Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, June 12, 1844, Image 1
~, 4fllltA i 4 / 1 I -1- Del)ota to General. *Mt - 114mm, anertiang, Voitti co, Eitrraturr, ftioratito, arti, r(i.;. atm, sBricititurt,nutztocntent, st., &r. %t7coll. SZYcc:). MM. PIIDLIIIIIED HT THEODORE H, CREMER, The "JouuxAx" 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 times for $1 00, and for every subse quent insertion 25 cents. If no definite orders are given as to the time en advertisement is to be continu ed, it will be kept in till ordered out, and charged ac cordingly. poLiTsx. From the Pittebitrg American. CLUB ROOM. Tcsa—Rosin the Bow. Come blow up the bugle for 1 tarry, And rouse all your men for old Joe, There's no two such lads who can carry Dismay to the Locofoco. Come all the boys of the mountains; Come hamlet and city and town, Pour out from your creeks and your fountains, Your glens and your valleys all round. Come farmers and joiners and bakers, Come merchant and lawyer and clerk, Come tailors and all the shoemakers, Come up every one to the work. Come colliers and teamsters, end draymen, Show by all your shovels and whips, Let's have at this time no delay men, If you want snore for wages than lips. Ye workers in iron and leather, Ye men of the hammer and loom, Regardless of all sorts of weather, Push on to the crowded Club Room. Come men of all trades and professions, Who wish that the country should thrive, When you know that the Club is in session, Crowd into it like a bee•ltive. Then blow up the bugle for Harry, And rouse all your men for old Joe, There's no two such men who can carry Dismay to the Locofoco. From the Philadelphia Forum. Mooofeco Baltimore Convention. TUNE- Yankee Doodle. The Loco "loaves and fishes" men Are numerous as the sand, sir, Their candidates are fecundate, And spread wide o'er the land, sir, Chorus—The Locos set up nine pins,' All famous for rCnown, sir, The Whip will take aball of Clay. And roll, and knock thew down, sir. The first was Van, the next was Claw, Johnson rather stale, sir, The wagon-horse run like on ass, Stewart like a whale, sir, Chorus—The Locos set up nine pins, Ike. Calhoun's confined in numbers, The abortion's very plain, sir, The Woodbury don't encumber, There's none to mourn the slain, air, Chorus—The Locos set up nine pins, &c. Stewart got but one vote, Tyler showed foul play, sir, Polk and Dallas must row the boat, To be beat in by Henry Clay, sir. Chorus—The Locos set up nine pins, All famous for renown, The Whigs will take a ball of Clay To roll and knock them down. • Van Buren, Buchanan, Woodbury, Cass, John son, Stewart, Calhoun, Tyler, Polk—The nine Lo co candidates for tho Presidency. Tao Ommxx.--How much more of virtue and less of vice would there be in the world, did man kind take the following lesson to heart, and act in accordance with the advice it gives :--" Don't speak harshly to him. Ho has no father to direct his steps, no mother to watch over him. Tempta tion was laid before him, and he yielded. Bo not severe; perhaps one kind word may save him from ruin. Do not drive him to more gross acts of sin, but manifest by your voice and your tears, that you are his real friend. Had he been blessed with a mother's care, he would not have stcpcd aside from the path of rectitude. Now he feels that no one cares for him ; nor pities him: no one loves hint.— Go to him and be his friend ; his guide, hie coun sellor, and you will save him from the depths of degradation. There is nothing so effectual as sym pathy, to allay the bad passions and incline the heart to virtue. How sweet is the reflection—l have drawn a soul from vice, and placed him in the path of virtue, and now he is bearing the fruits of usefulness on earth—exerting a good influence, and ripening for a better world." Tines SMITTE7C.—A gentleman in Shelby county, Ky., fell desperately in love the other day with a girl, at first sight, and attempted to kiss her, whereupon she knocked him down! n It is a mistako to suppose that newspapers are printed for amusement, and that printers deem it a complament whop a friend begs half a dozen to give away. CREWING.-A lady minute that if certain gen tlemen do not cease to expectorate so freely at ' Church and other public places, "they cannot ex pect-to-rate very highly with the ladles." Tilling the earth is the most honorable and use ful pursuit of life Uti3CMZIL.6.I\TMOUS. From the National Magazine. THE POET'S METAMORPHOSIS. CHAPTER I. Gifted and worshipped one! Genius and grace Play in each motion and beam in thy face ! Sun was just your ideal, dear reader, of all that is noble and lovely in a woman ; with wealth, beauty, and goodness for her dower, she might have chosen a husband from the very elite of the land, yet she folded up that blossom of purity and truth, her heart, from the gay and bold insects bees, wasps and but terflies, that sought its treasures and turned away in maiden meditation' still. Buts's° shut up with in it one image—the image of a singing bird, that often hovered round but never yet dared to alight. This bird was a poet, deaf, ugly, lame and poor, although GRACE C enema, blindly persisted in think ing and declaring him rich, handsome, graceful, in spite of his red hair and sallow complexion, in spite of his halting walk, in spite of Isis shabby coat ; yes, in defiance of friend and foe, in the very face of fact, handsome, rich and graceful he was, and should remain ! 'But Grace, his fuco is not handsome surely,' said her friend Madeline. It is the divine beauty of his soul,' I sec.' He is not graceful, at any rate.' Yes ,Madeline, his looks, his tones, his actions his words are all graceful and tasteful to inn.' Not rich then !—you connot make him rich !' Now, Madeline, for shame. What call you wealth?' , is he rich, Grace!' , Yes, rich and n oble too: why he has genius, a king would drain his realm to buy.' 'What do you mean 1' Genius and honer—hope, truth, love ! A hea ven in his heart, an empire in his mind. What is your gold but dross to these , But then—of such low birth.' . Low ?—with the noblest l' 4 11 a, ha, ha! Givo him a patent of nobility, and bo done with it—do. , Ho has it now—l've read it.' , What !—where 1' In his eyes' Madeline. and on his noble brow, —'twas writ in heaven. You smile—but I tell you that a single word of praise or blame from that high-hearted being would affect me more than the applause of censure of a whole world beside.' Grace ! are you possessed I' Yes, self-possessed, Madeline, as yet, thank heti. vent So pray don't imagine me in love with Hor. ace Herbert.' 4 Well, you can't deny that he'a deaf as a post sometimes.' 4 I'm glad he is. Deaf to all the idle, heartless noizy buzing of this frivolous and wearysomo world, whose clatter might otherwise drown the music to which his soul still listens.' 4 And what is that ?' The voice of God! the voice of &vino love! the melody of heaven, which ho echoes in his bean tiful songs: They were standing, Madeline and Grace, near a curtained window apart front the other guests at Mrs. Harvey's—and neither dreamed that they were overheard; but behind that curtain was a young man, who had apparently just entered front the gar den through the open window. Too agitated—too deeply absorbed in the conversation to think of avoi ding the part of a listener, ho had stood trembling till it was over, and then, instead of re•cntering the room, ho rushed once more into the open air to give free vent to the passionate emotions of his soul. Thank God ! thank God !' he cried, in a voice half choked by feeling, and tears uncontrollable rushed to his eyes as ho spoke. . Thank God, she knows me—sho sees mo as I am—no, not as I am, but as I might, as I ought to be. She looks into my soul, through the rose collared glass, of her own divine imagination, it is true; but I am more worthy of her praise and love than of the ill-concealed aversion of those around her. Blessings on the beautiful—. the noble girl ! What a lofty and luminous soul lighted up her face as she spoke—and I have deceiv ed even her—but oh! what a triumph to know that it is my genius, my mind my heart she loves. 'Loves !' eh, no, she denied that she loved me. Perhaps—but there is yet hope! She will, she must, she shall,and with a proud and dignified mien, which, m spite dills limp, impressed almost all who beheld him with a sense of his superiority, he re-entered the brilliant drawing-room of Mrs. Harvey, and stood with folded arms apart, gazing upon the ojeci of his long concealed affection, until she caught his gaze, and blushed beneath it ()sidle never blushed for others. 4 Oh, Mr. Herbert, you must come and sing for ca. You must, indeed—one of your own aongs, won't you I' And a bevy of beautiful and high born girls approaching him. There was no reply; Herbert stood porfctly un moved. 4 You forget ho is deaf,' said Mrs. Harvey, and she wrote their request on the tablet. Pardon me, ladies, I am not in tho mood just now ; my mind is out of tune—and you know how I frightened you the other day with my teniblo dis cord, because I sang when I didn't want to. The young ladies looked disappointed. Oh, Grace, you ask him. Ile always does what you wish,' Horace could always hear Grace Carroll's voice, that is if it was very near hint; sod yet she never IPaa. o c.UV.7LW raised her tone ; perhaps it was on that very acount —her voice was peculiarly clear and soft, and it seemed to reach his soul instead of his ear. And now she stole timidly to his side and put her sweet mouth close to his face. How his heart heat. Do sing for us, Mr. Herbert—just one song.' Herbert did not turn—he could not—that tone always aroused in his soul an emotion he dared not betray; but ho obeyed at onco the spell of his en chantress, and sang in a rich, mellow, manly voice —while his dark face lighted up into almost inspired beauty, the following impromptu verses: Speak no more ! I dare not hear thee ! Every word and tone divine All too fatally endear thee, To this daring soul of mine. Smile no more! I must not see thee! Every smile's a golden net : Heart entangled ! what can free thee? What can soothe thy wild regret. Speak again! smile on forever! Let me in that music live; Let mo in that light endeavor To forget the grief they give. Thrill my soul with voice and look, love Like the harp-tone in the air, Like the starlight in the brook, love They will still live treasured there. As he finished Horace bent his dark eyes earn. estly on the fair and drooping face of Grace Carroll, and again it crimsoned as she felt the look. CHAPTER If. I omit thee, maiden, faith and love, The richest gifts that be. • • • • * • • I ' ll serve thee in the noblest waye Lig!oriel.s man can finds, And struggle for a cenquir's swayo Upon the field of min., • • • a '',,` • * And tho' no prawde ones threge thy gate, Nor mean ones courto thy vtewe, Thou shalt have reverence from the greate, And honor from the true. J. Of. If Our hero only a short time previous to the scene related in the last chapter, had appeared suddenly in the flishionable circles of B-, introduced by some one, it was believed; but by whom (Irwi), or whence ho came, the gossips of the clique declared they could not imagine. Every one was interested in him : Iv= could they help it! He was eo pecu liar, such a bundle of contradictions! Giving evi dence at times in his writings and conversation of a lofty and brilliant genius, he was generally reserved, silent, haughty, incomeatable,' if I may borrow a word front a light friend of mine. Shabby in ap pend and lame, there was, nevertheless, a certain nobleness, dignity and grace in his mien and ad dress, which some few in the circle could discern and appreciate. His hair and whiskers of a fiery redrcontrasted strangely with his superb eyes, intensely beautiful in depth and hue, and full of eloquence in expres sion. His face was ono of those which light up in emotions of joy, anger, or love, all the more glori ously from being usually cold, still and dark. It was generally supposed that he was of low, or at least obscure birth; but however that might be, his sentiments, deportment and language were always elevated and refined. At any rate, in spite of his red hair, his eccentricity, his poverty, his defect of hearing, his limp and his reserve, Horace Herbert was a very fascinating person to those ho chose to fascinate. The Carroll's happened to be boarding that win ter at the same hotel with him, and they had thus become intimate. One rainy morning, just after breakfast, when the ladies' drawing-room was more than usually crow ded, Herbert had seated himself on a sofa near Grace, who was netting, rather apart from the rest of the company, and taken up n newspaper. En couraged by her kindness, and the subdued softness of her manner towards himself, to hope for at least indulgence, if not return to his love, he had been wishing for several days to converse wills her in private; but she was generally so surrounded by friends that it was impossible, and even now it would not do to whisper, for that would attract at tention and subject her to remark. , Won't you read me the news, Mr. Herbert said Grace, leaning towards him, that she might hear— , there is no one near enough to he disturbed by it.' This was just what he wanted, and Ile gravely began, commencing every sentence with ono of the itemns common to newspapers, and finishing it in his own way, preserving the same monotonous and quiet tone throughout. An alarm of fire was given last night about nine o'clock—l beg you will listen to me calmly for a few moments, Miff; Carroll--go on wills your netting; no ono will notice that I am not reading from the paper all the time.' Grace could not repress a laugh at this novel mode of conversing, and the tine° watchful maiden gossips on the opposite sofa could not imagine what there could be so very amusing in an alarm of fire. I icrbort went calmly on. Lost on Saturday morning--I cannot endure this state of suspense any longer.' This time Grace blushed. Well!' mid ono gossip another, "any ono would think that it was her heart or his that was lost from the way she colors about it.' . Any one leaving at this office—l am obliged to leave town to•morrow for n few weeks: And now tears stood in tho dark and lovely eyes of the listner, as sho raised them for a moment to his and dropped them again to her work. What in the world does that mean wondered the inazlcd old maids, 'crying because a reward is offered! I don't understand it at all: We regret to announce the death of the lion.— I .shall havo no chance to speak to you before I leave, or I would not enter upon so serious a sub ject in this apparently trifling way. You must have been aware, long ere this, of my devoted at tachment.' A smile so radiant, so extatie all unlined the face of Grace Carroll at this moment, that the gossips al mos• started from their seats in a fidget of surprise and curiosity. Rejoicing as she evidently did over the announcement of a death! Had the deceased left her a legacy I What a heartless creature she must he. Herbert's voice began to falter— , We are grati fied in being able to state—oh, Grace! I cannot go on—not here—not now ! How dare i hope for such a blessing as your love I But do not—do not quite condemn me for my presumption! Without the advantages of wealth, rank, beauty, or —' 'Nay r said Gmco aloud, looking half in play, half in earnest over his shoulder—' I am sure, Mr. Herliert, you ere not reading that sentence rightly —let me finish it myself'—and she began the para. graph again in a low, but distinct voice—' We are gratified in being able to state that—you must not go till I have seen you again. Believe me your love ; • appreciated—valued, returned. Would that you read my heart instead of the paper. But hero are sem° verses - you must read to me, Mr. Herbert,' and she drew back blushing from his side. .Is this the poem I must retail—oh, it is an old song of Moore's, I see. T.l her oh ! tell her the lute she left lying Beneath the green willow, is still lying there'— Grace! all my soul is with gratitude sighing, While your soft whisper replies to my prayer! Tell her, oh ! tell her, the tree that is growing, 13e,,ides the green arbor she playfully set'-- Little those maidens, the' wondrously knowing, Dream of the news I am telling thee yet. 'So while away from that arbor forsaken, The maiden is wandering—oh ! let her he— Meet me to-morrow when first you awaken, Here, and meanwhile take 14 , blessing wit:h thee." That in a touching and beautiful poem, Mr. Herbert—the last lines have found an echo in my lice's; tut I 'mut LL.I you guml morningnow,' and Grace Carroll, with her fair cheek flushed, and her lip trembling with subdued emotion, glided from the room. What does it mean ? What does it mean? murmured all three of gossips in a breath— , how she colored—an echo in her heart! Let us look at the song, Mr. Herbert,' some of them said, speaking aloud, be so good as to lend me the paper a mo ment. I want to see what the play is.' What the by-play is, you mean,' said Herbert to himself; but at the same time ho looked as if ho had not the mos'. distant idea that he had been spoken to. Dear! I forgot he was deaf! How stupid the man is!' She rose, and with a significant look laid her hand upon the paper, which Horace imme diately resigned. They turned eagerly to the last verso of the song— ', True as the lute that no sighing can waken, And blooming forever unchanged as the tree!" 'an echo in her heart! does she mean that her bloom will last forever, and that his sighing can ne ver affect her 1 Well! did you ever I such vanity ! Oh! that's it undoubtedly.' CHAPTER 111. "I give thee all I can no more, Tho' poor the ollering he; My heart and lute nre all the Moro That I can bring to thee!" THE next morning before breakfast Grace enter ed the drawing-roost with a beating heart. A young man a stranger, occupied a sofa near the fire, front which he courteously rose as she came in.— Grace thought she had never seen so handsome and distinguished -looking a man. He made a singular impression upon her mind, for which she knew not how to account. His carriage was noble and easy —a pale complexion, intellectually pale, set off to advantage his hair of glossy black, and eyes of the same deep hue, glistening with the fire of genius and feeling. Grace had naturally a passionate love of the beautiful in all its varieties, and this person's beauty was of so high an order, or classic and so noble, that fascinated her in spite of herself. Be sides it seemed to her that they must have met be fore, though where she could not imagine. After pacing the room for a moment or two, he went ont, and immediately afterward Horace entered, and wills only half a sight at the contrast, Greco soon forgot the handsome stranger, in listening to the eloquent outpourings of his generous and pure soul; but while frankly owning a return to Isis affection, the happy and agitated girl overlooked the probability of her friends objecting to his poverty and his ob scure origin; and when alto did remember this, it was with some trepidation that she referred him to her father, and bade him' good bye' for the present. CHAPTER IV TuaT Herbert had more than satisfied Mr. Car. roll was very evident, from the earnest manner in which the latter congratulated his daughter upon the subject,—and when Horace returned from his journey the weddingeok place quietly, without any of the untasteful parade usual on such occasions. Grace was very happy. She had but one trouble —the image of the handsome stranger would every now and that force itself upon her mind. It was very wrong, very improper, she said to herself, to bestow a thought of the kind upon any one but her noble, her devoted husband ; but how was she to help it, poor child ! when that husband himself by something indefinable either in manner or expres sion hourly recalled the image '! And she found herself involuntarily constantly comparing thA two; --- , Horace would be handsome—he would resem ble him, if he had only black hair instead of red! I must confess my folly to my husband—l shall not be happy till I do, and when I have once relieved my mind by owning it, perhaps I shall forget that singular person,' and so ono morning about six weeks after the wedding, poor Grace confessed to llerbert that she feared she did not love him as she ought. Ho did not look quite as miserable as she had imagined ho would at this terrible announce ' ment ; but merely saying, 'then it is high time I should bid you good morning, walked quietly out of the room.' In the evening Mr. and Mrs. Carroll, Mrs. Har vey, Madeline, and a few other intimate friends came in. Horace had not returned, and Grace was restless and disturbed. All at once, as she was ad justing a braid at the mirror, she saw—could it be —yes! in the very centre of the room, conversing with her father, and apparently perfectly at ease, the very person whose appearance had so strangely in fatuated her fancy ! As she turned from t'oe glass he approached her and raised her hands to his lips, ere she was aware of his purpose. Grace was con founded, indignant. 'Sir!' said she with dignity, 'your unasked in trusion here and this unwarrantable insolence must he explained to my husband.' Mr. Carroll laughed, and the rest of the company opened their eyes. Madame,' said tho new guest, with a saucy smile, and thin voice was strangely familiar, 'you are tired of your husband's red hair. Does mine suit you!' More and more amazed, Mrs. Herbert tamed im patiently to her father. He was laughing heartily —and Grace echoed the laugh; for as she turned she faced the glass again, and saw the stranger has tily adjusting over his dark and curling locks the stiff red wide and whiskers of Horace Herbert himself! The amazed company joined in the merriment oc casioned by this sudden metamorphosis, and Grnco snatching the false hair playfully from him, threw it into the corner of the room: And the limp, Horace? Was that also a ruse l' 'A poetical license, Grace.' . And the deafness, too?' , Alt ! let me still be deaf to all but you, sweet wife !' Selected for the Journal. flints to Young Wen. , 4 Who aims nt excellence will be above mediee. rity ; who aims at mediocrity willfall short of it." [ANDY. . . . Be induab•ioue. We do not mean here'the in dustry of the hands alone; but that perseverance in whatever we undertake, that is the sure precursor of ultimate success. Never allow the mind or the body to stagnate; activity is necessary to the health of both. Always have some worthy end in view, in whatever you undertake; remembering that to fail wills good intentions, is more honorable than success in an evil cause. Cultivate your mind. It is of more importatic° to the young, thut their reading should be select, rather than extensive. Ono volume well under stood, or any important topic, is bolter than half a dozen merely skimmed. There are many subjects of general utility, wills which every man should have a partial knowledge at least ; but is one of the great faults of modern education to spend too much time on studies that rather burden and clog the mind, than strengthen and inform it for life's practi cal duties. Reading, or studying without some de finite aim, is likely to lead to few useful results.-- How many men there aro who have spent a largo part of their lives over books, of whom it may be said, they remember a moss of things, but nothing distinctly.' It is possible to cram tho , mind with masses of indigestible materials, destructive alike to a healthy and a vigorous action of the intellectual powers. Such is not the cultivation of the mind required by a young American farmer. Be economical. No matter if your parents are worth millions, it is not the less proper that you should understand the value of money, and the hon est, honorable means of acquiring it. What mul titudes of young men, particularly in our cities, make fatal shipwreck of reputation, health, and eventually of property, by a neglect of this simple maxim. They aro aware that their fathers obtained their wealth by habits of industry, but they are ashamed of the very name. They forrt 'hat the wealth of this country passes rapidly from one to another, and that ho who is rich to-day may be poor to-morrow; or that he who relies on wealth amassed by his father, may end his days in a poor house. It is for the young here to say whether by industry and economy ho will secure competence and respectihility, or by extravagance and idleness become a worthless beggar and sponging outcast. Be prat. In the course of life a man frequently finds his interests or his opinions crossed and thwar ted by those from whom he had a right to expect better things, and the young are apt to feel such matters very sensibly. But be not rash in your condemnation. Look at their conduct carefully, and be just to the motives that prompt it. You may find, that were you placed in their position, the course you new•condemn would be the one proper for you, and the ono you would be under obligation to pursue. A little cool consideration would avoid much censoriousness. 4ad3Ead Shun avariee. One of the most disagreeable characters on earth, is that of the grasping, avarici ous, penurious roan. Generosity is perfectly com potable with economy; and the means which enable some of our most noble hearted, generous men, to do so much to benefit and bless mankind, are ob.. tained, not by closefisted penuriousness, but by economy. This distance is not greater between the' zenith and the nadir, than between the covetous and the economical man : the first banishes every, just and honorable feeling from the heart, the other foe ter and ministers to them all. Determine to be useful. No matter what may be your condition in life, you have an influence, and that influence should always her exerted in a proper way. The young have no right to fold up their arms, bury their talent, and become the drones of the social hive. Aim high, but with prudence; act with determination and perseverance; let no oh •etacle drive you from the path of honor and duty, end you may be sure of eventful success. Riches are not within the reach of all: competence is; and the latter condition rs preferable in every respect to the first. Remember the Deity helps those who help themselves, and that utility is the great end of human exertion. Selected for the Journal. Advice to Maidens. That classical song which commences with, 0 take your time Miss Lucy,' has proved very disas trous to young ladies who havo been controlled by it. Everything is done in a hurry in this world ; therefore, got married as quickly as possible. Hus bands aro like birds—if you don't bring them down at once, they arc gone. Love is an idea; beef Is a reality. The idea yoti eon get along without; the beef you must have. Do not then allow any refined sentimentalism US in terfere with what judicious and calculating parents call an advantageous settlement. Young girls will have twinges of the heart strings, we know : but these are like other complaints inci , dental to youth--they go away suddenly without leaving any bad effects. Wo have heard of persons dying of love, but not a solitary case ever came um , der our observation. Dyspepsia often produces melancholy, which is attributed to disappointed af fection, but bran bread and apple sauce will readily remove this complaint. Some girls have imaginations so tender that they believe themselves in love with every man who says a civil thing to them. These unfortunate creatures should use the shower-bath every morning, and take frequent exercise on horseback. Romance should bo confined to circulating libra ries and boarding schools; it is all well enough in in these places, but cut of them it is sadly in the way. It is very, apt to take bread and butter out of one's mouth and it is a curious fact <in physics,' that though love causes the heart to avail, it never fills an empty stomach. If a man fulls in love wills you, instead of ascer taining the collar of his eyes, find out the lenght of his purse ! instead of asking his age, get a list of his effect ! If these make a goodly appearance, never mind his, but conclude the bargain at once. You will learn to hive him, when you find the necessity °final a passion. In the meantime. endure hint. Them used to be many Alonzos and Melissas in the world, and then there was much shisery in con sequence. Now-a-days people arc more sensible. They have an eye to the real ; they are matter of fact, and see more substantial comfort in a well furnished house than a dozen sennets, snore beauty in a bountifully supplied table than a score of loco letters. All this betrays a good deal of sound sense, which maidens would do well to profit by Sunday Times. Amusing Story, An amusing story, arrising from a misapplication of words, was told us a few days since, of a couple of young bucks who started of a beautiful night, last week, to visit a young lady, tho daughter of a staid and stern old Presbyterian, who resided in the vicinity of a Dow. Hatimg arrived at the mansion, and after having knocket at one of the doors for a considerable length of time without summoning arty one to admit them they concluded to try another door. After sundry knocks and thumps, the old Blue' himself arrayed in all the dignity which an eldership in the church could inspire him with, stood before them, when ho was thus accosted by one of the youngsters: i'sposo sir, you could'nt hear us for this dam roaring.' What!' exclaimed the Presbyterian starting hack in astonishment and flourishing his walking stick over the head of the bewildered youth in a most warlike manlier. How dare you use such language in my pre sence I meant to say, sir,' uttered theyouth . that you could not hear our knock for this dont touring.' . Insult upon insult,' now shouted the infuriated elder, at the same time making a pass at the young blood with his stick, that would have done honor to any professor of the art of fencing. At this crisis the companion of the first speaker advancing, and after clearing his throat, and looking wistfully nt the water as is dashed over the work that had been erected to impede its progress, sftia-- . My. friend, I suppose sir, intended to say that you were prevented from hearing us by this cart roar ing !' emphasising the two last words in n Most terrible manner. At this last explanation the old gentleman fairly raved—and it 'mild have fared badly for our be • roes had not the object of their visit—who had overheard the whole conversation—came to their assistance, and informed her papa' that it wart im- possible for the young gentlemen to here been blunt on account of the roaring of the Dam. Explanationit Nosed on beih elder— the young gentlemen were invited into the house where th j • i t pissed the evening very &intently. end left, , nag their ewe,' fly the opportune eppearenee of the little lady,' and for the lucky escape they hod med.—Columbia,Spy.