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llti\Tl - NGDON tIW-RiNAL
jfaatitg ILrtilopilver—Orbottli to Grnerat futrltigritcc, allimrttoing, Vottttco,Ettrratttrr, ItiorAtit% Itlo, , Eirlittfl, altritulturr, etnum men t, kc., kr.
V709T10 ZMe :3 c C;aWo gaetid
THEODORE H, CREMER,
The “Joeursi." will be published eery Wed
neadiy mlrning, at $2 00 a yeer, if paid in athiance,
end if not paid within aix mouths, $2 50.
No subscrip i 3ll received for a shorter period than
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Advertisements not exceeding One square, will be
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lusnt 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
"To charm the languid hours of solitude,
lie oft invites her to the Muses lore."
Act well your part, there all Me honor lies.
The Shoemaker sat amid wax and leather,
With lap-atone over his kneo,
Where snug in his shop, he defied all weather,
Drawing his quarters and soli , together—
A happy old man was tie.
This happy old man was so wise and knowing,
The worth of his time he knew ;
He bristled his ends, and kept them going,
And felt to each moment a such ws6
Until ho got routed the shoe.
Of every dead his was was sealing,
The closing was firm and fast;
The prick of his awl never caused a feeling
Of pain to the toy; and his Win in eneta rvu
Was perfect and true to the LOST.
Vilenever you gave him a foot to measure,
\ ith gentle and skilful hand
He took its proportions with looks of pleasure
As if you were giving the costliest treasure,
Or duionng Om lard of the land.
And many a cno (l id he save from getting
A fever, or cold, or cough;
For many a foot did he save from wetting,
When, whether in water orsilow twos setting,
llii shoeing would keep them off.
When lie had done with his making and mending,
With hope and a peaceful !least.
Resigning Iris awl, as his thread was ending,
lie passed from his hench,to the gr ave descending
As high as Ine king, to rest.
The Indian's Song.
Land where the brightest waters flow
Land where the loveliest forests grow ;
Where the warrior drew the bow,
Native land, farewell!
He who made yon stream snd tree,
Made the white and red wan free,
Gave the Indian's home to be
'Mid the forest wilds.
Have the waters ceased to flow'!
Have the forests ceased to grow ?
Why do our fathers hid us go
Frotu our native homes
Here in infancy we played ;
Here our happy wigwams made ;
Hew our brothers graves are laid,
M Uta we leave diem all !
While inen tell us God is nigh,
Pura and just in )(older sky ;
Will not then his searching eye
klee the Indians wrong?"
A. Zundred Years Ago.
Where,where aro all the hirds that sang
A imildred years ago?
The flowers tort all in beauty sprang
A hundred years ago
The lips that nailed,
The eyes that wild
In flashes shone
Solt , yea upon—
Where, oh where, are lips and eyes,
The maiden a smiles, the lover sigh's,
Tuat lived so long ego ?
Who peopled all the city street,
A hundred years ago?
Who the church with faces meek,
A hundred years ago?
The sneering tole
Of choler frail,
The plot that work'd
A brother's hurt,
Where, oh where, ore plots and sneers,
The pour main's hope, tho rich man a fears,
That lived so long ago?
Where are the graves Where dead men slept
A hundred years ago?
Who were they, the living wept
A hundred years ago?
By other men
That knew not them.
Their lands are till'd ;
Their graves are ;
Yet nature then was just as gay ;
And bright the sun shone as to.day,
A hundred years ago!
The past! what is it hut a gleam
Wuich Nlemury faiutly throws;
The future! tis tEw fairy dream
That !lope and fear compose,
Tit, present is the lightning glance
'Dist 1',111J1,1 and di-appears—
Thus lif t s i, ',tit a moment's trance
01 !tie.a..trte.;, hopes anti Fears.
A •onn intendiug to butter a piece of broad
buttered tila .vite's tongue. He discovered his or•
rot when be found she could not scold, but that her
wards euips3 out as •rr:•,11:
, 'May I trouble you to show one that dress cap
with blue ribbons in the window?" said a lady-like
person as she entered a fashionable lace shop.
The proprietor, with a polite bow, handed the
lady a chair, and producing the cap alluded to,
recommended it in the usual set phrases.
"Pray what is the price?" enquired Mrs. '.How
bray with a dissatisfied air, after viewing it in every
imaginable position, and scruunioing its materials,
'and worktnapship with the most patient minute
"The price is seven shillings, madam," answer
ed the shop-keeper, rubbing his hand.
"Seven shillings!" exclaimed Mrs. Mowluny;
"why I have seen them marked up a score of places
for six, and at the banaars they are cheaper still."
"Excuse me madam," replied the shopkeeper,
"not such a cap as that I think. Observe the fine
quality of the materials, and the neatness of the
workmanship. It is a first rate article."
"Oh yea, I see," rejoined Mrs. Mowbray; "but
the cape to which I allude are quite equal io it in
every respect. The fact in, Ido not particularly
want it; but if six shillings will do, I will take it."
The ahopkeeper hesitated. "I suppose you
must have it then, madam," with a saddened coun
tenance, •"but really I get no profit by it at that
"011," said Mrs. Mowbray with a bantering air,
"you shopkeepers neVcr get any profit, if we are to
believe you. You 'newt to say you do not pocket
qite fifty per cent by it."
The shopkeeper, with a faint effort to smile
shook his head as he neatly folded and mapped up
the delicate article, and Mrs. Mowbray having coun
ted out the six shillings, he politely thanked her,
opened the Atop door, and bade her good day.
"There, Jane," said Mrs. Mowbray ps she enter
ed the parlour on her arrival at home, "what do
you think of my purchaser holding up her new
acquisition. '•ls it not a love of a cap? Guess
what I gave foe it."
Jane exatnined it minutely, and guessed the price
to be seven or eight shillings, the materials and
work being, as she remarked, so very good.
"Only six shillings," said Mrs. Mowbray trium
phantly; "the shopkeeper asked seven, but I suc
ceeded in getting it for six; and ! putting it on, and
walking up to the looking glass) I assure you I am
not a little pleased with my bargain."
said Jane, "it is a wonder they can af
ford to sell such a cap for the tnoney; the materials
alone, I should think, would coat as much as that."
'•lt is a wonder," replied Mrs. Mowbray indiffer
ently. as she tamed herself around before the look
ing gloat, and enquired of her sister how it suited
her face, and whether the color of the ribbon were
adapted to her complexion.
A loud double knock at this moment was heard
at the door, and Mrs. Mowbray, taking off the cap
in the greatest trepidation, remarked thatshe would
not for all the world that her husband should know
of her purchase, as her lust month's millinery bill
had been very heavy, and Edward would be dis
pleased at what he would term her extravagance.
The cap was safely deposited before Edward had
entered the room; who, throwing himself on the so
fa, declared he was fatigued, and should be glad of
a cup of tea.
"You are late, my dear, this evening, are you
not?" inquired Mrs. Mowbray.
"•I am later than usual," answered Mr. Mowbray;
I have been attending a committee meeting of our
benevolent society, which detained me some time."
"Your benevolent society is always detaining
you , I think," said Mrs. Mowbray somewhat re
proachfully, "benevolent societeties are very good
things no doubt, but I think you have quite sta.
cient to do, both with your tittle and your money,
without attending to arty such things. What can
we do for the poor? It is very well for those who
have nothing to do, and plenty of money to spore;
but I cannot see how persons with so limited an
income as ours have any business with benevolent
“Well, my dear,” replied Edward, ,, l have thought
on the subject sufficiently to entitle me to it deeided
opinion, and lent sure if you had been with us to
day, and heard the instances of good we have al
read effected, you would not hold so lightly the
exertions of even such humble individuals as we.
I hope I sin neither neglecting my business nor my
home in these efforts, and I sin confident you will
rejoice with me when 1 tell you that we have good
reason to hope that we are making ki(MIC impression,
however little, upon the vice and ignorance which
have so long made those lanes and allege at the
back of our house a nuisance to the neighborhood."
"Of course, my dear," said Mrs. Mowbray,
wish always to sympathise with you in any of your
efforts to do good."
"We have some funds in hand," remarked Mr.
Mowbray, and l have promised our committee to
visit the poor families myself to-morrow, to awe,
lain their individual circumstances, and the hest
means of serving them. Let me add, my deal,"
said he coaxingly, " that I hope you will accompany
me and share with me the pleasure of inquiring
into their necessities, and endeavoring to alleviate
Mrs. Mowbruy would willingly have conceded to
her husband the monopoly of this plenum; but af
ter making a host of objections and names, which
were sue,,sfully combatted by him, t‘aa at la,.
1:LIW& -,, JvUll..1E3MVJDCIL), 0 I:Penu a S2 a aaCia'
brought to acquiesce in the wish, and promised to be
in readiness on the following afternoon to accom
pany on what she nevertheless deemed a Quixotic
The next day Mrs. Mowbray was reluctantly
ready on her husband's return from business, and
roughly attired for the occasion, they started on
their exploratory tour.
I.eaving the main thoroughfare, with its genteel
dwelling houses nod glittering shops, they turned
down a little bye street, at the end of which they
found themselves in the midst of a hugh neat, as it
were of courts and alleys, which presented a strik
ing contrast with the gaudy street they had just
left. Mrs. Mowbray was so shocked at the sight of
such wretchedness, that she hesitated to proceed till
re-assured try her husband, who well knew the lo
cality, and had often visited the poor families there
The appearance of the spot was indeed deplore
al7le, and not a little startling to one whose walks
had been confined to the public thoroughfares. It
was a lovely afternoon, yet even the sun's piercing
beams could scarcely penetrate some of these cheer
less gloomy nooks. Here were clusters of pestife
rous hovels, some without doors, crowded with hti.
man beings, though unfit even for the habitation of
the most valueless anion!. In many the old win
dow panes were all almost broken, while in other
they were so dirty, and patched will paper or stuff
ed wills rags, that they but very partially admitted
the light of the day. Ragged and vicious boys
were gambling in group., and barefooted children
were playing about the slimy niud, some squalid
and puny in consequence of bad air and insufficient
food, and others whose chubby features displayed,
in spite of dirt and privation, a robustness of health
that would have done credit to the nursery of a no
bleman. Here were gaunt men, with dull tnean
ingless countenances, sitting on their comfortless
thresholds, and bony haggard women screeching
for their strayed children, while the scarcely con
cealed forms of some of the younger females might
lieve served as models for the painter or sculptor.
Yet even here were traces of human sympathies of
the purest kind. Girls were nursing their baby sis
•ters with the most patient devotedness. The play
ful innoce rot faced kitten, a universal favorite, frol
icked about in the dirty window sill; the social dog
seemed quite at home with the children, as they
shared with him their pittance of bread; and from
many a superannuated saucepan and spoutless tea
pot, at the upper windowa, flew the fragrant berga
mot and the blushing geranium with strange luxu-
The appearance in such ineighborhood of two
well dressed persons soon caused an unusual ex- ,
citement, especially as Mr. Mowbray was known a
mong the poor inhabitants; and whenever he ap
pealed there, it might be safely calculated there woe
something to be given away. Children after a has
glance at the intruders, left their playfellows and
ran to their homes; heads were thrust out at the
windows; sonic shuffled to their own rooms, that' ,
they might be ready if called on; others obtruded
themselves in the way with an obsequious court
sme came to the doors with their little ones
peeping front behind their aprons; and all around
were on the tiptoe of expectation.
As they climbed the creaking stairs, and explor
the naked garrets of the various houses, it was
singular to tnarke the dissimilarity in character and
circumstance of the various inmates—alike only
their poverty. Even in form and feature their con
trast wan striking. In the countenance of some
might be mistakeably read the sensual and the
brutish; while in the lineaments of others might be
traced, notwithstanding dirt and rags, the predomi
nance of the gentle, and even the refined. Here
was the round chocked boor, who fattened amid the
filth that seemed natural to him; and here the an
gular featured man of thought and of observation,
whom more favorable circumstances might have
placed in a different sphere. The student of hu
man character could not have desired a finer field
for the prosecution of his studies than such a one
as this; and the more so, as the character was hero
so forcibly developed for good or evil, unawakened
by any of the influences which affect civilized life.
Mrs. Mowbray, as she joined her husband in kind
conversation with the various families they visited,
semi began to feel a deep interest in them, soothingly
advised with him, and relieved sonic of their moat
They had completed their intended round of vis
its, and were just leaving the court to return home
ward, when a young woman carrying in her hand
a milliner's basket crossed before them. She was
very meanly clad, and her appearance bespoke deep
poperty, yet there was an air of respectability about
her that could not bo mistaken. She evidently
shrunk from observatior; but as she looked up with
a surprised air at the unusual sight of two respect
able dressed persons in such a place, her sad coun
tenance beaming with intelligence, so forcibly im
pressed Mr. Mowbruy, that he stopped her, and as
ked her where she lived, exptessed a wish to pay
her a visit.
The young woman corn tseycd, and led thu way
to a house superior to :runt of those they had just
left, but scarcely less wretched and ruinous. It
was a large budding, arid had perhaps once been
tenanted by the wealthy; but it had long since fal
len into decay, and its lofty capacious rooms had
been divided into a number of small ones, each of
which, now contained a family, large or small as
the case might be. Mr. and Mrs. Movrbray follow
ed the young woman up the wide staircase to the
top of the house, and Mon turning into a long gal.
I•lery•, their guide stopped at (digit' at a door, and
lifting the latch, with a courtsev and an apology fm
the untidiness of the room, ushered them into her
apartment, and dusting the chair, (there was hut
one.) invited Mrs. Mowbray to take a seat.
The room wag spacious, and appeared the larger
in consequence of being so scantily furnished.
Some half dozen old books lay on the window, a
few articles of crockery ware were arranged on a
box, and these with a little table, a chair, and a box
which seemed to serve occasionally as a seat, com
prised nearly all the articles visible in the room.
Everything, however, was clean and tidy, and there
was an air of decency and respectability about the
room which was pleasingly contrasted with those
I they had just left.
..Do you live here alone, pray?" inquired Mr.
"No, Sir," replied the young woman feebly,
"my aged mother lives with me; but (pointing to a
bed at the further end of the room, and which the
gathering shades of evening had prevented them
from before observing) she is ill, and has been con
fined to her bed for the last month." .
"Have you no (Either?" inquired Mr. Mowbray,
The young woman was silent for a moment, se
her tongue struggled to articulate an answer, while
a tear trickled down her check..
"My father is dead, sir," she replied; "he died a•
bout six months ago after a short illness, and we
were in consequence compelled to leave our former
nice home, and take this room."
"And prny do you support yourself and your
mother?" asked Mr. Mowbray, glare ing at the ta
ble, which was strewed wills pieces of lace,
make caps and collars, sir," said the young
female, "when I can get work to do; but it is very
precarious and so badly paid for, that I have been
obliged to pari nearly all our furniture to keep out
of debt. I am unwilling that my poor mother
should be chargeable to the pariah; but my hardest
exertions are insufficient to supply us even with
"Pray, whom do you work fort" inquired Mrs.
Mowbray, looking curiously at an unfinished cap
which lay on the table.
n 1 work printipally, madam," replied the young
woman, 'Tor the largo lace shop, in the street close
by. That cap, madam, will only bring me 50
when it is finished, and I have already spent nearly
a day in making it, and the material cost me 4s
6d. Even this poor proffit is to he reduced, for my
employer told me last night he could not afford to
give me so much for them, as ladies refuse to give
him his price."
"Ladies! index''' exclaimed Mr. Mowbray in
dignantly. "They little think, when they are so
mercilessly hauling for bargains how sadly they
are diminishing the wages of the poor."
Mrs. Mowbray, turned her head aside and blush
ed deeply, for she recognized in the cap before her,
the counterpart of the one she had bought the pre
ceding day, and in the employer of this poor young
woman the laceman of whom she had bought it.
Mr. Mowbray made some further inquiries, and
leaving the poor cap maker a trifle, promised to send
a doctor to visit her mother, and call on her again:,
and Mrs. Mowbray, before leaving, gave her on or
der, with an assurance that she would endeavor to
interest her friends on her behalf.
Mrs. Mowbray though ashamed and self-convic
ted, returned home pleased with her novel tour, and
henceforward was the frequent companion of her
husband on such occasions.—Bargain hunting had
been in her case the result rather of thoughtlessness
than of an unfeeling disposition, and from this
time she was more liberal in her purchases, and
never felt disposed to depreciate the value of an
article without thinking of the poor cap maker.
She came to the wise conclusion, that an unnecee
eery or bad article can never be cheap, and that a
good article is always worth a fair price. A bargain
was ever afterwards associated in her mind with
depreciated wages and the miseries of the poor; and
the charm which it had once possessed in her eyes
was entirely dispelled by the recollection of the
sorrow and oppression which were so often involv
ed in its production.
Go IT .Isany.--A horse, with saddle and bridle
was recently found without a rider, wandering near
a country tavern in Ohio. Search having been
made, the gentleman owner, very essentially drunk
was found mounted astride n wall, kicking and
spurring most furiously, cursing hissupposed poney
for not moving forward. Having become a little
sobered, he discovered his mistake, and dismounted
to the no small amusement of the bye-standers.
A Negro's idea of love, as given by Pelham,
one of the Ethiopean serenaders Ah, nigger!
I felt as if I war up in the clouds betwen two hot
buck-wheat cakes, and all de leotle angels were pour
in' down lasses upon me.'
g There is a man on Long Island, so short
sighted that he can't see to sleep without specs.
I find you a very profitable concern,' as the
spirit-merchant said to the water-butt.
c[7' Can a man who has passed through the
Thom. Tunnel be said to have crossed the river?
If nut, how is he to prove that he has got to the
ether side ?
Why aro ladies dresses about the waist lilts
a general meeting Because there is a gathering
Mere..—Y es, and often times a nose LE.
Are you fond of tongue, Sir ?' .1 was al.
way,' fond of tongue, INfadam, and 1 like it amt.'
Suet die Thing.
Our old friend Deftla Corcoran, of the Picayune
—(and the 'brotri of a boy' he is too,)—tells the
'►'oe AMERICAN EAGLE awn DANIEL OTONN•
ma,--llyran Maguire end Phil Mahony were yes
terday charged before the Recorder with fighting
and disturbing the peace on Monday night. Tifeit'
appearance told that they belonged to neiitiet the
peace nor temperance societi. s.
Mahony and Maguire, you have been fighting,"
said the Recorder. Rave you any thing to say to
the charge 7'
Mahony looked at Maguire, and Maguire scratch
ed his head with his dexter hand, and looked at the
see that neither of you have any defence to
make,' said the Recorder.
0 yis, yer honor,' said Byran, Phil has; he'll
till ye ell about it, for he's got the larnin'; he brags
himself on sackin' a schoolmaster, and of bein' as
far as , The Rule of Three in Fractions.' Speak
to him, Phil.'
And acting on the hint, Phil spoke May i'
plan this hanorable coort : meself and Byron here
was last night taken' two juleps, as happy and Bo
comfortable as if weed found a leperahaun's geoid
or was in possession of a four lafed ehrunrogue, and
could git what we wanted jist for askin' it. And
how cud we be otherwise 1 for; as I afore, there was!
our juleps afore us, mid the ice shinin' its the town
blers like lumps of diamons, and the mint cluster
' ed all over the top o' them, remindin' a body of the
green fields of ould Ireland. ' Now I think,' cis
Phil to me—'
' I think' said the Recorder, • that I evince great
patience in listening to all this. Why do you not
at once reply to the charge?'
That's what Pus cumin to,' said Byron—" so as
I was saying,' sia Phil to tnrsis he, • I blieve, By
rum' said he, there was a time its Ireland whin it
'ud be thrason to dhrink one of thins juleps there,'
sis he. I suppose ye inane sence Father Mathew
shim all strict timperance min 1' sic I. No,' cis
ho, but in 'DB.'. 'Why in '9Bl' sia I. 'Dist be-
Issue they'regreen.' sis he; 'ye know any one that
showed a preferince in thins days for the nations)
color its arty way, they won either hung or sent to
Botany Bay. Don't ye know,' biS he, what the
ould song sia
"It's a poor disthrissesl counthry
As iver yet was seen;
They're hangin' min and WOMBS)
For the wearin' of the green.' '
0, I know all that,' xis I ; yis, and it 'ud be sa
still only for O'Connell—
..0, Dan was the boy
That in spite of King and Queen,
Pulled down the Orange
And ran up the green :"
And, afther singin' this varse, he tuck up his
toumbler and said Here's his health!' 111 not
dltrink it,' eis 1. • Thin ye're no Irishman,' sis he.
'As good as you are,' sis I; • but I'll dhrink no
man's health who sis a word against the A inirican
Aigle, that floats above and watches over the nist
where liberty hatches her young: 'O, I knew ye
had• the Saxon dhrop in ye,' - sis he. 'lt's a lie,'
sis I. 'Take that thin,' sis he. And that,' sis I;
and to it we whit, and at it we kept till the watch
man arristed us. But we talked the thing over in
the watch-house last night, and made it all up.—
Phil sis he'd suffer to be cursed by the priest rayther
than propose O'Connell's health, if he knew that
he said a word against the Arairican Aigle , so if
yer honor lits us off this time, we'll neither brake
the pace nor one another's head for a month of
The Recorder took them at their words and ov
dared their immediate discharge.
(0" An unexpectedly touching scene was pre•
seated to the French Academy of Sciences very
lately. The new invention of Van Peterson was
to be exhibited—an artificial arm, by which, if the
wearer has but a third of the shoulder remaining,
ho can pick up a pin, lift a glass of water to his
lips, hold a newspaper, &c. A committe had been
appointed by the Academy to decide on its merits,
arid an old soldier from the Hospital of Invalids
was the sucject of experiment. He had been fur
many years deprived of both arms at the shoulder,
and when the substitutes wcro attached, he perform
ed all that was act down by the inventor with ease
--taking a glass of wine, &c. Hut half an hour
of them restored functions had moved the heart of
the old militare. As the arms wore detached, his
breast heaved with emotion difficult to be suppress
. Harder to bear, be murmured than the first lon,
when he did not know their value!'
The Academy sat a few moments in breathless
silence, all present evidently affected.
, Well' exclaimed Mr. Arago at last, has no ona
anything to propose? Are we to let this brave old
' man go back mutilated when we can relieve him?
How much do they cost ?
'Five hundred franca each;
Ah ! it would be costly to furnish all the maim
ed soldiers of the Hospital, but the others have not
been reminded of their loss. We will subsc ribs the
thousand francs for the one.'
The proposition was received with acclamation
and the veteran walked away gesticuculdting w+•ith
"The last link is broken that bound me to thee."
as the horse said when he kicked off hit traces and
ran away from the plow.
`-‘,-:STU),Aartlclu. r y 41) .0.6&)d3
Catching ant/C*OBI in Acrimony
About two months Ante, a novel cirturnstroree
took place a few miles back of Covington, in the
State of Kentucky, the parties having numerous
wealthy acquaintencee in i lia city, to whom the
story has been told by our friend Lacs of the New •
port Chandelier, (Which paper will noon be forth-
Corning) he trrting learned' it while on a• tout in•
sb practice of law at the late sitting of the court
in that stilt,
It appears that' a very rich old Widow lady by
the name of M—, had an only daughter, who
was a most beautiful creature, and could commatitt
the hand of the proudest of Kentucky'', corm brit
she strange to say. loved a little gent:viten tailor by
the name of P , who had been so fortunate'
an to win her without her mothers knowledge. At
length the fact cone to the parent's ears, and she
forbade young P—, her house. At few
after the old lady had occasion to be ailment till
late hour of course the lovers did not let such an
oppnrtunity pass, of spending the evening togeth
er, and when they heard Mrs. M returning,
the lover, not being able to escape, was put safely
into a large closet. On the entrance of Mrs-
M—, she, having had a hint from a faithful
servant, made bold to question her daughter about
her lover, and declared that be had just gone out of
the Ileum This the damsel stoutly denied, but her
mamma would not believe herf and se a terrible
punishment, ordered her to be locked up in the dark
closet, there to remain till broad day light. On her
opening the closet door, next morning, Mrs:
M--was thunderst rack at beholding her daugh
ter asleep in the young traitor's arms!—lt is needlees
to add that the mother no longer opposed thtir
union; end on that very day the blushing girl wan
united to her honorable lover, and they are now en
joying all the bliases and kisses of their reatanti,
Thr World in a bad way.—The lost li;aurefo
Nigirber , gires up' the world; with the following
diagnfais of its present condition:
Disease incurable! chills and fever iv. America;
palsy and debauchery in Europe: consumption and
gem in Asia; and plague and leprosy in Africa•
As with Israel, so as WI the world—the whole head
is sick and the whole heart faint, and the it must!
And Mormonism, eternal Mormonism, will witness
the dying struggle—the last gasp, when the earth
qatikes and triumphs over death, hell and the grass..
So let the old world the.
Mrking fur a living.—The following article iM
extracted from the , Offering,' edited by the Factory
Girls of Lotvell:
Whence originated the idea that it war, derogato
ry to a lady's dignity, or a blot upon the female
character to labor, and who was the first to nay.
sneering/y, , Oh she works for a living?' Surely
such ideas and expressions ought not to grow on
republican soil! • The time has been when ladies of
the first rank were accustom.' to busy themselves
in domestic employment. Homer tells us of prin.
tresses who used to draw water from the springs,
and wash with their Om hands tho fluent of the
linen of their respective familiee. The famous Lti•
cretia used to spin in the midst of her attention to ,
and the wife of Mystic's, after the erige of 'troy,
employed herself weaving until her husband return•
cd from Ithica.
The nearest guess we ever knew a man to make;
was made by ono who was tumbled ott t of a second
story window, and when picking himself up, "ha
rather guessed he waent wanted there."
."1 dukt say as hots missus drinks, Lot I do know
that the bottle in the dark closet don't keep full all
It vfraa a proverb of Anarcetirsis, a Scythian phil
osophor, that the vine bore three branches; brat
pleasure; secondly, drunkenness; thirdly, disgust.
Or When are soldiers stronger then elephants
—When they carry a fortress.
What'a deal of trouble the gunsmith saes
A nun, intending to refuse a challenge to a duel
accepted it in a state of absence of mind. The
consequence was, that he discovered his mistake
when the challenger ran oft and ha not been heard
A ,lIVIENILE Mother,' said a lit
tle fellow the other day, • is there any harm in break
ing eggshells?' Certainly nut, my deer, but why
do you oak 1' Cause I dropt the basket just now
and ace what a mess I'm in with the yolks
Time, patience, industry are the three grand mas•
tern of the world—they bring a man the end of his
desires, whereas, an imprudent and turbulent mur
mur oftentimes borne him out of the way to his
Sallies of wit too bright, ti.e like flashes of light
fling ; they dazzle rather thsh ibmminate.
If a man was always to be known by the corn.
pans he kept, alas! for the poor constahlee!
1 FABLE FROM THE GERMAN OF 811 - OILER
An arrow from a bow just shot,
Fled upward to Heaven's canopy ,
And cried with pompous self-conceit
To the King Eagle, scornfully
• Look here—l can as high as thou,
And, towards the sun, even bigger silo!'
The eagle smiled, and said 0 fool,
What do tby borrowed plumes avail'
By other's strength thou dost descend,
t 4 .t 3P.if dc:st•-- 11 , . end •