f- 7 -• t'i , .'. , ..(l'nn - tino/bson • BY JAS. CLARK. [From the Blue Hen's Chicken.) THE TWO PURSES. LIFE AMONG THE BOSTON ARISTOC R ACY. It was a cold winter night, and the wind whistled shrill through the bare limbs of the giant trees that lined the wall. The ground was covered with snow, upon whose surface the light of the moon fell with dazzling splendor, • studding the incrusted ground with bril liant diamonds. As the " old south lock" struck nine, a young man wrap ""milred in his cloak, sought the shade of the large trees in the park, from whence * ow , he watched the coming of the numer ous,carriage loads of gaily dressed peo ple of both sexes, who entered one of the princely houses on Beacon street. Through the richly stained glass win dows, the gorgeus light issued in a stea dy flood accompanied by the thrilling tones of music from a full band ; the house, illuminated at every point, seem ed crowded with gay and happy spirits. The stranger still contemplated the scene—his cloak, which until now had k enveloped the lower part of his features, had fallen, discovering a face of man ly beauty—a full dark eye, with arch ing brows and short curling hair, as black as the raven's plumage, set off to great advantage his Grecian style of feature—a becoming moustache curled about his mouth, giving a decided clas sic appearance to his whole face. The naval button on his cap showed that he . belonged to that branch of our national defence. " Shall I enter," he said thoughtfully to himself, "anti feast my eyes on • charms I never can possess 1 Hard fate that 1 should be so bound to iron chains of poverty—yet lam a man, and daily' a scull as noble as the best of them. We will see," and crossing over ho entered the hall. He cast off his over shoes, handed his cloak and coat to a servant, and unannounced, mingled with the beauty and fashion that throng \ ed the rooms. Gradually making his way through the crowd, he sought a group in whose centre stood a bright and beautiful being, the queen in lovli nese of that brilliant assembly. The bloods of the west end flocked about her, seeking for an approving glance from those dreamy blue eyes; half ab stracted, she answered or spoke upon the topics of conversation without ap parent interest. Suddenly she started, and blushing deeply, dropped a "half t curtsy," in token of recognition to some one without the group. Her eves, no lager languid, now sparkled with ani mation; as our naval friend entered the group about her, she laid her tiny glov ed hand in his, saying— " Welcome, Ferris—we had feared that your sailing orders had taken you to sea, this bleak weather." " We should not have lifted anchor, without first paying tribute to our queen." A titter ran through the circle of ex clusives at his appearance among them, but when the lady appeared, there was no room for complaint. The gay scenes of the night wore on, several times had Ferris Harvard com pletely put at fault the shallow brair.ed fops around him, placing them in any thing but an enviable light. Ferris Harvard was a Lieutenant in the Navy, and depended entirely on his pay as an officer to support a widowed mother and younger sister, to both of whom he was devotedly attached. His father was a self made man—had once been a successful merchant, who sailed and freighted some of the heaviest ton , ned vessels that left the port of Boston, but misfortune and sickness overtook him, and he sunk in the grave, leaving his only son to protect his mother and sister from the wants and ills of life. Ferris had enjoyed a liberal education, and entered the Navy as a Midshipman, had raised o a Lietenancy, by reason of . his superi cquirements and good con duct. His profession had led him to all parts of the world, and he- had care fully improved his advantages—though constrained by reason of limited means, to the practice of the most rigid econo my H . e had met with the only daughter f Harris Howell, one of the wealthy - citizens of Boston, at a fete given on board the ship to which he belonged, and bad immediately became enamured of her, but he well knew in his own heart the difference in their fortunes formed a barrier to his wishes. He had been a casual visitor for several months subsequent to the time our story coin nuances, at the house of the Howell family. _ " I must think of her no more," said F. to himself.—" If sneered at by her friends for offering her common civili ties, with what contempt would her au. stone parents receive a proposition for her hand, from one so poor and un known?" Harris Howell was, indeed, a stern old man, yet he was said to be kind to the poor, giving freely of his bounty for the relief of the needy. Still he was a strange man ; he seldom spoke to those around him, yet he evinced the warm est love for his only child, and Anne, too, loved her father with an ardent af fection. His delight was to pour over his library, living, as it were, in the fel lowship of the old philosophers. On several occasions, when Ferris was at his house, and engaged in conversation with Anne, ho had observed the old man's eyes bent sternly upon him, and his heart would sink within him, and he would wake to a reality of his situa tion. Ferris was one evening in Beacon street at the house of Mr. Howell, where, in spite of the cold reception he received from those he generally met there, he still enjoyed himself in the belief that Anna whs not indifferent to his regard. He had been relating to her, at her request, his experience with different national characters with whom he had met, speaking of their peculiar ities, and describing the various scene effects of different countries. Anne sat near a sweet geranium whose leaves she was industriously engaged in de stroying. Ferris bending close to her ear, said : Anne will you pluck me that rose, us a token of affection I—you must know how ardent mine is for you—or stop, drarest, behind it blows the con dituft. You know the mystic language of both, will you chose and give me one 1" "Hush, hush, Ferris," said the blush ing and trembling girl, plucking and handing him the ROSE. This passed when the attention of the company present was drawn to some engaging object. Never before had Ferris received any evidence of An ne's love save from her tell-tale eyes. The flower was placed next to his heart, and he left the apartment. He had pro ceeded but a few steps from the house when he was accosted by a poor mendi cant, clothed in rags, who was exposed at that late hour of the night to the inclemency of the season. " Pray, sir," said the beggar to Fer ris, " can you give me a trifle 1 I am nearly starved and chilled through by this night air." Ferris, after a few moments conver sation with the beggar, for he had not the heart to turn away from the suffer ing of a fellow creature, and handing him a purse, containing five or six dol ' leis, urged him to seek immediate shel ter and food. The beggar blessed him and passed on. A few nights subsequent to this oc cur•ence he was again at her father's house. Mrs. Howell, Anne's mother, received him as she did most of her vis itors, with somewhat constrained and distant welcome. Being a woman of no great conversational powers, she always retired early, conducting her intercourse with society in the most formal manner. Ferris was much surprised that Mr. Howell had taken no particular notice of his intimacy at his house, for he sel dom saw him, and when he could, the old man's eyes bent sternly upon him, in anything but a friendly and inviting spirit. In this dilemma, he was at a loss what course to pursue, since Anne's acknowledgement of her affection for him, and now he had succeeded in this, he was equally distant from the goal of his happiness, for his better judgment 'told him that the consent of her parents could never be obtained. On this occa sion be had taken his leave as usual, when lie was met by the beggar of the former night, who again solicited alms, declared he could find no one else to assist him, and that the money he had before bestowed upon him had been ex pended for food and rent of a miserable cellar where he had lodged. Again Ferris placed a purse in the poor man's hand, at the same time tell ing him that he was himself poor, and constrained to the practice of rigid econ omy in the support of those dependent upon him. He left the beggar and pas sed on his way happy in having con tributed to the alleviation of human' suffering. Not long subsequent, Ferris called lone evening at the house of Mr. Howell, and fortunately found Anne and her fa ther alone, the former engaged upon a piece of embroidery of a new pattern, and the latter pouting over a volume of ancient philosophy. On his entrance the old gentleman took no further appa rent notice of him than a slight incline tion of the head and a "good evehing, sir." He took a chair by Anne's side, and told her of his love in low but ar dent tones, begging permission to speak to her father on the subject. " Oh, he will not hear a word of the HUNTINGDON, PA., TUESDAY, APRIL 8, 1849. matter, I know," said the sorrowing girl. "No longer ago than yesterday, he spoke to me relative to a connection with Mr. Reed—l can never love but one man,"' said the beduty, giving him her hand, Ferris could bear this suspense no longer. In fact, the hint relative to her alliance to another, spurred him to ac tion. He proceeded to that part of the room where Mr. Howell sat and after a few introductory remarks, said : "You have doubtless observed, sir, my intimacy in your family for more than a year past. From the fact that you did not object to my attention to your daughter, I have been led to hope that it might not be altogether against your wishes. May I ask, sir, with due respect, your opinion in this matter 1" " I have often seen you here," replied Howell, " and have no reason to object to your visits, sir." "indeed sir, you are very kind. I have neither fortune or rank to offer your daughter, but still, emboldened by love, I ask for her hand." The old man laid by his book, and re moving his spectacles, asked : "Does the young lady sanction this request 1" _ "She does." " And you ask—" "Your daughter's hand." " It is yours !" Ferris sprang in astonishment to his feet, saying— "l hardly know how to receive your kindness, my dear sir ; I had looked for a different treatment." _ _ . " Listen, young man," said the fath er, " do you think I should have allowed you to become intimate in my family without first knowing your character '1 Do you think I should have given this precious child (and here placing her hand in Ferris') to you, before I had proved you 1 No, sir; out of Anne's suitors, from the wealthiest and highest in society, I long since selected you as one in whom I could feel confidence.— The world calls me a cold and calcula ting man ; perhaps I am so ; but I had a ditty to perform to Him who had en trusted me with the happiness of this blessed child ; 1 have endeavored to per form that trust faithfully—the dictates of pride may have been counterbalanced by a desire for my daughter's happiness. I chose you first—she has since volun tarily done so. I know your life and habits, your means and prospects—you need tell me nothing. With your wife, you receive an ample fortune; the du tiful son and affectionate brother, can not but make a good husband. But stay, I will be with you in a moment," and lie left the lovers together. "The story of your marriage with Reed was only to try your heart then, and thicken the plot," said Ferris to the blushing girl. At this moment the room door open ed, and the beggar whom Ferris had twice relieved, gntered, and stepped tip to Ferris solicited charity. Anne re coiled at first at the dejected appear ance and poverty-stricken looks of the intruder, while Ferris asked in aston ishment how he had gained entrance into the house. In a moment the figure rose to a stately height, and casting the disguise aside it had worn, discovered the person of Anne's father, Mr. Howell. The astonishment of the lovers can hardly be conceived. " I determined," said the father, ad dressing Ferris, " after I had otherwise proved your character, to test one vir tue, which of all others is the greatest —Charity ! Had you failed in that, you would also have failed with me in this purpose of marriage. You were weigh ed in the balance, and not found want ing. Here, sir, is your first purse ; it contained six dollars when you gave it to the beggar in the street—it now con tains a check for six thousand ; and here is your second, that contained five dol lars, which is also multiplied by thou sands. Nay," said the old man, as Fer ris was about to object to it ; " there is no need of explanation--it was a fair business transaction." This was of course all mystery to Anne, but when explained, added to her love for her future husband. C , ? — Mrs. Spriggs, will you be helped to n small piece of the turkey V' " Yes, my dear Mr. Wilkins 1 will." " What part would you prefer, my dear Mrs. Spriggsl" "I will have a couple of wings, a couple of the legs, some of the breast, the side bone, some filling, and a few dumplings, as I feel very unwell to-day." Wilkins fainted. r. D .- Never quarrel with a lady, if you are in trouble with her, retreat; if she abuse you, be silent; if she tears your cloak ; give her your coat ; if she bex your ear, bow to her in return ; if she tears your eyes out feel your way to the door and—fly, in old Joker in a Bad Fix. In travelling through the western country, one can hardly step on board a steam boat, either lake or river, with out finding one at least among the pas sengers whom he will at once set down as a character; and there is often more real fun to be scared up in a trip of a day or two on one of these boats than a month of Sundays any where this side of the Allegheny Range. "Old Steele," as he was called by every one who knew him, was what might emphatically be called "a case" of the first water. He had no ostensible means of support, nor was there much known about him, ex cept that he was a hardened old rascal —would cheat the eye teeth out of you in less than no time if lie could; and was rather fond than otherwise of be guiling the time and money of any green one he might, by a "game o' keerds," shoemaker, 100, poker, old sledge, or anything else agreeable it was all one to him ;he was generally sure to win, provided Ile could find a customer, which was not always the case. He had a peculiar way of consoling any one who was unfortunate or foolish enough to sit down with biro, by saying that " when they'd got used to his play" they wouldn't mind it, and would do well enough : but somehow they never could "get used to his play" until it was too late, unless they were right smart themselves. On one occasion he was speculating up and down the Ohio river, and having had a poor run of luck in the Social Hall, where he found some who knew keerds" as well as he, and others who knew him too well to be induced to "take a hand," he thought he would try the lower deck, and accordingly he went below, where for a time he was pretty busy playing high, low—whistle Jack --100, &c., &c., seated upon an old trunk or astride a barrel, or any thing convenient, and, as he was smart prop , erty changed hands briskly enough. Among his other customers were the firemen and deck bands ; and before the boat reached C he had skinned Ahem all ; not only of what funds they had in hand, but of sundry watches, breast pins, and one or two orders upon the clerk for wages due. These last he did not see fit to present at the counter, for fear of consequences. But one day as he was seated alone counting his profits, the Captain, who had been informed of his operations, came to him and told him he must restore what he had won to the rightful owners. •' Why so r said S: .1 won 'em fair." "Can't help it," said the Captain ; "the main deck ain't the place for you to open in ; besides you shunt speculate out of my crew, any how—so just give back what you've won quietly and peaceably, or I'll know the reason why.' , Old Steele was deaf to all the Cap tain's entreaties, and to the questions, "Ain't you ashamed of yourself for robbing folks in this Wifyl Haven't you got any bowels for them ;" answered very coolly, "Not a bowel!" The Cap tain finding there was no virtue in words, determined, like the old man in the fable, to try another expedient. He accordingly called upon three or four of his hands (willing ones, of course,) to bring the old sinner forward, and order ing the engineer to " stop her," he had him tied to one end of the piston-rod, which was horizontal, allowing him two or three feet of rope, and then ordered the engineer to go ahead. For a few minutes it was short turns and a good many of them for Steele; still he kept his feet and seemed not to mind it much; but as the fireman kept poking in the wood, and the engineer gave her a turn or two ahead—out of revenge for his hav ing lost a watch which had cost him a month's wages in " Orleans," the old fellow at last found it no child's play to come to time every time, without being 'subjected to a sudden and unceremoni ous jerk. The captain and passengers (many of whom had collected to see the sport) were dying at the fun of the thing, and occasionally asked him if he would deliver; but Steele, without answering. only kept his eye upon the piston, seem ing intent upon finding out how many feet stroke it had. At last he began to travel easier. The captain said to him again— " Come, old boy, you may as well hand over first as last." " Hand over !" said Steele ; " see you first 2 . I'm fist getting used to the critter's play !" This was too much—the passengers interfered ; even the hands thought the thing had gone far enough, and he was accordingly loosed from his travelling companion, and soon after went ashore at a woad yard—having first invited all hands to " step tip and licker," and won , dering "why folks never could learn to' git' used to his play !" X. Y. Spirit of the Times.. (4* ‘, r id\ oiAllitt PractlcOl Jokers. We remember hearing a story of a fellow who called a venerable doctor one winter night, and on his coming to the door coolly. .inquired, "Have you lost your knife Mr.. Brown 1" No !" growled the " Well, never mind," said the wag, " I thought I would just call and enquire, for found one in the street yesterday !" We thought that rather cool, but the following story of Neil McKinnon, a New York wag,. told by a correspondent of the Philadel phia Saturday Post, surpasses in cool ness and impudence anything within our recollection. Read it, and speak for yourself, good reader. When the celebrated Copenhagen Jackson, was British Minister in this country; he resided In this city, and oc cupied a house in Broadway. Neil, one night at a late hour, in company with a bevy of his rough riders, while passing the house, noticed that it was brilltitht ly illuminated, and that several carria ges were waiting at the door. " Hello." said our wag, " what's go ing on at Jackson's 1" One of the company remarked that Jackson had a party that evening. " What !" exclaimed Neil, "Jackson have a party, arid, me not invited. I must see to that !" So stepping up to the door, he gave a ring which soon brought the servant to the door. " I want to see the British Minister," said Neil. "You will have to call some other time," said the servant, " for he is now engaged at a game of whist, and must not be disturbed." "Don't talk to me in that way," said McKinnon, "but go directly and tell the British Minister 1 must sec him on special business." The servant obeyed, a►id delivered the message in so impressive a style as fo'bring J'ackSon to the door forth With. " Well, sir," said Jackson, " what can be your business with me this time of night, which ►s so very urgent I" "Are you Mr. Jackson V' inquired Neil. " Yes sir, I am Mr. Jackson." " The British Minister?" "Yes sir." "You have a party here to-night, I perceive, Mr. Jackson !" " Yes sir, I have a party." "A large perty, I presume." " Yes sir, a large party." "Playing cards, I understand." "Yes sir, playing cards." "0, well," said Neil, "as I was pass ing, I merely called to inquire what's trumps'!" A word to Boys. BE POLITE.—Study the graces, not the graces of the dancing master, of bowing and scraping; nor the foppish infidel etiquette of a Chesterfield ; but benev olence, the graces of the heart, what. ever things are true, honest, just, pure, lovely and of good report. The true secret of politeness is, to please, to make happy—flowing froM - goodness of heart—a fountain of love. As you leave the family circle for retirement, say good night—when you rise, good mor ning. Do you meet or pass a friend in the street, bow gracefully, with the usual salutation. Wear a hinge on your neck —keep it well oiled. And above all, study Solomon and the epistles of Paul. . . BE CIVIL.—When the rich Quaker was asked the secret of his success in life, answered, "Civility, friend, civil ity." Some people are uncivil--sour, sullen, morose, crabbed, crusty, haugh ty, really clownish, and impudent. Run for your life! " Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit 2 There is more hope of a fool than of him." BE KIND TO EVERYBODY.—There is no thing like kindness, it sweetens every thing. A single look of love, a smile, a grasp of the hand, has gained more friends than both wealth and learning. " Charity suffereth long, and is kind." NEVER STRIKE BACK.—That is, never render evil for evil. Some boys give eye for eye, tooth for tooth, and kick for kick. Awful ! Little boys, hark ! What says Solomon I.—" Surely the churning of milk bringeth forth butter, and the wringing of the nose bringeth forth blood : so the forcing of wrath bringeth forth strife." "Recompense to no man evil for evil ;" " Love your enemies, bless them that curse you." IN REPLY TO A QUESTION, avoid the tnonosyllables yes and no—thus ‘' Is your father in good health 1" instead of saying, "Yes, sir," say "Very good, sir, thank you." AVOID VULGAR, common-place or slang phrases, such as "by jinks," "first rate;" "I'll bet," Sze. Betting is not Merely vulgar, but sinful—a species of gambling'. Gentlemen rieVer bet. THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK.—Think twice, think what to speak, how to speak, when to speak, to whom to speak ; and VOL. XIV, NO, 12 withal hold up your head, and look the person full in the face, with modest dig nity and assurance. Some lads have a foolish, sleepish, bashfulness, shear off, hold down their heads and eyes, as if they were guilty of sheep-stealing Never be ashamed to do right. "Madame not In.", The Home Journal relates the following good anecdote, to illustrate the advantage of cool ness under difficulties : One of the Most chrorming women of Paris, not long since, happended to re ceive an untimely call, when her con fidential maid chanced to be out upon an errand. Never suspecting the person at her door to be a gentleman whose at tention' had of Isle soKewhit pleased her, she herself answered the door. But Madam was of those who never show themselves to the world till Heaven's original work upon them is entirely re done—re-painted, re-performed, and al abastered. " Ma—dame !" stammered the unex pected corner as the door opened, and the apparition of the face, au natural, was revealed to his half recognizing vi- " Madame is not in !" said she, with the greatest coolness, suddenly shutting the door without further parley, and leaving the intrzider to retire upon hig suspicions. The ditierenCe was so great between the lady done and undone, however, that he departed, speculating on the gradual resemblance which even an old dressing maid may acquire to her young mistress and convinced that Madame was not in —a simple fact which the lady herself assured him of that same evening, with her infinite regret that it should have so happened! 136auliful Extract, The influence of Christianity on soci ety is not exerted through the cannon of the warrior, and the despatches of the statesman, but in the sweet breathings of truth that come on the opening pe tals of the breast of infancy, like spice laded zephyrs from the land of the blest —in the gentle words of love that fall in dewy freshness en tile' Wondering ear of childhood from the gray haired sires and the sweet-voiced matrone—in the nameless tellings of high and holy things, wrapped in the deep unutterable voices of the ancient eternities, that come to the silent ear of youth, before the din and strife of the babbling world have stunned these inner senses of the soul, in the longing and wistful thoughts of things of deep, abyssful mystery that steal into the soul in its lonely mu sings in the solitary chamber—in the deep hush of the moaning forest—in the season of gloomy doubt and frantic effort to scale the prison walls of mys tery and darkness that rises and closes in encircling silence around all—in times of heart sickness and disappoint.. ment, when reaching forth the hand of warm, confiding trust, it grasps the cold and slippery skin of the adder—it is then that Christianity, with its wonder ful' tellings• of infinite thino; domes' with apocalyptic splendor and power, and revealing itself to the soul, creates those martyr spirits that stamp their lineaments on the enduririk- rock,—Rev T. V. Moore. Do Something. The idler is a spunge oh society, and' a curse to hi's dwn existence. He is content to vdgitute merely—he springs up like a toad stool, and is about as use less. He never troubles himself to pro duce a single thought, and hi's hands arc never concerned in the fashioning of a single article of use or ornament. The most impoitatit principle in life is a pursuit. Without a pdrsuit—an in nocent and honorable pursuit—no one can be ever really happy and hold a proper rank in society. The humble wood sawyer is a better member of so• ciety than the fop without brains or em ployment. Yet many young men of our great cities striVe only tor the distinc tion awarded to fools. They are con tent to exist on fhe. products of other hands, and are in truth little better than bare faced rogues. They live on ill gotten spoils—go on' tick—lie and cheat rather than pursue a' pursuit which would render them useful' to themselves and mankind generally. - None can be happy without employinent, mental or physical. The idler becomes a fit can didate for the penitentiary or gallows. [j ' , No*, Patrick," said the Recor der to a modest son of Erin, the other day, " What do you say to the charge.. are Olt guilty or not guilty 1" "Faith, but that's difficult for yer honor to al: meself. Wait till I hear the evidence.'l t 3 Chief Justice GiusoN, who has been dan gerously ill at his home in Carlisle, is rapidly recovering
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