it 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 nt i i 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. MISCELLANEOUS. The Discontented Husband. - BY KATE 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 Mrs. Halwood. 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 in security.' '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 ber. ' . ' 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 before her. 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 conversation. 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' society undisturbed. . 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- C3 9 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 should make. 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. n We whist .. 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 superfluous. ' 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 aenotinr ex- v 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 back. 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 milk. j 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" forthwith. 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 half ounce. 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 be added. 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 postage. 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 United States. 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 countries. 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 letter-carriers ofcities. 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 March, 1849. 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 Pioneer. 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 cold pickle!! 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 last.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers