11.r\TUNGDON JOUR)AL X graoillg actuopaper—llttottZt to etiterat Entellfgence, abUertfoilig, Volttico, ;Literature, ftioratitg, Xrto, Aticttcco,ngrfcitltutr, antuocintitt, Scr.,Szt. Ia Z W COno ZtUE, Y3al). CIEI3. PUBLISHED BY JAMES CLARK. The "JurtiorAL" will be published every Wed ncsday morning, at $2 00 a year, if paid in advance, and if not paid within six months, $2 60. 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 an advertisement in to be continu ed, it will be kept in till ordered out, and charged ac cordingly. 7 - V. B. PALMER, Esg., is authorized to act as Agent for this paper, to procure subscriptions and advertisements in Philadelphia, New York, Balti more and Boston. OFFICES Philadelphia --Number 69 Pine street. Ballinsore—S. E. corner of Baltimore and Cal vert strecti. New Yorlc—Number 160 Nassau street. Boston—Number 16 State street. POETRY. THE INVALID. BY W. D. GALIAGREW She come in Spring, when leaves were green, And birds sang blithe in bower and tree, A stranger, but her gentle mien It was a calm delight to see. In every motion grace was hers ; On every feature sweetness dwelt ; Thoughts soon became her worshippers— Affections soon before her knelt. She bloom'd through all the summer days, As sweetly as the fairest flowers, And till October's softening haze, Came with its still and dreamy hours. So calm the current of her life, So lovely and serene its flow, We hardly mark'd the deadly strife Disease forever kept below. But Autumn winds grew wild end chill, And pierced her with their icy breath ; And when the snow on plain and hill Lay white, she passed, and slept in death. Tones only of immortal birth Our momory of her voice can stir With things too beautiful for earth Alone do we remember her. She came in Spring, when leaves were green, And birds sang blithe in bower and tree, And flowers sprang up and bloomed between Low branches and the quickening lea. The greenness of the leaf is gone, The beauty of the flower is riven, The birds to other climes have flown, And there's an angel more in Heaven, IV/ZI3OMLLAVMOUri. From the Philadelphia Saturday Courier. A TALE OF BORDER LIFE, BY i. lIENDEBSON, 111. D. It was my lot, in early life, to be thrown into the company of POMO of the first white settlers of the Valley of the Juniata, and to hear many tales of the " hair-breadth 'scopes," and thrilling incidents, which befell these hardy adventurers in the desultory warfare which they had waged with the aborigines of the soil, who, in their turn, for the wrongs inflict ed upon them, sought not justice, when they well knew it was not to ho found—but vengeance, un compromising vengeance. Whilst I have looked upon the Spring• which bears an imperishable name, near to which once stood the cabin . of Logan, the veritable author of that sublime and simple appeal to the white mar.— in which the utter desolation of a broken heart is expressed, with a truth and a pathos that have touch- ' ed the lowest chord in the scale of human woe;— or when the sound of the fall of a mighty oak, in the stillness of the wood, has recalled to mind the mournfully beautiful words of the dying Pushma toile—how have I regretted that so few anecdotes of these noblemen of nature have been preserved, and that many of the most interesting events of Border life, which tradition had imperfectly handed down to the last generation, are destined to fade away from the remembrance of that which is to follow. The ensuing narrative, in which I give the sub stance of what I heard related, deserves to be re corded as a rare example of disinterested love and chivalrous generosity, in one of a people, whom, in our youthful days, we were taught:to look upon snore in the light of savage beasts than rational be ings, endowed, like ourselves, with the image and feelings of humanity. Mr. J. Hall, a revolutionary soldier, and one of the first settlers of Huntingdon county, frequently related the following interesting incidents as having occurred within his own knowledge, and connected with the captivity and escape of a girl of the name of Brotherton, who had been taken prisoner by a predatory band of Seneka Indians, and carried to their settlements on our northern frontier. Two trappers on the Mushonnon were driven from their camp, near the present town of Phillips burg, by the advancing war party, and flying to the nearest settlement on the Juniata, forewarned the inhabitants of the impending danger. The fearful *dings were carried by runners from house to house and all, savo Brotherton and his daughter, sought --.,- - the protection of the Blockhouse, at the Standing Stone, (now Huntingdon.) The fattier being ab sent at the time, the heroic girl, resisting every en treaty, absolutely refused to leave the house until his return, which was every moment expected.— And the rest of the family consisting of the mother and several younger children, with the gloomy fore bodings, were reluctantly compelled to leave her behind. Brotherton did not return that night, and early the next morning, the barking of the -dog ap prized her that some one was near; and supposing it to be tier father, she went out to meet him—was seen, pursued, overtaken by the I nilians, who already suspected that their approach had been discovered, from the circumstance that several houses which they had visited bore certain evidence'of the hasty flight of then> late occupants, and loading them selves with , the plunder thus acquired, made a pre cipitate retreat through the mountains. They were immediately pursued by all the dis posable force at the Standing Stone, which Brother tor, arrived in time to join. The party was headed by an old hunter, who, following the trail with the instict of the bloodhound, came egos the place of their first night's encampment, which was amongst the laurels of Tapey's Mountains. On the follow ing day, in tracing their footsteps over some boggy ground, they remarked with pleasure that the slight shoes of Misi Brotherton, (as they noticed with pain had been worn through on the preceding day,) were now replaced by a substantial pair of mocas sins. After this discovery, the leader of the party, a man experienced in the warfare and customs of the Indians, proposed a consultation, and addressing himself to Brotherton, the one of all the party most deeply interested, advised him that on his daughter's account it would be the most prudent to & iv° up the pursuit, as it was now evident that they meant to treat her kindly; that if overtaken, and finding themselves encumbered with the prisoner, they would put her to death rather than that she should fall into their hands. This prudent counsel happily prevailed, and they returned to the settlement. Little is known of the proceedings afterwards, except the instances related by Miss B. of their ex treme vigilance and caution, to baffle pursuit, and avoid surprise. Such as when ascending a moun tain, if a stone was moved, they would turn round and replace it; and in the stillness of the night, when a noise was heard, as of some one treading upon a dead stick, their pipes were instantly laid aside, and their fires put out, and not a word was spoken until it was light enough to resume their noiseless march. Our heroine is represented to have possessed much rustic beauty, and attractiveness of manner, and although sho had scarcely reached the full bloom of womanhood, previous to her captivity, more than ono aspirant to her hand, had already paid his homage to her charms. After remaining upwards of a year in the family of a chief, as an adopted daughter, Oron, a distin guished young warrior, became deeply enamored of her, and with every demonstration of the most ar dent affection, offered her marriage. His suit was mildly but firmly rejected. Some time afterwards he sought and obtained a private interview, at which he told her he hnd plainly dis covered that the white dove, (a name by which he was pleased to call her) loved the hills and the val . lies of her own clear stream,t better than the lakes and plains of the red man—and that she was pining at heart after the friends she had left behind her.— That however much the rejection of his suit had grieved him, to be the daily witness of her unhap piness distressed him still mores And that his ob- ject in seeking the present interview, was to propose a scheme for her deliverance. After enjoining upon her the utmost caution, that nothing in her conduct or demeanor might lead to a suspicion of her intended flight, he appointed to meet her at a well known spot, a few miles from the village, on the midnight of a certain day. And to lull suspicion to rest, II few days previous to the appointed time, he intimated an intention (a not unusual occurrence) of taking a hunting expedi tion of several weeks duration. Faithful in his engagement, the young chief, pro vided with everything required for such an under , taking, set out with his interesting charge, on the way to her long regretted home. Nor did he relax, night or day, in the most unremitting attention to her comfort or convenience, throughot this long and dreary journey. At night fall after kindling her fire, ho spread her couch of forest leaves with the softest ponds of the fern, over which, upon the rude forks which his tomahawk supplied him; Ito erected a canopy of hernia& boughs, to protect her from the chilly dews of the night. A dressed bear skin and blan ket afforded her all the additional comfort required after the fatigues of the day, to ensure ber a night's repose both profound and refreshing. When these simple preparations for the night were completed, he partook with her of the frugal repast which his knapsack or his rifle had furnished him, and then with the true delicacy of the most refined feeling, he retired to take the short repose which nature re quired, at a respectful distance. * lt was near the close of September, on the last day of their weary march, that the warrior and the maiden stood upon the summit of a ridge which overlooked the cottage of her parents, the blue smoke from which could be seen now coding up wards amidst the trees. Spread abroad befPre eyes was a scene rich in picturesque and quiet beauty. The last rays of the setting stirs were res ting upon the summits of the hills, whilst the deep valleys between were darkening in the shadows of gaC) z , C.102:341. evening. The soft low murmurings which rose upon the breeze wow sent up by the beautiful Ju niata, glimses of which could be seen, as it flashed in light, through various openings between the hills, until it was lost to sight in the dark defiles of the distant mountains. Pointing to the residence of her parents, the Indian thus addressed the fair captive : " Oran can go no farther! The friends of the white dove are still the mortal foes of the red man : She now stands amidst her native hills, and looks down upon the scenes of htr childhood. Oran would not have an unwilling bride: he has there• fore brought her hem, that she may make her final choice in sight of the wigwams of her people.— Will she return with him to be the happy mistress of his heart and home, or send him forth a lone wanderer into the wilderness'!" Pointing to the setting sun, he continued :---" See! the Great Spir it of Light will soon hide his face behind the moun tains, and the earth will be dark and sad; but to morrow he will look egain from the East, and ail that live will rejoice in his beams. So, if the white dove will hide her face, Oran's heart will be dark and sorrowful, and if she return not, the sun will again shine—but never more for him." He then sat down and covered his face with his hands. Deeply impressed with gratitude for such diein- I terested love and generosity, in which there was perhaps mingled somewhat of a more tender senti ment, the maiden hastened between the most con flicting emotions, whirls at ono time inclined her to return with him, when the thoughts of her parents and the deep distress at the indelible disgrace of such a connexion, # first caused her to falter in her choice, and finally to resolve on bidding adieu to her generous lover. Oran received the announcement of her final de cision in silence—nor did he again speak: she saw that he tried to speak, but could not. After pressing her hand to his throbbing heart, and pointing to the earth and to the heavens, he disappeared in the shades of the forest, and she never saw him more. Miss Brotherton never could relate this—the clos ing scene of her adventures—without shedding many tears. Somo years afterwards, when commissioners were appointed by the State authorities to hold a treaty with the hostile tribes of the Six Nations for the ransom of prisoners, the father of Miss Brotherton, who felt grateful for the kindness of the generous Indian, and wishing to return him a suitable recom pense, ordered a rifle to be made, in the construc tion and ornamenting of which, no expense was to be spored, and as Mr. Hale observed, it was just the kind of trinket on Indian would glory in the'pos sess ion of. The rifle was sent out as a present from the young woman, with a friendly message to her quandom lover, to the effect that she would ever remem ber, to the most heartfelt gratitude, his generous de votion, nod pray to the Great Spirit, who was the common parent of both the white and the red races, for hie prosperity and happiness; and that if they were never to see each other again in this world, she trusted they would meet once more in those delight. ful abodes provided for the good of all nations and colors in the world to come. But all: how did she grieve to hear, that after his return from the Ju niata, he appeared not as ho was wont to do, but seemed gloomy and dejected, and soon afterwards fell, covered with wounds, in a reckless assault upon a camp of the Hurons, with whom his people were at war. 0 Near Brown's Mills, Mifflin County, Pa. t Tho Indian namo (by interpretation) of the Juniata. 4: No ono not personally conversant with the first settlers, can conceive of the horror and digest with which such a connection was loolickupon. A BEAUTIN-A correspondent of the N. York ; Tribune, writing from Texas, gives the following interesting items in the history of one of ltha Texas Senators: • An amusing anecdote of Houston has been told me by a man, who in his own person witnessed the truth of it. While Houston was with the Chero kee Indians at the time that ho abandoned his wife, and turned his back, as ho said, upon civilization, he was married to a daughter of oup of the Chiefs of the Nation. In his sullen pride he discarded the robes of civilized life, and covered his naked ness with skins and blankets.,, Ho visited the tra ding houses with the Indians, and refused to hold any intercourse with the whites, except through an interpreter. When addressed in his native lan guage, he would grunt out sonic Indian guttural, with as much grave simplicity as an Indian himself; and then he would sit wrapped in a buffalo rug, and hold long conversations through an interpreter. In ono of his visits to the trading houses, he like the other Indians, drank too deeply of the fire-water. While under the influence of liquor, he committed an offronce,which seriously offended his spouse. The consequence was a blow-up in the morning, and this child of the woods revenged upon him the wrongs of her white predecessor, who waited his return in the sad silence of her deserted home. Houston then left Askonsas, and moved to the Red Lands of Texas, and there associated himself with another branch of tho same nation. From among these, ho took unto himself another wife, in the enjoy ment, of whose charms he forgot his recent sorrows I and misfortunes. At the breaking out of the war ho emerged from his semi-barbarous state to head the armies of Texas. The s)ead Letter Office; The Washington correspondent of the Portland Argus furnishes the following interesting descrip tion of the operations of that branch of the General Post Office Department to winch are transmitted all the uncalled for letters remaining in the various Post Offices throughout the Union Among the places which I have visited, is the Dead Letter Office, in the Post Office Department. It is certainly an interesting part of that bonding. You will be surprised at some farts I learned there. The business of the dead letter office alone employs four clerks all the time. One opens the bundles containing the letters sent to Washington, from the several post offices, after they have been advertised and no owner found for them. He posses the let ters over to two other clerks, who open them all, to see if they contain any thing valuable. If they do not, they are thrown on to a pile on the floor.— No time is allowed to rend them, as that would be imposible, without a great addition of help. The number of dead letters returned to the General Post Office is astonishingly large. You will be surpri. d when I tell you that it is fourteen hun dred thousand, and under the cheap postage system is increasing I Hence it requires swift hands to open so large a number, without stopping to read a word. Any one who is so silly as to write a mess of nonsense to nn imaginary person, supposing it will ultimately read by some one, may save him self the trouble hereafter. Ile may depend upon it, not n word will be likely to be read of the letter, unless he encloses something valuable in it; end that would be paying too dear forso small a whistle. At the end of each quarter, the letters that have been opened' having accumulated to a large mass, and having been in the meantime stowed into bags, are carried out on the plains, and there consumed in a bonfire. The huge bags make five or six cart loads each quarter. The letters containing any thing valuable, or in fact any matter enclosed, are passed over to a fourth clerk, who occupies a separate room for the purpose, and there are canvassed by this gentleman. It is very interesting to examine the heterogeneous ma terials of this room, that have been extracted from letters, and accumulating for years. here you see the singular matters that are sometimes transported through the post office. The amount of moneys that at various times has (seen found in late., is very large. When any thing of value, as money, drafts, &e., is found, the rule is, to retorts it to the post office whence it came, and the postmaster of that office must advertise it, or use any other means best calculated to find the owner. If all his efforts Nil, ho returns it to the General Office, and it is labelled and filed away. Sometimes as much as $3OO are found in a week, in dead letters I I think within this month several hundreds have been found. An iron chest is kept for the purpose of these de . posites. In looking over the files in that chest, I was astonished at the amount of money there, and the largo sums contained in some of the letters.— Some single letters containing $5O, $4O, $lO, and down to $l. Ono letter contained a £lO note— very likely the property of some poor emigrant, (intended for his wife or children,) who had made a mistake in sending it, and no olvner could be found. Among this money is a good deal of counterfeit. The letters are all labelled, not only with the sums, but also whether containing counterfeit or good money. There were many had small bills scattered through tho piles. In one case there was a bad half eagle--in another were two letters, each con taining $3OO counterfeit money! It was on some Nets' York bank, new, and very nicely done—an.l was, doubtless, the remittance of one counterfeiter to another—who had been in the meantime upper- Irended, or was suspicious he was watched, and hence had been too cunning to call for the wicked deposits of his confederate. In the strong box, firers was a box of change, of all kinds, and a large string of rings of various fancies and values, taken from the dead letters. Many a love token o2his modest kind enveloped in a letter couched in most honied words, and intended in mind of lire writer for the dearest girl in the universe, had, instead of reaching its interesting destination, brought up in the dead letter office, passed through the hands of LOVE.-..—The fulloa ivy beautiful sentiments OTC these cold, grey-haired clerks, who never stopped from the pen of Harriet Martineau, n maiden lady, to read the tender effusion thatcost so much racking verging, it is believed, on her third score of years. of the , heart-strings—and the delicate v • led - e of I Whether she has experienced the feeling so eh,- affection had been tossed into the iron chest, instead fluently and beautifully described, we know not, of encircling the taper finger of " the love" f " ; but we have rarely art; with so delightful a picture whom it was purchased. as she has drawn. A cotemporary truly remarks But trussing out of the chest, the matters that n . tn t " her sentiments are pure and hearty, end to meet your eye on the shelves and hi the eases are realize them in their fulness is like revelling among equally interesting. Hero are books, and ribbons, ! the roses of life.?' " The:r needs no other proof," and gloves, and hosery, and is thousand other things. she says, rr that happiness is the most wholesome I saw one specimen of a most splendid ribbon, of I moral atmosphere, and that in which the immortal - several yards, that seemed very much out of place ity of mall is dentinal ultimately to thrive, than the here--when it was intended to adorn the bonnet et' elevation of seal, the religious aspiration which at some lady. A package lay near that had not been tends the first assurance, the heat sober certainty of opened. It was front Fngland. The postage was true tree. The statesman is the leader of a nation; $8 63. It had been refused at the office where the warrior is the grace of an age ; the philosopher sent, because of enormous postage, and sent to the is the birth of a thousand years; bet the lover— dead face in due course of time. Now, said the where is he 7101 Wherever parents look round Superintendent, I will show you what valueless upon their children, there he has been; wherever things are sent through the mails, in comparison to children aro at play together, there he seen will be; their expense. Ido not know what is in this, but ; wherever there are roofs under which men dwell— we will see. So he opened tt, and behold, it eon- , wherever there is an atmosphere vibrating wills con tained about a yard of course cloth, like crash, human voices, there is the lover, and there is his worth perhaps a shilling, which had been sent to lofty worship going but revealed some dry goods house in this country, as a specimen in the brightness of his eye, the majesty of the or the manufacture of the article, by some factory rcse e iot,e niiu nco,acnodtnhtte and rattyi.ghtetntier, ' f the discourse.— to in England. Of course, the postage being thirty I. homage amidst the meditations ,r of etinue eve send up its . u every even. times its value, it was refused by those to whem it tid e , a nd the busy hum of noon and the songs of was directed. I saw two night caps that were talif it morning stars. from a letter only a few days since. If the poor Inflow to whom they were sent does not sleep in a night cap until he gets these, his head will be cold. It is impossible for the Department to attend to finding owners fur the comparatively rainless things that are received ; on night caps, ribbons, garters, stockings, stays, bootleg, &e., &c., and they are therefore thrown into the receptacle of " things lost to earth," and a pretty " kettle of fish" there is in that receptacle, you may depend. In the cases, arranged and labelled for the pur pose, are the legal documents found in lettere.— These aro numerous, and run back fora long term of years. They are most carefully preserved. The beneficial policy of this preservation has been often illustrated, and most strikingly so, only the other day. A gentleman in a distant state wrote to the superintendent that some seven or eight years ago a large package of the most valuable papers lied been lost through the post office. They involved the right to a large estate. If he could not Cod them he would be irretrievably ruined, and begged him to search in the department for them. DP did so. He told me that the first cane he came to, uni der a pile of other paper., he now a large package, answering the description. He took it out, and it was the very papers wanted. They had slept there quietly for years. The postage was about ten dol , larn—anil they lead originally, by some mistake, failed of their rightful owner. The package had been carefully preserved and the owner was pectr li niarily saved. Marrying in run. The Legislature of New York hos refused to on- I nul the marriage of Miss Lillie, who, it will be re- I collected, stood up and was married during a sleigh- 1 ing frolic. It is hard, but just. A ceremony of such importance is not a fit subject for mockery.— As she married at haste, she must repent nt leisure. The facts of the case are simply these, and they should operate as a caution to all in future not to practice such jests on a very serious subject. The I parties were on a sleighing frolic with several friends, and in going out a marriage was proposed between the two parties in a jocose manner when they arrived at the public house, but the lady was cautioned, that if she stood up to be married it would held good in law, and she replied, "why of course." A Justice of the Peace was called in, and informed that his judicial services were required, but finding all the parties were.so full of mirth and glee, he admonished sobriety becoming the occasion, and they promised to behave more decorously.— The parties thereupon got up again on the floor, and Mr. Hall said to Miss Lillie—"are you willing to get married I" alto said rt yes." They stood on the floor, and Mr. Diamond and Miss Robbins stood np with them. The justice said to' the whole corm pany, "if I marry you, there is no undoing,' think." He then asked Miss Lillie the following question " Miss Lillie, ere you willing to get married!"— Perfectly willing," she answered. He then said to Mr. Hall, "are you willing to join in maid ninny T" Mr. Hall hung his head and did not an swer. The question being again repented', he re plied, "yes, sir." The justice then, after again asking Mies Lillie the question before propounded to hoc and receiving the same answer, pronounced them man and wife. Mr. Hall, the gentleman mar ' lied. asked for a certificate, and Miss Lillie said she thought she was entitled also to one, which wore made out, the marriage regularly published in the papers, and the justice received six dollars for his trouble. The parties, an arriving at home, separa ted, and the next morning Mr. Hall called on Miss Lillie, and she desired him to get her out of the scrape, as she was assured they could not live hap pily together. The Senate Committee, on hearing the facts, unanimously reported against the bill : so the lady must be content to stay married.—N. E Sun. lecnnit of lire " ilfarringe in F 1177." Tho Albany citizen, of Monday, says the matter has been finally settled as follows: „ Visa Lillie and Mr. Hall, whose applicntien for divorce has occupied much of the time of the Leg islature, were married last evening, in the South Pearl street Baptist Church.” ' , .).."ZeactpLicts.SN...7o). c) My Uncle, the Parson---or the effect of Led Pepper. The 14 irticrhocker contains a capital story, by .folin Warm, of which the following is the cunclu- At the dinner table oar " parson" takes a bottle of cayenne pepper from his pocket, to season his meat with. The two fitrmers were attentive to all his move. menu. The addition of the sauce when there wan such n full supply of gravy in the dish, seemed t o them merely nsuperfluity ; butthe exploring genius of Ajax Telamort was irresistahly excited' by the pepper, a condiment that was altogether new to him, and perceiving that the effect was grateful and appetizing, " Pray, sir," said he, would you have the goodness to let me taste n little of that rut BALI' r " With pleasure," replied the Parson, " but V must apprbe you that this is pepper, and not eels pepper of the strongest force, that ! received from a friend in the tropics," and, mid he, handing it to him, " a very few grains will go a great way." A half derisive glance at the site of my uncle and then at his own portly figure, seemed to intimate that he thought the caution very little worthy of notice by a man of his cuticular inches. He rap ped the bottle on the side as he had seen the parson loosen the grains of his fiery stimulant, applied it in the same way, but without the same caution, la his gravy, and used it freely with his meat. The pepper was not long in making his acquain tance, but ho resisted manfully the first intimations of his internal arsuilant ; hemmed stoutly and re peatedly to maintain his ground, his face then be came scarlet; an unnatural warmth' took possession of his frame; the tonsils of his throat began to swell; his eyes glistened, lie dashed away a tear from his obstructed eight, spread abroad his arms like Sampson groping for rite remaining pillars of the temple of Gaza, and rose in agony of distress and pain, unimaginable to him in hisdreams before. Ills first note was that of a brindled bull in his own cattle yard at home. The word roar den no jug tics whatever to the sound. Fortunately he did not cough! My uncle con cerned at the incident, recommended him to allay the pungency with a glass of water. He caught as the word. He endeavored to say, Will that put it out?" and made for a large jog that had been re plenished, he raised it boldly to his lips, and took draught, that had its contents been mote gentle, might for its freer, breadth and depth and height, have won from Bacchus, the whole conquest of the Indies. • "Jededialt" snid he, as soon as he could articu late, ‘, for the lan's sake does my mouth blaze?" g , No," said the other, with impertubable cool noes, " but it smokes consumedly, Hiram, I tell you." Another jar of water seemed to reassure him of his safety against internal combustion; and his powers of speech in some measure returning, and with them his entire self possession, ho strode in front of my uncle. mid accosted him : "Do you know mider,that I took you for ft parsonl' am, indeed," said my uncle, an humble mem. ber of the cloth." " 0 you be, lie you ? And do you think it la any how consistent with your culling to travel about the country in this hero way, carrying hell-fire in your breechee ?" A CHEERFUL HEART, r once heard a young lady say to an individual, " Your countenance to me is like the shining of the sun, for it always gladdens me with a cheerful look," A merry or cheerful countenance was one of the things which Jeremy Taylor said his enemies and persecutors could not take away from hint. There are some persons who spend their lives in this world as t'iey would spend their time if shut up in a dun geon. Every thing is made gloomy and forbidding. They go mourning and complaining from day to day, that they have so little, and are constantly any ious that what httle they have should escape out of their hands. They look alwnys upon the dark Fide, and can never enjoy the good that is present, for the fear of the evil that is to come. This is not religion. Religion makes the heart cheerful, and when its large and benevolent pi inciples are exercised, men will be happy in spite of themselves. The industrious her does not stop to complain that there are so many poisonous flowers and thorny branches in his road, and buzzes on, selecting the honey where he can find it, end passes quietly by the places where it is not. There is enough in this world to complain about and find fault with, if men have the disposition. Wo travel often in u Mott uneven road, but with a cheerful spirit, and a heart to praise God for his mercies, we may walk therein with great comfort and reach the end of our journey in peace Give ine a calm and thankful heart, From- every marmur free ; The hlossingd of thy grace impart, And make me live to thee.' A NEW rt.llL RO 11.—" Ship-ahoy ! Where are you from !" " Prom the sky," replied the skip ! per who was hailed. '• How did you COlllO from there 1" " I greased the seat of my trowsers and slid down on a rainbow." c 6. T. cure your love thr one girl, ju s t full its love aids another. ha the only antidote. For ens I affection thaws another out—as leaser pain. ate by the gout