Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, February 05, 1850, Image 1

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Or the Rival's Hi a fix.
One of the prettiest lasses that ever
braced a country dance, or turned the
head of a lo'fer, *as Lydia Little the
subject of the follotVitib Sketch.
Nobody could deny it ; she was very
twetty.—Even her rivals allowed that
she was quite fascinating, and her bit
ierest enemies declared that after all
she was a beauty.
Although Lydia Little was really
handsome, it was a very unfortunate
r cum stance that the was conscious of
ihe fact. It is no injtity to be a pretty
girl; If she dusen't kilo* ft I but Lydia
had quite as perfect a knowledge of her
charms as even her wartnest admirers,
and the consequence was, she became
one of the most vain, shrewd and heart
less coquettes that ever made a bon-fire
of tr ue
. hearts in order to laugh at the
Lydia had ardent admirers, far and
near, for her beauty was famous in all
the villages within twenty miles of the
town in which her father, a rich old
farmer, resided.
Although Lydia Little smiled on all,
there were only two who were known to
possess vety great importance to her
eyes, and who seemed to cast all other
lovers in the shade.
One of these young men Were named
White and the other Brown. These it
Was said, were Lydia's favorite colors,
and it only remained for her to choose
between them. indeed it was a matter
of debate in the village, whether it would
be better to become a little white or a
little brown.
Messrs. White and Brown both lived
nt a distance from their mistress, but
White had the advantage ober his Hirai
for he lived the nearest.—These two
young gentlemen had heard of each oth
er, although they had not the pleasure
of a personal acquaintance. White was
afraid of Brown, and Brown was afraid
of White, so that Lydia out of pure
kindness, was very careful that they
should never meet at her house.
if the rivals feared each other, they
feared Lydia's father still more. He
had tried to put a stop to her innocent
flirtations, and had repeatedly threaten=
ed to shoot her suitors if they did'nt
keep aloof. Besides that his name was
LITTLE, and he was a little man ; but
little as he was, he was a little fierce
and the beaus were not a little afraid of
his resentment.
One day when Lydites father was
gone frDin home and was not expected
back until late at night, she determined
to send for one of her suitors to come
and keep company during the evening:
But which should she choose Here
was a dilemma, indeed. She reflected
that Brown was with her last, and feel
ing that it would be unjust not to allow
White to come in his turn, she resolved
that White should be the man. So she
dropped a line to White { and had every
thing prepared for his reception in the
Lydia felt confident that her dear
White would fly to meet her, that she
Would have been willing to stake her
life that he would be there at the ap
pointed hour. White was very punctu
al, and she felt that he loved tier too well
to allow anything whatever to interfere
with the interview.
However as the time passed, and he
did not arrive at the moment, she be
gan to change her mind, and to wonder
how she ever permitted NV bite to occu
py her heart with such a noble fellow as
"Brown would't have failed—ilk Would
hot, 1 know—" . . .
Such thoughts were running in her
tnind; when there was a rap at the door.
She knew White was there, and forget
ing her resentment, flew to admit him.
What was her surprise on finding that
it was not White but Brown ! _ .
"Don't be surprised," panted the
delighted lover, " I should'nt have dared
to come—'fraid of the old man—but I
Paw him—middle of the afternoon—he
told me—(l'in so out of breath I can't
hardly speak) —he was'nt coming home
till midnight."
" So you took an opportunity of visit.
ing me during his absence, eh !"
Lydia smiled on him first, but then
the looked thoughtful and finally appear
ed quite perplexed. She was consider
ing what a FIX she would be in if White
should be coming along about that time.
" You must not stop," said she, ner-
Vously. Father'll be home—l expect
him every minute—and if he should find
..Pshaw! there's no danger," said
Brown.--" He wont be home yet awhile.
And if he comes, I can slip into the
kitchen and get out at the back door.''
Finding she could not send her lover
away, Lydia resolved to make the most
of him while he stayed. . . . .
" Oh," said Brown, " I've a rich joke
to tell you-"
bo let me hear it: 4 '
" As 4 was coming this. may to-night
who do you think I marl"
"Who 1"
"Your particular friend—Mr. White."
" My particular friend !" sneered pret
ty Lydia,
" Yes— tut never mind that—l ain't
irrAid of him—"
" But how did you knoW him 1"
" Oh, 1 had caught a glimpse of him
before.—But he did not know me, and
that's the cream of the joke:"
" How so 1" .
'‘ Why, you see we fell In with each
other, and he was coming this way, we
got to talking about the folks in these
diggins. Says I, old squire Little
lives somewhere here, don't he l"Yes,'
says he, grinning-- for the moon shone,
and I could see him—' do you knoW hig
daughter heard of her,' said I;
'she's pretty they say." Well, she isn't
any thing else , '
says White; and he
looked at me just as if he was pulling
the wool oVer my eyes completely. 'She
has plenty of beam., I hear,' says L
'Yes,' says he, laughing, 'there's a
low by the name of Brown trying to
come in there. I suppose you know.
'Oh yes,' says 1, 'but he can't
'1 looked very closely at him, and saw
he did'nt mistrust that I was Brown, and
could hardly keep from laughing right
out. 'He can't come in,' says 1. 'There's
a fellow by the name of White that's
going to cut him out I hear.' Yes,'
say? he, 'White stands a pretty good
chance, I guess. 1 know White.' 110
you though 1' says 1. 'Cant you intro
duce me some time 'l In return, I'll do
you the favor to introduce you to Brown
em intimately acquainted with.
Brown's a pretty nice kind of a fellow,
although he may be unfortunate in love
affairs, He's a good natured fellow ;
and 1 presume if he were in my place
now, and you were White himself, he'd
sooner joke with you than quarrel with
you.' 'That's Just the way with White,'
says he. 'He would'nt quarrel with you
if you were Brown.'
'I talked with the fellow in this way
for sonic time, and kept my countenance
so well that he'll be surprised, I reckon
when ho learns that I'm Brown himself.
Wasn't it a rich joke, Lydia 1'
'Ah, very,' replied the girl, laughing
heartily. 'But what noise is that
'There are footsteps—'
'Oh, it is father !' exclaimed Lydia
not a little flustrated. 'Quick—quick
you must be gone—'
Brown did hot wait for cerenionyi but
dodged into the kitchen in hot haste.
Ile would have hatAcried from the House
in an instant, but he heard a voice which
sounded so strangely that he had a cu
riosity to know if it was indeed Mr.
Little that had just come.
He crept slowly back to the door by
which he had made his ocit, dropped on
his knees and applied his ear to the key
At that moment he heard a noise that
sounded so much like a hearty kiss that
it made his heart come up in his mouth
as large as a pumpkin.
He looked—and Oh, the faithlessness
and fickleness of women l—there was
Lydia, blushing and smiling in the arms
of his rival—of his new acquaintance—
Brown's first impulse was to break
through the door and eat up his rival,
but he soon thought better of it, and de
termined to giVe him a few minutes re
ryr.ieve before he demolished him entire
'There, stop,' cried Lydia. 'You shunt
kiss me again to-night.'
'Why not 1' asked White.
'Because you did'nt come to see me
at the time I appointed. It's all of twen
ty minutes later, That's why.'
'You dont imagine what a good ex
cuse I've got,' said White laughing;
'What is it 1'
met a chap who bothered me.'
'That was me thought Brown, still
looking through the keyhole. did
bother him, and bluffed him oft nicely
too. I wish I had wrung his neck for
'You can't guess sshd it was, Lydia,'
said White laughing.
'Do you knov 1'
'To be sure I do—though he did'nt
mistrust I knew him. It was my re
doubtable rival, Mr. Brown."
'The plague!' muttered the listner
ner, biting his lips in perplexity.
'Did you see that fellow V said Ly
dia. 'Oh, I wash you knew how much
fun I've had with him ! Why the great
fool flatters himself that I sin ninny
enough to love him.'
'Highly complimentary,' tho't Brown,
grinding his teeth and looking harmless
daggers through the key-hole.
'You'd been amused, to have heard
me talk with him, and lay on the soft
solder. I got the wool over his eyes
nicely. He did not know me, and I
chatted with him about you, and myself
and hint find it *eat don like a pill
taken in apple sauce.'
Lydia laughed heartily to think how
the rivals had fooled each other, each
believing all the time that the game was
all on his own side, and White laughed
too at the thought of having played such
a game on Brown.
Brown was the only one that did not
laugh.—The thought of having been
made such a fool of, didn't, by any
means, inspire him into a merry mood.
can't stand this,' thought he, scowl
ing at the key-hole, '1 must have my
turn now. White may take my place
here in the dark if he likes, and I will
step into the sitting room.'
He stole cautiously out the back door
and proceeded around the house.
A moment after,
Lydia and her dear
White, who were having a fine time of
it, heard the sound of footsteps approach
ing towards the door.
"It's father cried Lydia, believing
the old gentleman had really come.—
"You must'nt be seen, White. Run in
there and get out of the house as soon
as possible !"
She pushed White into the kitchen,
and hastened to the front door.
Having made up her mouth to give
her dear father a sweet kiss as soon as
he entered, she stood ready to throw her
arms around his neck—when, to her as
tonishment, who should appear but
I need scarcely inform the reader that
White, impelled by the same laudable
curiosity which led Brown to make the
discovery we have seen already, had his
eye at the key-hole.
" What ! you again !" said Lydia, be
stowing upon Brown the kiss she had
reserved for her venerable parent. "How
glad I am you came back. But it is rash
in you--—" . .
Love makes the heart bold," said
Brown, giving Lydia an extra hug, for
the express benefit of White, who he
expected was at the key-hole. "I began
to tlilak the old man hadn't come after
all ; so 1 came back to bid you good bye
more deliberately."
"Ah ! you ars a good fellow said
Lydia, "but f can't let you stop now. I
really expect father every minute."
" Well, I'll go pretty soon, but I must
finish telling you bow I bluffed off your
dear friend—White--"
"My dear friend !" echoed Lydia,
contemptuously; "1 wish you to know
how I detest that fellow
" I thought so ; and for that reason
when I had the talk with him on the road
as I was telling you, out of considera
tion for your feelings, I determined he
shouldn't visit you tonight. So 1 fol
lowed him until he didn't dare to come
any farther, for fear I Would mistrust he
was coming to see you. Didn't I bluff
him off, and wouldn't I laugh to see him
enter now'?"
" What a fool I finite been Making of
myself," thought White, glaring through
the key-hole. "Brown is a man Lydia
loves after all; and instead of fooling
him so completely as I thought I was
doing, when we met, he was all the time
playing off a contemptible trick on me !
I'll rush in and demolish him, and tell
that laughing saucy jade just what I
think of her."
White was on the point or carrying
this savage resolution into effect, when
an unusual bustle in the parlor caused
him to delay. lie heard Lydia whisper
"father is coming," he heard the parting
kiss, the front door opening—and the
next moment Brown was thrust un
cernnoniously into the kitchen whdre he
he himself was concealed.
If the reader imagines that the rivals
on being shut up in the dark room to
gether, flew at each other like two wild
beasts ; 1 would beg to inform him that
he is very much in error. 'rhe rivals
did nothing of the sort, us we shall see.
Brown heard a light footstep, and knew
White was in the room.
" My dear fellow,' he whi.pered.
" What the deuce do you want 1"
growled the irritated White.
" What a rich joke! ha ha!" laugh
ed Brown. "Lydia thinks she has been
making fools of us, but I believe we both
understand her now perfectly."
"Little doubt about that," said White
"There is no use feeling softy dhout
the matter," observed the philcisophical
Brown. "Our acquaintance has com
menced under peculiar circumstances,
and I think it is our duty to cultivate it•
overheard your conversation with
Lydia, looking through the key-hole,
and as you witnessed my interview with
her just now, we are even on that score.
Give me your hand and let us be sworn
friends in future."
"1 am proud to make your acquain.
trance," said White, feelling much conso
led by his rival's philosophical harangue.
" We are quits as far as the joke is con
cerned ; and as for that girl—thdt heart.;
less coquette "
" We needn't quarrel about her;'' ob
served drown, "for she is not worth a
thought. 1 wonder a man of your pene
tration never saw what she was before."
If so shrewd a man as you were de
ceived," replied White, 'what would be
expected of me? But we both know her
better now, and we can whistle her off
without a pang,'
What a sensible fellow you are !' ex
claimed Brown, 'and what a pity it is I
never made your acquaintance before.'
The rivals shook hands, and became
sworn friends on the spot.
Hearing Lydia's father talking very
loud to her in the parlor, they thought
it a good time to make their escape, and
glided out of the house unheard by ei
ther the old gentlemen or daughter. On
the following day, as Lydia was laugh
ing heartily at her adventure on the pre
caing night, a small neatly folded bil
let was brought her by the postman.
It's Brown's hand-writing,' she said
to herself, as she broke open the letter
with a smile of satisfied vanity. 'Let's
see what lie says.'
She reads as follows:
As you are now, in all probitbility, la
boring under the impression that you have
!played a most'admirable trick off on us,
we have fornied ourselves into a joint
committee Of two, in order to devise
means to set your mind at rest on the
subject. The truth is, dear Lydia, we,
the undersigned, understand ourselves
and each other perfectly and see through
your entire course of conduct better than
you imagine. However, we have for
med the wise resolution to allow you to
retain your natural color through life,
before we so far forget ourselves in this
respect as to think of inducing you to
become either White or Brouirt.
Trusting that this official document
contains such an explanation of our
views as you will readily understand,
we hereby bid you an affectionate adieu
hoping you may have better success in
your dttdrUpts on others.
Signed, TIMOTHY BitowN,
'P. S.—(Not official.)—Messrs. Brown
and White beg leave middly to suggest
to their dear Lydia that in future, when
she is in want of victims, she will stand
a better chance of meeting with success,
if, instead of atterripting such sterling
colors as White and Brown, she should
try something more nearly approaching
Lydia read this important doctiment
twice before she fully understood its im
port; then in a fit of vexation and rage,
she threw it on the floor and stamped
upon it with her pretty little foot.
When the first burst of rage had pas
sed she reflected that she was no more
then justly punished for het foolish,
heartless flirtations.
The event proved a salutary lesson to
the pretty Lydia, for from that time she
gave over practising anything like co
quetry, and became a very sensible sort
of a girl.
A year after, Lydia married a respec
table young farmer, and sent to her old
friends, Brown and White, a polite and
pressing invitation to attend the teed•
The moral Character of Wigs.
Some folks accuse pigs of being filthy
in their habits, and negligent in their
personal appearance. But whether food
is best eaten off the ground or from
China plates, is, it see'ns to us, merely
a matter of taste and convenience, about
which pigs and men may honestly dif
fer. They ought, then, to be judged
charitably. At any rate, pigs are not
fifthy enough to chew tobacco, nor to
poison their breath by drinking whis
key. And as to their personal appear
ance you don't catch a pig playing the
dandy, nor picking their way up the
muddy streets, in kid slippers.
Pigs haVe some excellent traits of
character.—lf one chances to walloW
little deeper in some mire hole than his
fellows, and so carries off and comes in
possession of more of the earth than his
brethren, he never assumes an extra
importance on that account ; neither
are his brethren stupid enough to wor
ship him for it. Their only question
seems to be, is he still a hog 'I If he is
they treat him as such.
And when a hog has no merits dr his,
own, he never puts on aristocratic airs,
nor claims any particular respect on
account of his family connections. They
understand, full well, the common sense
maxim, every tub must stand upon its
own bottom."—Extract.
1:1?-lf you have contracted an injudi
cious friendship, let it sink gently and
4 0 ottrno, r
Living and Nem!
tine Of the Most mischievous phrases
in which a rotten Morality, a radically
false and vicious Public Sentiment; dis
guise themselves, is that which charac
terizes certain individuals as destitute
of financial capacity. A "kind, amia
ble, generous, good sort of a man," (so
ruits the varnish) "but utterly unquali ,
fied for the management of his own fi
nances"—" a mere child in everything
relating to money," &c., &c. ;—meaning
that with an income of $5OO a year, he
persisted in spending 1,000 ; or with an
income of $2,000 to 3,000; he regularly
spent $5,000 to $B,OOO, according to his
ability to run in debt or the credulity of
others in trusting him:
The victims of this inimoratity—debt
,or as well as creditor—are entitled to
more faithful dealing at the hands of
those not directly affected by the mis
demeanors of the former. It is the du
ty of the community to rebuke and re
press these pernicious glosses, making
the truth heard and felt that inordi
nate expenditure is knavery and ,
crime. No man has a moral right thus
to lavish on his own appetites money
which he has not earned and does not
really need. If Public Opinion were
sound on this subject—if a man living
beyond his means when his means were
commensurate with his real needs, were' '
subjected to the reprehension he de
serves—the evil would be instantly'
checked and ultimately eradicated.
The world is full of people who can't
imagine Why they dont prosper like their
neighbors, when the real obstacle is not
in banks and tariffs, in bad public poll.
cy and hard times, but in their own ex
travagance and heedless ostentation.
The young mechanic or clerk marries
and takes a house, which he proceeds to
furnish twice as expensively as he can
afford, and then his wife, instead of ta
king hold to help him earn a livelihood
by doing her own work, must have a
hired servant to help her spend her lim
ited earning s . Ten years afterwardyou
will find him struggling on under a
load of double debts and children, won
dering why the luck was always against
him, while his friends regret his unhap
py destitution of financial ability. Had
they from the first been frank and hon
est, he need not have been ad unlucky.
Through every grade of sdciety this
vice of inordinate expenditure insinu
ates itself. The single man "hired out"
in the country at ten to fifteen dollars
per month, who contrives to dissolve
his year's earnings in frolics and fine
clothes ; the clerk who has three to five
hundred dollars a year arid Melts doWri
twenty to fifty of it in liquor and cigars,
are paralleled by the young merchant
who fills a spacious house with costly
furniture, gives dinners and drives a
fast horse on the strength of the profits
he expects to realize when his goods are
all sold and his notes all paid. Let a
man have a genius for spending , and,
whether his income is a dollar a day or
a dollar a minute, it is equally certain
to prove inadequate. If dining, wining
and party-giving wont help him through
with it, building, gaming and specula
ting will be sure to. The bottonfless
pocket will never fill, no matter how
bounteous the stream pourinr , into it.
The man who (being single) not
save money on six dollars per Week,
will not be apt to on sixty, and he who
does not lay up something in his first
year of independent exertion, will be
pretty likely to wear a peer Man% hair
in his grave:.
No Man who has a natural use of his
faculties and his mussles has any right
to tax others with the cost of his sup.
pert, as this Class of non-financial gen
tlemen habitually do. It is their com
mon mistake to fancy that if a debt only
paid at last the obligation of the debtor
is fulfilled, but the fact is not so. A
man who sells property for another's
promise to pay next week or next month,
and is compelled to wear out a pair of
boots in running after his due, which he
finally gets in a year or two, is never
really paid. Very often, he has lost
half the lace of his demand by not hav
ing the money when he needed it, be
side the cost and vexation of running af
ter it. There is just one way to pay an
obligation in full, and that is to pay it
when due. He who keeps up a running
fight with bills and loans through life,
is continually living on other men's
means, is a serious burden and a detri
ment to those who deal With him, altho' '
his estate should finally pay every dol
lar of his legal obligations.
Inordinate expenditure is the cause of
a great share of the crime and conse
quent misery which devastate the world.
The Clerk who spends more than he
earns is fastqualifying himself for a gam
bler and a thief; the trader or mechan
ic who over runs his income is very cer
tain to become in time a trickster and a
VOL. XV, NO. 6
cheat. Whenever you see a man spetiii ,
ing faster than he earns, there look out
for villainy to be developed, though it
be the farthest thing possible from his
present thought.
When the world shall haVe become
wiser and its standard of morality mort
lofty, it will perceive and affirm that
profuse expenditure, even by one who
can pecuniarily afford it, is pernicious
and unjustifiable—that a man, however
Wealthy, has no right to lavish on his
own appetites, his tastes or his ostenta
tion that which !night have raised hun•
dreds from destitution and despair to
comfort and usefullness. But that is
an improvement in public sentiment
which must be waited for, while the
other is more ready and obvious.
The meanness, the dishonesty, the
indignity, of squandering thousands un
learned and keeping others out of mon
ey that is justly theirs, have rarely been
urged and enforced as the should be.
They need but be considered and un
derstood to be universally loathed and
Female Temper.
SENSIBLE REmmuts.--The Boston Ol
ive Branch thus sensibly discourses of
female temper:
We like to see a woman of spirit and
life ; for a dull, supine,
prosy woman is
a poor affair indeed. And we have no
particular ohj,aet ion to seeing "the sparks
fly occasionally," when something really
stirring occurs. We like to see her joy
ful and lively ; and if she has a spirit
of waggery, we can put up with it very
well ; nay, we like it all the better. But
a cross, sour temper, we have no good
opinion of, for a woman who can never
look pleasant, but is always fretting and
scolding, will make an unhappy home
for all within her house. And we had
as lief undertake to live in a barrel of
vinegar in a thunderstorm as to live in
the house with such a woman. Solomon
was right when he said, "It is better to
live in the corner of a house top than to
dwell in a wide spread house with a
brawling woman." •
Let a woman wear sunshine on her
countenance ; and it will drive the dark
clouds from her husband's face, and joy
will thrill through the hearts of her chila
dren. Let a Woman's words be soothing
and kind, and every thing is happy
around her. Her influence will be pow
erful, Others will catch her sweet tem
per, and all will strive to see who can
bd most like her: Sweetness of temper
in a woman is more valuable than gold,
and more to be prized than beauty. But
may Heaven keep us from an untamed
shrew whose looks are wormwood, and
whose words are gall ! We had rather
take Daniel's place with the lions,
think of living within gun-shot of such
a termagant. If women knew their pow
er and how to exert it, they would always
show sweetness of temper, for then they
are irresistible.
RELIGION is a cheerful thing; so far
from being always at cuffs with good
humor; it is insepatiably united to it.—
Nothing unpleasant belongs to it. A
wise epicure would be teligious for the
sake of pleasure ; good serrse is the foss
datidn df bdtb, and he is h bungler who
aitneth at true luxury, but where they
are joined.—Sarige.
Give NC/W.—Defer not thy deeds till
the mantle of death has covered thy
form. Ten dollars given to-day are bet
ter than fifty left in thy will. It is not
benevolence to give away what thou hast
no further need of; and no legacies will
purchase future felicity for the mean and
avaricious heart.
ERROR,—Error is the cause of mans
misery, the corrupt principal that has
produced evil in the world ; 'tis this
which begets and cherishes in our souls
all the evils that afflict us, and we can
never expect a true and solid happiness,
but Hy a sdrious endeavor to avoid
Q D.- A single stroke of an axe is of
little consequence, yet by the continual
application of that small power, proper ,
ly directed, what amazing effects arB
produced ! The sturdy oak and lofty
pine do not simply own its power, but
whole forests lie before iti amt , the wil•
derntss becorties a garden.
Industry well directed, will giye a Mari
competency in a few years. The great
est industry misapplied is useles.
Seest thou a man diligent in his
business '!" says Solomon ; "he shall
stand before kings," We have a strik
ing illustration of this aphorism in the
life of Dr: Franklin, who quoting the
sentence hitnself, adds :--"This is true;
I have stood in the presence of five kings
and once had the honor of dining with
one," All in consequence of his having
been "diligent in business" from his
earliest years. What a lesson is this
for youth, and for us all