The mountain sentinel. (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, June 21, 1849, Image 1

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VOL. 5. NO. 37.
X - III 1 1 I
' '4
From Oodey's Lady't Book or June.
On returning after an absence of some
years from my native city, I met, among
other well remembered and cherished
friends, my old school-mate and college
companion, Herbert Belrose. Most cor
dially did he grasp my hand, showing that
the fire of early friendship still burned
brightly in his bosom.
You must come home and take tea with
me said, as he stood holding my hand
lightly in his.
Then you are married?' I returned.
Oh yesl I belong to the sober stay-at-home
class of citizens. So you must ac
cept my invitation. I will call for you as
I leave my counting-room this afternoon.
It will be delightful to have a good chat
about old times.'
I assented, well pleased with the ar
rangement, and, at the time agreed upon,
Belrose called forme. On being presen
ted to his , wife, I was surprised to meet a
young and exquisitely beautiful woman
with foreign accent and features. There
was something very striking in her whole
aspect. Once seen, you could never for
get hei; you seemed to be gazing on some
pictured form, a painter's dream of love
liness. But, if her face was my instant
admiration, how much more charmed was
I, after the reserve of our first meeting
wore away, to note the simple but . true
grace of every motion, and to listen to the
music of her vdice, as she joined, with
more than ordinary intelligence, in the
conversation that followed.
Where did you meet with this lovely
woman? said I to Belrose, at our meeting.
'To me she stood forth the embodiment cf
some beautiful ideal, long dwelling in the
regions of fancy.'
The story is a. romantic one,' replied
my friend, smiling.
I Will you relate it?
'Oh, certainly, if you think you will fwl
interest enough to listen.
Let me hear it by all means, said I.
My friend then related the following
Three years ago, I went to Europe and
passed through Italy. On the day of my
arrival at Naples, as I was passing along
one of the streets, a lovely young girl,
with a basket of flowers on her arm, ap
proaching with a smile, presented a hand
some buoquet, and asked me to accept it.
Such a favor from a fair young stranger
was not, of course to be declined. In ta
king it I looked earnestly into her sweet
face, and her eyes lingered for a moment
or two on mine; then she turned, and was
lost in the crowd of people that filled the
In relating this incident to a young
Englishman at the hotel, he did not seem
seem much surprised. His remark
One of the cunning flower girls.
I low
much did your buoquet cost you?'
'Nothing, I replied. Why should it?'
Ah! I perceive you don't understand
these Italian girls. You are a fine-looking
young fellow, and a stranger with plenty
of money to spend. You are a gallant
too. All this a pair of bright Italian eyes
can see at a glance. The girl was simply
a flower girl and by her little rush expec
ted to receive about ten prices for her buo
quet. Ah! said I in return. That's the
meaning of it? I wish I had known it be
fore. ?a
You will see her again.
Think so?'
Without doubt. She will never lose
sight of you. Walk out to-morrow, and
ere you are in the street twenty minutes,
you will receive a still richer buoquet from
her hands.'
And he was right. I received soon
after appearing abroad on the next morn
ing, another bunch of flowers from the
same fair hand, and the girl was rewarded
I witn a gold coin, one tooK the money,
i and as her eye fell upon it and she saw its
value, a deep flush passed over her face,
and dropping me a low courtesy, while
her eyes expressed thankfulness, she turn
ed and was in a few moments, lost to my
view. On the day following, the next,
- and the next, I looked for my beautiful
( flower girl, but saw her nowhere upon the
' One day, a week after mv arrival in
Naples, I rode out to enjoy the charming
views every where presenting themselves.
A few miles from the "city, I stopped to
look through the grounds attached to an
old and princely residence, the property of
a decayed Italian nobleman. Ruin was
upon every hand. The fine portico of
elaborately wrought marble had suffered
much from time and violence. Statutes
were overthrown and broken, fountains
choked up, and rank weeds were towering
vsr delicate garden flowers, half hiding
tneir beauty and destroying their perfume.
While wardering amid these fading
evidences of former wealth and grandure,
I came suddenly upon my beautiful flower
girl, sleeping on a green bank. The noise
of my feet awakened her, and she started
up with a look of fear. In a moment she
recognized me, and recovered, in a mea
sure her self-possession. She was much
changed. Her face looked anxious, and
there was humidity about her eyes, as if
the tears was just ready to gush forth. I
spoke to her in her own language, and the
real kindness and sympathy I felt, were
understood in a instant. I soon learned
that she was nearly the last member of an
old and noble family reduced to poverty.
In one of the apartments of this ancient
ruin, she was living with her aged father;
and she remained his whole support and
comforter. As a flower girl she obtained
the means of subsistance for her parent.
But he was now very ill. For three days
and nights she had watched over him, un
wearied in spirits, though her body had
suffered from fatigue. The money I had
given her had enabled her to remit her
efforts to procure the means of sustenance
for a few days; but it was now all gone,
and while gathering flowers for another
visit to the city, she had reclined upon the
soft grass and there fallen asleep.
Affected by her story, so artlessly told,
I asked to see her father, and she took me
to the apartment where lay avenereble old
man, but a few paces from the end of his
journey. While 1 yet lingered in the
room, his spirit sighed itself away, and
passed to another and better world.
'Thrown thus strangely and providen
tially in the way of this lovely and inno
cent girl, in a far oft' land, I could not turn
from her in her deep 'affliction. Oh, no!
that would have been less than human.
All in my power to lo. to make less
crushing the sorrow that was pressing upon
her heart, was clone. Learning, al'tet ;he
burial of her father, that she stood '. friend
less in the world, I procured her a tempo
rary home in a highly respectable Eng
lish family to whom I had been introduced.
Here 1 saw her daily; and you will not be
surprised at the result:"" You have met the
Italian flower girl. She is my wife.
On passing a wood-yard one day, my
attention was arrested by hearing a person
who was engaged in sawing, remarked to
a gentleman who stood beside him, 'I am
sorry you are going to leave town you
are such uncommon good pay.'
This observation appeared trifling in its
elf, but there was a great deal in the tone,
and to a reflecting mind it carried a deeper
meaning than the mere words would seem
to convey. 'Uncommon good pay' - evi
dently showed that the gentleman was an
exception to the general rule, and one who
in his practice endeavored to conform to
the principles laid down by his gTeat
Master in the holy Scriptures Me labor
er is ivorthy of his hire. It is my pur
pose now to illustrate this by a short ind
simple story. s
In a garden belonging to a handsoue
mansion, a man might have been seen
employed in digging, from early mornitg
until the lengthened shadows gave evi
dence that night was approaching. The
only interval of rest had been at noon,
when he had gone home to his dinner.
He was somewhat past middle age, anj
from the manner in which he handled his
spade, appeared to understand his busi
ness as particularly well. Just before sun
down, gentleman, entered the garden to
note the progress of the work.
Well, Simon,' said he, 'you have got
along finely for these two or three days,
and you have really digged it very nicely.
I think I must hold on to you as a gar
dener. I am glan it pleases you, sir; it is very
hard digging, but I have taken great pains
with it.'
At this moment a litfle girl came up,
took her father's hand and said
Pa, tea is waiting.' .
The sun will soon be down, Simon,
cried the gentleman, as he walked off with
his daughter, 'and I guess this is all I shall
want you to do just now. You may call
in some day and I will pay you 1 have
no change at present.'
As he uttered these words, the owner
of the mansion entered his comfortable
abode, and sat down amid his family to
the luxurious supper prepared for him.
He did not reflect whether the poor man
who in laboring for him had borne the
burden and the heat of the day, had one
equally as good to partake of; nor had he
done as the lord of the vineyard we read
of in Scripture, who, when the evening
was come, said unto the steward, 'Call
the laborers and give them their hire.
In fact, accustomed as he was to the com
mand of means, it had never occurred to
him how important was the pittance a poor
man earns, to his family.
True, it is many times a trifle, but let it
be remembered that it is his sole depen
dence, his all and that God, who has sail
'The wages of him that is hired, shall nt
abide with thee all night until morning
(Lev. xix-) has not left the time of pay
ment with ourselves.
And now we will Iook a little farther
and note the effects of one neglect. As
the sun went down, Simon proceeded
homeward his features were care-worn,
and he seemed wearied and depressed as
he moved along. Un entering his dwell
ing, the first words his wife accosted him
with were these
'Well, Simon, did Mr. G. pay you? I
have got the kettle on, and I will run and
get a loaf of bread, a little tea, and you
shall have something comfortable for sup
per.' 'No, he did not, answered Simon,
sighing heavily, as he seated himself on a
bench. He is a kind hearted man I
don't believe he ever thought how bad off
a poor man often is, or he would never
have required me to charge him with my
three day's labor.
And here we will pause to observe, that
we are very much inclined to doubt wheth
er those who form mere carelessness are
guilty of such injustice, are in reality more
culpable than those, the result of whose
practice is the same, although actuated by
baser motives.
Oh, why don't you ask him?' now in
quired Simon's wife, 'and tell him how
mucli we need it?'
He did not offer to pay me, and I could
not,' returned he moodily.
'Poor little Maggy has been fretting for
something good to eat, all day, said the
mother, wiping the tears of disappoint
ment which had gathered in her eyes, with
her apron, 'her fever has left her, and the
doctor said she might eat nourishing food,
and I could make her something nice if I
only had some wheat bread.'
Why don't you borrow some?' interro
gated the husband, at the time arising to
look at his sick child, which was quietly
I have harrowed several times,' said his
wife, 'and as we never get anything to le
turn it, I can't go again.'
At this moment several other children
came boundidg into the house, clamorous
for their supper. Their mothei arose,
thickened the waler boiling on the fire
with corn meal, and this, with some skim
med milk furnished by a neighbor, formed
their evening repast. This fare was not
very substantial, it is true, for one who
had to toil day in and day out as Simon
had, but we dare say the rich who sat
down to their tables groaning with every
delicacy never thought of that. His chil
dren might stand in need of comfortable
clothing to protect them from the cold, and
from their infancy might be inured to
every privation but what was that to his
employers? they were not his keepers,
and it was mighty little- they owed.
Olighty litde, however, scattered around
in a good many hands in the aggregate
would have been found to amount to con
siderable, and in Simon's case the wages
owing to him by his employers when they
were due, would if properly expended,
have enabled him to gather many little ne
cessaries and comforts about his family
which they were now forced to do without.
In the present instance we would not
have our readers suppose that we are pain
ting an extreme case. And in order to
prove it, we will mention one or two facts
drawn from his history of every day life.
I have neither meal or potatoes in the
house,' said a laboring man to one of his
employees.- 'can you not give me the dol
hryou owe me to buy a bushel of grain?
This is the very first money I have han
dled in nine months, and I have worked
irgularlj-almost every day, observed one on
being paid for his labor. What a history of
privation of positive suffering was embo
died in these few word? A person resi
ding in the village of informed us
tha; having occasion at one to go into the
dwelling of a poor woman who earned her
living by washing, he found her with her
four children seated at dinner, and the sole
article of food upon the table was cabbage,
and from her manner, and her not making
an apology he supposed the fare was not
unusual. -
Cases of such destitution must be rare,
but they are more numerous than many
suppose 'who do not take an interest in
making nquiry on such subjects. We
are not however, at present writing upon
charitable objects. Whatever may be the
calling of those who are employed, their
labor should be considered a full equiva
lent to their wages, and as God has not
constituted asy man the judge of another's
circumstances, it is an imperative duty to
give them, and at a proper time, what is
justly their own -always mindful of the
injunction we have before referred to, and
which should be deeply impressed upon
every mind, however unreflecting The
laborer is worthy of hire.
Amusing Anecdote of Washington.
The following anecdote of Washington
was told many years since; the name of
the relater is hot now -recolected, but it is
remembered that the connection of the in
dividual with the events of the Revolution
was calculated to inspire confidence, in its
C. S. one of the contractors for supply
ing the American army, then (1780) ' sta
tioned at West Point, with fresh provi
sions, had, on several occasions, when the
ligh price of catde threatened to make the
Ailfilment of the contract not quite so lu
crative as was by him originally calcula
ted, failed to furnish the requisite supply,
and in lieu thereof, ad interim, gave to
the Quarter Master of each regiment a
certificate specifying that there was due to
such a regiment, so many rations of beef,
&c. These certficates did pretty well for
a while, and the privation was borne with
characteristic by a soldiery, accustomed to
hardships, and ready to endure anything
in the cause of liberty and their country.
But even patience has its limits the cause
of the omission became at last under
stood, and dissatisfaction manifested itself
throughout the ranks. Remonstrances
from the subordinate officers had been re
peatedly made, and promises of amend
ment readily and repeatedly given, 'till at
last finding that nothing but promises
came, it was found necessary to complain
to the Commander-in-Chief.
Washington, after hearing the story,
gave immediate orders for the arrest of
Mr. S. Upon his being brought into the
rmy and placed under guard, the officer
having him in charge waited upon the
General to apprise him. of the fact and to
enquire in what way and by whom the
prisoner was to be fed.
'Give yourself no. trouble, sir, said
Washington, 'the gentleman will be sup
plied from my table.
.The several hours of Jjreakfa'st, dinner
and supper passed, but not a mouthful was
furnished to the delinquent prisoner. On
the ensuing day, at an early hour in the
morning, a waiter in the livery of the Gen
eral, was seen . bearing upon a silver sal
ver all the seeming requisites for a meal
carefully covered, and wending his way
to the prisoner's room. Upon raising the
cover, besides the apparatus for breakfast,
there was found nothing more than a cer
tificate that 'there was due to Mr. C. S.
one breakfast, one dinner and one supper,
and signed 1 George J Washington.'
After the lapse of a reasonable time, the
delinquent was conveyed to head-quarters,
when Washington, in his peculiarly sig
nificant and emphatic way addressed him
'Well, Mr. S. I presume by that by'this
time you are perfectly convinced how in
adequate to satisfy the cravings of hunger
is the certificate of a meal. I trust after
this you will furnish no further occasion
for complaint.'
Then inviting Mr. S. to share in the
meal to which he was just setting down,
he improved the lesson by some friendly
admonition and gave the order for his dis
charge. Nobility of Mechanics.
Toil on, sunburnt mechanic! God has
placed thee in thy lot perchance to guide
the flying car that whirls us on from scene
to scene, from friend to friend; bind down
the warring wave of ocean, tempest tossed
or chain the red artillery of heav en.
Toil on! Without thy power, earth.
though thy sands were one pactolus of
gold, would be a waste of tinselled tears
and glittering grief: and want, and wo, and
splendid misery, would gleam out from all
her treasured mines. Rich soils would
perish in their richness, and the fruits of
the seasons changing, die ungathered from
the harvest.
Toil on! Jehovah was a workman too.
'In the beginning God created heaven
and earth, and from the confused chaos
sprang this perfect world the perfect
workmanship, of the eternal, uncreated
Power. Up rose the mighty firmament;
and back the sullen surges swept, submis
sive, tamed, each to their several bounds.
And then he set great lights the glori
ous sun to bless the day; the timid rnoon
to wear at night the milder lustre of the ra
diant orb. -
He painted heaven with mingled blue
and white and in the vaulted arch a mod
est star peeped out, seeming by the majes
ty of sun and moon, like a stray lily
breaming, in it, lore of meek and blushing
loveliness, on the gay tints of operyng bud
and rich voluptuous blossom.
Wonderiug, there dawned another and
a third, till, clustering, clinging, to the spa
cious canopy, they read, in the calm wat
ers of the sea, : the story of that radiant
loveliness. From thence assured they
fear not sun nor moon but faithfully distill
their pensive light, Old ocean tossed her
creseiit spray, and from their hidden
depths, creatures of life came up and flew
above the earth winged fowls and flying
fish; and the great whale, dark emperor of
the sea.
And God created man! Six days he
labored, and the seventh he reposed: while
from the sea, earth, the air, and all that is,
went up a chorus of exstatic praise to God
rthe first, the eternal architect.
Toil on; sun burnt mechanic? heard ye
of him whom babbling Jews despise?
The manger born of Nazareth? Exalted
to be prince over death and hell? Read
ye not in the book of the untaught appren
tice, who had laid his hand upon Tiberuis
rugged main, and it was stilled?
Toil on! Drink from the dews that
heaven distills, fragrant flowers, the burst
ing buds, the blessad air, is united wealth
to the hard browed and bronzed mechanic.
Rich coffers being a share of canker and
corrosion. God's wealth is yours, a
wealth to which decaying gold is vanity
and dross. Miss JVentworth.
Thinss tirat I Like "Powerfully."
I like to hear candidates for office agree
in politics with every man they converse
with it looks so much like principle.
I like to hear men denounce others for
things of which they themselves are guilty
it looks so much like consistency.
I like to see young women peep through
the windows or the cracks of half-opened
doors, to catch a glimpse of the young
men, and when they come in their pres
ence appear over-modest ii is so admira
ble. I like to see plenty of churches, yet
having no ministers to preach in them it
looks so much like a wise disposition of
charity's funds.
Hike to see a parcel of young men stand
before a church door, at the close of ser
vice, and stare'every female full in the face
as they pass out it looks so much like
good breeding. . y
I like to see a woman out in the morn
ing scraping up chips to build a fire, and
her husband in bed it shows she thinks
more of him than she does of herself.
I like to see a merchant and muchanic
keep their shop doors and windows closed
until the sun is an hour high it shows
they are independent, and ask no favors of
their customers.
I like to see young women walking the
streets on Sundays in their silks, with
holes in their stockings it shows they arc
more attentive to things above than below.
I like to see men crowding around the
bar-room on Monday morning before sun
rise it shows their anxiety to get at their
week's employment in good season .
I like to see women send their butter to
market in a dirty cloth it shows econo
my, as it saves washing. Cleveland
Sayings of "Ben Johnson,"
The following pithy sayings are from an
old work, the title of which we forget, by
Ben Johnson, the dramatist. There is a
large sprinkling of good sense to them,
which should entide them to a wide circu
lation: 111 fortune never crushed that man
whom good fortune deceived not. I have
therefore counselled my friends never to
trust to the fair side, but so place all things
as she gave them, that she may take them
again without trouble."
A beggar suddenly rich generally be
comes a prodigal: he puts on riot and ex
cess to obscure his former obscurity."
"No man is so foolish but he ma- give
good counsel sometimes, and no man so
wise but he may easuy err if he take no
other counsel than his own. He that was
taught only by himself had a fool for his
"Opinion is a light, vain, crude and im
perfect thing, residing in the imagination,
but never arriving at the understanding,
there to obtain the tincture of the truth."
We labor with it more than with the truth."
"Many men do not themselves what
they would fain persuade others, and less
do they the things which they would im
pose on others, but least of all know they
what they would most confidently boast."
"What a deal of cold business doth a
man spend the better part of his life in, in
scattering compliments, tendering visits,
gathering and vending news, following
feasts and plays, making a little winter
love in a dark corner.'
"Wisdom without honesty is mere craft
and cozenage. A good life is a main argu
ment." EPA certain noted physician, at Bath,
(Eng) was lately complaining in a coffee
house in that city, that he had three very
fine daughters, to whom he would give ten
thousand pound each, and yet that he
could find nobody to marry them. With
your lave, Doctor, said an Irishman, who
was present, stepping up and making a
ref-pectful bow, "I'll take tico of them!"
A Ileaiy Blow.
A Pennsylvania Col., who is fond of
telling tough 'uns especially stories of
which he himself is the hero lately 'drew
the long bow' after the following wiso.
I was once in Harrisburg, says ths
Colonel, on official business. During my
stay, a horse race came off near the .Capi
tol; and as I am rather partial to horse r
cing, I went to see it. Ju3t as the horses
were about starting, some fellow insultod
me by jostling me radier roughly. Notr
you know I don't often iighl, but when I
strike, I do strike; so I up fist, and hit him
a blow that sent him against the fence, in
to a field carrying with him nine sections
of posts and rails. Thd fellow lay a short
time, then raising himself into a sitting
postuTe, he looked wildly around him.
Gentlemen,' said he, has the storm dome
much damage? Did the lightning strike
any body 6ut me?
Money and the Ladies.
Jim W .., a cunning wag of New
York, visited a fashionable watering place
in the Old Dominion, last September, and
caused the friend who introduced him to
whisper that he was worth $500,0 00. It
worked wonders in Jim's favor. Altho
his sojourn was but seven days, and his
personal appearance by no means prepos.
sessing, he won the hearts of fourteen
girls; ihree quivered on the brink; he kiss
ed eleven; and got nine rings, and left.
Tha last time we saw him, he had wick
edly traped off five of his rinzs. for mint
0T"'I never knew any man, says eh
old author, who could not bear another's
misfortunes perfectly like a christian
which reminds us of the old lady who
thought 'every calamity that happened to
herself a trial, and every one that happen
ed to her friends a judgment!'
CP A wes'ern editor lately called his
'devil' to him, and told him he could not
afford to hire his services any longer, un
less he would agree to take ninepence a
week for them, or share equally the profits
of the paper. The imp concluded to stay,
but unhesitatingly chose the ninepence a
week for his wages. That youth is de-
tincd to be a great man.
Anecdote of Old Dartmouth
In the class of which Daniel Webiter
was a member, there was an individual
noted for hi3 waggery. One day the pro
fessor of logic, who, by the way, was not
the most nice and discriminating in his dis
tinctions, was endeavoring to substan
tiate that 'a thing remains the same, not
withstsnding a substitution in some of its
Our wag, who had been exercising the
Yankee art of whittling, at length held up
his jack knife, inquiring: 'Supposing I
should lose the blade of my knife, and
should get another one made and inserted
in its place, would it be the same knife it
was before?' 'To be sure! replied the
professor. 'Well, then,' the wag contin
ued, 'suppose I should then lose the han
dle, and get another, would it be the same
knife still? Of course!' the professor a
gain replied. 'But if -somebody should
find the old blade and the old handle, and
should put them together, what knife
would that be? We never learnnd the
professor's reply.
A Good Joke.
Who's brush are you cleaning your
teeth with, Bill?' asked a 'queer one, of a
lad in a store the other day.
'It's yours, I expect, said the boy,
sheepishly, 'but I shan't hurt it. . ,
'Well, be sure you .put it back where
you got it, for I cleaned my toe nails with
It yesterday, and I want to keep it for that
use hereafter.
fc0h, Dear!"
What is love, Clara?' said Bill, the oth
er night, as he sat by the side of his sweet
heart. Love! Bill, I hardly know what it is,
but I suppose it must be getting married
and kissins: little babies.' Bill fainted.
Apt Query.
A fellow who desired to make love to a
young girl, went to ask her father's per
mission. 'You have a daughter, said he,
whose fair fame enchants me! '
'She is as heaven made her,' replied the
flattered father. -
What does the girl go naked!' inquired
the suitor.
: Severe
My dear, said a husband to his better
half, after a matrimonial squabble, you
will never be permitted to go to heaven!
Why not?' " -
Because you will be wanted as a tor
ment below'.