of something quite tanimportani to you, deur read
er, but very near our own heart. The voice was
one we always listen to, and not seldom follow;
but this time its diacuuraging arguments were un
heeded. We did try, and we did succeed.
The fact set us inoraluing on the good or evil
tendency of these three words—e "ri., useless try.
ink." And the conclusion we came to was this,
that for one vain idea dispelled, one wild project
overturned by their prudent influence, these midi.
ing words have rung the knell of a hundred bril.
Liam and life-sustaining hopes, and paralyzed into
apathy a thousand active and ardent minds, who
might otherwise have elevated themselves, and
helped the world on in its progress. What would
America have been if that strung-hearted Colum
bus had been discouraged by sneers and arguments
about the uselessness of his attempt to discover a
new world ? Or where would have been Newton's
stupendous theory, if, at the commencement of his
researches, some meddling friend at his ear had
whispered, •• Don't try; you will be sure to fail ?" In
aid or the •• Never-try" doctrine comes vanity, with
its potent arguments that no attempt at all is better
than a failure. We deny the fact in Mo. Should
a man fail in a project too high for him, he at
least becomes acquainted with the extent of his
own powers; lie loses that inflated self-exultation
which is the greatest bane of real merit; and in
finding his own level, he may yet do well. And
better, far better, that all the pretenders in the
world should sink back into deserved obscurity,
than that one spark of real talent should be extin.
guished by the coldhearted-check—"'lts useless
trying:" Now, haying Teased enough, let us en
lightened our arguments by u story.
Between ten and twenty years age—the precise
date is immaterial—there was in the city of New
York a barber's apprentice, a young boy named
Reuben Vandrest. His Dutch lineage was shown
by his surname, which, to course of years and
generation, had been corrupted from Van der Dcst
to Vandrest, while for his Scriptural name lie was
indebted to a worthy Quaker, his maternal grand.
father, wile had come over with William Penn.—
These names were in truth, all the boy owed to his
progenators, as from his cradle he lad been an
orphan, cast on the charity of the wide world. But
the excellent sect to which Rcuben's mother had
belonged, is one of the few who never cast ti l e
lambs from their bosom, and the orphan child was
not deserted. The Friends took care of him; and
when be was able to earn his livelihood, one of
their number received him as nn apprentice. Such
was the short and simple story of the barber's boy.
Without entering on metaphysics, every human
being has some inner life which the world knows
nothing of. Thus from his earliest childhood the
passion of Reuben Vandrest bad been music. He
would follow the itinerant ministrels of the city
through one street after another, often thus losing
his meals, his rest, everything except his school
ing, which precious Cluing lie was too wise to throw
away even for music. lie made friendship with
blind pipers, Italian Iturtly-guirdy.ists, and, above
all, with wandering fiddlers; for with an intutive
perception, the violin—the prince of stringed in.
struments—was the chief favorite. From all and
each of the wandering musicians Reuben was
inten on gaining sonithing ; they were won by
his childish manners and his earnest admiration—
fur love of praise is the same in a blind fiddler as
in an opera-singer—and by degrees Reuben not
only listened, hut learned to play. No instrument
came amiss to him; but his sole private property
was an old fife ; and with this simplest of all or.
chestral varieties the poor barber's boy used to creep
to his garret, and there strive with his acute car
and retentive memory, to make out thn tunes lie
had beard in the streets, or invent others.
4.00 to 10.00
But the grand era in the boy's life was coming.
One day as lie stood wistfully looking ut a violin
which he held in his arms fondly and lingeringly,
prior to returning it to its right owner, a poor street
musician, the idea of its construction first mitered
Reuben's mind. He had been accustomed to re
gard a vioZin as a mysteriousthing—a self-creating,
sand-producing being; and never once had lie
considered of what it was made, or how. Now lie
began to peep into its mysteries, and to find out
that it was only wood and catgut idler all. He
questioned his friend the fiddler, but the man had
scraped away during a lifetime without once cast.
ing, a thought on the mechanism of his instrument.
True, lie could replace a broken string, and at
times even manufacture a bridge with his penknife,
but that was all. When Reuben inquisitively
wanted to learn how violins were made, the fiddler
shook his head, and said he did not knew.
" Doyen think I could make one ?" pursued the
anxious boy.
A bust of laughter, so cuttingly derisive, that
Renben's face grew crimson, was the only answer.
Why you little simpleton," cried the fiddler, when
his mirth had subsided, "surely you'll not be so
silly as to try . 7
You could us soon build a house."
"But violins must he made by somebody."
"Yes by people whoknow all about it: not by a
lad like you. Take my advice, and don't try."
Reuben said no more; but lie could not get the
idea (ruin his mind. Every violin that he saw he
begged to look at : he examined the varieties of
coostructioa, the sort of wood used, the thickness
and fashion of the strings; and after weeks of con
sideration, he at last determined to try and make
one for himself. During the long light summer
nights, lie worked hour after hour in his garret, or
on the roof of the house; his natural mechanical
skill was aided by patience and ardor: and with
the few tools which he borrowed from the good.
natured carpenter who had given him the wood, he
succeeded in forming the body of the violin. But
here a long cessation took place in Reuben's toil;
for lie had not even the few pence necessary to pur
chase the strings; and the bow, which lie could not
make, it was utterly out of his power to buy. He
sat looking in despair at the half-finished instru
ment—a body without a soul—and even his fife
could not console him.
But one day a kind-hearted customer noticed the
slight, pale.looking boy who had arranged hislocks
so gethly and carefully, end Reuben became the
glad reeepicnt of a dollar. He flew to buy catgut
and an old bow, and with trembling hands strung
his instrument. Who can describe the important
moment? Leverrier's crowning calculation for
the now planet, Lord Rosse's first peep through his
giant telescope, arc little compared with Reubcn's
first attempt to draw sounds from his violin. The
sounds came; and string after string was applied;
and the violin had a soul Feeble and thin the notes
were, but still they were distinct musical tones;
and the boy hugged his self-mode treasure to his
beating heart, actually sobbing with joy.
He played tune after tune; he never noticed that
evening darkened into night; be forgot his supper;
he forgot too—what but for his musical enthusiasm
would long since have come into his mind—that
though the childish fife might pass muster in the
house of his master, a violin never would. The
good Quaker, one of the strictest of his sect,
thought music was useless, sinful, heathenish; and
a fiddler in his eyes was equal with a thief. There.
fore who can picture Reuben's consternation when
his garret door opened, and his master stood before
him? Reuben bore all Ephraim's wrath in silence,
only he took care to keep his darling violin safe
from the storm, by pressing it closely in his arms.
"Thou bast been neglecting thy work and steal
ing fiddles," cried the angry man.
"I have not neglected my work," timidly an.
swered the buy; and I have not stolen the viohn—
indeed I have not."
"Hew Ificist thou get it?"
"I made it myself:'
Old Ephrinm looked surprised. All the music
in the world was nothing to him, but he had a
fancy for mechanical employments, and the idea of
making a violin struck him as ingenious. He ex
amined it, and became less angry. Will it play 7"
asked Lc.
Reuben, delighted, began one of his most
touching airs; but his master stopped him. "That
will do," said lie ; I only want to see if it
sounds—all tunes are the same. And 1 suppose
you will turn musician 7"
Reuben hung his head and said nothing.
" ‘Vell, that thou cant never do,
so I would ad•
vise thee not to try. Forget the fiddle, and be a
good barber. However, I will say no more ; only
thou must play out of doors next time."
But all the diseouragernents of the old Quaker
could not repress Reuben's love for music. Ile
I cut, and curled, and shaved, as in duly buund, and
then fled away to his violin. From the roof of the
house the music went forth; and in this most ori
ginal sonnet-room, with the open sky above him,
and the pert city sparrow, now used to his melody,
hopping by his side, did the boy gradually acquire
the first secrets of his art. It is needless to cnu.
nierate the contrivances he resorted to for instruc
tion—how he wandered through the streets with
his violin at night, to gain a few cents to purchase
old nit.sic ; and bow he gradually acquired skill,
so as to be admitted into a wan.fering bind.
One night when this primitive orchestra was
engaged Ibr a ball at a private house in the city, the
lust violin mysteriously disappeared. In this di.
lemma young Reuben found courage to offer himself
as a substitute. It was a daring thing. The other
musicians first laughed at him; then heard him
play the part, which nu one else could take; arid
finally suffered him to try. For the first time in
his life the barber's boy witnessed the glare of a
hall. It sccmcd to him a fairy scene; lie was daz
zled, bewildered, excited, and in his enthusiasm he
played excellently. The night wore away; the
dancers seemed never weary; not so the inching
fingers of the musicians. Reuben, especially. to
whom the excitement was new, grew more and
more exhausted, arid at last, just as he had finished
playing a waltz, fell fainting from his chair. Most
of the gay couples passed on—it was only a poor
musician ; but one young girl, in whom the corn.
passionate and simple nature of a child had not
been swept away by the formalities of young lady.
hood, held a glass of water to the boy's lips.
"Cora Dacree bringing to life a fainting fiddler!"
said a littering voice. "Oh what a nice story when
we go back to school I"
The girl turned rourd indignantly, saying,
"Cora Dacres is never iiiha ncd of doing what is
right. Are you better now 7" she added gently to
poor Reuben, who had opened his eyes.
The boy recovered, and she disappeared again
among the dancers; but many a time did the au
burn curls, and soli, brown. sympathizing eyes of
the little school-girl float before the vision of Reuben
Vantitest ; and the young musician often caught
himself repeating to his sole confidant—his violin—
the pretty name he had heard on his waking, and
dimly recognized us !ices—Cora Daerea.
Long befbre Ire was twenty•one, Reuben had en
tirely devoted himself to the musical profession.—
The turning point in his career was given by a
curious incident. One moonlight night, as he was
playing on the roof ns usual, lie saw a head peep
out from the uppermost window of the opposite
house. This head was drawn in when he ceased
playing, and again put forward as soon as he re
commenced. A natural feeling of Gratified vanity
prevented the young man from yielding to his first
shy impulse of retiring; and besides, sympathy in
anything relating to his art was so new to Reuben,
that it gave him pleasure to he attentively listened
to even by an unknown neighbor over the way.—
He threw all his soul into his violin, and played
until midnight.
Next day, while at his duties in his master's
shop, the apprentice was Pent for to the house op
posite. Reuben went, bearing the insigna of his
lowly trade; but instead of a patient customer, he
saw a gentleman who only smiled at his array of
• • ..
" I did not send for you to act as barber," snid the
stranger in English, which was strongly tinctured
with a foreign accent, " but to speak to you about
the violin•playing which I heard last night. Am I
rightly informed that the performer was yourself?"
" It was, sir," answered Reuben, trembling with
"Who taught you?"
" T myself."
"Then you love musk?"
"With my whole heart and soul:" cried the
young man enthusiartically.
The stranger skilfully drew from Reuben the
little history of himsclfand Nis violin, and talked to
him long and earnestly. "You have a true feeling
for that noble art, to which I, ton, belong," he Rild.
" You may have many difficulties to encounter ;
but never be discouraged—you will surmount them
all. You have bad many hindrances; butlisten,
I will tell you what befell me at your age. I once
came, a poor boy like you, to the greatest capital in
Europe, my heart full of music, but utterly without
means. My only wealth was my violin. I left it
one day in my poor chamber, while I went out to
buy a loaf with my last coin. When I came back,
my violin was gone! It had been stolen. May
Gud forgive the the crime I contemplated in my
mad dispair! I rushed to the river; I plunged
in ; but I was saved from the death I sought, and
saved to live for better things. My friend," con.
tinucd the musician, after a long silence, during
which his-face was hidden by his hands, " in all the
trials of your career remember this, and take
" I will—l will!" cried Reuben, much moved.
" And now, after having told you this terrible
secret in my life, it is well that I should not reveal
my name; and besides, it could do you no go a d, as
I set out for Europe to-morrow. But shoold you
ever be in Paris, come to this address, leave this
writing, and *you will hear of me."
The gentleman wrote some lines in a foreign
language, which Reuben could not make out,
though among his musical acquaintence he had
gained a little knowledge of both French and hail.
ian. He then gave Vandrest the address, and bade
him udieu. The young man long pondered over
his adventure, and it was the final point which
mude him relinquish u trade so unpleasing to him
for the practice of his beloved art.
It is a mistake to suppose that the profession of
music is-an easy, careless life, to which any one
may turn who has a distaste fur more solid pursuits.
In no calling is intellectual activity and arduous
study more imperatively required. He who would
attain to even moderate eminence in it, must devote
years of daily patient toil to dry and uninteresting
branches of study. A poet may be one by nature;
it is utterly impossible that a musician can be
great without as deep science as ever puzzeled
mathematical brain. He must work—work—every
inch of his way ; must dig the foundation, and en.
rich the soil, befere lie can form his garden and
plant his flowers!. Thus did our youn g ex-barber
of New York ; he studied by science what he had
before learned through his natural genius, and rose
slowly and gradually in his profession. Sometimes
his slight and ordinary appearance, which made
him look more boyish than lie really was—his quaint
old-world name—and, above all, a simplicity and
Quaker-like peculiarity in his dress and manner,
aroused the ridicule of his companions, who follow.
ed music more for show than through real genius
and love of the art. But the story aids early per.
severance always disarmed them ; and it was a
common saying, in reference to young Vandrest,
that lie who could make a violin, would surely learn
to play it.
By degrees the young violinist rose to note, and
became received into society where lie could hardly
have dreamed that he should ever set his foot. But
it is a happy peculiarity in the domestic manners
of the new world, that real talent ever finds its way,
and takes its own rank in society. Thus many a
rich citizen was pleased to welcome to his house
Mr. Vandrest, the young and unassuming musician,
whose gentle manners and acknowledged talent
were equally prized. The barber's apprentice of
New York was utterly forgotten, or only thought
of na a poof of how much a man's fortune lies in own hands, if he will only try.
In one of those elegant re•unions which were
established when worthy Brother Jonathan was
first beginning to show his soul and mind—when
Bryant's poems, and Allston's pictures, and Chan•
ning's lectures, first gave evidence of transatlantic
genius—Vandrest again heard the name which had
never utterly gone from his memory through all his
vicissitudes—Corn Dacron. Ile turned round and
saw the altered likeness of the girl who held the
water to his lips on Elm night of the ball. She had
grown into womanly beauty; but lie remembered
the face still. She had not the faintest memory of
him—how could it he so? Light and darkness
were not more different than the pleasing, intellect
ual, gentlemanlike man who was mu educed to lim,
and the pale. angular, ill.clad buy whom she had
pitied and alcd. Sometimes Vandrest tholght
he would remind her of the circumstance ; but then
a vague feelinia of sensitiveness and shame, not
entirely the result of the memory of those poverty
stricken days, prevented him. He went home, and
again Piis old violin might have heard breathed
over it the name of Cora Dacron; but this time not
in boyish enthusiasm for whatever was pleasing
and beautiful, but in the first strong, all-absorbing
love of manhood, awakened in a nature Which wag
every way calculated to receive and retain that sen
timent in its highest, purest, and most enduring
Reuben Vandrest (hate him not, dear reader, for
having so unherolike a name; I will engage that,
if Cora loved him, site thought it most beautiful;
and su would you, if any one dear to you bore the
same ;) well, Reuben Vandrest, who had hitherto
cared fur nothing on earth but his violin, soon learn.
ed to regard Miss nacres with the enthusiastic at.
tachment of an earnest and upright stature; for
with all the allurements of a musical career, Reu
ben cortinned as simple-minded and guileless in
character as the primitive sect from which he
sprung. And Cora was worthy to inspire the love
of such a man; whether she returned it or not,
Reuben did not consider—be was too utterly ab
sorbed in the new delight of loving, and of loving
her, to think of asking himself the question. He
visited :it her house, and became a favorite with
her father—a would.bc amateur, who took pleasure
in filling his drawing-rooms with musiciar.s, and
treating them as costly and not disagreeable play
But at last Mr. nacres was roused from his apa
thy by the evident and close friendship between his
daughter and young Vandrest. Though Ile liked
the violinist well enough, the hint of Reuben mar
rying Cora sounded ill in the curs of the prudent
man, especially when given by one of those odious,
good-natured friends with whom the world abounds.
The result was a conversation between himself and
Vandrest, in which, utterly bewildered and dis
pairing, poor Reuben declared his hidden and tree.
mired lore, first with theshrinking timidity of a man
who sees his inmost heart rudely laid bare, end
then with a firmness given by a consciousness that
there is in that heart nothing for which an honest
man need blush.
" I am sorry for you, Mr. Vandrest," said the
blunt, yet not ill-meaning citizen. " But it is im
possible that you can ever hope for Cora's hand."
" impossible?" said the young man, re.
covering all his just pride and self-possession. " I
am not rich; but 1 have an unspotted name, and the
world is all before mc. Do you object to my pro
fession 7"
"By no means; a musician is an honorable man,
just as much so as a store•keeper."
At any other time the very complimentary com.
parison would have made Reuben smile; but now
he only answered, while the color deepened on his
cheek, "Is it heenuse of my early life? My father
was of good family; but, it may be, that you would
blush to remember that your Jeughter's husband
once (served in a harber'e shop 7"
" My dear sir," said Mr. Dacres, "you foraet we
are Republicans, and talent and wealth are our
only ari.tocracy. The first you undoubtedly poseess;
but without the second, you cannot marry Cora,
and there is no chance of your ever becoming a
rich man."
" Will you let me try 1" eagerly cried Vandrest.
" It would lie of no use; you could not succeed.''
"I could—l could!" exclaimed the young man
impetuously. "Only let me hope. I would try
anything to win Cora!"
And in this earnestness of love did Reuben pursue
his almost. hopeless way. Ile had pledged his word
that he would not speak of his love to Cora, that lie
would not try to win hers—this her father impera.
lively demanded; but Mr. nacres also promised
that he would leave his daughter free, nor urge her
to accept any other husband during the three years
of absence that he required of Reuben Vandrest.
They parted—Reuben and Cora—with the out.
ward seeming of ordinary acquaintance; but was
it likely that a love eo deep and absorbed ss that of
the young musician should have been entirely sup.
pressed by him, and unappreciated by her who was
its object? They parted without any open conies.
sion ; but did riot Cora's heart follow the wanderer
us he sailed towards Europe?—did she not call up
his image, and repeat his unmusical name, as
though it had contained a word of melody in itself?
—and did she not feel as certain in her heart of
hearts that he loved her, as if he had told her so a
hundred times?
When Vandrest was preparing for the voyage he
accidentally found the long-forgotten note of the
stranger musician. It directed inna to Paris; and
to Paris he determined to proceed, as all Europe
was alike to one who knew nut a single soul on
the wide expanse of the old world. lie arrived
there; and found in his unknown friend the kind.
hearted and talented Swede, who, on the death of
Paganini, bad become the first violinist in the
world—Ole Hull.
The success of ihc young American was now
made sure. The great violinist had too much true
genius to fear competitors, and no mean jealousy
kept him from advancing the fortunes of Vandrest
by every means in his power. Reuben traversed
Europe, going from capital to capital, everywhere
snaking friends, and, what was still more important
to !dm, money. Ile allowed himself no pleasures,
only the necessaries of life; and laid up all his
gains for the one grand object of his taro—the
ncquiringa fortune for Cora. De rarely heard of
tier; he knew not but that her love might change;
and sonic times a sense of the utter wildness of his
project came upon him with freezing reality. But
intense love like his, in an otherwise calm and un
impassioned nature, acquries a strength unknown
to those who are olive to every passing impulse;
and Reuben's love,
Itv its nwn energy, fulfilled Pont!"
Ere the three years had expired he returned to
America, having realised a competence. With a
beating heart the young musician stood before his
mistress, told her all his love, and knew that she
loved him ton. It was sweet to hear Cora reveal,
in the frankness of her true heart, which felt no
shame fur having loved one so worthy, how her
thoughts had continually followed her wandering
lover, and how every success of his had been doub
ly sweet to her. But human happiness is never
unmixed with pain; and when Cora looked at the
altered form of her betrothed, his sunken and color
less face, and his large bright eyes, a dreadful fear
took possession of her, and she felt that joy itself
might. be bought with too dear a price. It was so
indeed. Reuben's energy had sustained him until
same the reaction of hope fulfilled, and then his
health failed. And a long illness followed. But
lie had one blessing; his affianced wife wag near
him; and amidst all his anguish, Co'ra felt thankful
that he had conic home first, and that it was her
hand and her voice which brought comfort to her
beloved, and that she could pray he might live for
And Reuben did live. Love struggled with death,
and won the victory. In the next year, in the
lovely se ison of American spring, the musician
wedded his betrothed, and took her to a sweet
country home, such as he had often dreamt of when
he used to sit on summer evenings on the
in New York looking at the blue sky, and bring
ing music from his rode violin. And in Reuben's
pleasant home was there no relic more treasured
than this same violin, which had first taught him
how much can be done with a brave heart and a
good courage to try.
Reader, the whole of Reuben Vandrest's life
Was influenced by his acting up to that little word
—" try !" Two old proverbs—and there is much
sterling wisdom in old proverbs—say, "Every
thing must have a beginning," and "No man
knows what lie can do until he tries." Now, kind
reader, keep this in mind; and never, while you
live, damp the energies of yourself or any other
person by the heartless and dangerous sentence,
"'Tis useless trying."
Antosrauvres.--From Galignani's Messenger we
learn that Mr. Green, the English aeronaut, made
his 1741 h ascent on Oct. 24th, at Brussels, taking up
with ldm an officer of the British navy, and M.
Bischoffsbeim, son of the barker at Amsterdam.
Paler floating in the air for about two hours, and
having attained the bight of .2.siffi yards, Mr.
Green and his companions alighted safely nn the
plain outside of the gates of Lierre. On the ap.
pear:lnce of the balloon the commandant of the
station saluted it. by hoisting the National flag,
which the aeronauts answered by waving the Eng
hall and Belgian colors, which they had with them.
On the same day a M. Godard made an ascent
_from Lille. But his aerostatic apparatus was too
economical, and as it proved dangsrons, for his bal
loon was of paper, and his car consisted of a deel
plank. To the ascent the balloon had several Ins.
sures made in it, and the gas escaped in large vol.
umes. After rising to about forty yards it sank
again, and was caught by a chimney. M. Godard
was dragged along the roof of the house, and struck
nn the head by bricks forced from the chimney.—
At length, however, be was able to make his escape
throng), a sky.light, and got down to terra firma,
with only a few slight bruises. Three aeronautic
ascents took place at Bordeaux—two by M. Meyer,
and M. Beclimann, and 3d by Madame Masse. The
two gentlemen descended without accident near
the town ; but the balloon came down un the roof
of the house occupied by M. Ezpeleta. By some
chance tine cords which connected the balloon to
the car gnat cut across, dividing the apparatus in
two parts. Fortunately the net work of the car,
caught in the corner of the entablature of the
house. and remained there suspended. The slightest
movement would have precipitated the whole to
the ground, and the utmost alarm was felt for
Madame MIMIC'S safety. Ladders were brought
but they proved to be. too short, and she was oblig.
ed to remain in her very unenviable position for
nearly ten minutes. At last longer ladders were
procured, and she descended in safety, amidst the
cheers of the spectators.
The difference between the weather in thin coun
try and England mar be judged from a fact which
we stated in a London letter written on the 3d
instant. The writer sari that the office occupied
by him is called a light room: yet, he adds, "I am
now writing, at 12, noon, with two large candles,
and can seracely Pre whet I write." Well may he
say to bin American reader. "rejoice in pier bright
Alen and pure atmosphere"; for whilst he has been
groping in darkness, one people have been enjoying
weather as delightful as has over been experienced
at this season of the year.
ETHER.—In tl,e present emergency, when Asiatic
Cholera is advancing, for the second time, toward*
Europe, the following fact, related in the Gazelle
des llospitaux, seems to LA worthy the attention of
the medical ficulty
- -
IDr. Bruno-Taron, surgeon in the Ottoman army,
ex-inspector of health in Bulgaria, Syria, &c., was,
in 1837, practising medicine at. 31irseilles at the
time the cholera made its second appearance in
that city. Devoted entirely to the duties of his
city and hospital practice, he was, one day, sudden
ly attacked by the epidemic ro severely as to have
no doubt upon the nature of the symptoms he ex
perienced. But let us listen to Dr. Taron's own
statement of his case. It was midnight, says he,
and about one hour after I had gone to bed, when
all at once a general chill ran over me, accompa
nied with cold sweat, vomiting, &c. One hour
after, violent cramps manifested themselves in the
thoracic and abdominal extremities. These were.
certainly, sure symptoms of cholera.
I was alone; my family had fled the infected
city; not a servant was at hand. With Out assis
tance, in the middle of the night, prostrated by the
disease as much as by the terrible presentiment of
an impending death. I was without any other medi
eine, except a large bottle of sulphuric ether, which,
fortuitously was in my room. Having no other
resources, I grasped the bottle, and inhaled the
vapors of ether. All at once, my respiration, which
was then very much embarrassed, became more
flee, and I felt immediately a sense of' intermission
and general easiness; the perspiration, which was
cold and fatiguing, became warm and agreeable;
the action of my senses were soon suspended, an
I fell into a profound sleep.
All this happy improvement took place in n
very Blinn time, under the influence of the inhale.
tions of sulphuric ether. My sleep had been per
fectly calm during sir hours; when I awoke, ex
periencing great weakness in all my body. I had,
unconsciously, perspired during the whole night. I
recovered my strength gradually, and was perfectly
restored to my usual health.
Dr. Turon terminates his letter, by confessing
that being then unacquainted with the action which
ether exercises upon the nervous centres, he did
not ascribe his cure to the agent, but to one of those
capricious whims of Int= which it is impossible
to explain.
It is to be regretted, says the Gazette des Hos.
pilau.; that our colleague's observation should he
isolated and unique; but it is, however, very itn.
portant, and as a stay upon which other experi
ments may rest. The Gazette du .111idi asserts that
such experiments, confirming the observations of
Dr. Turon, had been successful made in some parts
of the Levant, where the disease had made it first
appearance. It becomes the duty of medical insti
tutions to make careful inquiries into tliis sdbject,
and to order some new experiments under all possi
ble conditions, in order to render them positive,and
a decided point in medical science.—N. York
Courrier des Etats Unis.
A Door GAME.'-lt was in York county, Maine,
many year's ago, that two brothers, from some
cause, had a 'falling out,' and one had his ire
raised to such a pitch, that he determined on re
venge, even at the expense of honesty. Ile there
fore studied a game, which he thought would in
jure his hated brother, in pocket and reputation,
and at the same time advance his own interest,
and gratify, not a little, his 'old Adam.' Elie plan
was to drop Isis purse with 340, where his brother
would be sure to find it, and after that, swear he
had lost 8100, and demand that sum from his broth
er, and in case he should refuse, (as he supposed, Its
would,) to yield to the utmost demand, lie deter
mined to drag hint into Court, where lie ecpect:d
to add large costa, and finally recover sixty.dollare
more titan he had lost.
Things went exactly as he expected, and the
case was carried from ono Court to another, and
came up fur final decision. The defendant had
been through the whole litigation, without that
tangible proof of his innocence, which was likely.
to have much weight with the jury, and the proba
bility seemed to lie that ho would loose his ca se
and suffer a heavy injury.
Just as the testimony was closing, the Court
suggested, as the complainant declared that he had
lost just one hundred silver dollars in his purse,
whether it wee.ld nut be well to see how much the
purse in question would hold. Here considerable
confusion arose, but the one hundred silver dollars
were brought into the Court and the experiment of
getting them into the ptirse was tried, when lo!
ninetymine were all that it could be made, in any
way, to hold. It was then decided that the parse
and money found by the defendant could not
be that lost by the complainant. The mor
tification and burning rage of that brother who
had taken such a can rse to injure another, and got
himself essentially bitten, may be more easily im
agined than described. this heavy bills of costs,
and the sum he had eo unwittingly given Iris
brother, taught him that , Ilonesty would have been
the best policy.'— Yankee Blade.
TIM Goon Pore..—A letter from Rome says that
the Pope has caused letters to be writtcn tudifferent
towns in the Pupal States, where subseriptiorts are
being raised for the erection of monuments in hon.
or of him, to request that they will devote their
money to a. mom useful purpose—natnely, the
foundation at Rome of a central hospital and
almshouse for aged persons.—Spirit of the Times.
seventy•five ! Fourteen seventy-five !" roared the
porter as he was calling off the baggage at the
Boston and Worcester R.tilroad station upon the
arrival of the Western trnin a few evenings since.
A countryman, who had been sometime loitering
about the premiees in expectation of "seeing the
Elephant," hereupon made his way through the
crowd and cxelahned, "Oh, come now mister.
that's a pretty con=iderable good looking trunk to
go for that price, rzt bid fifteen dollars on OP
Jong Firm—While John Fitch, the man cele-
brated in his connection with the steamboat, was
confined on Prison Island, he made himself a set
of tools with scarcely any means at his commend.
Ills tools were an axe, handsaw, chisel, iron wood
wedge, shoemaker's hammer, fore.planc, augur,
grinchitone, jack.knife blade and some old hoop iron.
With these tools he constructed nine wooden time
pieces, three hundred pairs of brass sleeve-buttons,
eighty pairs of silver ones, repaired buttons, and
engraved names. John Fitch was the moat loge.
nious and contriving man that ever lived.
The first striking clock was made in Arabia,
where the arithmetical figurea were invented, and
the first Encyclopedia prepared.
A journalist has discovered that, all things con
sidered, railways are very slow, and behind the age.
He says that when travelling he bloahes to think
the mesaage on the telegraph flies like lightning,
while he is lazily creeping on at only thirty or forty
miles an hour.
It has been observed that some spiders, with en
instinctive sagacity, select as the greatest security
from disturbance, the lids of charity bozos in