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%Sras.U. 9 IZT au. Wa .
THEODORE H. CREMER,
ttlA ce u.mo.a:s Q
The "Jona xxi." will be published every Wed
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703 T .7. Y.
ol'o charm the languid hours of solitude,
He oft invites her to the Muse's lore,"
SALLY ANN'S AWAY
I mourn, I mourn, I know not why,
I feel most thundering queer;
do not feel a pain all o'er,
But I feel it most nIGUT urns.
My mourning aint for relatives
Defunct and turned to cloy—
At's something worse—l mourn because
My .Sally Ann's away.
She's safe in old Connecticut
Where virtue's bound to shine;
Where beauty lasts full thirty years,
Without the least decline,
There young men never raking go
Except its raking hay ;
I know is all right, and yet I mourn
'Cause Sally Ann's away.
The sun don't shine us't used to did,
:I'he moon a mushroom seems;
The Nohlle ell hove gone
n to sleep
Beside the sluggish streams.
sometimes counterfeit a laugh
To make folks think 1 act gay—
rye got the scILUTED.NUTICH bad,
For Bally Ann's away.
Peaches don't taste like peaches now,
I don't know pork front veal
Moonshine; or mach and Milk for me,
Would answer for a meal.
Tliere's Peggy, though—she'll cheer me up—
visit her to thty, • •
And make arrangements for the time
That Bally Ann's away. Sromss 0. G.
Prom the United 'Vales Journal.
Say; have yon seen when rosy morn
• First wakes, roo.nip,hes
I'he gulden iints.—ofsunlightborne—
That gladden nature's lam?
Those glowing bear that mount on high
And light and warmth impart,
Do not so brighten up the aky
AS Womana smile, the heart
NVII,III clouds litve Ic . ing the heavens u'ardast
Obscurinr , eartli and sky—
sweetry, when those clouds tir
The sunlight greets the eye ;
but not more cheering to the eye;
Can be that precioui light, •
'Then woman's soft, endearing smile,
nit beams on sorrow's night.
When spring looks on the frozen earth,
Long bound in winter's chain—
dowers, renewed to second birth,
~Spring up and bloom again ;
Solvoman's kind, approving smile
Does in the heart revive
The drooping virtues of the soul;
And sweetly bid thorn live.
Si MISS OkORVIAINA IiENNEIT
Mope en ! hope ever !--In thy sadness
Believe a brigliter henr is Mar;
hadiant with beams of heartfelt gladness,
The later years of life to cheer.
Ilklit the hand of Death k)creftthet
Of those who siniled in childhood's inneei
nave the friends who cherished left thee,
Lonely through the world to roam
Still, hope on, the future briligetti
Something dearer—brighter still--
Sonic fair dream whose influence flingcth
Joy around in good and ill.
in thy trials Hope can cheer thee;
And when sorrow falls upon thee,
Hope on--hope on ! for God is veer thee,
To guide thy barque o'er Danger's Sea
When thy onward path looks dreary—
When, the friends of youth have
When the heart feels lone and weary,
Yearning for the loved--the dead—
Though the trusted could deceive thee,
Deem not ALL are faithless too
tarth has yet kind hearts, helioie nte,
Glowing with affection true.
Hope Ott ! hope on I though all should fail thee—
Though Falsehood mined, or Death should
Whatever earthly ills assail thee,
Hope on ! hope ever ! Goa is nigh,'
Dassexusscr.—Who can imagine the combi
ned feelings that course through the breast of the
desponding ! To feel that one has done all that
liee in hie power, and then sea that the cold and
heartless world requires hint to de more. If the
yain creatures that constitute the callous world,
could only for ono moment realize a single pang that
rends the bosom of the honest unfortunate—truly
penitent should they bow the knee, and seek to re
dress the wrongs they had u n feelingly--yet per
[Prom the Portland Tribune..]
lIT n. C. COLKSWOILTLIC
How gently wise, who never move
When st&n nlisforttine linvets;
Who see the same kind baud of love
In sunshine and in showers.
When shadows veil the burning sky,
Behind the clouds they know
Bright fields of golden grandeur lie,
And seas of splendor flow.
They only bend, but never brook
When angry storms arise—
Prepared the hand of grief to take,
And wait for brighter skies.
holly Acton wtis an excellent young lady of some
eighteen years. Her parents although in humble
'circumstances, Were industrious, and the daughter
was early taught 4, employ herself about that
\`.•hick was useful. She took pride in rising early
and getting breakfait ready by the time her mother
arose; after Which slie 'weiuld employ herself in the
kitchen, or sew or 'knit. Unlike a great many of
her sex, she 'waif seldom seen at the window, to
watch the young men who passed, dressed ha the
height of fashion. It was not because Emily war
poor, but she haL a different taste, and thought more
of her character and the assistance she might ren
der her mother. Her dress was always neat, but
never gaudy; and it did not trouble her if she could
nut follow the foolish fashions of the day. Emily
Wks. also interesting in her conversation. You
.would not hear her talk about the fellows and tlit
beaux, froth one month to another; nor remark
what this person and that one wore ut church.—,
She attended meeting to hear, .d not 'to see and
be Seen, and what site heard was treasured in het
mind. Miss Acton was called a little odd by some
of her flirty young friends, who were all for fashion
and show ; —but they Loved her nevertheless.—,
Emily had an excellent disposition ; she was kind
and accommodating, and never indulged in angry
words or manifested unpleasant feelings.
Mr. Acton was a worthy shoemaker; hut as his
business was not very good and he not an expert
*Orkman, it was with difficulty that ho paid his
debts and lived comfortably. To purchase the ne
cessaries of life requires no little sum, orpecially
when rents are high and wood and hour ere dear.—
To help along the faintly, Emily was in the habit of
taking in work, and often from twelve to fifteen
shillings n week. This she gave to her mother to
expend in any Way she might think proper.
One morning as Emily was returning some work
ttat she had made, she picked up a small gold ring.
On exattlining'it as she returned home, she discov
ered the initials , J. S.' engraved on the inside.—
: Mother,' said 'thr, 'thin may belong to some one
who prizes it highly ; otherwise I think the owner
Weald het hove had his initials engraved upon it."
If so you may find the owner; for it will cer
tainly be advertised.
Do you think one would go to that expense for
Fb trilling a thing?'
'Not unless it is vaned more as a gift than for
the gold it contains.'
Emily carefully d
. put aWat; the ring in her box an
thought bin little of it for a few days. On Tues
day morning when the Gazette came—for Mr. Ac
ton was a subscnher 16 this paper—on looking o'..er
the advertising colunins, Emily exclaimed,
Why, mother, the ring 1 found last week is re
'Are you sure of it 1'
es, it describes the very ring.'
Min and gel it, and thL road to lac the adver•
Emily brought the ring and handed it to her mo
ther, and read as follows;
Lus•r.-A Hindi gold ring, with the initials
S.' upon it. The ring is prised as the gift of,
friend, and Whoever lies fdund the same shall be
liberally rewarded by leaving it at the store of Mr.
in Middle Birtel..!
'lt must be the same, Emily, end you had better
cart? , the ring to the store this morning.'
•t will, niother ; but I shall charge nothing for
Putting on her things, Emily started for theshop
in Middle &rect. bit entering she made knoWn
her errand, and the store keeper remarked that the
gentleman who lost the ring had lefi. two &Mars for
him to pay, should any one present it. But Emily
refused to take tiih Motley, and left the ring. The
shop keeper insisted on her taking the iWti dollars.
The gentleman is rich and is able to poy it,'
Finding that she refused and was leaving the
shop, he called her hack and requested het name
and residence, which sho did not hesitate to give,
tifid then left the shop and rettirned to her home.
The following Monday, when Emily and her
mother were dt their wash-tubs, some ono knocked
et the door. The old lady went to see who was
there, and Presently returned, telling her daughter a
young gentleman was in the front mom who wish
ed to see her. Wiping her face and hands on her
apron, she hastened into the room, without unroll
ing lice sleeves or unpinning her gown. Yet she
did not apologize for her appearance, taking it for
granted that if a real gentleman wished to see her
he would know that to work was no disgrace, and
that on Monday morning else must of course be
found at the wash-tub.
As she entered the room the gentleman remarked,
If 1 mistake not, you arc the young lady who re•
osun - sz..w aa,
cently found a gold ring and left it at the store of I
But as you refused to take the two dollars I left,
I didn't know but you might tliiidc Tt tOvo Small a
sum, and I have called to present you with five
sir, I did hot think Y ought to be pitid for
doing my duty, and therefore I refused to take it;
and I shall now certainly refuse your liberal offer.
But I insist upon your taking it. Here accept
cannot consent to take it. It would not be
right for me to be paid for discharging my duty ; do
you think it would, air ?'
The ring I value at ten limas that sum. It was
a ring wore by as very dear friend, who died about
two years since, and on that account I prize it. But
I merely ask you to take this bill as a present, net
as pay received for a very honest act--and take it
Do not urge inn to take it, sir.'
''fake it—take it—and say not another word.'
Reluctantly Emily held out her hand and took
the five dollars—remarking that she would endea
vor to make good use of it.
I have no doubt of that,' said the.tranger, seem
ing but little inclined to leave—'you have probably
learned bow to make good use of money.'
Yes sir—as my parents are poor, I am obliged
to earn my own living by sewing and knitting; and
apentl but very little for what I think is not really
• You take in work then ?'
• Yes sir—all that I can get to do.'
have some shirting I should like to have made
up. Can I get you to do it?'
• I should be glad to do itfor you.'
Bidding t may good morning the stranger left
the house, while the industrious girl returned to her
Mother,' said 'olio, who do you suppose this
stranger is? He appears to be an excellint titan,
and insisted upon toy taking five dollars for finding
I cannot belt=ho must be some rich man's son,
or ho could not afford to give you so much.'
Besides, mother ho nye he will give me some
If he should, and you do it very well, it may
open the way for more employment. I should as
lief yon would work for gentlemen as to take it
from slop shops.
Cheerful and happy Emily contintied at herwork
day by day. Sim never hial a moment to spend to
walk the streets, or goesip from house to house.--
Her thoughts were how she could makeherself most
useful, and promote the welfare and happiness of
her worthy intie.tils.
seek a female in whose heath
Domestic virtues share a part ;
Not fond of gaudy dress or show,
To please some foppish pleasant beau,
Who rather at her work he seen
Than pace the town With haughty mien,
Addressing every male she meets,
In bustling, marts to crowded streets.
Charles Simonton woo the son of a rich man;
but unlike the children of many wealthy parents,
from his ea;liest years he was obliged to work.—
His judicious tither had been brought up at a me
chahical trade, and had Made his fortune by dilli
grace and Industry, and he was determined his son
should not be ruined by idleness and improper as
sociates, When he . was old eholigh to lehrn u trade
he put Charles to Messrs. Gold & Webster, to learn
the mysteries of making hats. With these gentle
'Men he t..orked herd—but at this he did not Jinn
inur. Sometimes his fellow associates would joke
him on account of his steady babils,and even laugh at
him for tun touching the ardent sphits which they
daily itsed, But he had seen the evil of intemper
ance, and wattled thent to beware: They heeded
One day two of the apprentices, young Wood
malt and tfurris deteimihed (bey would make
Charles take a glass of bitters with them, but ho
stoutly refused. They held him and endeavored to
pour the poison down his throat, but could not
You will be sorry for this,' said Charles;
one certain, Ulll.ll you forsake your practice you
will Itecorne intemperate and die drunkards.'
We'll risk that, young Morality,' they replied.
Who won't enjoy themselves when they can,must
Clini*s diode the beit of the trCattiteitt he receiv
ed, and was so kind hearted it wns seldom he was
treated roughly. His most excellent tnothcr had
taught him lessons of wisdom Which he could not
forget. When tempted to stray from duty ; her.im
ago and her counsel were before Mtn, and he turned
from the wrong path and pursued a virtuous life.
When Charles had finished his trade his musters
offered to give hhn employment, but his father Lad
business for him which he thought would be more
congenial to his feclifigs--ho took him into part
nership with himself. Their business was good,
and prosperity crowned their efforts. About that
time Charles met with a severe loss in the death of
his mother. She had been sick for domo months,
and her death had bees daily expected. She gave
her son some excellent advice, and begged him never
to deviate from a virtuous path.
fly son, I am lying,' said she, 'and when I ant
gone remember my words to you, and always prac
tice according to the dictates of wisdom. Follow
the Bible, and treasure in your heart its holy truths,
Lich ; if obeyed, will max you happy in life,
cheerful in death and blessed forever. Here, Charles,
I give you a ring I have worn--keep it to remember
Charles loved his mother affectionately. She
had been n devoted parent to him, and when she
was dead, bis•grief woo poignant. Ile placed her
gil upon his finger, resolving to part with it only
Mrs. Simonton had sleptheneath the clods of the
valley for nearly t,O years, and Charles - had safely
kept this relict of his imcher; but one day on go
ing to his supper he discovered that he had lost his
ring. Ile looked for it in vain. Charles went to
Isaac Adams, proprietor of the Portland Gazette,
and paid him for an advertisement stating his loss ,
requesting The finder to leave it tot a Shop in Middle
In a few days Charles called at the store and as
certained thAt Ms ring had 4cen found.
• But,' said the shop-keeper, the young lady
who found it would not take the two dollars re
ward yOu obdered me to pay.'
Wouldn't take it—and Why not I'
co- Whenever you buy or sell, let or hire, make
a clear bargain, and never trust to We slin't -dis
agree about trifles,'
pj If you wish to make your bitterest enemy
miserable make his child a present Of a Unlit and
But she shall be paid. Just inform me where I whistle-pipe.
she lives and I will see that she is rewarded for her
It is more than I can tell. She seemed to think
it was not one's duty to receive pay for what was
found. And faith, Chaim she was a very pretty
The shop keeper informed Charles of her resi
dence, and on Monday ho called at her house. The
result of that visit the reader learned in our first
When Sithonton left the house of Mr. Acton he
resolved on one thing—to marry theinieresting and
domestic daughter, as lie found her to he, providing
he could obtain her consent. Het beauty and hrr
modesty, her industry and her humility, struck him
at onre, and he could not forget her. At night ho
thought of the beautiful girl, and in day time she
was before hint. She is just such a woman as I
need,' said he to himself. 'thid she suits me better
than any of elie 'deiens I ant acquainted 'Nvith Who
fill the circle of pride and fashion.'
In a short time Charles called at Mr. Acton',
with the shirting he wished to have made up. It
was in the evening. Ho was politely invited in,
and gladly embraced the opportunity. While sit
ting with the good lady, Emily busied herself with
ironing the clothes, now and then stopping to con
vscrse with Charles. Every thing was neat about
the house and spoke of industry and not of poverty.
In taking leave lie was incited to cull again by
Emily and her mother. The former stating that
this work would be finished in the course of a week.
What a fine young gentleman Mr. Simonton is,'
said Mr. Acton after Charles had gone; for on that
evening for the first time they had learned his name.
Ile is very pleasant and very kind,' rcin'affieil
Emily. .1-low different he is from many of our
rich men. I really begin to love that young man.'
certainly do,' said the mother. You seldom
see a man of his wealth so pleasant and agreeable
to poor folks.'
'lf over I slrhla be so lucky as to get a husband,
inother, I know no one who conies up to my ideas
of what a husband should he as this Mr. Simonton.'
'I fear, my child you will not gct =well a litishatid
I do not expect it, I never dreamed of such a
thiag. It was only somo of niy foolish
line week passed away and Mr. Simonton called
fir his Work. It was done, and well done; for
which he paid Emily liberally—she, however,
fused to lake more titan it was worth, until being
When Charles took his leave that night he re:
marked to Emily— , On Sunday evening next Dr.
Dean delivers a lecture before the Benevolent Sod
ety. I should be happy to have your company
I should be pleased to go,' said Emily, and tlik4
bid each other good night.
Charles and Emily went to the lecture. A door
was now open for his frequent visits at Mr. Acton's,
and every week he spent two or three evenings
A year passed away—justone year from the day
that Emily picked up the gold ring in the street.—
There was a wedding at the house of Mr. Acton.
and Emily wok the happy bride. She never looked
handsomer, and Simonton's joy seas complete.
Mr. Kellog united the happy pair and then invo
ked thellessing orthe Almighty upon them.
As Mr, Simonton was a wealthy Man, lie pur
chased a fine house in Back street--thither he took
his excellent companion where they lived in peace,
prosperity and happiness for more than half a cen
tury. It seas but a few years since that they were
deposited in the narrow house, followed bathe tomb
by numerous friends and relations. They died in
Christian faith, the precepts of the Bible cheering
them in their sickness, and giving them an antepast
of those joys which aro in reservation for the right-
A GOOD ONE.-A had relating to cue of his com
panions the exploits of his father is hunting, on the
previotfa day, asserted that he had killed nine ban
dred and ninety-nine pigeons at one shot. Iris
companion observed that it would have been well to
have added ono to the number and Made it an even
thousand—at which the lad in high dudgeon retort
ed—, Mai, do Nuti think my father would fella
Lc for one pigeon )1'
Ix our religiouti inquiries, wo should claim no
liberties, which we are not a tiling to allow to other:.
Vanity is blind to tho contempt it excites.
From our Exchanges
Cj The other day two reverend gentlemen con.
versing together, one complained to the other that
he found it a great hardship to breech twice a week,
Well said the other, I preach three times on Sun
and mo4e nothiqrcf it.'
g j A distinguished English physician used to
say lie considered a fee so neccessery to give weight
to an opinion, that when lie looked at his own
tongue in the glues, ho4dipped a guinea front ore
pocket into another. .
a It is stied that an old lady in lowa,
recently at the woods was kitten on the end of her ,
nose by a rattlesnake. he old lady recovered. but
the snake died !—Coroner's verdict—roisoncti Gy
c_j The t'orld neve: chooses to attach a tioa in
prosperous circ u mstances. It is a fortress which
mankind dare not assail.
It is said there is a man in Connecticut who
walks so fast that it puts his shadow out of breath
to keep up with him.
c 0". Is your master up ' asked an early visitor
of the Marquis of bianford's valet. Yes, sir,' re
joined the fellow with great innocence: 'the butler
and I carried hint up about three o'clock.'
A quaint writer says: I have awl women
so tre:icate that Ila are afraid to ride, for fea of the
horse running away; afraid to soil, for fear the host
might upset ; afraid to vrillk, fur fearthedew might
fall; but i neversaw one afraid to la: married!'
r,o , A good book and a good woman nre
lent things to those who know how to value them,
but there are many who judge of both only by
To weep for fear is ; to weep for
anger is womanish; to weep fur grief is intmen;
to weep for compassion is diving, but to weep for
sin is Christian.
CO- ' Do you understand me
out a hasty pedagogue to an urchin at wiles° head
he threw an inkstand. have got an ink Brig of
what you mean,'reptied the boy.
Fon-orrmno John, I fear you are for
getting me,' said a bright-eyed girl to her sweet•
heart, the other day.
Yes, Sues,' I have been for gellirg you these
two years !
cOs. Suppose you were lost in a 11 , ,;' said Lord
C. to his noble relative, the Marchioness,' what arc
you,niost. likely to be 7' Mist, of course,' replied
Z.. Get outof the way, or VII knock yoU into
the middle of next week.'
Sir, you will initch oblige ire by so doing, as I
Lave a note to pay in the bank on Saturday next.'
Gumbo, whar you lib now I doesn't
lib no Whir--I gib up resid'n tree weeks ago, and
moved off on account oh do wollor.'
I(*- 4 I shall re-w•ii,, bhertly,' as the man said on
! the morning of his second wedding day.
Oit is the Winter of our discontent,' as
the old maid said, when, turned forty, she found
' herself without a suitor.
It is said that however well young ladies
may ho versed in grammar, Lilt very few of thbm
can decline matrimony.'
don't say as how missus drinks, but I do
know that the Little iii the dark closet don't keel)
full all the time.'
Avoid A iiirson that's all jaw. Remember
the more a person talks the less he knows. l'ts
your lean geese that's always cackling—not the
fat ones. Recolect :his, and avoid men that's got
the gift of "gab," as you would those that had the
gift of ittettold.
Lirrars.—.llonest industry has brought that Mali
to the scaffold,' said a wag us ho observed a car-
penter upun the staging.
Speaking of wags—what Is more 'WAGGISH thus;
a dog's tail when he is pleased ?
Speaking of tales we always like those that end
well. Hog's fur instance.
Speaking of hogs—we saw ono of those animals
lying in the gutter the other day and an the oppciiite
one a well dressed man (!) The first had a ring in
his nose—the latter ha.la ring on hls finier. The
man was drunk--the hog was sober. A hog is
known by the company ho keeps,' thtMght we—so
thought Mr. Porker—and off lab Went.
Speaking of going off puts us in mind of s gun
we once owned. It went oil one night and we
have not seen it since.
A good wife exhibits her love for her husband by
trying to promote his welfare, and by administering
to his comfort.
A poor wife 'dears' and 'my loves' her husband,
and wouldn't sew a button on his coat to keep him
A sensible wife looks for her enjoyment at home
—a silly one abroad.
A wise girl would win a lover by poetising those
virtues which sccure admiration when personal
charms have failed.
A simple girl endeavors to recommend herself by
the exhibition of frivolous accomplishments and
mawkish sentiment, which arc es shallow as her
A good gill alms), respects herself, and, there
fore, u'.lNayti 110.CL:C3 the it,icct of other,
% - :/cDQ
(c) - -• In the tract recently 1111061;rd 1:31 Maly
land Tract Society, the following paasage occurs. - --•
It contains truth that tvill lie respcinikd tout once
by uvery One.
" One of the grossest neglects of youth, pundit
cing. incalculable mischief and ruin is in the im
proper spending of evenings. Darkness
Led for quiet home is the place of quiet. Dark
ness is temptation to inisconduct : suffertng the
young to be Ont when the light Of the day doesiin't
restrain them from misconduct, is training them to
it. We have already on tilOindtint harvest of this
needing. Pieta, mobs, crimes giving fearful foil.
dings, are the result of youth becoming lit agents
of outrage by running uncured far on ryeningn.--
What we see in these respects, is deplorable c . miknit ;
but what is this, compared with whst ti e Ot
see—MultftUdes malting themselves miserable Wild
nokiols in this world :—and what in that In eoine
Parents should look at the truth, that evening
pleasures and recreations are often deeply purchased:
—the price, their own impaired comfort, and the
blighted prospects of their offspring. It must be
obvious, that in this matter there can be no pre
smibcd rut. There con be no inferdidt of ;I'll 'even
ing recreations and employments, yet hei:e iet au
evil not Only dest.enclilT 11 youth, plit,'plYnting
thorns in many paths, and covering Many littesWiih
desolation. The reformation demanded inset :pro
ceed from judgment and conscience, and fir this
purpose judgment and conscience must be enlight
ened. Heads ci famille's must learn that the place
on earth best adapted to be a blessing in home.; and
by exmitple and wholesome 'restraint they must
teach this truth to all under them. EsPaciaily
should Wile during Sabbath hours ho consecrated.
Sabbath 'earnings and evenings are bleared . indecd,
when they gather the family into the circle of coil.
verse and instruction ; and parents and children,
masters and apprentices and servants, in the pees'.
once and by the grace of God who has undo thein
and placed them in their reorintive stations, raise
themselves to the exalted level of the truth, that
they ere invested with capacity and obligation in
their respective stations, assigned them by tin all
wise Providence, to help each other o'n‘Witi'd io holt
or, glory and immortality ; eternal life. SMals per.
jolt in everlasting . death; they perish, through neg
lect : who would stand in the judgment of the
Great Day under.the imputation of that neglect !--
Do you any,' not I :'--then think 'of Iliac thlttg,."
cCr 21s love generally speaks in poetry, though
some people aro rather awkward in the constriction
. ef verses, we recommend the subjoined as a model.
It is the voice of nature, free from the tratnnels of
orthography, and unonabarras . sed by the rules of
pedantic scholarship .
TO urrer s-----s.
u luvly girl I Due luv!.t
Why cant yu luv pore i
to git Won kiss, wot woud i du
i think ide ncr bout'di
u Bets I axed to luv me
but u told me u kuddent
ide luv u like bark dus n troll
' but then u said i bliuddent
i laze my Mita rite on my hit
and sez bets i lava u
and till a takes a worser pan
to u i will prove true
o wutist iluvd n nuttier girl
nut name it wos Murrier
but betsy deer my fun for ts
is 45 times mote hire
SIIOpIAI9III.-Piolesaor Ingraham thus graph
ically describes the town of Lynn; Massachusetts,
the shoemattera, Mut the vast cordwainery of the
The very pir'd,ant and thriving town of Lynn,
is the Paredise of shoemaker,'
Its young men, early transferred from the cradle
to the lust, cut teeth ind leather in the same time,
and its pretty Maidens learn to bind shoes with the
induction of their a, b, abs. Lovers exchange
hearts over a kid slipper, and swear eternal fidel
ity over a lap siotte. If they would get married.
they ask old Dr. Waxend, the parson, if he will
stitch them together, and they will pay him iu hides
and shomending. Whipping their children is call
ed tanning, and the rod they use is a cowhide. The
little boya swear by hi es and leather,' and
ploy at games which they call ' Ligh and low gum
ter and toe.' A child newly born is a lap stone
and the ages of their child/ma are known by the
nowlier of shoes they wear. Boys are called rights
and girls lefts—on (Wised is an old slipper, sod
a bachelor an old boot. The street doom to their
dwellings are• insteps,' and a neon in an overcoat
is ' foxed.' The fields about the towns are patchrs
and a fellow half sear; over is half soled. The,
never see an oak tree bat they directiy Calculate the
number of pegs it will make, and when they behold
bees at work they reflect that the only end of wax
is waxed end. They look on cattle and cheep as
only feather growing, and believe hogs were only
made to produce bristles. Its lap stones wash!.
pave Broadway, and lasts, if piled together, would
make a monument higher titan that on Buuket'..
c - Fashion maker; people visit when, they had
rather atay at home, eat when they are not hungry
and drink when they are not dry. She runs
health, and makes fools of all her followeto.
aj AN bouts indoatry will do more to beget
theerfulncaa, suppress evil humors, and retrieve
youraiuiis, than a zu ineuining.