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WE OO WHERE DEMOCRATIC PRINCIPLES POINT THE WAY j- WHEN THEY CEASE TO LEAD, WE CEASE TO FOLLOW,
BY JOHN G. GIVEN.
EBENSBURG, THURSDAY, JULY 26, 1849.
VOL. 5. NO. 42.
4 if rrlQr'r
A Good Time Coming Girls.
There' a good time a coming, girl,
A good time a coining.
Old maidens may no, dps the day.
Out at ill. shall give a loud hurrah!
For the good time coming.
Submission now shall aid oor cause,
And make it all tha stronger,
. We'll wear the breeches by and bye,
Wait a litiis longer.
1 here's a good time a coming, girls,
A good time coming.
Oar tongue shall supersede the pun,
And women rulo instead of men.
In the good time coming. - '
Voice, not force, ehall rule mankind.
And be acknowledged stronger,
The proper weapons we have got,
Wait a littla longer.
Tucre' a good time a coming, girls, '
. A good time a coming,
A bachelor, in all eyes shall, be
A monster of iniquity,
In the good time coining.
The lorda of the creation then
Shall not bo thought the stronger,
Nor make us promise to obey,
Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, girls,
A good time coming,
We shall do whatever we pleaae.
For fun tho men we oft will tease,
Iu the good time coming.
They shall smile nor dare to frown.
But own we are the stronger.
The reformation has begun,
Wait a little longer.
The Discontented Husband. -
4Mary, my dear,' said Charles Halwood
to his wife, 'come sit by me, while I read
to you this beautiful piece in your maga
zine this week.-- "
Is it something very interesting?' said
On! very, indeed; it is written by our
new authoress, Alice Carlisle, of whom
eve: yj one is speaking in such light terms.
I wonder who she can 6e. No one knows
and she seems determined to keep herself
'Perhaps she has special reasons for so
doing, said Mrs. Halwood.
I suppose she has,' replied her husband
'but I should think one of her brilliant tal
ents, and one, too, who receives so much
applause from the public in general, would
be proud to make herself known. But I
will read you her production in this num
During the first year of Mr. Hal wood's
married life, he had lived very happily
but when the novely had worn off, and he
saw his wife from day to day wearing the
same quiet smile, and preserving the same
modest demeanor, he began to feel a sort
of ennui when in her society. Instead
of trying to throw off that kind of res
traint felt by both, by spending his leisure
moments with his wife, and studying the
character of her mind, he devoted the
v Vnost of them to reading the various peri
odicals of the day; with which his table
was loaded. He had become very much
interested of late with a new authoress
who had suddenly made her appearance
in the literary world under the name of
Alice Carlisle, and who had become very
popular in the public prints, but still kept
her name incog.
When Halwood had finished reading he
exclaimed, ic not that beautiful? How
pure and elevated the thoughts! Do you
not think sher ia a. fine writer, Mary?"
. Why, yes, pretty good,' replied Mrs.
. Halwood, with seeming indifference, and
turning away busied herself with a book
Halwood felt disappointed and pained;
he sat for a few moments humming a short
tune; and throwing down the book arose
and wended his way to his office. 'How
stupid,, he muttered as he walked along,
not to see the beauties of such a produc
tion as that. Oh! that Alice Carlisle was
my wife! Then I should be a happy man
then there would be a congeniality of
thought and feeling,
He entered his office, but his thoughts
-were not there. He tried to dissipate his
feelings by looking over and arranging his
papers, but still his mind would wander to
the fair authoress, and then he would com
pare what his imagination pictured her to
be with his wife, and he felt more dissat
isfied than ever. He made every inquiry
and took every measure that prudence
would admit, to ascertain who she was,
but all to no purpose.
Time wore on but brought no relief to
the mind of Charles Halwood. Since the
day of which wc have spoken he never
mentioned - Alice Carlisle to his wife, or
spoken of her writings but he had eager
ly devoured every article of hers that had
appeared. He spent but little time at
home, and appeared reserved and sclent in
his wife's presence.-
At length he broke through all restraint,
and resolved to address her by her ficti
tious name, through the. medium of the
post office." Accordingly, he penned a
short note, speaking in very high terms of
her talents, as a writer, expressing a strong
desire to become acquainted with her, and
ended by begging her to grant him an in
terview. He dropped his note in the post
office and anxiously awaited a reply; nor
did he wait long for soon he received the
folio winsr note:
'Mr. Halwood Dear Sir: I received
your note of this morn, and am grateful
for the complimentary manner in which
you have spoken of my writings. As
you earnestly request an interview, if you
will at seven o clock this eve, walk in
M street, you will meet a lady dress
ed in a quakergarb;. turn and walk with
her and you will have the privilege of
conversing with Alice Carlisle.
When Halwood had read the note, he
laid it on the table, and for a moment his
better judgment told him that he had al
ready proceeded too far in this affair, and
conscience whispered, 'Better sit with
your wife this eve, whom you have sworn
to love and protect.'. But he did listen to
the voice of conscience; an opportunity
offered to gratify his desire and he re
solved to improve it. He had taken the
first step from the path of rectitude, and
it was easier going forward than backward.
Evening at length came, and Halwood
waited with impatience for the hour to ar
rive for him to go forth to meet the Qua
keress, for such he believed her to be
He had spent his evenings of late at his
office, and being wholly unacquainted with
the inhabitants of . the street chosen for
their place of meeting, he felt no fear of
being recognized by any one during the
interview, or that it would be known to
his wife. . He wrapped himself up in his
cloak, and drawing his hat closely over
his forehead proceeded with hasty steps
toward A I street. It was dimly light
ed, and there being none but few passing
back and forth. He walked up and down
the street a few times; still no one appear
ed that he could recognize as the object of
his search, and he began to think that he
was the subject of some trick, when turn
ing suddenly around, he observed a slight
figure before him, wearing the close Qua
ker bonnet and cloak. He approached
her and was somewhat surprised that she
immediately recognized him, although she
was an entire stranger to himself. He
joined her in her walk and entered into
He frankly confessed to her his situation
in life told her of the unhappiness he
experienced j in having a companion who
was not possessed of a mind congenial
with his own; then spoke in glowing terms
of the beauties of her productions upon
which he hid so long dwelt and bitterly
lamented that he had not found such an
one with whom to spend his days. The
lady seemed somewhat agitated and rather
silent at first, and appeared inclined to
keep her face hidden in her Quakeress
hat, so as not to give Halwood a view of
it. . After some hesitation she told him
that she had loved him in secret that he
possessed the warmest affections of heart
: that ere he had led his bride to the altar,
she had looked upon him as the being
above all others with whom she wished to
be united and that it was love to him
alone that had . made her what she was, a
writer. Halwood listened to her with
breathless silence; busy thoughts ran over
the associations of his former years, but
he could select none to whom he could ap
ply the character of the lady before him.
He caught sight of her face as they pass
ed a street lamp. There was a striking
familiar, look in it, but he could recollect
of none possessed of so much sweetness
and beauty. True he had only a hasty
glance, yet in that one he thought he dis-;
covered marks of a noble mind. He
found the object for which he had so often
sighed, xesolved to secure it while within
his grasp. He proposed that she should
leave the city with him to go to. a distar i
city there become his wife and then sai
for a foreigu land, where they could dwel:
together in obscurity, and enjoy each others'
. At first she appeared shocked at such a
proposal, and spoke of his wife whom he
would leave behind broken hearted; als
the disgrace with which he would be look
ed upon by the world at large. But Hal
wood was eloquent in overcoming every
obstacle she could present;' if he remained
as he then was, he must be miserable and
said his wife could not be more unhappy
to have him leave her forever, than to feel
daily that though he acted the part of a
husband, his heart was far from her. He
finally succeeded in gaining her consent to
his proposals on condition that she should
not reveal her true name until they should
arrive at the first stopping place: Hal
wood promised to grant any request if she
would only accede to h is wishes. She at
length agreed to meet him at the steam
boat landing in W street, one week
from that night and take a boat for P-
during which time to secure secrecy, they
were 10 nave no communication whatever.
Having made all necessary arrangements,
they parted. Halwood to his office and
Alice to her home. 1
During the following week, Halwood
busied himself in arranging his affairs,
which were in a very good condition.
He withdrew his money from the bank,
and made a writing- and placed it among
his papers, when he did not return, in
which he gave his wife all the property he
left behind, which was sufficient to give a
handsome support. He told Mrs. Hal
wood and his acquaintances, that his busi
ness called to a distant city, and that he
should be under the necessity of remaining
for a few months at least, and requested
his wife to arrange his wardrobe accord
ingly. The important eve came round. The
time had been shorter to Halwood than he
anticipated. Having all things in readiness
he took a hasty leave of his wife, sprang
in his carriage at the door, and soon found
himself at the steamboat landing. His
fair companion had not yet made her ap
pearance. It was now eight o'clock in the
evening in half an hour the boat would
start. He waited twenty minutes between
hope and fear, when a cab stopped near
where he was standing, and fiom it issued
the little Quakeress dressed in the same
neat, plain style closely veiled. Halwood
stepped forward, gave ber a cordial greet
ing, and conducted her on board the boat
to the ladies' cabin. She then requested
him .to leave her until they arrived at their
destined port; he reluctantly obeyed, as he
had promised to grant all the requests she
Halwood retired to his state room but
not to rest. Now he was left' to himself
he had time for refiectionr he found that
although his wishes were in some degree
gratified .he .was far from being happy.
He tried to close his eyes in sleep, but a
calm, quiet face would stand by his side,
and look upon him with entreating sadness
It was that of his wife whom he pictured
at home, lone and sad. He thought of the
kindness with which she had always sup
plied his wants the solicitude which she
seemed to feel in all that concerned him
and more than ones he wished himself by
her side to ask forgiveness. He tried,
however, to dissipate such thoughts and
feelings by thinking upon Alice Carlisle,
who was now to reveal herself to him on
the moirow; and the hours seemed like so
many weeks such was the anxious state
of his mind.
Morn at length came, and its first ray
of light was a welcome visiter to the sleep
less eyes of Charles Halwood. He arose
and went on deck the tall spires of the
city of P were just in sight, and
when the sun had risen above the horrizon
they had neared the wharf. Halwood
sought Alice; and taking a carriage drove
to the City Hotel. Now they were alone
and the time had arrived when he was to
behold tne object he had so long wished
for. Halwood stood in breathless anxiety;
he longed and yet feared to see her unveil
herself. She slowly raised her hands,
loosed her bonnet andcloaic, together with
some smoothly combed hair, and threw
them from her and, kind reader, his own
wife stood before him! Halwood was
thunderstruck. He stood for a moment
paralyzed. During that one moment, the
past, as quick as lightning passed through
his mind; everything was explained, he
rueitcd forward exclaiming: 'Jborgive, oh!
forgive?; And but we will leave them
to themselves, and just say that the boat
took Kal wood home a wiser man.
Most Horrible Situation.
.. been playing all the evening at
' ; ir stakes had been cold mohur
points, ; 1 twenty oa the rubber; Max
ey, who is always lucky, had won five
successive bumpers, which lent a well sat
isfied smile on his countenance, and made
ns, the loosers, look anything but pleased,
''li- r.,he suddenly changed countenance,
i.'.-' nesiteted to play; this the more sur
prised us, since he was one who seldom
pondered, being soperfecdy master of the
game that he deemed long considerations
fplay away, Maxey; what are .you a
bout?' impatiently demanded. Churchill,
one of tho most impetuous youths that ev
er bore the uniform of the body guard.
Hush, replied Maxey, in a tone which
thrilled through us, at the same time turn
ing deadly pale.
'Are you unwell? said another, about
to start up, for he believed our friend had
suddenly been taken ill. "
'For the love of peace, sit quiet?' re
joined the other, in a tone
treme fear or pain,
and he laid down his
card. 'If you value mv life, move not.
'What can it mean? has he taken leave
of his senses? demanded Churchill, ap
pealing to himself.
'Don't start? don't move, I tell you!'
itlered Maxey 'If you make any sudden
motion, I am a dead man. We exchang
ed looks. He continued, 'remain quiet,
and ?il may yet be well. I have a cobra
capella around my leg.
Our first impulse was to draw back our
chairs, but an appealing look from the vic
tim induced us to remain, although .we
were aware that should the reptile transfer
but one fold and attach himself to any of
the party that individual might already be
counted as a dead man, so fatal is the bite
of the deadly monster.
Poor Maxey was dressed as many old
residents still dress in Indiain breeches
and silk- stockings; he therefore the more
plainly felt every slight movement of the
snake. His countenance assumed a livid
hue; the words seemed to leave his mouth
without taat feature altering its position,
so rigid was his look, so fearful was he lest
the slightest movement should alarm the
! serpent, and hasten the fatal bite. We
j were in agoay litde less than his own du
; ring the scene.
J 'He is coiling round!' murmured Max
' ey. 'I feel him cold cold to my limb;
for the love of heaven call for some milk!
: I dare not speak loud; let it be placed on
the ground near me; let some be spilt on
i the Boor.'
Churchill cautiously gave the order, and
a sen an i slipped out of the room.
'Don't stir; Northcote, you moved your
head. By every thing sacred I conjure
you do not move again! It cannot be long
ere my fate is decided. I have a wife and
two children in Europe; tell them that I
die blessing, them; the snake is winding
around my calf I leave them all I pos
sess I can almost fancy I feel his breath
great heaven! to die in such a manner!'
The milk was brought and carefully put
down? a few drops were-sprinkled on the
floor, and the affrighted servants drew
Again Maxey spoke
r'No no! It has no effect on the con
trary he has clasped himself tighter, he
has uncurled his upper fold! I dare not
look down, but I am -sure he is about to
draw back and give the bite of death with
more fatal precision. Again he pauses.
I die firm; but this is past endurance; ah!
no he has undone another fold and loos
ens himself. Can he be going to sonic
one else? We involuntarily started." For
the love of heaven, stir not! I am a dead
man; but bear with me. He still loosens
he is about to dart! Churchill, he falls
off that way oh this agony is too hard to
bear! Another pressure, and I am dead!
No, he relaxes!' At this moment poor
Maxey ventured to look down the snake
had unwound himself the last coil had
fallen, and the reptile was making for the
I am saved! I am saved!' said Maxey,
bounding-from his chair, and falling sense
less into the arms of one of his servants.
In another instant, need it be added, we
were all dispersed; the snake was killed,
and our friend was carried more dead than
alive to his room.
This scene 1 can never forget it dwells
on my memory still, strengthed by the fate
of poor Maxey, who from that hour, pined
in hopeless imbecility, and sunk into an
early grave. "Hours in Hindostan"
Female Courtship in Rome,
The women of Rome know nothing of
those restrin.te that dcliciuy , modesty and
virtue impose upon the sex in northern
Europe. . A Roman . lady who takes a
liking to a foreigner, does ; not cast her
eyes down "when he looks at her, but fixes
them upon him long and with evident
pleasure, nay, she gazes, at him alone
whenever she meets him in company, at
church, at the theatre, or in her walks.
She will say, without ceremony, to a
faiend of the young man, "tell that gentle
man. I like him." ; If the man of her
choice feels the like sentiment, and asks,
"are you fond of me?" she replies with
the utmost frankness, "yes, my deal."
The happy medium between American
and Roman courtship appears to us the
best. We hate excessive coyness, but do
not like too much familiarity.
Mape his mixd up. The editor of the
Syracuse Reveille has determined on pay
ing some lady's board which is the
modern, definition of marriage as soon as
he gets, able, asthe following will show:
Jupiter! H6v wedo.eoyy young mar
ried friends, when we look upon. them, in
the quiet enjoyment of their own happy
firesides. Wind and weather and funds
permitting,, we arc bound to get "spliced"
The Rates of Postage.
The rates of postage, as modified by
the Act of Congress of the third inst., and
under the late treaty concluded by Great
Britain, are thus authentically stated at
the Post-office in Washington. The con
ciseness and complete character of the
statement will render its preservation val
uable for reference. licdtimore Sim.
The Inland postage for 300 miles and
under is 10 cents an ounce; for half an
ounce and less it is 5 cents.
The inland postage for greater distances
than 300 miles,' is 20 cents an ounce; 10
cents for a half an ounce and under.
The whole postage," by the British or
American mail steamers, from or to Great
Britain or Ireland, is 48 cents an ounce;
24 cents for a single half ounce or less.
The United States inland postage, what
ever may be the distance, on letters sent
by the British Steamers to foreign coun
tries, other than GreatBritain or Ireland,
is 10 cents an ounce; 5 cents the single
The postage by the American steamers,
to foreign countries, other than Great Bri
tain and Ireland on letters to be sent
through the British mail, is 42 cts. an
ounce; 21 cents for the single half ounce.
. To an by Bremen, from the port, and
the reverse, 48 cts. an ounce; 24 cents the
single half ounce. The inland postage to
To and from Havanna 25 cents an
ounce; 12 cents single.
To and from Chagres 40 ctsan ounce;
20 cents single.
To and from Panama 60 cents an ounce;
30 cents single.
To and from other places on the Pacif
ic, 80 cts. an ounce; 40 cents single.
To and from the West Indies (except
Havanna) and islands in the Gulf of Mex
ico, 20 cents; 10 cents single, with inland
Any fractional excess over an ounce is
always to be regarded as an ounce.
'- The above postage may be prepaid or
not, at the option of the sender, except to
foreign countries, other than Great Britain
or Ireland; and where the letters pass
through the Bremen post-office, i imost ca
ses, the whole postage may be prepaid, or
they may go unpaid (See table 1, Ex
hibit I), Senate Document, Executive NoJ
25, 30th Congress, 2d session.)
A postage of 6 cents is charged on let
ters and packets brought into the United
States in any private ship or vessel, or
carried from one port therein to another,
if they are to be delivered at the post office
where the same shall arrive, and two cents
are added to the rates of postage if destin
ed to be conveyed by post; and postmas
ters are to receive one cent for every letter
or packet received by them to be conveyed
by any (private) ship or vessel beyond
sea, or from any. port to another in the
One cent is to be added to the rate of
each way letter. Way letters are those
brought to the post-office by the post ri
ders, and other carriers of the mail, whose
duty is to receive them, when presented
more than one mile from a post-office.
There is charged upon letters and other
matter delivered from steamboats, except
newspapers, pamphlets, magazines, and
periodicals, the same rates as if they had
been transmitted by mail
Drop letters, or letters placed in any
post-office for delivery there, are charged
two cents each.
Advertised letter are charged with the
costs of advertising, which is not to exceed
four cents for each letter, in addition to
the regular postage-
Not more than two cents to be paid to
the letter carriers employed in cities for
the delivery of letters, or for receiving them,
to be deposited in the post-office.
Newspapers are conveyed from one
post-office to another in the same State for
one cent, and any distance not more than
100 miles, at the same rate and at lj cts.
fur any greater distance. One quarter's
postage is always to be paid in advance by
those who receive newspapers by post.
The sea-postage on newspapers is 3 cents
each, with the above rates added when
transported inland. Newspapers may be
mailed or delivered at any post-office in
the United States to or from Great Britain
or Ireland, on the payment of two cents.
Letter-carriers employed in cities, are not
to receive more than half-cent for the de
livery of newspapers. The postage on
newspapers not sent from the office of
publication is required to be pre-paid; aud
the whole postage on newspapers, in all
cases, when they are directed to foreign
Handbills, circulars, advertisements, net
exceeding one sheet are subject to three
cents postage each, whatever the distance,
(inland) to be pre-paid. The sea-postage
on price currents is three cents, with in
land postage added when so transported
The law makes no distinction of handbills,
I circulars, advertisements, or price currents,
when regulating the sums to be paid to the
Newspapers are defined in the lGth
section of the act approved March 3d,
1845. When they exceed two sheets or
supcrfices of 1900 square inches, they are
to be charged with the same rate of post
age as that on magazines and pamphlets.
All pamphlets, magazines, periodicals, and
every other kind of printed or other mat
ter, (except newspapers,) are charged at
the rate of 2$ cents per copy, 0 no great
er weight than one ounce, and one C2nt ad
ditional for each additional ounce, any
fractional excess of not less than half an
ounce . being regarded as an ounce. The
sea-postage on each pamphlet is three
cents, with tho above rates added, when
transported inland. There is to be paid
on pamphlets sent to or received from
Great Britain and Ireland, one cent for each
ounce or fractional excess. Letter carriers
employed in eities are not to receive more
than half a cent for the delivery of paraph
lets. Post-office, Washington, D. C 21st
Shoe Business in Lynn, Xass.
The shoe business is the life of Lynn.
Only women's misses' and children's shoes
are made here. Engaged in this business
there are of manufacturers, or men who
"carry on the business,'! 78; of cutters, or
men who "cutout" the shoes, 175; of men
and boys employed in making shoes,
2,458; of men and boys so employed, but
living out of town, 900; of women and
girls employed in binding shoes, 4,925; of
the same so employed and living out of
town 1,600; making of employees an ag
gregate of 10,058. The number of men
and boys employed in making shoes is
more than 70 per cent larger now than it
was in 1842. The increase in the num
ber of women and girls employed in bind
ing shoes has, we presume, been corres
pondingly great. But it should be stated
that the shoe business in 1842 was un
usually depressed; that much less of it
was done during . last, than will probably
be done during the present year. The
number of pairs of shoes made during the
last year was, 3,190,000; the number pur
chased from the other towns was 350,000;
making in all 2,540,000 pairs. The cost
of the materials of these was $1,435,545;
that of making them $957,030, making
the cost of the 3,540,000 pairs of shoes to
have been $2,392,575. The cost of ma
king shoes is now about one-sixth less
than it was a dozen years ago. Lynn
Sinsnlar Presentiment. . ,
A corresponded of the National Intelli
gencer, speaking of the narrative ofi the
Dead Sea Ezpedition, in connection, of
the death of Lieut. Dale, relates a singular
presentiment of Mrs. Dale, and gives the
language she used at the time. The cor
respondent says: One of the gentlemen
told us that she had said to him on the
24th of July, "I wish you to note this day
my spirits are so oppressed, my feelings
are so unaccountably strange, that I am.
sure some great calamity awaits me note
it, that this is the 24th 01 July," It was
the day her husband died.
Progress of Improvement.
'Mother, asked a six footgawkey, after
two hours of brown study, 'what did you,
and dad used to do, when he came a cour
ten you? Good airth and seas! what deu
mean, Jelediah?' 'Why, I went a cour
tin last Sunday night I went to Deacon
Doolittle's to see Peggy, and she told me
I did'nt know how to court. Laxt her to
show me how, and sez she ax your raarm.
So now I want to know, what you and
father did. 'La, suz!' Why Jed, we.
used to sit by the fire and eat roast turkey
and mince pics, and drink ci Jer, and wau h:
the crickets running 'round the hearth.'
Good gracious! times aint asusen to wa3,
mother that's sartin. I was all clicked np
to kill, and looked tearin scrumshus, and
the only thing Peggy give me was a raw
Frailties. All men have their, frail
ties. "As I grow older," said-Goethe, "I
become more lenient to the sins of frail
humanity, Trie man who loudly donoun
ces I always suspect.. He knows too
mnch-of crime who denounces a fellow
creature unheard a knowledge which
can onlv be obtained through criminality
itself, he hypocrite always strives to
divert attention from his own wickedness,,
by denouncing unsparingly that of others..
He thinks he shall seem good in exact
ratio as he makes others seem bad."
E37T jfe is but a walk over a moor, and
the wild flowers that grow upon our path
are too few not to gather them when they
come within sight, even though it may
cost us a step or two aside. It's all in the
day's journey and wc shall ret home ?t