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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.