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AG ENTS.
ginarlito, imp lotornal
niel tette, Orbisonia; David Blair,
Shade Gap; 13.•njamin Shirleys
; inn! h. Esq. Chilcoustown; Jas.
iken, jr. Crirre Run; Hugh Madden,
Sprintdieill; Dr. S. S. Dewey, Bir
rfavn; jam • s Ntla , ,w, Union Furnace;
Warrior Mark; .L.rnes Davis,
West twrandhifi ; 1). IL 1%.10,.re, Esti
tkvomi; Hou,_
" -
li,mry Neff,
ts, iFV/inteviturv.; A. J. Stewart. Tratrr
et; 'Ai 1.. 311 ria t071./18hin;
ill iV1;11; limes
i th .sfir u c, Murray,
yaville; J.,11t Crnm. ifanor Hill; ]as.
r•wtrt, Sinking Valleys L. C. Kessler,
1 Creek.
4 0t
IV 7
>F4
POETRY.
THE FELON
PT M. G. LEWIi.
/h, nr.lit his wan and hollow cheek,
And :o rk his eyeballs glare;
tnd to it. lis teeth in anguish clench'd,
k hr an.;oish of despair!
;now, s three days his penance borne,
Yon h lett the jail ;
aince t;irce day s no fond has pased
Those lips so parr.hed and pale.
Where sly .111 turn?' the wretch exclaims,
..V."lle 1,1 •m' shameful head?
-Inw fly from ,c-r.,? 0 how contrive
ro ear , a y st r• ad?
an' • 11 .-:a .dly toil,
t wnt..lp y.
A FELON' CrieS,
Ai.d lo i ‘,O oVI S
4 red, but now
;Ins iso'cl, hut yet
FI +, tweli :•tamer! with blond;
rn I sue,
. • fI ,, DCI'S both deny,
starve! I stunt:l—then what remains
This clitice—To SIN, OR DIE!
q-!,•re • tue s:,.res nu with disdain;
soure;
itru,g habits Or • ~ie beck to site,
A' red hv Cr' despair;
•. while htmger gnaws my heart,
•• '•cnt slat , vhit.!
NA orld, 'tis thy etn,l ill!—I yield,
And plunge in glitt
"There's mercy in e ‘rh ray of light
That mortal eyes e'er saw;
Th,:_ 's mercy in ca • breath of air
That mortal lips e'er draw;
Therr's niet cy inali for 'bah and bi:list
In God's pin;
The' mercy e creeping thing.
t 11,N HAS N. R MAN!
4 .Ye !crest! when ye !ward
My •, renscierce n,
Had generous hand or feeling heart.
One gl, inpse cy s!•,•t,n—
-'l•hat ;,et bad ut ido friiin burning eyes
Sweet tetra cif virtue ant ;
It• O. fi\•tl n.y faith.
And HEA.vEN HAD GAINED A &•UL!"
A CUNNING THIEF
lack, by the con,tahles entrapp'd,
Was destla. d to the law a prey;
Eat while his easy keepers napp'd.
He stoic...Luess what.-.ha stele ivJAY.
JOUR 4;t.,
A PIECE OF A HUNDRED
SOUS.
AN INTINZIITINO TRENCH TALE,
A YOUNG and handsome pair had just
returned from the altar, where their des•
fillies were irrevocably united. They
were about to start for tly, country, and
they had bidden a temporary farewell to
the friends who were present at the cere.
mony. For a short time, while their
equipage was preparing, they found them
selves alone.
The iv wly•wedded husband took one
of his bride's hands into his own.
"Allow me," said he, "thus to hold
your hand, for I dread lest you should
quit me. I tremble lest all this beau ils
fusion. It seems to me that I out the he
ro of one of those fairy tails which emus
sed my boyhood, and in which, in the
hour of happiness, some malignant fairy
steps in to throw the victim into grief and
despair:"
' "Re-assure yourself, my dear Freder
•
ick," said the lady- "1 was yesterday
the widow of Sit James Melton, and to
day I aM Madame tie Ia Tour, your wile.
Banish from your mind the intim of the
fairy. This is not a victim, but a history.
Frederick de la Tour had lode, d suite
reason to suppose that his lurtunes were
the work of a fairy's wand; fur in the
course of one or two short months, by a
seemingly inexplicable stroke of fortune
he had been raised to happiness and to
wealth beyond his desires. A friendless
orphan, twenty-five years old, he had
been the holder of a cleikship, which
brought him is scanty livelihood, when,
one day, as he passed lilting the Rue St.
Vonore, a rich equipage sropt suddenly
before him, and a young and elegant wo
man called from it to him. ',Monsieur,
Monsieur,' said she. At the same time,
on a given signal, the footman leapt dow n
opened the carriage door, and invited
Frederick to enter. he
with some hesitation and burp ise, and
the carriage started uff at full speed. '1
have received your mite, sir,' said the la
dy to M. de Ia Tour, in a very soft and
sweet voice; 'and in spite of your refu•
sal, I hope yet to see you to morrow eve
ning at my party.
'To see me, madame!' cried Frederick.
'Yes, sir, you Alt! a thousand
pardons,' continued she, with an aii of
confusion, 'I see my mistake. Forgive
me, sir; you are so much like a particu
lar friend of mine! ‘1" hat can you think
of me: Yet the resemblance is so stri
king, that it would have deceived any one'
Of course, Frederick replied politely
to these apologies. Just as they were
terminated, the carriage stopped at the
di•or °fa splendid mansion, and the young
man could do no less than tiller his arm
to Lady Melton, as the lair stranger an
110U1ICCd herself to be. Though English
in name, the lady, nevertheless, was of
French origin. Her extreme beauty char
toed M de la Tour, and he congratulated
himself upon the happy accident which
had gained hits such an acquaintance.—
Litly Melton loaded him with civilities,
and he received and accepted an invita
tion ill!' the it, Invitations
to other parties fillitved; and, to be brief,
the young man soon found himself an es
tabl shed visitant at the house of Lady
Melton. Site a rich and youthful widow,
was encircled by admirers. One by one,
however, they disappeared, giving way to
the poor clerk, who seemed to engross
the lady's whole thoughts. Filially, al
most by her own asking, they were be-'
trothed. Frederick used to look some
times at the little glass which hung in his
humble lodging and wondered to what cir
cuinstance he owed his happy fortune•—
He was not ill-I liking certainly, but he
Iriti not the vanity to think his appear
ance magnitirent; and his plain and scan
ty wardrobe prevented loin front giving
the credit to the tailor. Ile used to con•
elude his meditations by the reflection,
that assuredly the lovely widow was ful
filling smile unavoidable award of desti
ny. A, f,,• hi, lino feeling, the lady was
lovely, young rich, accomplished, and no
ted fur her sensibility and virtue. Could
he hesitate?
When the marriage contract was signed
his astonishment wits redoubled, tor lie
found himself though the lady's love,
the virtual possessor of a large property,
both in England and France. The pros
ence of friends had certified and sanction
eii the union, yet, as has been stated,
Frederick felt some strange tears, in spite
of himself, least all should prove an illus
soon, and lie grasped his bride's hand, as
if to prevent her from being spirited away
from his v:ew.
'My dear Frederick,' said the lady
smiling, 'sit down beside me, and let me
sae something to you'
'The young husband obeyed, but still
did not quit her hand. She began.
'Ones en a time—
"ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY."
A. W. BENEDICT PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR.
HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEDNESDAY, APRIL 14. 1841.
Frederick started, and half seriously
exclaimed, 'Heavens! it is a fairy tale!' t
'Listen to me, foolish boy:' resumed
the lady, 'There was once a young girl,
the daughter of parents well born, and at
,one time rich, but who had declined sadly
lin circumstances. Until her fifteenth
year, the family lived in Lyons, depend
ing entirely for subsistence upon the la
bor of her father. Some better hopes
sprang up, and induced them to come to •
Paris; but it is difficult to stop in the de
scent down the path of misfortune. For
three years the lather struggled against
poverty, but at last died in a hospital.
" The mother soon followed, and the
young girl was left alone, the occupant of
a garret, of which the rent was not paid.
If Om were any fairy connected with
this story, this was the moment of her ap
pearance; but none came. The young
girl remained alone, without friends or
protectors, harrassed by debts which she
could not pay, and seeking in vain for
some species of employment. She found
none. Still it was necessary for her to
have food. One day passed, on which she
tasted nothing. The night that followed
was sleepless—Next day was again with
out Nod, and the poor girl was forced in
to the resolution of begging. She cover
ed her face with her mother's veil, the
only heritage she had received, and, stoop
ing so as to stimulate age, she went out
into the streets. When there • she held
out her hand. Alas, that hand was white,
and youthfid, and delicate ! She felt
the necessity of covering it up in the folds
of the veil, as it it had been leprosied.
Thus concealed the poor girl held out the
hand to a young woman that passed—one
more happy than herself, and asked, " A
sou, a single sou to get bread I" The
petition was unheeded. An old man pass
,ll.—The mendicant thought that experi
ence of distresses of life might Kaye
, softened one like him, but she was in er
, rm.. Experience had only hardened, not
, softened his heart.
"The night was cold and rainy, and the
;Icor had come when the police appeared
to keep the sireets clear of all ine•tdicant:
and suspicious characters. At this period,
the shrinking girl took courage once more
to hold out her hand to a passer-by. It
was a young man. He stopped at the si•
lent appeal, and, diving into his pockets,
pulled out a piece of money, which he
threw to her, being apparently afraid to
touch a thing so miserable. Just as lie
did this, one of the police came to the spot,
and, placing his hand on the girl's should
er, exclaimed, "Al), I have caught you,
have I ?—you are begging. T 3 the office
with you ! come along !
"The young man here interposed. Ile,
took hold hastily of the mendicant of
whom he had before seemed afraid to
touch, and addressing himself to the po
iceman, said reprovingly, "This woman
is not a beggar. No, she is—she is one
whom I know," "But sir," said the officer
tell you, that she is an acquaintance
of mine," repeated the young stranger.—
Then turning to the girl whom he took for
an old woman, he continued, "Come along
my good dame, and permit me to see you
Way to the end of the street.—Giving
his arm to the unfortunate girl he then
led her away, saying, "Here is a piece of
a hundred sous. It is all I have, take it,
poor woman.'
"The crown of a hundred sous passed
from your hand into mine," continued the
lady ; "and, as you walked along, support
ing my steps, I then, throuli my veil dis
tinutly saw your face and figure."-
„ Nly figure:” said Frederick, in amazes
meat.
Yes, my Friend, your fivre," return
ed his wile : it was to me that you gave
alms on that night ! It was my life—my
honor, perhaps_Heat you then saved •
You a mendicant—you so young, so
beautiful, and now so rich !" cried Fred
eric.
"Yes my dearest husband," replied the
lady. "I have in my life received alms--
once only and from you; and those alms
have decided my fate and for life. On
the day following that miserable niol i t an
old woman, in whom I hail inspired some
sentiments of pity, enabled me to enter as
a seamstress into a respectable house.
Cheerfulness returned to me with labor.
I had the good fortune to become a favor
ite with my mistress whom I have served,
arid indeed I did my best, by unwearied
diligence and care, to merit her favor.
She was often visited by people in high
life. One day. Sir James Melton, an
English gentleman of great property, came
to the establishment along with a party of
ladies. He noticed me. He returned
again. --He spoke with my mistress, and
learnt my whole history. The result was
that he sat down by my side one day and
asked me plainly if I would marry him.
'Mrary you!' cried I in surprise.
'Sir James Melton was a man of sixty,
tall, pale, and feeble•looking. In answer
to my exclamation of astonishment, he
said, "Yea, I ask it you will be my wife?
lam rich, but hare its comfort---no hap.
piness. My relatives seem to yearn to
see me in the grave. I have ailments
which require a degree of kindly care
that is not to be bought from servants. I i
have heard your story, and believe you to
be one who will support prosperity as
well as , you have done adversity. I have
ailments which require a degree of kindly
care that is not to be bought from servants. I
I have heard your story, and believe you
to be one who will support prosperity as
you have done adversity. I made my pro
pos sincerely, and hope that you will a
gree to it !"
"At that time, Frederick," continued 1
the lady, loved you. 1 had seen you
but once, but that occasion was too mein
' orablo for ►ne ever to forget it, and some
thing always insinuated to me that we
were destined to pass through life togeth
er. At the bottom of my soul 1 believed
this. Yet every one around me pressed
me to accept the offer made to mei mid
the thought struck me that I might one
day make you wealthy. At length my
main objection to sir James Melton's pro
posal lay in a dis'nelination to make my
self the instrument of vengeance in Su•
James' hands against relatives whom lie
might dislike without good grounds..—Thv
objection when stated, only increased his
anxiety for my consent, and finally, wider
the impression that it would be, alter all
carrying romance the length of folly to re•
ject the advantageous settlement olrered
to me, I consented to Sir James' propt,
• sal.
"This part of my story, Frederick, is
really like a fairy tale. 1, a poor orphan,
penniless and friendless, became the wile
cif one of the richest baronets cl England.
Dressed in silks, and sparkling with jew•
els, I could now pass in my carriage thro'
the streets where a few months before, 1
had stood in the rain atid darkness--a
mendicant:"
'Happy, Sir James,' cried M. de Is
Tour, at this part of the story: 'he could
prove his love by enriching you!'
-He was happy,' resumed the Indy.—
'Our . marriage, sn f;t•;;;;;„;
assartca,Fo-
ved inuen more conductive, it is probable,
to his comfort, than if he had wedded one
with whom all the parade of settlements
and pin-money would have been necessav
ry. Never, I believe, did he for an in
stant repent of our union. I, on my part
conceived myself bound to do my best
for the solace of his declining years; and
he, on his part, thought it incumbent on
him to provide for my future welfare. He
died, leaving one a large part of his subsis
tance—as much, indeed, as I could pre
vail upon myself to accept.
was a widow, and, from the hour in
which I became so, I vowed never again
to give my hand to man, excepting to !din
who had succoured me in my hour of dis
tress, and whose remembrance had ever
been preserved in the recesses of my
heart. But how to discover that mina
Ah, unconscious ingrate! to make no en
deavor to come in . t.he way of one who
sought to love, to enrich you. I knew not
your name. In vain I looked fur you at
balls, assemblies, and theatres. You
went not there. Ah, how I longed to
meet you!' As the lady spoke, she took
from her neck a riband:to which was at
tached a piece of u hundred sous. tis
the same—the very same which you gave
me,' said she, presenting it to Frederick;
'by pledging it, I got credit for a little
bread from a neighbor, and I earned e
nough afterwards in time to permit me to
recover it. I vowed never to part with
it.
'Ah, how happy I was, Frederick, when
I saw you in the street! The excuse
which I made for stopping you was the
first that rose to my mind. But what re•
morse I felt, even afteawards, lest you
would have been already married. In
that case, you would never have heard
aught of this fairy tale, thotv.th 1 would
have taken some means or other to serve
and enrich you. I would have gone to
England, and there passed my days, in
regret, perhaps, but still in peace. But
happy it was to be otherwise. You were
single.'
Frederick de la Tour was now awaken.
ed, as it were, to the lull certainty of his
happiness. What he could not but be.
fore look upon as a sort of freak or fancy
in a young and wealthy woman, Sc;. now
proved to be the result of deep 711111 kim!ly
feeling, most honorable to her oho rot,-
tained it. The heart of the yowl:: his.
band overflowed with gratitude and r
tion to the lovely and noble-hearted be
ing who bad given herself to him. Ile
was too happy to speak. His nit'e first
broke silence.
'So, Frederick,' said she, gaily, 'you
see that if / am a fairy, it is ynn who have
given me the wand— the talisman that has
effected all.'
THE SOUL.-1 he best definition of the
soul drawn by material things, is that of
Dryden. He calls it blue flame run
ning about with us,"
From the New Orleans Picayune,
Torn Slinger,
THE MAN WHO DREADED HIS WIFE'STONGUE
On Thursday night when the theatres
hail closed, when the firemen, after the
marching of the day and the amusements
of the evening, hall retired to rest, when
the iimirs of the taverns were temporarily
shut, when the birds and beasts in the
menagerie, like most other birds and
beasts nut of the menageries, had sunk in
to the ...orner of their cages under the in
, thence of sleep, and when a cab only,
'coming front the ball,' or the watchman's
stave on the curbstone broke the prevail
ing stillness, Tom Slinger was making di
-1,1"4 "tracks" on the banquette in St.
Charles street, with the evident intention
of heading Lafayette Square.
If his mind was to be judged from the
course of his progress, it would certainly
tie pronounced most fickle and undecided.
At one Tron,nt it seemed to be a fixed
principle with him to endeavor to get ad
mission into the St. Charles Exchange,'
and then made a diagonal drive fur Ship-
man's American.
Tom belongs to that numerous sect of
philo-opher4 who neglect the outer for the
inapt mat,, and who believe there is more
real pet sited comfort to be derived from
a gin sling than a clean shirt, and that
britely and water, taken inside, is at all
tmes preferable to soap and water used
outsi,;e.
r'um's hair Wll4 strung and bristly, and
stood out from his head like the wires on
one of these machines invented by the
Humane Society for sweeping chimnies;
his forehead was like a pattern piece of
English corduroy, with the stripes run
ning. crossways ; his eyes were like the
'orbits of a boiled catfish ; his proboscis
resembled the sign of a bunch of grapes
over a tavern door, and his mouth might
be mistrken for a miniature model ot the
Croton aqueduct. Indeed, so unwashed
and unshaven did he seem, that his whole
face looked like the keel ot an old boat
c. , :ared over
As he navigated by Rev. Mr. Clapp's
church, he was singing that good old song
so pathetically descriptive of teetotalism
and conjugal
"I'll go rolling home, boys,
I'll go rol.ing home, boy;;
Many a man who has a wife,
Would wish that he had none, boys."
'I guess you're married, aint you:' said
the watchman, emir g up to Tom.
•W ha-wha- %%hat is that you say, blis
ter?' said Tom, slapping, his old hat on the
cr nby way of histening it inure secure
ly upon his head, then stuffing his hands
into his breeches pocket to give himsellan
air of importance, anti spreading out his
legs the better• to maintain his equilibri
um---. What is your question, individual?'
'1 asks you,' said watchy again, you
lben't married?'
'Wit,' said Tom, 'what a particular
d—d fool you must be, to ask me such a
question. Am I a married man? Is Gen.
Harrison President of the United States?
Has C:e U. S. Bank stopped specie pay
tnent? Wus that a live elephant that was
in the procession today?? Ask all these
things, fur they admit of doubt, but never
insult my feelings by asking me if I an.
a married man, because then c is too much
painfully distressing reality in it. I'm a
miserable, married man; can't you see it
sticking out a feet all around me?'
Why, you doesn't appear as a man
what's very happy in his domestic rela
tions, sure enough,' said the watchman,
I .and that's the ri.ason why you can't have
no objection to come to the watch 'ouse.'
•'lb the watch house!' says Tom—'my
dear• fellow, I look upon you as my pro
tector, my deliverer —take me in here to
the menagerie and lock we up with the
hyena, pitch me on the tusks of the ele•
pliant Ciaumbus, m force me into a set-to
with the Bengal tiger, but don't bring me
Dome to toe wife. 0, horror of horrors , '
and he trembled so at the thought, that
his limbs seemed unable longer to support
him.
hy, you is afraid,' said the watchman
—you is a coward.'
'l'm afraid of nothing in this world,'
said Tom, 'but my wife's tongue, and I
v. lily believe if that could have been
Li•m.:ht to bear upon the Florida Indians,
11,e an would have been over !ong ann.'
Carley deposited Tones person in the
watch house, and when we entered the
next morn here he sat on the box, and
beaind him, outside the bar, stood a little
hard le;etured woman, from whose wither.
ing glances Tom seemed anxious to es
cape, hut could not.
.Tom Slinger?' asked the Recorder.
This is he, here—the wretch :" said
the little sharp.featu red woman, ins shrill
treble voice, something like the whistle
of the Pontchartrain locomotive. "Ile
was out again last night, and was seen
talking to Mrs. Fanshaw in the eveninir."
6.0, there she is again," said Tom, who
seemed to start at the sound of her voice,
[WiroLE No. '278
as young Hamlet does at the ghost of his
father.
Airs. Slinger—"o, you "
" Silence !" said the watchman.
'Put her out," said the Lieutenant,and
Mrs. S. was politely reqested to leave,
which she did, but in the meantimeshow
ered a selection of choice epithets on Tom.
The Recorder questioned Tom, and
told him he might go on paying jail fees.
" Bit can't you do anything with herr'
asked Tom.
" With whom ?" enquired the Recorder.
"My old woman," said Ton.
__ ..
"I can bind her to keep the peace," said
the Recorder, "it you swear you are a
fraid she'll assault you and do you bodily
injury."
"1 am only afraid of her tongue," said
Tom "and I dreads that more than thun
der and lightning:" _ . . . .
"Yes," — said the Recorder, "but the
law does not provide for that evil, so I
feAr)sowillhave to bear it."
lout left the office with an assumed air
of resignation, as if he were prepared to
meet the worst.
From the Cadiz (0.) Republican,
A Dialogue.
The Printer has assumed the duties of
editor; he sits at his table—just finished
an 'editorial,' and is upon the point of
opening a newspaper. Enter Mr. A. in
apparent haste. _ _
Mr. A. Good morning, Mr. Printer—
lamin a hurry. I see by you► last pa
per that you are in the want of money;
I :nuke it a point to pay the printer punc
tually.
PAnter. So wl have found you, sir—
should like a thousand such patrons--our
call was intended, of course, for those
who are not punctual.
A. Right—all right, sir; please msko
up my bill to this date, and here's a five
dollar bill on the Lincoln bank—hand me
the change.
Fr: nelt, fr.:l;:nd ..1., da yva :vie: to die-
continue?
A. Why—yes, I think I must:--My
bill for papers is quite large—l take no
less than 7 or 8 papers; I must economize
a little; and, besides, I don't seem to need
a political paper at present—luco focoism
will hardly need much attention for two
or three years, it is so shockingly used
up—in our section we can scarcely find
one for sued.
Pr. Allow me to enquire, friend, if all
your papers are political .
A. No—three of them belong to this
class, and then I have one large family
paper from Philadelphia, (a murder paper
as it is called,) two from N. Yurk, and
one from Boston.
l'r. Allow me to enquire, still further,
which class of these papers you intend to
curtail.
A. Why, I think I must stop the polit
ical pipe's, of course, the others contain
twice or three times the reading.
Pr. Now, friend the people of this coun
try have accomplished a great victory o
ver the prevailing corruptions of an un.
principled administration. will you be so
kind as to inform me how the people were
enabled to concentrate and to carry for
ward all their operations to secure this
triumph; and, even how it became so gen
tiffany known, that the causes had exis•
tepee which demanded this triumph?
A. This is a plain case; it was through
the agency of the public press; here was
the great lever, after all!
Pr. True! but the press is of two clas.
ses; was it your natural family papers, or
your faithful political journals, that soon
ded the alarm, and so zealously pointed
out the dangers?
A. There is something in this, I con •
fess. Our political papers are most ne
cessary, after all I feel obl;ged for the
hint. You may keep the change, and
here is another dollar you may add to it.
I must be going now, but in a few days I
will send you tluee or four new subscri
bers. Good morning.
Pr. [bowing] Good day, sir!
gain I [Exit Mr. A.]
FEMALE EDUCATION.—What will the
"school mum" say when she reads the
following extract of a letter?
" I shall wright to you again ear long,
jo curatains tuft'. me a caul story about
sake tyler but i ditldent pay no ottenshun
at all to his sickening tail youro till
Beth parts both on us.
JERUSInt niOELOW,
".•••- _-.
POLITENESS ON ALL OCCASIONS.--Ata
wedding recently, which took place at
the aim( when the officiating priest put to
the lady the home question " Wilt thou
take this man to be thy wedded husband V'
she dropped the prettiest curtsey, and
with a modesty which lent her beauty an
additional grace, replied, "If you piens.
sir." Charming simplicity.
'—Call a-