Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, July 27, 1847, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    HU \TIINGDOIN Jot 1..'1N - i:1,
BY JAMES CLARK
VOL, XII, NO, 30,
TERMS
The "HUNTINGDON JOURNAL" will be
implished hereafter at the following rates, viz:
$1.75 a year, if paid in advance; $2.00 if
paid during the year, and $2.50 if not paid un
til after the expiration of the year. The above
terms to he adhered to in all cases.
No subscription taken fur lest than six months,
and no paper discontinued until all arrearages are
paid, unless at the optiori of the publisher.
oj. To quics of six, or more, who pay in ad
yance, the Journal Will be seht al itq1.,50 per
Popy for one year; and any ono who will send us
that number of names accent pahied with the tnoneye
shall receive the Journal one year for his trouble.
ADVERTISEMENTS not exceeding one square,
will be inserted three times for $l.OO, and for every
subsequent insertion 25 cents. If no deffinito or
ders are given as to the time an advertiseMent is
to be continued, it will he kept in till ordered out
and charged accordingly.
POETICAL.
[From Gody's Lady's Book ]
MAW.
Great Heaven, what a sight did its
pale rays reveal to him. Extended upon
the floor lay the body Of his Wife, with
her infant clasped to her breast—both
cold in death ! Blood, too, was there—
the life-blood of his guileless wife, and
innocent babe—a cold, coagitlated poi!
"Oh God ! my wife, my child ! ' he
shrieked—his brain reeled, and totter
ing a few paces he fell at her side.—
Soon he recovered himself, and lifting
them gently from the floor; he placed
thehi side by side upon the bed, and
stood silently gazing upon the placid
countenance of his young wife, beauti
ful even in death.
There is ml eloquence in silence, when
the heart is too full for utterance, mid
solemn voice in silent grief. Vain were
our attempt to describe the tumult of
feeling, the crush of emotions that filled
the heart of poor Charles, as lie bent
over the body of his murdered wife.—
' No word escaped him, no sigh, no tear
drop started,but his bosom heaved quick
ly, his lip quivered, his eye rolled wild
ly, and with a demoniac glare. He seem:
ed as though his Very faculty of Mind
was intent updn one word, which would
speak the fullness of his misery and des
peration, and his lip struggled to give it
utterance ! At length it came. " Ven
geance !" and he started at the hoarse
unearthly tones of his own voice. " Ven
geance !" and the dark winds swept aieay
the echo as it formed. " Vengeance!"
and his wild and solemn vow stood eter
nally recorded.
All that night he Watched by the bd:
dies of his wife and child—and the next
morning buried them with his own hands
—swearing over their graves, bitterly to
avenge them.
As he was returnin g from his melan
choly task; he fdued lying upOn the
grass near the door a large hunting knife
still red with blood. Upon the haft watt
Carved in rude characters the name,
" (7 , IIARLFIS Slam"
. This Si'nith a violent and cruel
Seventeen hundred and set enty aine. Tory partisan (a companion of the :no
'Twas a cheerless evening in October : torious Vanbuskiek) who, with a compa-
The sun had already set, a young moon ny of outcasts like himself, and a few
negroes intid frequent incursions into
was struggling with the dark clouds that
the upper counties of New Jersey and
at intervals Oliseur i ed her bright dise, as
were notorious for other cruel and bar
they were borne along ? by the resistless
barons treattnent of the patriotic females.
fury of the angry wind whiCh hoWled
dismally among th 6 naked brandies of Years ago, when the wife of Foreman
the leafless forest trees. Nosy it came was quite young, he had professed an
in fitful gusts, scatteriiig the fallen leaires, attachment for her, which she by no
means encouraged, and the of his
and whining piteously at its lack of
hand was, as might have been exreted,
power. Now it increased in strength, •
snapping the decayed brunches; Ev e" t he" he swore she shoudd
b to ent
lie and ng the tough boughs tof the sturdy ""``'
oaks. tig acause
deadly re h p atred hail taken ad-
Ano n n it swelled into an oVerwhelinins• va " l "ge o f the absence of her husband,
and paying a visit with his troops, to
blast, twisting the gnarled trunks, and,
Hackensack, with his own hand dealt
with a deafening crush uprooting and
the blows which depriVed both mother
verthrowing the mighty lords of the
.00 ;—then sinking into a sullen moan; li'iid child of life
it howled a mournful requiem over its I " This knife," exclaimed Charles as
spent and departed strength; he glared upon its reeking blade, " this
knife; which hits rendered my life a
Dark indeed, and dis Mal Was the night, knife;
timid utterly darkened my future;
and furious the tarring of the elements,
shall yet drink thy heart's blodd;
but darker and intim dismal Were the
d
man monster !" And after carefully
inhn
reflexions and more fierde the coniliet
wiping the blade; he placed it in his belt,
that rae within the breast df the in
lured pa g triot; who forms the subject of and entered his desolate home.
it narratite: For more than an hour he sat in silent
Mr. Charles Fdrtnan was a young far- agony, the big drops coursing clown his
,er residing within a few Miles of haggard cheeks, as lie brooded over his
ackensack. At the first eutbreaking wrongs mid dreamed of vengeance.—
;:t our Revolutionary troubleS; i is 'd Then, starting suddenly to his feet, he
3houldered his musket, and'tearing In in- cast one last, long, lingering look upon
self from his young and lovely Wile, had each familiar object, and rushed from
fought, aye, and bled in Freedom's cause. the house, vowing as he shut the bolt,
Ho was with the army at Morristown
; never to return while Smith lived t”
,
siihen; having received intelligence of murder and destroy:
the' illtiess of his wife, he asked mid ob- A week had passed ; 'twas midnight,
taint d leaie to visit his home. and front a small house, situated on the
verge of a wood, about a mile to tle•
He had traMled on foot and alone for
eastward of White Plains, there issued
two clays =had&eased the rugged
"Blue Ridge," and the evening ul'tinshouts of boisterous revelry, interrupt
second day had reached his e
hum bl e • ed only by occasional snatches of seine
.swelling. As he neared the hduse, the rude bacchanalian' song.
evidences of a Tory visit were—eVen at Smith and his men were indulging in
night—plainly discernable. their accustomed nightly debauch, after
With a beating heart he crossed the having returned from it successful exile
little court yard, and stood upon the clition, Near the house stood Clink,
13Y H. HASTINGS wELii
Of a truth Yperceive that 9?]) is no respecte r of
persona."
SAY. what is wealth 1 N gilded pain :
And wint in power 1 A weakness hid
And what is life A shadow vain:
And joy 1 A phantom still forbid :
Shall, the t, proud man his grandeur ward
By toys which Gov doth not regard?
And what is man? In outward guise
Let him he prince, or peer, or slave,
Or poor and weak, or great and wise—
A mortal tending to the grave :
Such are all men—from earth we c onie—
Earth doth her own peor dust reclaim.
And what is want? 'Tie virtue's test
. NVhat weakness? An escape front pride
That life on earth may be the best,
In which by grief the eoul is tried :
For He whose word is ever sure,
Hath said that Blessed are the poor."
But what is man 1 Shies Goo, who made
Tue stars, is mindful of his fate,
When from the skies the snits Shall fade;
Ho will our bodies new create
And moral serf and monarch must
Arise immortal from the dust.
Call not his hand unequal ilieti
Who to the station fits the mind,.
And 'mid the different ranks of men
Ordains that each his trial find
One soul to save—one Guu to adore—
The humblest have—the great no More,
Joy has its griefs, and pain its joys—
Each man lives in his proper sphere :
Each with his state his mind employs,
And all are but sojourners here:
Then let net foriklih fitorial pride
Despise one soul for whom CURIST
Each has his daily task to do—
And life itself is hut a day :
The "Day's Work Ended " Gon shall view,
And in His own just balance weigh :
Our every thought and deed HE scans,
Whose ways and thoughts are not as matt's.
MIgCELLANEOUS.
A HUSBAND'S REVIINGE;
BY WM. T. RODGERS, JR
door-step. His heart sank within him,
as he lifted the latch, and found the door
was fastened. Gently he knocked, fear
ing to disturb his suffering wife; again
he knocked, and again, but knocked in
vain. There was no cheerful light, as
Of late was Wont to beam from his little
window, to comfort these Within, end
dirbet the Weary, way-worn wanderer
to a shelter. No smoke issued from the
chimney ; no blazing hearth was there ;
and save the flapping of the shutters;
and the rustling of the vines that over
hung the porch, all else was silent.
He could endure suspense no longer :
and forcing the door he stood within the
house. All was darkness there. He
grop , ad his way to the bedside, but it
stood tenantless. He called upon his
wife by name—no answer came! ~S aitan"
he cried; and the winds howled the
louder, as if in mockery of his agony.—
With a trembling hand he produced his
tinder-box, and lighted the lamp that
stood in its accustomed place, upoa the
mantel !
tCORRECT PRINCIPLES-SUPPORTED 13Y TRUTH.]
HUNTINGDON, PA., JULY 2'7, 1847.
Forman, leaning upon a fence, carefully
marking the progress of this drunken
party; his dark eye flashing fearfully;
as the constant clanging of glasses was
heard, and his teeth gnashing with rage
as the dying cadence of a drinking song
came upon his ear. Suddenly he aroused
hiniself, and clutching the fatal knife,
he moved toward the house. Pausing a
moment at the threshhold, to collect his
strength, he burst open the door, and
stood confronted with his foe.
" Vengeance !" he shouted, and ere the
half-drunken wretches could stay his
hand, he seized the tory lcadcr; and
dashed him to the floor. " This," cried
he, plunging his knife into his bosom,
"for my murdered wife, and this,"
plunging it still deeper, " for my inno
cent babe ! Haste with your ftuilty soul
to the father of lies, and tell him that a
widowed husband, made childless by thy
hand, has sent thee to deserved tor
ments !" ,
Then rushing upon the affrighted To
ries, he plunged his knife indiscrimi
nately into those who were nearest him,
until overpowered by numbers, he fell
dead upon the floor, muttering be
tween his clenched teeth, " Ssirttli" and
" Vengeance!"
The Course of Providence,
The Pottsville Democratic Press states
that a few days since, letters from Capt.
James Nagle, and Lieut. Simon S. Nagle,
written from Vera Cruz, were received
by their wives, enclosing a daguerrotype
likeness of each of these officers, as to
kens of love, and a few gOld pieces.—
Lieut. Nagle, in his letter bids his wife
kiss their little son for him. "Poor fel
low !" adds the Press, " he little dream
ed that at the time his letter was writ
ten, his darling bOy was Tiietly
sluin
berin in his little grave, on the beauti
tul mountain side of his gratefully rt.:•
membered home !" There is much in
this simple but affecting incident. It
1 shows the perfect uncertainty of life,
no matter how seemingly secure. Here
I is a man who has left the quiet, retired
fatiiily circle, to mingle iti the strife and
danger of war, With . an impression, per
haps, of chiincei against his ever return
ing to the bosom Of his family, but with
out the shadow or intimation of a
thought that such a visitor as death can
enter the home he has left. Men are
falling all about him, and lie counts it
almost a miracle that he himself is not
struck down : he
. dges not once think
that the insatiate araher has winged the
shaft that quivers in the breast of the
boy he has left behind him in apparent
safety and security, with the ever watch
ful cyc of the mother upon him, and no
less natural solicitude of relatives and
friends to. guard him from danger. The
father sitting upon the very edge of the
yawning cavern, with the groans of the
dead and dying all about him, and the
whizzing missiles of destruction filling
the air on every side, is spared, while
the child; far aft'ay, in the quiet; seclu
ded mountain home, dies! Such is the
dispensation of Providence! When,
seemingly, in the very vortex of danger,
ti, , e are frequently sfited—while; when
in apparently the greatest security, we
are often struck down. In the language
a the poet :
Fide steals along with silent tread
. .
Fothid eftenest in whnt least wo dread
Frowns in the slot rri with angry brow,
But in the sunshine strikes the blow."
An Argument fur Drinking.
"Now I ax you felers who's the best
citizen, him that supports government
or hhu as doesn't'? IN•hy him as does,
in course. He support government,
that is if ho ;letters at a license house.
Every bleSsed dr6p Of licker that he swol
lets thar is taxed to pay the salary of
thtm dr grate officers, inch as Mayors
and Corporationers, Hie Constplils, Pres
idents and Custoin-hOuse gentlemen:—
Sposc we was to quit drinkin, why gov
ernment must fail; it could'nt help it no
how. That's the very rezun I drinks. I
don't like grog, I mortally hate it. If I
follured my own inclitiation, I'd either
drink, buttermilk, or ginger pop, or
llearhorn's sody water. But I lickers for
the good of my country to set an exam
ple of patriotism and virchus self-denial
team rizon generation. 7 —Straw Sucker.
COOLNES or GEN. WORTlL—During
the bombardment of Vera Cruz, this gal
lant officer, finding his horse considera
bly exln4ated, despatched a servant for
7 , ticket of water.. Just as the man was
raising the bucket to the horse's mouth,
a large shell struck the groUnd the
dikance of a few yards. The man star- .
tcd in terror; but Gen. Worth, observing
the fuse not quite burned out, said per
emptorily' wit bout Moving: "Halt emp
ty your bucket on that thing!" The
man mechanically obeyed, and Gen.
Worth captured the shell Whole. It wa,
I• - .! inches in dialneter,' and weighed
Aboitt I'2o lb 6 •
IL YOUNG VICTIM,
A SAD STOItY OF GAMBLING.
So young and yet so lost."
A few years since, Mr. Green, the re- '
formed gambler, took passage on board
a steamboat at Louisville, bound for N. '
Orleans. A short time after the boat '
pushed off; it was discovered that there '
was no less than twenty gamblers on '
beard and much dissatisfaction was ex
pressed, because so many had chosen the
same boat. It was soon agreed tharten
or Fifteen should return ashore at the
first opportunity, and wait for another
boat. Shortly after this determination
was carried into effect, and it was while
Mr. Green was standing on the hurri
cane deck, noticing the landing of a por
tion of his old friends, that his attention
was arrested by a young man looking
anxiously upon the departing gamblers.
He was pale and agitated, and a tear
drop glistened in his eye. This was so
remarkable, that even Mr. Green be
came excited and interested. He sought
the youth, and asked him whither he
was going 1 He replied that lie
c‘ knew not where," as if to shun
further notice, left the deck and de
seceded into the cabin.—Green
inore curious, followed him and by the
expression of sympathy, finally induced
him to unbosom himself. He said that
his reply was correct—that he really
did not know whither he was going.—
He was the son of reputable parents in
Boston ; and had left that city , a few
Weeks Were for the purpose Of visiting
Louisville, "which place," he continued
—"you perceived we have just passed."
The reasons for this course were sad
ones. Ile had a sister at Louisville who
had moved thither, while he was yet a
child. The death of that sister's
band had induced her to her f
tc come on, to protect her its her
widowhood and assist in settling up the
estate. His parents provided him with
all the necessaries for the journey, gave
him permission to tarry a few days at
New York and Philadelphia should he
think proper and also gave him two hun
dred dollars iii elOriey. All Werit smooth
ly and pleasantly until he arrived in
Philadelphia. Here lie took lodgings at
a leading Hotel and soon formed an ac
quaintance with two young men of gen
teel exterior, plausible manners, and
captivating address. Accompanied by
them; he, during the day, visited sever
al of the leading institutions and at night
• accepted an invitation to play a game of
whist; the only game of cards with
which he was familiar. Several days
and evenings were occupied in a
similar manner. Ho then determin
ed to continue his journey, which
he did, by taking passage in one
Of the Lines for Pittsburg. Oe eppear
ing at the depot the next morning, he
was delighted to find his fwd ecitripan-,
ions. They also had business out west,
and they regarded it as a pleasure to
• have so agreeable a companion. After
exhausting the ordinary topics of the
, • day, the gains of whist was again
, thought of and renewed.—They first
I played for cards, then for liquor, and
finally for small sums of money. The
youth became excited, and ere they
reached the iron city, he had lost every
dollar that belonged to him; with the
exception of a sum just sufficient to
pay his passage from Pittsburg to Louis-
?hit again the strangers ihadc tittir
appearance on beard eh Ohio river
steamer, and in the hope of recovering
what he had lost, the deluded young man
played again, when his gold watch was
the sacrifice. On arriving at Cineinna•
ti he was nearly mad. He theii be:
thought hiMself of a package which his
mother had confided to hini for his sis-
ter. He sought for it in his trunk, found
and opened it: It contained a necklace
as a lovegift, and an unsealed letter, in
which Was enclosed a bank note for
100. Still tempted by the demon of
gambling, and still anxious to regain
what he had lost, he returned to his Vile
companions and whist. He played hour
after hour, lost the money, then staked
and lost the necklace. At this point;
the horrors of his situation were indes
cribable. Louisville was at hand, but
how could he meet his sister How
could he explain his folly, his infatua
tion and his crime Ile had left home
with a good llama, on a mission of sa
cred duty; and lie was now a thief and
a robber. He had misempleyed funds
given under hallowed circumstances,
and his condition was indeed desperate.
Confused and perplexed he at last de
. tormined to rush from the boat, leave
the rifled package at the house of his eis
. t cr, return and follow the fortunes of
• the gamblers, who had tempted and be
! rayed him, in the hope that they would
not be so heartless as to throw him oir.
But this hope was of short duration, for
they Were among the party that left the
boat as above described, in consequence
of their being too many of the fraterni
ty on board. It was while they were
returning that he was noticed by Green,
and that hence , a tear forced itself to
. his
eye, when he realized the loneliness and
wretchedness of his condition. He Was
an outcast end a robber—had become
so in a few days, from having ventured
upon what he ettled an innocent game
of whist, and thus he truly said; in re
ply to the question that had been put to
him—that he knew not *hither he was
going.. Green advised him to return to
his sister and make a . frank confession
-,-but his heart failed hiin—he had not
the moral nerve. He could not meet
the being he had so bitterly Wronged.—
He gratefully accepted a slight loan
from Green and soon after departed.
Two years rolled by. Green was
again on the MisSissippi, a passenger on
the steamer Mediterranean, on her way
from Orleans to Louisville. .An acci
dent Which happened by which she was
induced to stop near Plaquemine. While
there, a fellow-passenger remarked that
lie lies just witnessed a horrible sight
• upon the forward deck of the boat.
"Ah !" exclaimed Green—and imme
diately proceeded to the spot designated.
He there beheld five men in chains--
convicts, on their way front New Or
leans to Baton Rogue, where the State
Penitentiary of Louisiana is located.—
✓lmong them was young Melmoni—(the
name is of course lictitious)- 7 -the wreteh
ed youth, whose unfortunate journey from
Boston to Louisville, we have here so has
tily described ! He had but a few days
before been convicted of forgery, and
sentenced to the State Prison for !tile
years! This gentle reader, is no fiction,
but a true story, and the moral it con
. veys as to the danger of gambling, can
mot be Mistaken.—Phila.
Beautiful .Ixtraet
,
•
I saw the temple reared by the hands
of men, extending with its high pinna
cles in the distant plain.. The storms
beat upon it—the God of plain..,
hurled ,
his thunderbolts against it—and yet it !
stood as firm as adamant. ReVelry was
in its hall—the gay, the happy and the
beautiful were there. I returned . and
the temple was no more ! Its high Walls
lay scattered ruins—moss and wild grass
grew wildly there, and at the midnight
hour the owl's cry added to the deep sol
itude—the gay and they9png who rev
elled th 6.6 has passed away.
I saw a child rejoicing in his yduth—
the idol of his mother and the pride
,of
his father: I returned .4.lkt the child
became old, Trembling N , ith the
weight of years; he stood at the last of
his generation—a stranger :mild the des
olation around him,
. •
1 saw an old oak stand in all its pride
cn the Mountain—the birds were carol
ling on their boughs. I returned—the
oak was leafless and sapless; the winds
were playing at their time through its
branches.
" Who is the destroyer V" said Ito my
guardian angel.
"It is Time,'' said he; " when the
morning stars sang together in joy over
the new made world; he commenced his
course, and when he shall have destroy
ed all that is beautiful on earth—pluck
ed the sun from his sphere—veiled the
moon in blood—yea, when he shall have
rolled The heaven and earth away as a
scroll, then shall an angel from the
thrCne of God come forth, and with one
foot on the sea and one on the land, lift
up his hand torard heaven ; and . swear
by Heaven's Eternal— , Time wa::, but
Time shall be no longer.'"
A DISAGIEEAI3LE JOKE.—The N. Y.
Sun says that a lady residing in Port
land, Maine, expecting a large company
to tea, sent for a quantity of cret►ui of
tartar to raise her biscuits. By mistake
tartar emetic was got:—The biscuits
were beautifully light, and the guests
ate heartily, one lady exclaiming there
"never was any thing so nice." The
meal was hardly over when the emetic
begun to work, and the gentlemen and
ladies fell to vomiting with might and
main. One of the gents, a very fat man,
imagining he was poisoned, sent fur a
doctor but before that functionary ar
rived the medicine had taken a severe
' course, leaving the patient in as bad a
condition as a cleanly person could
imagine. 'rho cause of the vomito was
soon discovered, and the party signed a
"total abstinence from hot biscuit"
pledge for six months.
GEtEaous.—A youth whO, it is char
itably presumed, had
,never "seen the
elephant," recently Isand himself in the
company of thl'ee young ladies, and
generously divided a whole orange be
tween them. " You will rob yourself,"
exclaimed one of the damsels. "Not
at all," replied our innocent ; "/ have
three or Aar more in my pocket !"
MY EYES !--The onion crop of Connec
ticut promises a most abundant yield.
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOI
WHOLE NO. 600.
THE COST OF FOLLY
We know that the expenses of the
present war have been, and are, great
beyond, any imaginable estimate.of ad,
vantages from it, even if the Wildest
hopes of its projectors were realized.—
We know that it has given us a national
debt ; and that in the contraction of im
ports which must attend the coming rev
olutiOn in our relation With ,Eur Ope,
in
duced by the cessation of the famine',
our revenues, under the
,present tariff,
will be shrivelled into an impotent
ficiency, that may—the war continued—
render direct taxation necessary. Yet
We do not know how nor where we
stand. the costs of this war are wholly.
unascertained. The administration per
!nips cannot, perhaps dares hot, ascer
tain them. Seneca said—" I keep an
account of my expenses ; I cannot affirm
that 1 lose nothing, but I can tell you
what 1 lose, and why & in what ',motion".
Such should be the policy of a .conscien
tious administration. ,
W . .
tre such an account presented to
the American people in relation to this
war it would astound them. They would
discover that they have been raising tip
mortgages upon the industry and hopes
of themselves and their children, ia. the
future, of which theyhave not dretnited..
In the unascertained costs of this war, in
the waste, and wantonness, and corrUp
tion, there are millions upon millions,
fraudulently incurred in dishonest par
tisan contracts, but consecrated ,by the
seal of our country, that must be paid : -
The sunlight of this administration has
been faithful to its favorites—if it has
reached none else. We trust that the
coming Congress will probe this subject
to the scat of the wound given to the:
country. Let the.many Millions which
the war has and will cost; be arrayed
against the prospect of its advantages
we are content to abide by the decision
of the people upon the balance thus
struck.—.Varth, .thnerican.
CL -4 7
(20URTING.-A , lawyer whom we
knew well; did his courting elf-hand. He
had got a good practice and a high rep- .
utation, as well for what his noddle con
tained of Coke and Blackstone, as for
being a very eccentric chap in all his
ways, doings and sayings. Hii eccen,
tricity got him into the notion it wasn't
" meet that women should be alone,"
and so of a delightful summer's eve;
When the roses smiled and the cowslips
laughed; Sunday evening; too, mind ye,
gentle reader, tat
Delightful hour of witching love,
Ile caught up his hat and was seen as.
cending the steps of the cottage beside
the hill—where tripped
A lovely darnsiA, bright and fair,
She Opened the door, as he politely
asked, "is- the Chief Justice within
" No, sir," said the pretty , one, " but
will be shortly." that's no mat
ter;" said C'ounsellor; as he was curtisetl
within the door, " I did not come to see
the father; my client, is interested only
in the testimony of the daughter. My
client, madam, owns the mansion you,
see from yonder, and the pith of of the
suit is to ascertain if you would have
ally objection to becoming its tnistress.
I'll call next Sabbath evening fsr your
ansvier:" " Why, sir, it won't be neces•
sary to- suspend the suit. 1 think your
clients's case is founded in justice, and I
am sure he will win his point without
any special pleading; but as the father
has been vvel4-one years upon the
befichL it would be decorous to see
if his opinion tides not confirm mine.".
Certainly, madam . '
said alb lawyer, as
the father entered the apartment. It is
needless to say that the full court did
not reverse the decision, and the happy
pair signed the bonds and went into pos
session in four weeks froth that night.
ANECDOTE Or DAVID C.R.OOKETT.—Da
vid once visited a maaageqe . at Vk ash
ington, . and pausing 4, Tonient before
a particularly hidioas monkey, exclaim
ed; "what a resemblance to the Hon:
Mr:!" The words were scarce
ly spoken when he turned; and to his
actonishment, saw, standing at his
side, the very man whom he had com
plimented. "1 beg your pardon," said
the gallant Colonel, " I would not have
made the remark had I known that
you was near me ;, and I am ready
to make the most humble apology for , rny
unpardonable rudeness, but," loolthlg
first at the insulted member of Congtess,
who face was any thing but lovely, and
theti at the animal that lie had colapared
to Mtn, "hang me if I can tell whether
ought to apologize to you or to the mou,‘„
key!"
• •
A FAIR HlT.—"Here, you bog trot ter,"
said a half dandy sort-lock to an Irish
laborer—" come WI the binest lie you
ever told in all your ..fe, and I'll tea''
you to a whiskey punci 4 , ', A n d by in ,
yer honor's a ge',ocmati," /etorteti
Pat.