. i - - .li't"!'!!:. vr:: 40' 4 T : - .- " - .,,- , l-'r-t ' ' A AX- r. i S : i. - "WE GO WHERE DEMOCRATIC PRINCIPLES POINT THE WAY ; -WHEN THET CEASE TO LEAD, Wfc CEASE TO rOLLOW.' BV JOHN G. GIVEN. EBENSBURG, THURSDAY, APRIL 4, 1850. VOL. G. NO. 2G. ifr if i. . 1 - - . i i . i - II J 1 II I I II I r i i . . . ,., , 7 : ...... MI SO LL AlfSOUS THE TRIUMPH OF GENIUS. AN ATFKOTINO STORY OF A WOOD CARTER. Robert Western was a steady and in dustrious mechanic, easily earning a com fortable livelihood for himself and little family. His wife, Mary, was a pattern of an industrious and frugal housekeeper; and not a cottage in the little town of Brookford looked so neat and cheerful as that of the industrious wood-carver. But, misfortunes overtake the best people, and in the case of Robert Western they did not come singly. He was taken ill of a lingering and almost incurable disease. To be sure his little savings were quite sufficient to maintain him under the sad affliction for several months but even these were suddenly swept away by the bankruptcy of his employer, who had retained such portions of his wages as Western could spare to l3y aside for a rainy day. Thus the rainy oay came but the money was all lost. Western's friends assisted him for a time, but they were poor, and thus it was that he feared that the poor house must eventually be his resting place. One day when the wife had been to Squire Beasly's to receive a small bounty which the good squire was wont to bestow weekly upon this interesting but suffering family, and while she was returning home, an accident happened which completely changed the destiny of this worthy but suffering couple. It rained hard, and poor Mary Western was wet through to the skin, but she thought nothing of that. She hastened quickly along, pulling her scanty cloak nearly over her face, when a car riage, driven with speed, rapidly turned an angle in the road; and before the driver, who kept his head down to shield his face from the violence of the sleet, could see the coming figure, on arrest his horses, the poor woman was dashed to the ground by the pole of the vehicle, arid thrown uveral yards from the wheels into a pool of water that had collected at the park entrance. The carriage was instantly stopped, and a gentleman alighting, hast ened forward, ml raising the female from the ground, expressed, in the kindest man ner, his regret and pain at the misfortune. "I am not very much hurt, thank 3011, air, only very much frightened," she said, very faintly, as the gentleman led her to the steps of the carriage. 44 Poor creature, she is wet through," exclaimed a soft voice from the coach. "Tell us where yoa live, good woman, and we will drive you home." 'Oh, no, thank you madam! It is not very far, and I can. walk. Don't let me keep you in the rain, madam. 1 don't think the horse touched me at all; and I must go home to my poor husband, for he is sick. Thank you, matlam." "Then come to my house to-morrow at twelve. I wish particularly too see vou Mr. ".Chesterfield's, at the Elms. But are you sure you can walk?" "Oh, yes, thank you madam, quite veii." "Do not forget Mrs. Chesterfield's wish to-morrow," added the gentleman, kindly, as he took out his purse; but, after a mo ment's hesitation, as if fearing to hurt the poor woman's feelings, he returned it un observed to his pocket, and repeating his lady's injunctions, stepped into the car riage and was rapidly driven away in the direction of the magistrate's hall. Pressing her hand tightly on her side, and drawing her breath with short inspi rations, for she was much hurt, though from delicate motives alleging the contra ry, poor Mary slowly proceeded strug gling down the street, , and ultimately reached her miserable abode at the out wirtg of the village. Pausing a moment at the door, she pulled the string that lift ed the wooden latch, and crossed the drea ry dwelling; and a more melancholy chamber than that she now entered, pe nury never called "home." A patched . and broken latticed window transmitted just enough of the cheerless December light to reveal, in chilling colors, the few dilapidated pieces of household goods that constituted the scanty furniture. On a stump bedstead in the nearest corner to the huge chimney and long ex tinguished fire, sat the attenuated form o" & Sick man, whose shrunk features and large lustnous eyes bespoke too plainly the ravages of disease and want. An old coat drawn ovei his shoulders shielded his body from the keen wind that howled aown the chimney, and found a hundred mouths, through the broken plaster and Wed door, whirling the sand upon the Bricked floor in sweeping eddies round the room. Before him, on the drugget of the bed, jested ar. old tray, with a small chisel, ne and file, a few chips of wood, and carved figure of a king ia armor, cut from a block of the whitest ash. With j his long, skinny fingers he had just set the finished workmanship upon the tray as his wife entered; and he turned his gratified gaze from his completed task, with mournful inquiry and affectionate solicitude, upon his drenched and misera ble wife. You are wet and cold, Mary, and theic is no fire to warm j'ou," said the husband mournfully, as with a deep sigh he glanced at the few white ashes strewn over the broad hearth, as his wife divest ed herself of her shawl and bonnet. "I wish j-ou had not gone, though God knows we have' kept off-the parish till the last! Would they do nothing? Well, it is not for myself I care for my stay here is getting very short but for 3'ou and" 'The Lord be good to us," exclaimed the wife with sudden grief. "If I havn't lost the money the Squire gave me, and the order for the flour! Oh dear, oh dear! What a foolish creature I am. But I'll go back directly and look for it. I know I must have dropped them when I fell." And wiping away the tears that gather ed in her eyes, she began to refix her wet bonnet. Back again trudged poor Mary Western to the scene of her misfortune, and though the order for the flour was found lying in a puddle, no traces of the lost silver could be discovered. This was a great disappointment, as she had fully calculated on this money to procure some tea and other little luxuries for her sick husband. She, therefore, came home in tears. 'Never mind it, my dear, for3ou know it was not your fault. Look here, I have finished the last of the sett, though God knows they are no use to us, for nobody here will buy them; but I am sure the wish I had to finish them, and your confi dence, has kept me alive all the year. How do you like it now? That is the Christian king," and with a sad voice, and momentary gleams of pleasure in his hol low eye, the mechanic .placed the last of a sett of chessmen, that he had designed and executed himself, in her thin hand - m.lkirvr tVir tvvn nrmips rnc5ct rf -1 CYC' wan ana oaracen nost, eacn piece being : a perlect figure, armed in respective t:os tume, and executed with the utmost truth and delicacy. A turner and wood-carver by trade, Robert Western had long meditated com pleting a series of chessmen that should supersede the uninteresting figures in gen eral use, and give a martial air to a purely military game. But while in health and constant employment, he had never found an opportunity of doing more than select ing choice pieces of wood, and making drawings of the several men; for Western possessed a natural genius for the pencil, and could depict the human form in all its attitudes with ease and grace. His long illness, however, had unfitted him for the more laborious work of his trade, and he had from time to time, as occasional convalescence would enable him, worked at home upon the beautiful figures which composed his new and beautiful design. The task, though long, had been to the poor workman one full of interest, and he began to love fhe little warriors, as each grew into shape and martial bearing, un der his cunning fingers, with a feeling lit tle less than filial. And now, when he placed the last completed piece in his wife's cold hand, a tear of regretful sad ness glistened in his eye, as the sweet so lace of so many weary hours was brought to a perfect end. "Oh, how very beautiful it is, Robert," exclaimed his wife, with real delight con templating the mail-clad king, and brush ing a tear from her long eye-lashes, "It is more beautiful than all the rest! Shall Lwrap it up and put it by. Robert?" -"When you have lit the fire and dried your gown, you shall put them all out on the table, and let me look at them once more. It is very foolish, but I have grown fo fond of them, and I should like to see them all together for the last time, for I know that I shall never look at them again. Don't cry, Mary dear, don't cry, or you will stain it with your tears. Light the fire and warm yourself. Oh, God, help us!" "He will, He will, Robert, if you will not despair!" ejaculated his affectionate wife, as she carefully set down the carved figure, and wiping her- eyes, addressed herself to chop the wood and light the fire from the fuel opportunely and charitably given them by a neighbor almost as poor and comfortless as themselves. . Having completed her task, and given a more cheerful aspect to the dreary chamber by the ruddy flame, from the ignited wood, she spread her wet garments before the blaze to dry, and sealed in a'corner of the chimney, recounted to her husband as briefly as possible, the accident that had deprived her of the little pittance given her by the good Squire; and ended by tel ling him of the wish expressed by Mrs. Chesterfield to see her in the morning. "And so, Robert," she went on, "I will take the chessmen and show them to her. Perhaps she may buy them, though God knows I would almost as soon sell myself, if it was not for the hope of getting you something nice to eat, and some medicine for your cough. And if I take the men, it won't look as if I went for charity, Robert." "Dj as ycu like, Mary, though I have no hope of your sucess. . We have so of ten been disappointed " "Oh, don't give wav, Robert! I am sure better das will come. No, no, don't j shake your. head and look' so sorrowtul better days for you, I mean, and you will do well again. Now, now, don't despair so!" and with a confidence she scarcely felt herself, she strove to instil a healthier tone into her husband's less sanguine heart. "There must bj something very holy in your confidence, dear Mar)', for it has had the power to keep me up for many months; for, without your trustful spirit, I should have given way long ago. God bless 3-0U for it!" "Don't talk so, Robert, or you will break my heart. If I don't sell these beau tiful figures to do you gooJ, 1 will never part with ihem. Oh, do not give up yet! hope a little longer; do, do, for my sake, and But whe-e is he, where 's the child? Is he asleep?" she inquired, suddenly ri sing from her seat and going to the bed. "He cried at first when you went, out, and asked for dinner," said the husband, mournfully, as the mother knelt down and kissed the lips of her sleeping child; "but I had not strength to et out and reach the bread, poor child! So I told him some little stories to divert his mind, and said that he should see all the chessmen to night; and then his little eyes grew heavy, and he laid Iiis. head upon my lap, and fell asleep, talking of the soldiers! Oh, what a blessed thing is sleep to the poor and hungry, for, by it, theycan cheat the craving stomach of a meal or two. See dear, he is awake!" But we must hasten on, and will but merely direct the reader's mental eye once more to that abode of sickness, want, and cold; but where, such is the humiliating rffect of art and beauty, there was such innate love and delicacy of soul Opon the further extremity of a an old table, drawn close to the bed, ranged in double files, stand the mimic armies of the chess board; and on the nearer end, the rem nant of a stale loaf, a jug of warm milk and water, and a knife to part the limited allowance of their food. Father, mother, and child are seated on the bed, with pleasure gazing on the carved array, and one, in infantine ecstacy, holding out his hand to clutch the tempting toys, and as they admire, eating the husky bread, and drinking, each in turn from the self same jug, the harmless dilutent; while the wind & rain howled and beat against the lonely tenement, and the fitful blaze from the alternate flush and fall of the ivcod embers gives momentrry light of the repast making the raging winter that b.'ats without, and the desolation brooding within, appear more terrible. True to her appointment on the follow ing morning, the mechanic's wife with her prized chessmen carefully folded in separ ate papers, and enveloped in a white nap kin, repaired to the mansion of Mr. Ches terfield, and was instantly introduced to the benevolent mistress. Mrs. Chesterfield with the tact that women only know, soon gleaned from the poor wife the concise history of their long privations, touching with innocent pride on her husband's skill and ended by displaying before the amazed eyes of the lady the proofs of it she had brought. Mrs. Chesterfield was no mean judge of art, and gazed with admiration and sur prise on the costume, execution, and fault less symmetry of every figure, enhanced by the ivory whiteness and beautiful tex ture of the wood in which thev were wrought; and calling her husbandpartici pated with him in his lavish delight and encomiums while the poor woman una ble to suppress her joy that her husband's merits were at last appreciated, sobbed a loud from the excess of pleasure. . "These are, indeed, superior speci mens of art!" observed'Mr. Chesterfield, after a rigid scrutiny of every, piece. "What does your husband require for them?" . . ; ; "Oh, sir!" replied Mary, speaking thro' her tears, "I am very anxious to sell them just now, and I would take very little. : My husband said he would sell them for a shilling a piece, if .you would'nt think it too dear; and there's the board he made long ago." "A shilling a piece. Impossible! My poor woman, you must be dreaming!"-- "Well, then, sir, what you please; for ray husband is very ill, and I want to buy him some medicine," she replied, : almost choking from convulsion of feeling. "You mistake me, my good creature. I mean to say they are too valuable to be sold without consideration; and for fear I should not be just to you, I will consult some friends as to what I should give for I mean to purchase them. For the pres ent here are ten sovereigns', and whatever price is put on them by my friends I will pay 3 0U again. - A man of 3our husband's genius must not be left in obscurity and want. I will send a physician to attend to hirn, and now go home and come back on Monday for what I shall then be in 3'our debt.' Your husband shall not be neglect, ed, depend opon it." " , Unable to speak her thanks, but . grasp ing the gold in her hand, with a nervous tenacity, the bewildered woman was led out of the room by the hand of the sympa thising Mrs. Chesterfield; and whenshe found herself again in the road, it was with the addition of a well-filled basket of wine and provisions. Casting her dim med eyes to Heaven and muttering a pray er of thankfulness, poor. Mary turned in the direction of home, and ran with the speed of a chamois till the battered door and broken casement stood before her. The luxury of that moment, as she told out her treasure before the hectic husband was worth a life's privation to enjoy. The sick man, unable express the sense of struggling happiness, bent his head meekly on his chest, and groaned from the fullness of his soul; while his wife folding her arms around his neck, pressed his face to her bosom, and between hysteric tears and laughter, whispered, "I told you not to despair. 1 knew that better das would come, and that you would live to sec and biess them." Under the skillful hand of a physician Western was soon restored to compara tave health, and aided by the patronage of Mr. Chesterfield, was in a few months re moved to London, and a situation obtained for him as designer in one of the first hou ses in town, where he may still be found directing the energies of (ax large establish ment, respected, prosperous and happy, and daily thankful to his wife, for that faith in the bounty of Eternal Providence, that under Heaven had, through all the petulence of disease and crush of poverty, kept a living principle of hope within his heart. Nor does his new restored and comely wife forget, in thankful prayers, gratitude to God; for the courage that op posed so long her husband's gloom, and gave her power to prove the confidence that buoyed herseli Never despair! Bachelors nod Married Mtn. Some individual w h o undoubtedly speak$ from "sad and bitter experience," and who, at all events, pretends to know exactly "how man' blue beans make five" gives the following episode on married men, bachelors, love, matrimony and mad ness. We commend it to the perusal of our readers: "Bachelors are styled by married me n who have put their foot into it, as "only half perfected beings," "cheerless vaga bonds," "but half a pair of shears," and man other cutting titles are given them, while on the other hand, they ex tol their own state as one of such per fect bliss, that a change from earth to Hea ven would be somewhat of a doubtful good. If they are so happy, why in time don't they enjoy their happiness and hold their tongues about it? What do half the men who get married, get married for? Simply that they may have somebody to darn their stockings, sew buttons on their shirts and lick the babies that they may have somebody, as a married man once said, to "pull off their boots when ihey get a little balmy." Then these fellows are alwa3s talking of the loneliness, of bachelors. Loneliness, indeed! Who is petted to death by the ladies with marriageable daughters, invited to tea and evening par ties, and told to "drop in just when it is convenient?" the bachelor. Whojives in clover all his dajs, and when he dies has flowers strewn on his grave by all the girls who could'nt entrap him? the bach elor. Who strews flowers on the married man's grave? his wodow? not a bit of it; she pulls down the tomb-stone that a six weeks' grief has made in her heart, and goes and gets married again, she does. Who goes to bed early because time hangs heavy on his hands? the marred man. Who gets a scolding for picking out the softest side of the bed, and for waking up the baby when he turns out in the morn ing? the married man. . Who has wood to split, house-hunting and marketing to do, the young ones to wash, and Irish ser vant girls to look after? the married man. Who is taken up JJor beating his wife? the married man. Who gets divorced? the married man. Finally who has got the Scripture on his side? the bachelor, St. Paul says, and St. Paul knew what he was talking about "He that marries docs well, but he that docs not , marry does better. The Rrspcclabilily of Labor. There is a vast amount of foolish disscus sion, and false sentiment, in regard to this subject. Every pursuit of industry that is honest, and promotive of human well being, ia respectable, honorable and dig nified. The chimney-sweeper is only vulgar when he sinks below and demeans his toil. Let him pursue his work ear nestly and steadily, and he is entitled to as much respect as the telescope maker. The profession of lafior has no essential merit in itself, beyond being more or less productive; the merit belongs entirely to the manner of its pursuit. Labor with the slave, is neither a pleasure nor a virtue, no matter what his occupation, fof it is forced from him; before pleasure or virtue can be attached, labor must be sought or chosen. Then it has value and dignity in proportion to its honesty and the char acter of its products. Some pride themselves upon living above and independent of labor, scorning all its pursuits as low and ignoble. Such are drones who eat what they do not earn, and it is sufficient punishment lor them that they can see nothing in their desire or destiny, but an utter antipods to the generally revealed character of God and man. Others pride themselves upon the exrlusiveness or aristocracj of a profes sion, as though honor or dignity came to labor from isolation instead of usefulness. These would call labor honorable in pro portion as they could handle it without J soiling their gloves. It is hard to say which of the two is the most vulgar he ' who decries and scorns all labor that is j soiling all common every day toil- or j he who values labor only as begrimed with dirt, and turns up his nose at the man who works with hands or face clean er than his own. Both are immensely vulgar, and both will have to learn much before" they truly understand matters. An Awkward Mistake. . A correspondent of the Herald of Reli gious Liberty tells a story about an inscrip tion on the facade of a church, recently built, which was intended to be as follows: "My house shall be called the house ofj prayer. To insure accuracy, the stone cutter was referred to the verse of Scripture in which these words occur. The workman how ever, unfortunately transcribed the whole of it, thus; "My house shall be called the house of pra3er, but ye have made it a den of thieves.'" When the error was discovered an attempt was made to rectify it, by filling up the prints of the obnoxious letters with red putty This remedy, however, proved worse than the mischief; for at a distance which made the first of the inscription illegible, stood out in blush ing hues, the omnious sentence "Ye have made it a . den of thieves." Finally the scandal was removed by turning the in scribed face inward, and lettering the j new outward surface according to the first intention. Power of Slcani- "Is it stame?" said an Irishman; "by the faintly St. Pathrick, but it's a great thing intirely for drivin' things it put me through nine States in a day divil a word of lie in iu" "Nine States!" exclaimed a dozen in as tonishment "Yis, nine of them bejabers, asaisy as a cat ud lick her ear! D'yez see now; I golmaried in New York in the mornin', and wint wid my wife Biddy to Baltimore the same day hould your whist nowand count the states. There was the state of matrimony t which I entered from a single state and a sober state, in the State of New York, and I wint through New Jarse', Pinsylvane and Dilliwar into Marland, where I arrived in a most beautiful statejof jollification! There's nine, by the rod of Moses count 'em if yez like. . Och but stame's a scrouger." . Enjoyments. The following paragraph is taken from Paulding's new novel, ' The Puritan and his daughter:" . .' 'Those eniovmenis which neither in iure'ourselves, interfere with the happi ness of others, or violate the laws ana ae corum of society, are in fact themselves most effectual barriers against the indul gence of those criminal propensities which atone and the same time, ondermine our own happiness and destroy that of others. Give to mankind innocent amusement, and they will be far less likely to seek for guilty pleasures. Uut it will genera lly be found that those . who whet - their appetites by rigorously abstaining from one enjoyment, are the most voracious in the gratification of others; and he who rails most loudly at the nint-ty-nine inno cent pleasures of life, most commonly se lects the hundr-th as an exception, and converts it into a vice by rxcrssivc indul- I gencc JVooltn Printing .? Great Improve m ent .Messrs- Ho!t & Bnerly, of Low ell, have now in successful operation a new improvement, eftheirown discovery, which promises to yield a rich reward. tl is the printing of goods, in any style-of stripe or figure that may be desired, and in perfectly fast colors, such as will stand the test of thorough washing. Mr. Thom as Brierlv is the original inventor and discoverer of this process of printing, and has it secured by patent. The colors are of superior brilliancy, and the style of goods is universally admired. For ' lin ings of ladies and gentlemen's cloaks and coats, we predict that these goods will soon become all the rage. Forchildren'a clothing, too, they are so much prettier than any thinir in the marke, that they can hardly fail of a great run. fPorct' ter Spy. ' t5Sam Lalhrop, the circus clown, ia his stump speech the other evening, made a hit, which fairly and significantly "brought down the house." He promis ed "if elected," to use his utmost endeav ors for various reforms, and among others to abolish "flogging in the navy and in troduce it z;t Congress.1 The shouts of applause at this hit were long and deaf cninjr. To Ctfre Zot'c Take.of manufactured hemp, about six feet of courage, enough to make a slip noose and fasten it around j'our neck of resolution, enough to . far ten it to the top of a tree and of determi nation, -sufficient to take a leap downward. If this does not effect a cure get mar ried. 7Vie Right tPlay It is time our younf ladies had dropped the o!d plan of refer riog the boys to their paternal relatire, on receivingan offer of marriage. Come, gi rls lay aside the old fashion, and on a 3'oung man of the right stamp oflerinp: himself, don't look off on one side and stare some particular figure in the carpet out of countenence, and simper, -ask pa,' fling your arms around his neck, kiss him look him in the eyes; and say: Well, lwiii A celebrated gambler, after atten ding a great revival meeting, experienced, as he supposed, a change of feelings, and was finally induced to take his seat upon the 'Anxious bench.' The minister com menced examining them on their experi ence and the stale of their feelings, and fiinally, approaching the gambler, ask ed. .Well mv dear frieud, what do vcu say?' Oh, replied . he, unconsciously. l pass! what do you do. old fellow? turning to his left hand neighbour Inquiries, says a Southern Journal, are of ten made respecting the continuation of Maculay's History of England, with special reference to the probable time of the appearance of the next volume. We conversed ("says the New York Commer cial Advertiser) with a gentleman who had recently seen Mr. Macoulay, who said he was laboring hard at the work every day. but that he did not expect to have the third volume ready forthepre.s in less than a year, and that it might not be ready in less than fifteen cr eighteen months- My deceased uncle was the most polite gentleman in the world. He was making a voyage cn the Danube; the boat sunk; all the passengers went to the bottom. My uncle was just at the point of drown ing. He got his head above water (or once, took off his hat and said "Ladies and Gentleman! I have the honor to be yourjpost humble servant!' and down he went. There is a story extant of a 3oung wag" who was once invited to dine with an old gentleman of rather sudden temper. The dining room was on the second floor, and the principal dish was a fine roast ham. When the old gentleman undertook to carve it, he found the knife rather dull, and in a sudden passion flung it down stairs after the servant, who had just brought it. Whereupon the young- man seized the ham, and with admirable dex. teritv hurled it after the knife. What on earth dp yoa mean? exclaim ed the old gentleman, as soon as he could speak " 4 - I beg your pardon! was the cool reply I thought you were going to dine down stcirs. When you . are dealing with a man whose integrity you have reason to sus pect, always have a witness by. Shou'd v;c ratitmn he omutrd bv vou. the ohe 1 wt'.i proVaaly not Uav.' ncgh-cted it.
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