Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, May 01, 1844, Image 1
11 - U)TING-Vfi JOURNAL Dctiota to Coma' latteiltatitcr, attimtitifitiv, Volftico,Eiteritturc,llloralitv, arts„s.riences,3gricttlttirc, amitocmcut, tie. `P`ccDll. L:E 9 s.'®, a2Clb. PUTILTRIIED PIC THEODORE H, CREMER. cub CID t2aalsaQ The qui; ex.." will be published every Wed nesday morning, at $2 00 a year, if paid in advance, and,if not paid within six months, $2 50. No subscription received for a shorter period than six months, nor any paper discontinued till all ar rearages are paid. Advertisements not exceeding one square, will be inserted three clines for $1 00, and for every subse quent insertion 25 cents. If no definite orders are given as to the time an advertisement is to be continu ed, it will be kept in till ordered out, and charged ac cordingly. POSTIVT. The Coming in of Spring. The voice of spring, tho voice of spring, I hear it from afar ! She cornea with sunlight on her wing And ray of morning star! Her impulso thrills through rill and flood, It throbs along the main; "ha stirring in the waking wood, And trembling o'er the plain! The cuckoo's cull from hill to hill Announces she is nigh ; The nightingale has found the rill She loved to warble by ; • The thrush to sing is all athirst, But will not till ho see Some sign of Him, then out will burst The treasured melody! She cornea, she comes! Behold, behold, That glory in the Eost, Of burning beams, of glowing gold, And light by light increased ! The heavy clouds have rolled away, That darkened sky and earth; And blue and splendid breaks the day, With universal mirth! Already, to the skies, the lark Mounts fast on dowy wings; Already, round the heavehs, hark! His happy anthem rings; Already, earth unto her heart inhales the genial heat: Already, see the flowers start, To beautify his feet ! The violet is sweotning now, The air of hill and dell ; The snow-drops, that from winter's brow, As he retreated, fell, Have turned to flowers, and gem the bowers, Where late the wild etorm whirled; And warmer rays with lenthening days, Give verdure to the world. The work is done; but there is ono Who has the task assigned ; Who guides the serviceable nun, And gathers up the wind ; Who showers down the needful rain, He measures in hie hand; And rears the tender-springing grain, That life may fill the land. The pleasant spring, the joyous spring! Her course is onward now, She comes with sunlight on her wing, And beauty on her brow ; Her impulse thrills through rill and flood, And throbs along the main ; 'Tis stirring in the waking wood, And trembling o'er the plain. Machine Poetry. SPRING The robins aro singing The grass is upspringing,. And April is bringing, 'Mid sunshine and showers; The belles aro out airing, Gay (tresses they're wearing, And the fields are preparing To put forth their flowers: The brooks are swift running, The snakes are out sunning, The boys aro out gunning, The fountains are spouting, The anglers are trouting Far cemid the hills, Where the lambkins are prancing, And the sunbeams are dancing On the bright sparkling rills : The partridge is drumming fly the mountain side rude, And the hornet is humming His song in the wood ; The spider sits eyeing The insect, that's flying, To catch him—the scamp I The owlt is sleeping, While the bugs are a-creeping, And the frogs are a-peeping In yonder old swamp; The strearolets are flooding, The lilacs are budding, And cloud racks are scudding Athwart-the blue sky ; The cataract's roaring While its waters are pouring, And the hen hawk is soaring With eagle on high; The wild dove is wooing, To his love he is cooing, (I hope he will win her,) Bland breezes are blowing, The cattle are lowing, And I em now going ------to dinner Brom., O. a TIMMS TO BE Itesrestaxaso.--lletnentber that a Printing Ollice is no place for idling, !ordering boys and loungers; especially when they are not subscribers. Remember never to abuse a Newspaper, saying it is not worth subscribing for—and yet never fail to run about to borrow the same paper to see what's in it. IZIEICMLLAN2,O7O. From Me U. S. Saturday Post. OLD FUDGE OF AN UNCLE. A DOMESTIC STORY BY SOHN SMITH. CHAPTER I, , But there is certainly some mistake. ,a our master did not intend to send a messago of this pur port to me,' said Mrs. Burelistead, to an errand boy at the door. <He told me to go to Mrs. Buchstead's mann !' What were you to say V < Leave the shoes with her,' ho said, < and tell her to bind them as soon as she can, for I want them ; tell her when she crossbacks to be careful of her stitch, for the morocco is tender.' <lt is a mistake ! Run home and tell Mr. Good rich I will call and see what he means;' and morti fied and angry, she rudely closed the door. < Will it always be soh must I live on to be in sulted daily I will people never realize the change in my situation—will they never learn what belongs to common politeness!' said Mrs. Burchstead to herself, as she sank upon the sofa and cried like a child. <Of what use,' she continued, <is the pos session of the handsomest house in town, of the most elegant:furniture, and of my expensive parties, if I am eternally to have the shoe binding flung on my teeth! I wish I had been deserted in infancy, wrapped in flannels and laid in a basket at some rlbh man's door. Then I should have no contemp tible uncle venturing upon his relationship to insult me!' Conscience, in its still small voice, asked her where, but for this contemptible uncle she would now have been ? Too old, certainly, for romantic adventures in a basket—hut not too old fora tenant of the poor house. Pride had benumbed, not destroyed her good feel ings, and as her thoughts reverted to the hour when an impoverished orphan she was left to the chari ties of a cold world, the vision of a kind uncle rose in her mind; this kind uncle took her by the hand, wept with her and for her—led her to his own fire ' side, kindly watched over and provided for her ; and taught her how to know what was once her happiest feelings, by learning her how to maintain herself. Could the remembrance of that redeeming friend ever be lost? Where ho and this ogre, that now embittered her happiness, one and the came? She asked herself why this attention, and by what brought about 1 This mental appeal made her feel ashamed in spite of herself. But, she argued, •if a captain's wife bound shoes, what would people think ! 1 [ow would they !xprese their eentimente, and what would be her feelings when the °miniseries of the false court, es tablished by Mrs. Grundy,' reported the result of their observations?" With all her false reasoning there was ono thing she had to admit—one truth she felt. The girl that in former days sat in the plain furnished rosin with her work-basket before her, binding shoes, wore a smile on her face, had a song on her lips, and it Mattered not how much she was hurried, had time to be happy, and was seldom otherwise. How was it now I That answering sigh was no indicator of happiness. Her eye strayed around the room.— Elegance met the glance every where save in the massive glass—there the reflected face said discon tent and marred beauty. Mercy,' said Mrs. Buschstead, I look like a fright! I shall bo nervous all day, but I must dress and call on uncle Goodrich and expostulate, or ho will send a bundle of cowhide brogans next. Ido wish the old man could knows little of gentility, or what belongs to it.' Good morning, Undo Goodrich!' in a kind voice and with cheerful look, said Mrs. Durchstead, aS in a short time afterward, she entered the build- ing which served for sales-room, manufactory, and dwelling-place, for its worthy proprietor. Tho re membrance of her kind uncle was predominant, and had converted tho genteel fright to a pretty woman. ' Good morning, Mrs. Buchstead—please to walk through into the house, my wife will be glad to sea you ; and Ai am I—looking so well too--I am plea sed to think you called, for I went to talk with you, if you can wait a few minutes till I finish oil this boot.' Her kind reception imparted a pang, for she felt she had, in her prosperity, slighted those to whom she could not express too much gratitude. But the demon whose vulgar name is gentility, whispered you could not bo expected to visit here.' Her Grandfather's portrait still hung over the mantle piece, where, when a child, she had gazed upon it, wishing that it could speak, es it seemed then to smile approval on her infant gambols. The tear treiltbling on her eye-lid, and upon the heart-felt embrace of her aunt was but the first , of many to flow from a mingled feeling of joy and contrition; nor could the good old dame restrain her tears either. I believe women can cry when they we fit,' said Mr. Goodrich, who had entered unnoticed, and wit nessed the meeting; and he averted his. face and hurriedly brushed away what betrayed the fact that moil too, are weak at times. ' Now, Mary--for you look so much just now like the same Mary that has made both your aunt and ,myself happy many is the time, that I must call you Mary—l want to talk to you. You don't know how much confidence the way you meet us this morning has imparted to ow I will not up. UP=. O aa:l4El.'W Al a aiz.34/2.41. braid you fdr forgetting your old uncle and aunt, for I know I have offended you deeply already this morning.' 'lndeed, uncle, don't think of it. Aunt has for given me, and I am sure you will.' Oh ! how for tunate that she was observed. She had forgotten herself and her station in society, and—very indis erectly, I must say—kissed the good old shoemaker. < There—there, Mary, I never will think again what I had been led to believe—that you were be coming heattless. I only wish I knew how to say what I want to.' < Certainly ~nothing has happened to my hus band 1' < No—no, it is not that.' ' I know, then,' sho said dismissing her anxious look. Well, do—for I deserve it; and after it is once over, I shall not be afraid to drop in and see my aunt any time: Oh, Mary, I wish this gentility was never heard of! it is a sad stumbling block now-a-days.' < But uncle, there is no earthly reason now why I should bind shoes.' < More, Mary, a great deal more, than when you were under this roof.' <I can't see it; then I was dependent upon your bounty for all that I edjoyed. Now, the house I live in, every thing around me is mine, inasmuch as a wife may claim a husband's property. Is it not l' < Your husband, Mary, is a good Man, but ho has been imprudent. For instance, there was the old house, it was nut good enough—it must be modern ized. Now, between Gothic windows, Doric col umns, porticoes, piazza, I don't know what to com pare it to. Next thing, there was the old furniture, it stood to reason it would not answer in the new house ; tables, spier glasses, sofas and ottomans.— Well, and all this was to be paid for ; and to enable him to do it, he mortgaged the estate. Your hus band has sailed on a long voyage; the universal depression of trade must affect his interests, and I fear he will not be able to meet his demands, and must become bankrupt !' This was news. Mrs. Burchstead buried her face in her handkerchief. 'Mary, don't grieve so,' said her aunt, 'why bless you, my child, you noryours shall never know want while we have a cent. We talked the matter over before sending the shoes to you, and that was only done to make you call and remonstrate, so that we could break the news to you. < I don't care for myself, but to think of my hus band as a beggar—to feel that I have made him such. I persuaded him to alter the house, it was to please me he extravagantly furnished it. But, thank hea ven, I can work, and I will work too, to show him that ha has not spoiled his wife, though he has let her ruin him. Now, uncle, give mo the shoes, I will take them home and begin at once.' 'There, Mary, set your heart at rest—if your husband cannot command the means to save his property, I know who will lend him the money for his wife's sake. I gave out the shoes I had this morning, hut if you don't alter yourmind you shall have plenty of vTrk.' Taking an affectionate leave of her kind relatives, she hurried home an altered and a better woman. CHAPTER 11. Ties afternoon of the same day that Mrs. Burch stead called upon her uncle, she was honored by a visit from the Misses Murray. They in their own estimation were ladies—not of a mush-room growth but born so—or as they expressed it, they came of a very old family. Now, only yesterday the honor of a visit from them wouldhave delighted the cap laires teife ; they were so genteel—so very select in their choice of society. But with Mrs. Burch stead of to-day their call was of no moment, and though politely received, it was without any cere mony. They were interrupted by another caller. Mrs. 13urchstead, I thought I would just run in,' exclaimed Mrs. Morton, suiting the action to the word—. but la! I did not dream you had company!' This was a whapper ! I am happy to see you—Mrs. Morton—the Mes ses Murray. Wont you tuko off your hat and spend the afternoon I ' 'Oll 4 I could not stop for the world! I wanted to ask you if you could show me how to fix' this shoe, lam bindihg. Mr. Goodrich is so particular, and I havo heard you were a capital hand at it.' Lot me have it if you please. I think I can show you how; I used to know certainly.' Was you brought up to bind shoes I' asked Mrs. Morton. 'Yes; and tun going to take up my old trade again,' laughingly rejoined Mrs. Burehstead. ,So take care how you do your work or I shall supplant you.' , Well, there now—our girl said there was a boy brought some here this morning, but I did not be lieve it.' . Good afternoon ladies,' said the Misses Murray, . we must go.' Mrs. Burchstead did not urgo them to stay, neith er did site feel hurt by their neglecting to ask her to return their call. Mrs. Morton resided next door to Mrs. 11 arch stead, she was of a prying disagreeable nature, and delighted in making people unhappy. f3he had heard what passed between Mrs. Burchstead and the boy in the morning, and resolved at the time to ask for the shoes herself, and use them as a means of annoyance to her neighbor. Always upon the alert she saw the Misses Murray enter the house, and she considered it as a favorable moment fur her persecution. Failing in her purpose she returned home, as much vexed herself as she hoped to vex her neigh bor. Mrs. Burschtead remained firm to her purpose.— Her expenses were reduced every wny possible, and the shoe-maker's boy called daily. She was seated ono afternoon by the open window with the blind closed, plying her needle, when she noticed the stopping of a vehicle containing a gentlemen and lady. They had been struck by the appearance of the hotter, and had stopped to have a better view. At this juncture Mrs. Morton found it necessary for her to run out to prop a drooping flower that stood in front of her dwelling ; and she proceeded to per form her task. She succeeded in her 'ruse,' for the next moment found her gossiping with the travel lers; as a slight paling only separated her flower' plant from the street. From speaking of the cot tage, she alluded to the proprietors; and concluded by saying that sire had not the least doubt but that the lady who occupied it, would be glad to let it.' Now she thought no such thing--and regarded the romancing she was guilty of as nothing, if sire could only tone her neighbor. Mrs. ft urchstead, who had heard the conversation, proceeded to her door; quietly nodded to Mrs. Morton, and politely asked the strangers to alight and look nt the interi or, as they appeared to fancy the external appear ance of her dwelling. The proposal was embraced with pleasure, Mrs. Morton was also delighted, as she now would have on opportunity, as she said, to see every thing" by following the strangers over the house. She was disappointed, however, for Mrs. Burchstead, upon receiving her guests, before Mrs. Morton could run in, slipped the bolt; and led the way to the upper part of the house. The lady admired everything ; it was all in such good taste, and the gentleman coincided in opinion; while in the meantime, Mrs. Morton, to use her own phraseology, was as mad as a hornet !' Mrs 13 urch stead was given to understand that they were a newly married couple, that they admired the house, and would be glad to hire it, and still more gratified, if they could purchase the furniture and take borne diatepOssesSion. To this proposition the proprietor asked a few days consideration and the gentleman leaving his address and references, the couple took their leave. Linde and niece held a consultation, which made the uncle prouder than ever of his niece. He be came her agent, sold the furniture for a fair price, and lekthe house fol'a good rent; while Mrs. 13 welt stead removed to his dWelling. Her face was again wreathed with smiles, and her merry carol as form erly gladdening tho hearts of those about her. • • • • • • • Captain Durchstead returned from sea and upon meeting his owners was assured of the welfare of his wife as the Co.' and younger member of the firm resided in the same villiage, and saw her daily. Ho heard the discomfiting intelligence of the general distress in the business community, saw himself beggared in the prospective, and actually dreaded meeting a wife he loved. However, he proceeded to complete his business, that he might hurry home, while ho had a home As he entered the counting room to report progress before going out of town, he met the junior partner Come, Burchstead; lie exclaimed, I have been waiting for you to ride out home with me.' While Captain Burchetead did not yet know the state of affairs, the gig drew up before the cottage and the captain met his wife there; for she had been invited to spend the day at her former resi dence. Captain Burchstead supposing himself at home, made himself so, and played the host admira bly ; much to the discomfiture of his wife, who pre suming that he must know all, began to think he was partially deranged. Why I,' she at last exclaimad, any one would think you were at horns?, At home—well, am I not?' His wife then whispered hint that they were but. visiters, and that she had been asked there to spend the afternoon, little expecting the pleasure of meeting Come, Burchstead, don't look so blank, man l' said his employer. 'I hired the house and bought the furniture of your wife without knowing her— she had an object in view which she has accomplish ed, my dour fellow—clearing you of debt!-- and now, though I ant tenant here, the house is still your own. I sent to my wife, notifying her of your arrival early in the day, so we coaxed your wife here without letting her know who she was to meet. I thought I would amuse myself by punish ing you a little. Now, you may congratulate your self not only for being in good circumstances, but fur having a wife who has dared to sacrifice her self as I may sny--for she defiedgentility by bin ding. ahoes ! The decided stand she took has turned the tables; and my wife in love with her ex ample, is about to learn the trade, commencing with a pair of slippers for her husband.' An Irishman once wont out a shooting, and not being much acquainted with the use of a gun, over charged his piece—at the first discharge, which was aimed at a squirrel, poor Petrick was uncerernoni. ously' poked over backwards by the retreating din position of his gun. The squirrel ran up the tree chappering, upon observing which, paddy jumping up and scratching his head accosted him with • Ar rah my honey, if yo had been at my end of the gun ye would not be after doing the like of that, surely! &;:y. lui lgricultunJ, see foul th THE FIRST LOAF, An emergency ut last came in my domestic ar rangements, for which I was wholly unprepared, despite the admonitory warnings of all good house keepers, to be ptepared when such do occur they roust, in these days of help wanting. An excellent girl had gone, and her place was supplied by one who I felt, when I beheld her, would never answer thatdescripton which had induced ,no to engage.— She stood demurely before me, awaiting her now instructions. 'You can make some bread, Nancy ; now I want you to sift some flour and set some rising.' ' How shall I make it? That never was my work before, but you will tell me how, ma'am, and I can learn quick,' was the reply, and the anxious, yet willing expression of her face, bespoke a teachable spirit, as itdid also an inexperienced hand. Heavily did that answer fall upon my ear— , how shall I mako it ?' Yes, that was the question, how? What a world of experience and power did that little word comprehend. I remember my mother talked of 'setting the sponge,' placing it in a warm situation, baking it when it was fun! enough raised; these snatches of information I well remembered, but the right quantity, quality and number of in gredients, with the just t!:ey should all be put together, was the still unanswered question. There stood Nancy. Upon the whole,' said I, after a moment's thoughful pause, as there is so much that is more important to do, we will put this mat ter off, and try baker's bread,' and I felt thankful for the respite. Days passed on. Cannot Nancy make bread Y asked my hus band, at last, an getting quite tired of baker's bread.' She shall make some; but this is beautiful ba ker's bread, George. I don't know but what it is nicer than any home-made bread I ever ate,' I re plied, in a most recommendatory tone, taking an other slice which I did not want. There is nothing like good home-made bread, such as my mother used to make.' To the first part of this remark, I did not materially object, in asmuch is it was secretly my own opinion; but when ho suggested an equality with kis mother's bread, which nothing in his estimation ever excell ed, I felt a sad shrinking of heart at my own con , . scions inability of attaining it. May yoti be blessed with just such an appetite as you had, when a boy, you ate your mother's bread!' was my inward benediction, as he arose to return to his afternoon business. Sometimes I thought of confessing our dilemma. Had It been the first week of our marriage, it had all been well ; ho could have smiled at my inexperience; but we had unfortunately been married some time; and, however lovely inefficiency and want of skill may appear in a lady love or a bride, assumes quite a different aspect, when not to know is inexcusable ignorance. Oh, I can't do that,' could no longer be viewed in the light of maiden timidity, or deli cate helplessness; besides, it savored too little of 'his mother,' who was a pattern house keeper. . _ _ But the bread must be made. I arose ono morn• ing, feeling quite cool and courngcouo, and resolved that day to attempt it. I will begin with pearl-ash bread; that I ant sure will be the easiest and much less trouble. So upon pearl-ash bread I was de cided. With what deep and earnest interest did I pre pare my flour, milk, salt and pearl-ash. With what anxiety did I mix these important ingredients to gether. I will have pearl-ash enough,' thought I. 'I am determined it shall be light,' and another spoonful was added. The bread was made, the pans were ready, the fire kindled, and at last it was satisfactorily deposited in the well-heated oven. I took my seat beside the stove to watch its progress. How anxious was Ito see it rise. How readily did I remember the round, plumb aspect of my mother's loaves. Time gamed on and despite my watch ful inspection and ardent wishes, it was still flat, flat, flat! It grew beautifully brown, but there it lay, so demure, so unaspiring. Dinner came and my husband walked in with a friend or two to dine, as, in the hospitality of his heart, he oiled did. I extended a welcome hand, but I am sure my burnt face and disquieted look were tell-tales of a heart not particularly glad to see them. We sat down at table; the mackerel was well broiled, the potatoes well done, the butter was mel ted, but the bread—the bread! the article above all, which my husband considered most important, which he considered indispensable to be good—it was handed round—he took a slice; it certainly did not resemble broad, thickly studded as it was with little brown spots of undissolved pearl-ash; and then how it tasted; a strange mixture of salt and bitter, which was altogether unbearable. My hus band looked surprised and mortified, and how did not I feel ? .1s there no other?' he looked signifi cantly ut me. I shook my head, while he involuntarily removed the unpalatable slice afar from his plate. How lit tle did I enjoy the society of my agreeable guests. How distant did I wish them; anywhere but at my own table. Had you not bettor attend to this bread making yourself, Mary,' said George as soon as we were alone, and not leave that most importont part of cooking to such miserable inexperienced hands?' There was a decision in his gentle tone which I well knew to give me no choice in matter, and I saw that h.. little itunitted the 'lt , iierable inexpetittcea `ZPlJEtaDticis) T,N - 3 ® moo hands' upon which he had laid such strong emplia sis were neither more nor less than my own ; and it did not allOrd me much consolation, that he ex petted better things of me. I went away and wept heartily and humbly with this pitiful lamentation, what shall I do!' There stood the piano. What availed all the time, talent and industry, which had long been spent upon learning a few tunes? It added not on iota to the real comfort of my household. Handsome worsted work adorned our parlor. Oh that I could recall au hundreth part of the thee spent with the embroide ry needle and repass it, in thoroughly and skilfully acquiring the important arts of house-wifery. From that moment I resolved to study into my domestic duties: not lightly and loosely, as if they were small matters, easily gotten over, but I resolved to brow - how, to become a skilful, economical, thrifty house-keeper. Upon success iu this, how much of family happiness depends. When I have cut my sweet, light, wholesome loaves, there still lingers the sad remembrance of the pain, the anxiety, nay, the mortification of my first efforts; with no ono to advise ; and no one to aid me, Mine was a long and wearisome probation in bread making, and all because I lightly esteemed these great duties, when time and opportunity were freely offered under a mother's eye. Let not young ladies look upon these duties as menial, or of slight importance. A household can not be well ordered and happy unless they are faith fully and intelligently understood. Let no woman imagine that a husband's comfort, enjoyment or prosperity, depends alone upon the smiles and orna ments his pirrlor. It is skilful and judicious management in the kitchen which does so much to ward making home pleasant and prospects bright. Let every young lady who expects to become a wife (and who does not?) look well to these things be fore she leaves the maternal care. Let her cement ' ber, that to become truly a help-meet,' implies pm !dente, sagacity and experience in domestic duties ; and lot no,onor enter into that important and most interesting relation with untried powers and unskil , ful hands, Bourn CAT.--A few years ago, a farmer who was noted for his waggery, stopped at a tavern which he was in the habit of culling at, on his way from to Salem. The landlady had got the pot boiling for dinner and the cat was washing her face in the corner.-- The traveller, thinking it Would be a good joke, took off the pot-lid, and while' the landlady was ab. sent, he put grimalkin in the pot, along with the beef and potatoes, and then pursued hie journey to Salem. The astonishment of the landlady may well be conceived, when on taking up her dinner, she dis covered the unpalatable addition which had been made to it. Knowing well the disposition of her late customer, she had no difficulty ie guessing the aggressor, and determined to be revenged. Aware that he would stop on his return, to get a cold bite the cat was carefully dressed and laid away in the cupboard. The wag called as expected, and pussy was smuggled on the table amongst other cold dish es, but so disguised that he did not recognise his old acquaintance. Ile made a hearty meal, and washed it down with a glass of gin. After paying his bill, he asked the landlady if she had a cat she could give him, for ho was plagued almost to death with mice. She said she could not, for her cat was lost. What says he, don't you know where it is V' , Oh yes !' replied the landlady, ' you hoer foot ealen it !' Ho was never known to boil a cat afterwards...-. Lowell Tinge. ADVICE TO Yourto LAntas.—Don't pout fair readers, we ate not going to preach you a sermon; but will offer you a little advice from the pen of Addison. He says:—" I have found that men who aro really most fond of ladtes—are seldom the most popular with the sex. Men of great assurance, whose tongues are lightly hung—who make words supply the place of ideas, and place compliment in the room of sentiment, are the favorites. A trite respect fur woman leads to respectful action to wards them ; and respectful is usually distant ac tion ; and this great distance is mistaken by th,m for neglect, or want of interest." CIIVVIC Fcm..—A man who !untried a particu larly plump specimen of womankind, being a bit of a wag, told her ono day that ifhe filled the measure of his matrimonial joys full ; for she was beautiful, doubtful, youthful, cheerful, plentiful, and an arm ful. 'I wish you had been Eve,' said an urchin to an old maid who was proverbial for her meanness.— ' Why so!' Because, said he, 'you would have eaten all the apple instead of dividing with Adam!' Mr. Snifter 'writes to a southern editor thus r Mistur Edatur—As you profess to giv kerrect in formashun on every subject, I would ben leeve to state that I fele very unwell, and Wood like to know what Kind fizzle is hest for nice to tak. Yours, SOLOMON SNIFLER. To which the editor replies :-- 'Swoller Alurry's Grammer is Pilo and wosh it down with a dccoekahun of Waiters Diashunary: What would you say of a fellow who should mistake those artificial distortions of the tamale form for mound miss! That lw didn't know BMA'.