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