. 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.