The mountain sentinel. (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, June 23, 1853, Image 1

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1 taw a little maiden,
Of but a teen or two,
Her cheeks were fair and roBy,
Her laughing eyes were blue ;
A dainty little fairy,
Not yet a woman quite,
A modest rose-bud opening,
And beaming frith delight j
Said I sweet little lady,
Did'at ever hare a beau ?
I'd like to kiss you dearly,
But it would scare you so ;
Bright flowers bloomed around her,
. For it was joyous Spring,
A thousand birds were warbling,
And she did with them sing :
Oh ! I would like to marry,
If I could only find,
A pretty little dearie .
Just suited to my mind.
1 saw Rnother, older
By three sweet years than she ; '
Oh ! she was matchless lovely !
Full bloomed maturity !
' Her lorm was round and slender,
- Her bosom snowy white,
, Her hair in glossy ringlets,
Her eyes were sparkling bright,
Iter dress was spotless muslin,
ArrangeJ.with nicest care,
A wreath of glowing flowers
Encirled her dark hair ;
Her voice was witching music,
That chained me while she talked ;
Her feet so small and pretty,
I wonder how ehe walked ;
SaM she, I'd like to marry,
If I could only find
A pretty little dearie
Just suited to my mind.
I dud that all would marry,
1 From maid to matron old ;
Oh, thiuk it not all folly,
As ycu are often told ;
I saw an ancient maiden
Of an uncertain age,
But she had almost fretted
Her hour on the stage ;
II er brow was wrapt in wrinkles,
Her cheeks were plastered red,
Her teeth were few and broken,
Her hair had left her head ;
Hf-re, then, thought I, is wisdom,
Her earthly dreams are flown ;
1'or one she is contented
To live and die alone:
Said she, I'd like to marry,
If I could only find,
O, Lord! just any body
A man of any kind.
Till then I was cold-hearted.
And jeered at married life ;
iut now good nature conquered,
I longed to have a wife ;
And 30 the charming widow
Has now my hand and heart ;
Her three dears and another
Give us a handsome start ;
Aud we are very happy.
My love is true and kind ;
Oh, yes, I've found a dearie,
Just suited to ray mind.
And how ye pretty maidens,
Young men and lovers true,
1 11 tell you what I thinking
You all had better do :
I think you'd better marry,
If you can only find
A pretty little dearie
Just suited to your mind.
From the New York Budget. j
To Mr. Jerry SUrnei, Storekeeper at the
L'ppr Corner la woptwn, Mew Eng. ;
New Yoek, the Fiest of June, 1853.
Dear JjuHBt: Since I left you, the fifteenth
-lay of last March, I've seen sights and dreamed
dreams, and had some vizions. You know I al
ways telled you I believed there was bigger and
better places to dew business in than Swoptown,
and I was determined, to go till I found 'em,
cost what twould. For I believe in making mo
ney iu this world, while we are paddling along
through it, and the more I see. of the world the
more I'm convinced that is jest what the world
was made for. I tell you, Jerry Starnes, this
world was made to make money in, and nothin
-else ; and if you'd gone the rounds I've been,
-iud seen what I've seen since the fifteenth of
last March, you'd say so tew. I've been clear
to Washington, and so fur back, and here I'm
ugoia to drive down stakes and stop. York's
ihc place ; 1 tell you, Jerry, there's something
goin on here, but I must n't get afore my story.
I went through Besting and Norwalk, but it
was n't in the train though that went like a
whisk of lightening through the drawbridge in
to et amity. What an awful smashation that
tbs. But I got a hint from it to make money.
Most everything round here will give you a hint
to make money if you're only wide awake. I
can tell you my plans, Jerry, because I mean
you shall jine me in some of 'em, but will keep
'em to yourself, of course. Wal, now, for the
Norwoik hint I've been all over New York,
tor three or four weeks back, and I've seen a
good many stores, some of 'em large fine ones,
where they keep lots of coffins to sell, all ready
made, to suit all sizes, jest as you keep hats
And shoes of all sizes in your 6tore. At first I
did n't like the looks of these coffin Btores at all.
It made me feel kind of shivery to go near 'em.
But I got used to it in a few days, and don't
feel no more lonesome or lemoncholy in a coffin
store now, than I do in a tavern.
Why should I ? Coffins is made to make money
out of, and that's the side of the thing that it is
our duty to look at always, bein the world was
made to make money in. Wal, I've got trained
so well now in my duty, that when any thing
turns up, no matter what, the first question I
ask myself, is, how can I make some money out
of that piece of business f I've got a list of near
about a hundred fust rate plans sot down now
in my memorandum book, that I've got from
hints here in York since I've been here. And I
mean to do my whole duty in the world yet; I
feel consciencious about it. So when the Nor
walk business turned up, and the cars were
turned down smash into tJac river and killed
and drownded fifty folks in a heap,. I had my
thoughts about me. I went into a coffin store
and dickered with the chap about the price
"Look here, ole feller," says I, what's the
price of coffins V
"Them sort," says he, "is from five to ten
dollars, according to size ; average about eight
"Wal, that's your retail price," says I; "how'U
i i i- i l ii r . A .j n:RAn u
ye wuoieoaie a lot, suy miy, ouncu diuo, taou
"Are you going inlo the business in the city'"
says he.
"No," says I, "in the country." ,
'Wal, in that case," says he, after thinkin a
minute, "I'll put you fifty, for cash, at four dol
lars." I took my pencil and figured up, for I'm
middllin quick at ciphering fifty coffins at four
dollars, $200; fifty coffins, average retail at
eight dollars, $400 ; profits $200. I was about
closing the bargain, when I happened to take a
newspaper, and found the railroad company had
been a little too quick for me. They had sent
down fifty coffins to Norwalk. Wal, I still had
my thoughts about me, and when I read the ev
idence of the Supeaintendent, that the next case
of this kind would n't happen under about
"three years," I made an entry in my memo
randum book as follows : "Airly in the spring
of 1856, buy fifty coffins, sorted sizes, take 'em
privately to Norwalk, and have 'em all ready
for the next grand smash up ; probable profit,
But I'm off the track myself now in my cruise
to Washington. Let me see; I went through
Bosting and Norwalk, and New York, and the
Jarseys, and Philadelphy, and Baltimore, and
Bleedingsburg, where they fight duels, and
auu i
where they say President Madison had a race- on-snol a very sensible stock. His pre
course during the last war with England, and ! 8ent business is to spend some $500,000 left
then I cot to Washington. Wasbineton i3 a
great place', but it is n't the place to get offices,
that it's been cracked up to be. I've tried it. ;
and I know
lou said 1 should be too late, and !
ted to make a haul, I outrht to be 1
that if I wanted
on the spot at the President's horgeration. But
that wasn t the difficulty, Jerry ; there wouldn't
a been no time lost if I'd been a fortnight later.
No office-seeker couldn't get within gun-shot of
the President for mere than a fortnight after I
got there. Ye see, there was sich an awful ar
my of us, and all as hungry as wolves, the Pres
ident was afraid of hia life. He didn't dare to
be out after dark, and he kep his doors fasten
ed day and night. I guess there was about four
thousand of us there holding on ; the taverns
was all full, and the boarding-houses tew, some
of 'em three in a bed, and Six beds in a room,
besides a great many sleepin in bunks and cross
ways on the floor. And there wis about five
hundred that was real ravenous. You would
always see them chaps peeping oat of the tav
ern windows, and round the doors and behind
posts and the corners of fences, watching their
chance. And if they happened to catch a
glimpse at the President or one of his cabinet
anywhere out of doors, they gin chase to 'em
like a streak of chalk. Sometimes they'd run
'em down and have a tussle, and argufy the
question of the office they was arter. But most
commonly the President and the cabinet would
be two spry for 'em and kep out of their way.
They kep a sharp look out, and as soon as they
see a feller anywhere edgin towards 'em, or fix
in his eye on 'em, they'd out and run, and dodge
into the first safe place they could find, and so
get clear.
Now some folks will sneer at these office
seekers, aud say they don't foller a respectable
callin. But 'tis n't so. They are the most ar
nest missionaries we have among us, and the
most devoted to their duty. They have had
their eyes opened, and become converted to the
doctrine that this world was made a purpose to
make money in ; and they see that offices are
made to make money with ; therefore, their du
ty is plain before 'em, and they go at it with
all their might. And they work, as Parson
Strickland says, with a zeal uccordin to know
ledge. But now although I trust I feel a so
lemn wish to do my duty as well as other folks,
somehow or other I must confess I felt a back
wardness in chasing the President in tbe streets,
especially in broad daylight So I tried my
best to get at him some other way. I found
that the President let every body, office seekers
and all come to his great levee at the White
House about one evening a week. So I had my
thoughts about me ; and I took my recommen
dations, and sorted 'em over, and picked out
about a dozen of the strongest and best of 'em,
and rolled 'em up in a snug package, and tied
'em with a little bit of neat blue ribbin, and
went to the levee. There was as big a jam as
we ever had at our "gineral muster" in Swop
town. But I'm pretty good at elbowing my
way through a crowd, 60 I worked my way in
arter awhile into the great East Room, and got
introduced to the President. He looked ama
zingly tuckered out, as if he had been drawed
through knot-holes for a month.
Says I, "Gineral, how are you ? I am most
sincerely glad to see you, I am, pon my honor."
"I don't doubt it at all," says he, givin my
hand a hearty shake; and I see at once he was
a kind hearted gentleman, and I felt sure I should
get the right side of him. So I concluded to
watch my chance and slip my recommendations
into his hands, when nobody didn't see me.
But I'll be hanged if there wasn't about a thou
sand eyes on him all the time ; and after watch
ing for a chance about half an hour, I give it
Wal, then I thought I'd work round behind
him and slip it into his pocket. So arter push
ing and squeezing for some time, I got round
close behind him, and when tbe ranks closed up
pretty close, I watched my chance and begun to
fingerround to find the way into his pocket.
I thought nobody didn't see me, but I was misr
taken ; for jest that minute a feller tapped me
on the shoulder and took hold of my arm, and
told me in a whisper I must go along with him.
I thought' he was one of the President's friends,
and the more acquaintance I could make in the
house, the better; so I went along, and he took
me away off into a little room in another part of
the house, and three or four others followed in.
"Now," says he ta two of the chaps, "you
must take this feller to the police office and have
him safely locked up till morning.
"But what do you mean," says I, "you
die of rascality ?" ,
I mean," aays he, "that all pick-pockets
that come into this house shall have snug quar
ters as long as the law will give it to em."
says 1.
44 You are," says he.
"You're a liar," says I, and I up fist and
should a knocked his daylights out of him if a
couple of stout fellers behind me hadn't ketched
hold of my arm-
"I say you're a pickpocket," says . he, for I
see you myself poking your hand into the Pres
idents pocket."
Wal, I found then that I should be obliged to
come to an explanation." So I told him frankly
that he was mistaken in his man, and I could
convince him in five minutes. So J took out my
package of recommendations and untied em and
showed em all to him. . He colored up as soon
as he begun to read em ; but he looked em all
over carefully, and -when he got through he beg
ged a thousand pardons of me, and said he ha J
no doubt I was a perfect gentleman ; and he took
me away into another room and gin me a treat
and an oyster supper, and said he should be
very happy to do what he could to assist me in
my professional objects while I remained in
Washington. But .my letter is full, dear Jerry,
so I shall have to leave the rest of it, and like
wise what there is goin on in New York, till
next time.
Your loving friend,
Solomon Swop.
An. American Exquisite.
Many of our readers have doubtless heard of
a gentleman about thirty-five, named Chas. As
tor Bristed, and some doubtless have read his
own writings, for he has published two or three
well-written and sensibia volumes. He is a
"nephew of his uncle," John Jacob As tor, and
... - ,
llKe otner nephews, sometimes, proves a queer
mu UJ ur- A3lr, nu jouging irom what Mr.
? Uos3 Vrowa, author of "iTusef," says of him
in that charming brochure, and from his own
lu " uuumai m oneoi wnicn ne
ePeak8 of a bil1 of $400 for kid gloves we in-
fer he is doing it scientifically. Mr,
.Drown says
oi mm :
"When I first saw him he was on his way
from Florence to Milan, in quest of a pair of
pantaloous of a particular style. No man in
Europe understood cutting except Pantaletti.
There was n svt in Pantaletti thnt made him in
dispens;'.:2. ifc Lr..l tried the Parisian tailors,'
but ihey iv.'rt ::icictit in the knees. It was
his intent. l ;r : -ed at ouce from Milan to
Leipsic Lf.: : ; Germans were the only
people who brouM boots to perfection ; and
decidedly the b:sc were to be had at Leipsic.
He expected to be obliged to return to Paris for
shirts; there was a set iu the collar of the Pa
risian shirt that tuiteJ him. His medicines he
always purchuRp.d in Loudon ; his cigars he was
forced to import from Havana; bis Latakia to
bacco he was compelled to purchase himself in
Smyrna, and this was purtly the occasion of his
prevent visit. As to wines, it was nonsense to
undertake to drink any but the pure Johannis
burg which is generally saw bottled, on the
Rhine, every summer, in order to avoid imposi
tion. 'His winters he spent chiefly in Spain ; it
was the only country where good cream was to
be had ; but the coffee was inferior, and he some
times had to cross the Pyrenees for want of a
good cup of coffee. No mode of travelling suit
ed him exactly in fact he disliked travelling.
Riding he hated, because it jolted him; walk
ing, became it tired him ; the snow, because it
was cold, the sun because it was warm; Rome,
because it was damp ; Nice, because it was drr;
Athens, because it was dusty. (By the way, I
disliked Athens myself, chiefly on that account,
Bimby was right there.) But it was impossible
for him to live in America again. What could
any man of taste do there T No pictures, no
ruins, no society, no opera, no classical associ
ciations nothing at all except business ; and
all orts of business he despised. It was a ridi
culous as well as a vulgar way of spending life.
In f.ict the only decent people he had met with,'
were the French ; a man might exist a while in
Paris; not, that he approved altogether of the
French language ; it wanted depth and richness;
the only language worthy of a man of sense,
wis the Sanscrit. As soon as he had suited
himself in boots, at Leipsic. he was going to
perfect himself in Sanscrit, at the University at
Berlin ; after which he hoped to recover the ef
fects of hard study, by a tour through Bavaria,
which was the only country on the face of the
earth where the beer was fit to drink."
Put Away that Novel.
Dr. Goldsmith, who had himself written a no
vel : in writing to his brother respecting the
education of his son, used this strong language:
"Above all things never let your son touch a
novel or romance. How delusive, how destruc
tive are those features of consumate bliss? They
teach the youthful to sigh after beauty and hap
piness that never existed; to despise the little
good that fortune has mixed in your cup, by ex
pecting more than she ever gave ; and in gener
al take the word of a man who has seen the
world, and studies it more by experience than
by precept take my word for it, I 6ay that
such books teach ns very little of the world.
What unfits the mind for the realities of life,
also unfits it for religion ; for it is a practical
matter of fact subject The injurious effect of
novel reading is never fully known. It hinders
doing and getting good, it also trains np and
grows an amount of evil products which eterni
ty alone can exhibit It hinders the mind from
receiving good instruction which' might be bles
sed. It quenches the influence which truth ac
companied by the Spirit of God, was likely to
produce in blessed results. "It is only a novel
and only pastime ;" so says the frequenter of the
theatre and bar-room. It is pastime ! But,
alas! does a culprit who is under sentence of
death, and only waiting for the day of execu
tion, want something to amuse him, to pass his
time ? Does a sinner who is already condemn
ed, and who knows not but this very night the
order will come for his immediate summons to
the judgment bar of his offended God, there to
hear the sentence of "Depart," or "cast ye the
unprofitable servant into outer darxness," can
such a soul need anything to pass his time T
Throw away that novel ; give your thoughts to
the realities of your life, and the solemnities of
your death. You have no spare time ! use it !
use it well, and use it at once 1 If you would
save your soul, have nothing to do with a novel!
"Who's a pickpocket you impudent
The West Point Military Academy.
The annuel revie w of the cadets at West Point,
by the Board of Examiners, commenced on the
1st inst The life of a cadet at West Point is
one of hard study, under rigid discipline, as will
be seen from the following details, given by a
correspondent of the New York Herald:
"He, sleeps in the barracks, in a room with
one other ; at five o'clock in the morning, in sum
mer, and at half-past five in winter, the reveille
awaken him r he immediately riiwi. rinnhlAR np
his blanket and matress, and places them on the
head of hisron bedstead he studies until .sev
en o'clock: f at that hour the drum beats for
breakfast, and the cadets fall into rank and pro
ceed to the mess-pan. Twenty minutes is the
time usually spent at breakfast Guard-mounting
takes place at half-past seven, and twenty
four are placed on guard every day. At eight
o'clock the bugle sounds, ani the recitations
commence. . At one o'clock the bugle again
sounds, the professors dismiss their respective
sections, the cadets form ranks opposite the bar
racks and march to dinner. Between eleven
and one, a part of the cadets are occupied in
riding, and others in fencing, daily.
After dinner they have until two o'clock for
recreation, and from two till four they are employed-
at recitations. At four o'clock the bugle
sounds, and they go either to batalion or light
artillery drill. This exercise lasts an hour and
a half. After that they rt-v--r th'i time to re
creation until pjral w'.-.-b t :)::s at sun
set. After parad c:i-y t-r:. i:: rat.'.; In front of
the barracks, and th? z5-; r.-' t':o JcMnquents
are read by an officer of tbe e-.i-J-.-ts. Supper
comes next, .and after supper recreation until
eight o'clock, when the bugle sounds the call to
quarters, and every cadet must be found in his
room within a few minutes at study, and muet
remain there thus employed until half-past nine.
At half-past nine the bugle again sounds ; this
is called tattoo; and at ten the drum taps, and
every cadet must then be in bed, having his
light extinguished and must remain there until
morning. It during the night a cadet is found
to be absent from his room more than thirty
minates, and does not give a satisfactory ac
count of himself, charges are preferred against
him, and be is court marshaled.
"The use of intoxicating drink and of tobac
co is strictly repudiated ; so are playing at chess,
wearing whiskers, and a great many other things.
The punishment to which cadets arc liable, are
privation of recreation, &c, extra tours of duty,
reprimands, arrests, or confinement to his room
or tent ; confinement in light prison, confinement
in dark prison, dismission with the privilege of
resigning, and public dismission. .
"Through the months of July and August the
cadets are encamped, and during the encamp
ments the instruction is exclusively military.
The only furlough all owed to cadets is two
months, when they are in the third class.
"The pay of the cadet is twenty-four dollars
per month, and his board costs him ten of this.
From the balance he is required to dress and de
fray his other expenses, and he is prohibited
from contracting debts without permission. As
the reward for all his labor and deprivation, the
cadet acquires an excellent education in math
ematics better probably than he can get at any
other institution in the country. The training
here of both body and mind is very thorough and
The Bight of Way.
The following incident was related at the cel
ebration on the occasion of the completion of the
Railroad to La Salle .- A sucker from the region
of Egypt who strayed up and squatted on the
line where the road was to run, was applied to
for the right of way through his larm. He ob
jected strenuously and persuasion seemed to be
useless. They would spoil his farm, and he had
heard that all his cattle would all be killed when
the locomotive came along. When told that the
company would pay him for all such damages,
he met the agent with the reply: "Why, yes
perhaps they might if a feller could catch 'em
but when they come along with one of their
'cow catchers' and tuk off his stock in the night
the darn thing would be in Chicago before he
could get up and dress himself.
Chops. Since the commencement of spring,
the season has been very favorablefor the grow
ing crops, until Wednesday night of last week,
when the weather turned very cool, with a nor
thern wind, and there was a good deal of com
plaint among the planters, of lice on the cotton.
The weather, however, in a few days became
warm and favorable, under which the cotton be
gan to recover; but on Tuesday night it again
turned cool, and blew a pretty stiff norther all
day yesterday, and we expect to hear further
complaint from the planters. Corn looks very
promising, though rain is needed in some sec
tions. Alabama Chronicle.
Crops is Fih.ida. An extract from a pri
vate letter, dated Mariana, May 4th, to a gen
tleman in Savannah, says : "We have never
known such poor prospects for a crop in est
Florida. We have had a drought since the 22d
of March, and many of our crops are not yet up.
It is now raining for the first time. I have' been
planting here since the year 1829, and never
witnessed such a state of things before."
Short Drama, in Two Scenes.
First Scene. Millionaire seated in his easy chair.
By him stands a poor man, in a supplicating at
titude. Millionaire Ahem ! very sorry, my young
friend, that I can do nothing for you. But
I can give you a word of advice economise.
Poor Man But when a man has nothing to
Millionaire Nonsense ! Under certain cir
cumstances a man must know how to save.
. Second Scene. The Millionaire is drowning in
a pond, the poor man calmly regarding him from
the shore. r
Pi- ITat, Qni-rv mv friftnfl. that I Can do
nothing for you: But I can give you a word or
advice sreim !
Millionaire (choking) Bub-hub whe-when a
ma-man can't swim 1
Pnn. ATon Nonsense! Under certain
must know how to
Maine Law Joke.
The AT. Y. Tribune has a correspondent who
tells a capital story of tbe Maine Law operation
in Vermont The Agent was a cute one. Hear him:
"And it is amusing to listen to the stories and
witness the ingenity of hundreds who come af
ter liquor, but who go away with thirsty sto
machs and empty bottles. As a general rule,
when strangers call, the agent requires a certi
ficate from a physician.
. 'Mr. D., I wish you would put a pint of your
y"t hmmiy Sn tnn Vott!e" well-drenR1
young man placing the bottle on the counter
and some camphor gum beside it 'I want it to
mix with this camphor. The doctor thinks it
will be good for me as I'm somewhat out of
health this spring.
4Certainly,' replied the agent, while an arch
ed smile was playing about the corners of his
mouth. The liquor was drawn and put into the
bottle. The ag6nt is a polite man, and thought
he would save the young gentleman the trouble
of mixing the camphor with it by doing it him
self. He very politely and kindly pulverized
the gum and put it into the bottle, while the
young gentleman silently looked on with a face
very much elongated.
'There !' continued the agent, "this is fourth
proof brandy, and will boou cut the camphor."
'The young man paid a half a dollar for the
brandy, put the bottle in his pocket and silen'ly
walked cat, cursing in his heart the officious
kindness of the agent. The thing was done up
i so smoothly and so kindly that the thirsty young
j man could not say a word, but his face looked
i unutterable things.'
Painful Begrets.
Bulwer, a man of genius and greatly admired
by some, said in a letter to a gentleman in Boa
ton, in 1843, "I have closed my career as a wri
ter of fiction. I am gloomy and unhappy. I
have exhausted the powers of life in" chasing
pleasure where it is not to be found."
How much better if Bulwer had discovered
his mistake at an earlier period ! Had he em
ployed his gifted mind in strengthening the
cords of virtue, in repressing unholy passions
instead of fanning them, hew different would
have been his review of life ! "Jam gloomy and
unhappy I" ' Richard Baxter said no such thing
at the close of his useful life. He had written
much, but he had not "chased pleasure where it
is not to be found." John Bunyan made no such
record at the close oj his life ; nor did Owen, or
Edwards, or Brainard, or Wesley, or Fuller, ' or
Scott, or Pay son. Men will reap as they sow,
in spite of all their hopes and efforts to the con
trary. We have often thought of the Italian ac
tor in Paris. He was "gloomy and unhappy"
like Bulwer. He consulted a physician. His
physician advised him to mingle in scenes of
cayety. Especially, eaid be go to the Italian
theatre, and if Carlini does not dispel your
gloom, your case must be desperate indeed.
"Alas, sir," replied the patient, "I, myself, am
Carlini, and while I make all Paris full of laugh
ter and merriment. I am dying of melancholy
and chagrin." What a commentary upon those
pleasures in which so many indulge to keep the
spirits and drive away melancholy I A life de
voted to usefulness, a life of honest piety, is the
only one which comes to a close without painful
Remarkable Physical Phenomenon.
A Sleeping Giant A Rip Vah Winkxe.
The RochestertDemocrat gives the subjoined ac
count of a Rip Van Winkle in that neighborhood:
Our attention was called yesterday to a most
extraordinary phenomenon. A full grown man,
six feet two inches tall, 37 years of age, hc.3 slept
for nearly five years, with only occasional and
brief intervals of wakefulness. The name of
this man, subject to so remarkable a suspension
of the ordinary faculties of the race is Cornelius
Broomer. He is the son of a farmer living in
the town of Clarkson, in this oounty, in whose
family only this single and singular instance of
somno.ency has ever occurred. The subject of
notice first fell into this long sleep on the 19th
June, 1848, and since that time has been awake
at different periods, from a few hours to four
months at a time. It is remarked that when he
comes out of this catalepsy, he appears to have
no knowledge of the lapse of time, or of circum
stances taking place while be sleeps. Tbe fit
comes upon him instantly, without, so far as is
known, any warning. Uis eyes close, ms jaws
are set, his muscles contract, and his whole frame
is rigid, so that if standing, he continues in that
attitude partly bent over, and it is not easy to
pull him down. He has continued in this con
dition for months together, unable to epeat or
Various experiments have been tried to restore
him to consciousness, without effect. The man
Bleeps on, lives, eats, retains perfect health, with
a pulse at 80, and without variation. When
asleep, he may be placed upon his feet, and he
will stand for days together, as he has been
known to do for three days and nights in suc
cession. In order to feed him, it is necessary
to pry open his firmly set jaws, and in that man
ner but little food is introduced into his stomach.
He is not however, much emaciated, keeps his
natural color, and appears entirely without dis
ease, excepting that which produces his strange
sleep. When he awakes, he comes out of his
trance suddenly, his rigid muscies reiax at once,
he asks for meat or drink, and eats voraciously.
If asked why he sleeps so much, he appears to
regard it as an imposition, just as any active
man wouia receive an lnumauou ui us woo con
sidered sluggish.
WnT tb T.nrr. Law is like a countrv
dancer people are led up and down till they are
fairly tired out. Law is like a book of surgery
there are a great many uncommon cases in it
. . . i . . . . i
It is like physic, too mey wno lane me
least of it are best off. Law is like a new fash
ion people are bewitched to get into it; and,
like bad weather, most people are glad to get out
of it.
Tric or Books a mono the Ascmrrs. What
an immense reduction has been made in the
price of books by the invention of the art of
printing. - It is recorded of Plato, that although
his paternal inheritance was small, he bought
three books of rhilolaus the Pythagorean, for
ten thousand denarif, nearly $1,500. We are
also informed that Aristotle bought a few books
belonging to Speucippus the philosopher, for
three Attio talents, a sum equivalent to about
$2,800. St Jerome also ruined himself by pur
chasing the works of Origen.
Plant a Tree.
f,A thing of beauty it a joy forever."
There has been such a change in the views of
our people in regard to the beautiful, as well as
the profitable, that all who can control the me
rest patch of land, proceed to do something
which shall both please the eye and gratify the
taste! How mnch better this than to see the
back yard cluttered with hrirkbt. and the cast
off mbbioh of years. A man loves hia wife and
children better for a pleasant prospect, especial
ly if within the limits of that prospect they may
run and gather delicious and wholesome fruit
for the desert, or to offer to their friends ; and
they certainly will love him better for surround
ing them with cooling shades, and gratifying
their tastes. Here, then, is a moral effect not
taken into account when the old boots and shoes
are ostracised tbe heart is sustained and made
better, as well as the corporeal frame.
It is a real pleasure for the child to say : "ify
father set and cultivated this tree. My mother
planted this rosebush and trained it about this
old window frame where the pewee hath built
her tiny nest, and baby hands have ncattered
the fragrant blossoms." And does not the pa
rent reap Another joy in such an expression T
Think, then, of the moral influence of planting
a shrub or a tree, and thus in that pleasant way,
add something to tbe moral progress of the race.
Trees promote health. They break the wintry
wind, and shield us from the summer sun, and
breathe the air which we have expelled, and
which is poisonous for us to breathe again. And
then the heart that is oppressed by care or sof
tened by affection finds sympathy and peace in
their gentle whisperings.
Dollars and cents, in this connection, we say
nothing about we desire to touch another chord.
Picture to yourself what charm 3 you may causa
to cluster around your dwelling, and what true
enjoyment you may realize in their creation ;
what bonds of affection you may impliyit in the
hearts of your children, so that the seductions
of wealth, or tbe blandishments of courts, or
elegant life, shall never alienate their love from
the old rural flower-embosomed home, and then
you will be thankful to him. who first induced
you to plant a tree. New England Farmer.
Fertility of the Prairie Land.
When this country was first Bettled it was of
ten predicted that the richness of the soil would
not continue after it had been used a few yeare.
And. even after the country had been settled
several years, newcomers would in no wiee be
lieve that the land could continue its unequalled
productiveness. But time has years since pro
ved to the old settlers the land holds its own and
produces crops equal if not superior to those
first grown. There may be some doubt aa to
the adataption of this soil aud climate to wheal
growing, but as to the richness and ability of tbe
soil to produce anything else grown in this lati
tude there is no reason to doubt.
We turned a furrow a few days sinee in a field
that has yielded a crop of corn, or wheat or oats
every year since 1838, or in other words teven
teen years vithout any manure. We have kaown
this field, together with many other similar for
the last ten years and it has produced invaria
bly good crops the last crop which was oats
was as large as could grow and not fall down
before harvest These facts, which are easily
proved, and numerous similar ones, of which
there could be no doubt, do not look liko failure
in the fertility of the prairie land- Very many
who have lived among the hills of New England,
New York, or Pennsylvania, are slow to believe
that any large number of successive crops can
be raised upon any soil without manure, but
they have only to come here and give thia soil a
fair trial and they could not but be eatisficd.
gfgySome time since, a shipowner, in dip
patching a vessel from New York, had a good
dec! of trouble with one of his men, who got ve
ry "top-heavy" on his advance wages. After
the vessel had accomplished her voyage, on set
tling with the crew, it came to this man's turn
to be paid "What name!" said the mer
chant. x
"Cain, sir," was the reply. "Whatl are you
the man who slew his brother?" rejoined the
merchant "No, sir," was the ready and witty
reply of Jack, with a knowing winx, and giving
his trousers a hitch "I am the man that tr
Moore's Wife.
"Moore's wife," says an English paper, "was
a ballet girl named Betsy Dyke : but not a word
is said of her in Lord John Russell's Life of the
Poet. This event must have been a terrible blow
to the poet's whole family, and especially to his
mother, who expected that he would have mar
ried a oonntess in her own right at the very least,
with an ample fortune. Indeed, he did not sum
mon up courage to mention the event to her for
three months. She was, however, a most ex
cellent and devoted wife. We scarcely know
that she had any relations of her own, for they
are not once mentioned but all her thoughts,
desires and affections were given up to her hus
band and his family."
gjOAll Europe is agog with table-moving.
In Spain the exploits of the mesa gerateria (gy
rating table) are everywhere set on foot, and re
garded with liveliest interest In royal prince
ly palaces, and in peasants' huts, nothing is tried
or talked of but the new discovery. At 8t Pe
tersburgh, too, the whole world is gathered to
the dance, and from Siberia we have accounts of
successful experiments.
Peettt Good. The- Western Times tells a
story of a distressed agriculturist" A farmer
popped in here on Wednesday last to pay his
rent, putting on a long lace to correspond with
the times. On entering the house he said that
times being'so hard, he couldn't raise the mo
ney at all, and dashing a bundle of bank noteg
on tbe table, "there," said he, "that's all I can
pay. The money was taken up and counted
by Mr. the landlord, who said, "why this in
twice as much as you owe me!" "Dang'ee, giv
it to me again," said the farmer, "I'm dashed if
I ain't took it out of the wrong pocket V
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