Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, September 03, 1850, Image 1
• s r° 5 * • - -• ' • • • -•-• ''''4; 4 `; • '; nc.• , t o 2 nr( /n4b011; , .IC-- 1 , • BY JAS. CLARK. CHOICE POETRY THE ANGEL'S WING BY SAMUEL LOVER. [There is a German superstition, that when a sudden silence takes place in company, an angel at that moment makes a circuit around them, and the first person who breaks the silence is supposed to have been touched by the wing of the seraph. ror the purpose of poetry, I thought two persons preferable to many, in illustrating this very beau tiful superstition.] When by the evening's quiet light There sit two silent lovers, They say, while in such tranquirplight, An.angel round them hovers; And further still old legends tell: The first who breaks the silent spell, To say a soft and pleasing thing, nath felt the passing angel's wing. Thus a musing minstrel strayed, By the summer ocean, Gazing on a lovely maid, With a bard's devotion; Yet his love he never spoke, Till now the silent spell he broke, The hidden fire to flame did spring, Fann'd by the passing angel's wing. "I have loved thee well and long, With a lovepf Heaven's own making! This is not a poet's song, But a true heart's speaking; I will love thee, still unfired!" He felt—he spoke—as one inspired; The words did from Truth's fountain spring, Awakened by the angel's wing! Silence o'er the maiden fell, Her beauty' ovelier making; And by her blush he knew full well The dawn of love was breaking. it came like sunshine o'er his heart! He felt that they:should never part— She spoke—ankohl—the lovely thing Had felt the passing angels' wing. MISCELLANEOUS CHURCH AND TAVERN• DT LAURIE TODD, In the year seventeen hundred and ninety-three, when Louis the Sixteenth was beheaded, and the French revolution was in full blast, I was a thor ough going radical. With seventeen more of our club, I was marched, under a guard of the King's officers, and lodged in Edinburg jail. After a summary hearing, I got liberty to banish myself, and accordingly I took passage in the good ship Providence, and landed at New York, in June, 1794. I was then in my twenty-second year.— When the ship cast off from the wharf, in Scot land, and swung round with the breeze, my father stood upon the shore. He waved a last adieu, and exclaimed, "Remember the Sabbath day." I ar rived at New York on a Saturday, and the next day being the Sabbath, at nine o'clock, A. M., three young men of our company called of my lodgings. _ _ 'll\item are you going to-day?" they inquired, "To the church," I replied. "We have been ten weeks at sea; our health requires exercise. Let us walk out to-day, and go to church next Sabhath," they replied. Said I, "von can go where you please, but I'll go to church; the last words I heard front my fattier were, "Remember the Sabbath day," and, had I no respect tar the Fourth Commandment, I have not yet forgotten his last advice." They went to the fields; I went to church ; they spent forty or fifty cents in the tavern; I put a one penny bill in the plate, in the morning, af ternoon and night service:—total three-pence.— They continued going into the country, and in process of time the landlady's daughter, and the landlady's nice would join their company. Then each couple hired a gig, at two dollars a day ; wine, cakes and ice cream on the road, fifty cents each; dinner at Jamaica, one dollar each. They got home at eight o'clock, I'. M., half drunk, and having been caught in a thtmder shower, their hats, coats and mantles were damaged fifty per cent. They rose the next morning at nine o'clock, A. with sore heads, sore hearts, muddy boots and an angry conscience, besides twelve dollars lighter than when they started. I went to church, rose at five o'clock, A. M., head sound, heart light, bones refreshed, conscience quiet, and commenced the labors of the week in peace and plenty. They were all mechanics; some of them could earn as much as twelve dollars a week. My business, that of a wrought nail-maker, was poor; the cut nail machines had just got into operation, which cut down my wages to a shaving. With close ap plication I could only earn five dollars and fifty cents per week. Never mind, at the end of the year, my Sabbath-riding-ship-mates, had fine coats, fine hats,powdered heads, and ruffled shirts; but I had one hundred hard dollars piled at the bottom of my chest. Having lived fast, they died early. Nearly tbrty winters are past, and forty summers ended, since the last was laidin the Pot ters, or some other field; while I received from my Maker a good constitution, (aud common sense to take care of it,) I'm as sound in mind, body and spirit, as I was on this day fifty-six years ago, when first I set my foot on shore at Goventeur's wharf, New York. Besides, it's a fact, (for which my family can vonch,) I have been only one day confined to the house by sickness, during all that period. Now, Mr. Printer, I dare say you think, with me, that the Church on the Sabbath is better than the Tavern and fields tar the laboring man. A FEARFUL STORY. "Nola Bena," the New Orleans correspondent of the Concordia Intelligencer, in his lust letter, copies the report which appeared in the True Del ta, of the case of a man who was attempted to be murdered, some nights since, in that city, by pour ing molten lead into his ear, and says: This reminds me of a singular incident that oc curred within my own knowledge, some years ago, in Virginia. Col. T., a gentleman of great res pectability, and frequently high sheriff and repre sentative of the county, died, leaving a wife and several children, among them a very beautiful daughter, about fifteen years of age. The widow, finding herself embarrassed, opened a boarding house at the country site, and among her boarders was a Mr. IV., a wealthy merchant, over forty years, but a very fine looking man. This gentle man was the prop and stay of the faintly; gave employment to the sons, educated the daughter at a "fashionable academy," and, vein• naturally, on her return, fell desperately in love with her, when he should have preferred the mother. Ile pressed his suit with perseverance, but the beautiful Mil dred resisted his appeals, and the importunities of all her friends. Finally, however, after two years of assiduity and delicate gallantry on the part of Mr. W., and the combined tears, entreaties, threats and persecution of her family, the fair girl reluc tantly stood before the altar, and became his wife. The next evening a large party was given them, but in the midst of it, Mr. W. being attacked with vertigo and sick headache, was compelled to with draw. His young will: hangover him in the silent watches of the night, apparently in deep distress, and insisted on giving him a potion; she poured out a wine glass full of laudanum, and he swallow ed it, unconscious of its nature. It acted as an emetic, but left hint stupid and wandering. His senses reeled. One moment he lay motionless, as if on the brink of the spirit world, and the next he would leap up convulsively, a strong man in his agony. Mrs. W. denied all admission into the chamber. At length he 'fell into a deep sleep.— She then stooped for a moment over the smoul dering embers—approached the bed—gazed at her sleeping husband—and holding a heated ladle in her hand attempted to pour a stream of melted lead in his ear! She trembled, and the hissing liquid, • intended to scald the brain, and thus kill without a trace, fell upon his cheek. He shrieked in ex eructating torture, and the revellers in the adjoin ' ing saloon rushed into the chamber. There writhed the still stupid husband, the lead rivited deep into his cheek, and there stood the fiend wife, her Uri- . dal fillets still upon her brow, the instrument of sleuth in her hand, and an empty vial labelled laudanum, lying on the floor. The fearful midi ties of the cause flashed upon every one, and, in the confusion of the moment, she was hurried oft; and taken to a distant State. On searching the apartment, an old magazine was foetal, containing the confession of a woman who had murdered five husbands by pouring lead into their cars. The laudanum and the lead, it was ascertained, she procured front the store of Mr. W. a few days before the marriage, and the ladle was part of his wedding-gift. The grand jury next morning found a bill against the fugi tive, and the legislature being in session, forthwith decreed an absolute divorce. What renders this case more extraordinary is, that Miss T. was pro verbial for the blandness of her manner, and uni tbrm sweetness of disposition. She was a blonde. The rose leaf tinted her lily cheek, as a sunbeam glows on snow. lice blue eyes were indescribably sweet, and her golden hair floated around a form more perfect and voluptuous than ever Apelles dreamed of, or Tetrarch sung. The sequel of this romance is yet more singular. Years rolled away, and W. continued a wretched and solitary man. lint the spell of the enchantress was still upon his soul. lie closed his stores, sold his estates, collected his ample means, and traced her to her distant retreat, to make a new offer of his band! She bad just married a gentleman of high standing, acquainted with all the details of her career, shuddering at the tragedy, but incapa ble of resisting her charms. Poor W. Then, in deed, did the iron enter his soul. "The deadly arrow quivered in his side." His early love—his fluctuating courtship—his marriage and the catas trophe—the flight—the divorce—lsis years of mis ery—the new birth of his passion—and now Isis disappointment, final and forever—came crushing over him like an iceberg in the tido of bitter mem ories, and he prayed for death! Whether this prayer was granted, I know not. He may yet wander, broken-hearted, over the earth. If he died, a more wretched, yet a purer and nobler spir it never winged its flight to heaven. The Tattler. There is not a being that moves on the habita ble globe, snore degraded or more contemptible than a tattler. Vicious principles, want of hones ty, servile meanness, despicable insidiousness, form his character. Has he wit? In attempting to display it, ho snakes himself a fool. Iles lie friends? By unhesitatingly disclosing their secrets he will make them his most bitter enemies. By telling all he knows, he will soon discover to the world that he knoWs but little. Does he envy an individual? Ills tongue, fruitful with falsehoods, defames his character. Does he covet the favor of any one? He attempts to gain it by slandering others. His approach is feared—his person hated —his company unsought—and his seutituents des pised, as emanating from a heart fruitful with guile, teeming with iniquity, and loaded with envy, malice and revenge. eir A man seldom attacks the character of so other, without injuring his own. HUNTINGDON, PA., TUESDAY SEPTEMBER, 3, 1850. HELP ONE ANOTHER. A STORY FOR OUR YOUTHFUL READERS. We have just found in our rending a capital sto. ry which we copy for the benefit of young renders. The lesson it teaches will be apparent to a reflect ing mind:— A traveller who was crossing the Alps, was o vertaken by a snow storm at the top of every high mountain. The cold became intense. The air was thick with sleet, and the piercing wind seemed to penetrate his bones. Still the traveller for a time struggled on. But at last his limbs were be numbed, a heavy drowsiness began to creep over him, and his feet almost refused to move, and he lay down on the snow to give way to tlmt titbit sleep which is the last stage of extreme cold, and from which he would certainly never have waked again in this world. Just at that moment he saw another poor trav eller coining along the road. The unhappy man seemed to be, if possible, even in a worse condi tion than himself, for he, too, could scarcely move, all his powers were frozen, and all appeared to be just on the point to die. When he saw this poor man, the traveller, who was just going to lie down to sleep, made a great effort. Ile roused himself up, and he crawled, for he was scarcely able to walk to his dying fel low sufferer. He took his hands into his own, and tried to warm them. Ile chafed his temples; he robbed his feet; be applied friction to his body. And all the time be spoke cheering words into his car, and tried to comfort him. As ho did thus the dying man began to revive, his powers were restored, and he felt able to go forward. But this was not ; for his kind bene factor, too, was recovered by the efforts which he had made to save Isis friend. The exertion of rubbing made the blood circulate again in his own body. Ile grew warm by trying to warm theoth er. His drowsiness went off; he no longer wished to sleep, his limbs returned again to their proper force, and the two travellers went on their way together happy, and congratulating one another on their escape. Soon the snow storm passed away; the moun tain was crusted ; and the travellers reached their homes in safety. Now, then, young readers, you will understand, that to be happy and enjoy life, you have only to try and make others happy. Do this, and you will be happy no singinF birds. Counsels for the Young. Never be east down by trifles. If a Wider break his thread twenty times, twenty times will he mend it again. Make up your minds to do a thing, and you will do it. Fear not, if trouble comes upon yon; keep up your spirits, though the day be a dark one. Mind what you run after! Never he content with a bubble that will burst, or firewood that will end in smoke and darkness. Get that which you can keep, and which is worth keeping. Fight hard against a hasty temper. Anger will come, but resist it strongly. A spark may set a house on fire. A fit of passion may give you cause to mourn all the days of your life. Never revenge an injury. If you have an enemy, act kindly to him, and make him your friend. You may not win him over at once, but try again. Let one kindness be tidlowed by another, till you have succeeded. By little and little great things are completed; and so repeated kindness will soften the heart of stone. Whatever you do, do it willingly. A boy that is whipped to school never learns his lessons well. A man that is compelled to work, cares not how badly it is performed. He that pulls off his coat cheerfully, strips up his sleeves in earnest, and sings while ho works, is the man for me. Evil thoughts are worse enemies than lions and tigers; fur we can keep out of the way of wild beasts, but bad thoughts win their way everywhere. The cup that is full will hold no more ; keep your heads and hearts full of good thoughts, that bad thoughts may find no room to enter. The Good Children. A mother, who was in the habit of asking her children, before they retired at night, what they had done through the day to wake others happy, found her young twin daughters silent. The elder one spoke modestly of deeds and dispositions limn ded on the golden rule, "Do unto others as you would they should do unto you." Still those lit tle bright faces were bowed down in serious si lence. The question was repeated. "I can re member nothing good all this day, dear mother— only one of my schoolmates was happy because she had gained the head of her class, and I smiled on her and ran to kiss her, so she said I was good. This is all, dear mother." The other spoke still more timidly: "A little girl who sat by me on the bench at school, had lost a little brother. I saw that while she studied, she hid her face in the book and wept. 1 felt sorry, and laid my five on the same book and wept with her. Then she looked up and was comforted, and put her arms around my neck. But Ido not know why she said that I was good." "Come to my arms, beloved ones," said the mother; "to rejoice with those who re joice, and weep with those who weep, is to obey our blessed Redeemer." ta'' There is nut a man beneath the canopy of Maven, however chaste and moral he may be, should his faults be written in plain and indelible characters upon his brow, but what would blush with shame. How quickly, too, would he draw his hat down over his eyes, to hide these faults from the world. How true ! fir Men are always murmuring at the hard• ships of this world, yet how they dread to leave it. BE ACTIVE. Be active—be active, Find something to do, In digging a clam hank Or tapping a shoe. Don't stop at the corners To drag out the day— Be active—be active— And work while you may. 'Tis foolish to falter Or lag in the srreet— Or walk as if chain shot Were bound to your feet. Be active—be active— And do what you can, 'Tis industry only That maketh the man. 'Tis industry makes you— Remember—he wise— From sloth and from stupor Awake and mice. You'll live and be happy And never complain Of the blues or the dumps, Or a dull heavy brain. "Death has been HfifiY." When the year 1849 closed, remarks the Piffle delphia Bulletin, it was thought to have been parti cularly fatal to great men ; but 1850 threatens to be even more so. Already we have chronicled the demise of Calhoun, of Wordsworth, ofJefirey, of Taylor and Peel, each, in his intermit sphere, a man who "leaves no parallel behind;" mid now, as the foreign papers inform us, Louis Phillippe probably lies on his death bed, a victim like Napo leon, to cancer in his stomach. The past few years have made sad havoc indeed with those gveat names which, from our Child/100d, WO have been a accustomed to reverence. The giants in intel lect—poets, philosophers, statesmen, military men —who formed and led the ago have disappeared one after another, until few, or none are left.— With Wordsworth departed the last of the great British poets of the nineteenth century. With Jeffrey went out the last light of that brilliant con stellation of wits and Nets who revived or rather finualed criticism in this age. ; And non• Taylor and Peel and Calllollll ate no more ; and the old intriguer, Louis Phillippe; threatens to follow them. Ilow forcibly all this reminds us that we stand on the threshold of a new age, with new men MI around us. Especially, as Americans, do we fed this. Calhoun has gone, and, in the order of Nature, Clay and Webster must soon follow.— Taylor has gone, and Worth and Kearney, rind others of the heroes of the Mexican war: and Scott, more aged than all, cannot be long Leland, indeed, as he followed the corpse of the President to the grave, gloomy thoughts, skin to this we speak of, ens have possessed him. With mien choly emotions we see the past take the place of the present; and the reflection arises "who are to take the place of those that are gone ?" Alas! who? The Harp of the Mind. The mind is a more delicate instrument than any human invention, and it is worthy of more con stant care. The musician is very careful of his thvorite instrument, and preserves it from every danger and exposure. How much more careful then ought the youth to be of the harp of the soul. To keep that from the rude hand of sin, and to keep it in such sweet and peaceful tune that it may breathe no other strains than those of virtue, is of great importance to them. Then listen to the voice of wisdom—"keep thy heart with all dilligence, for out of it are the issues Mille." Let thy conduct through life be such as shall be acceptable and pleasing to him who is the giver of our blessings, and let the chords of thy soul, knowledge, faith, hope and charity, be kept in harmony, and yours will he the sweetest music of bliss in life, and the purest joy and peace in death. Sentiment of an aged Chief. A. distinguished Oneida chief, named Skenen dealt, having yielded to the instructions of the Bev. Mr. Kirkland, and lived a reformed num for fifty years, said, just before he died, in his hundred and twentieth year; "I am an aged hemlock; the winds of one hundred years have whistled through my Munches; I am dead at the top ; (he was Wind;) why I yet live the great good Spirit only knows. Pray to my Jesus, that I may wait with Patience my appointed time to die ; and when I die, lay the by the side of my minister and huller, that I may go up with him at the great resurretion.” The King and the Stable Boy. A King, walking out one morning, met a lad at the stable door, mud asked him, "Well, boy, what do you do? What do they pay you?" "I help in the stable," replied the lad; "bat I have noth ing except victuals and clothes." "Be content," replied the King, "1 have no more." All that the tidiest possess beyond food, raim ent, and habitation, they have butt the keeping, or Ilse disposing, not the present enjoyment of. A plough-boy, who thinks and feels correctly, has enough to make hint contented ; and if a King has a discontented splrit,he will always find some plea tbr indulging it. itta'lt is with 11 GOOD HOOK as it is with good company. Introduce a base person among gen tlemen; it is all to no purpose; Ito is not their fel low. Every society protects itself. The company is perfectly safe, and he is not one of them, though his body is in the room. 4:4- A facetious friend says that dancing women wear their dresses at hall mast, as a mark of res pect to departed modesty. Our friend had better be careful, or he may be arraigned at the bar of thshion, and forced to take LEG bail. 4Oenrii r a,. HOUSE JOCKIES. now A FREXCIIMAN WAS "SOLD." If any of our unsophisticated refuters have never had anything to do with a genuine, unmitigated, bona fide horse jockey, they will possibly be able to sympathise with a certain Frenchman, a pas sage of whose history has recently come to our knowledge. The Frenchman in question, having tufopted this country as his residence, wanted to procure for himself an animal, the use of whose legs should serve instead of his own, in the various peregrina tions he designed making in the prosecution of his search after knowledge. Being little acquainted either with home jockies or horse flesh, lie was grieviously taken in by a cheat in the purchase of a steed. Ile gave a hundred dollars for a misera ble jade of an old mare, that had been fattened up to sell, and turned out to be ring -boned, spavined, blind and wind-broken. The Frenchman, on dis covering that he had been cheated, went to request the horse jockey to take back the animal, and re fund the money. "Sere," said he, "I 'ace fetch back de mare horse vat you sell me, and I rant de money in my pocket back." "Your pocket luck !" returned the jockey, feign ing surprise, "I don't dndcrstand you." "You not stand under me ?" exclaimed the irri tated Frenchman, beginning to gesticulate furi ously, "you not stand under me! Sure, by gar, you be one grand rascalle—you lie like Sam—like Sam—vat you cull de lectle mountain? eh l" "Sum Hill, I suppose yon mean." "Oni, Monsieur—Sam de Hill—yes, save, you lie like two Sam Hill. You sell me one mare horse for one hundred dollar—ho no volt one hun dred cent, by gar." "What's the matter with the beast?" "Mattair! Sucre! Mattair do you say? Vy he is at 7 martair—he no go at all—he got no leg—no feet, no wind—he blind like one stone vid dat eye —lie go vehecze-o, veheeze-o, like one forge-ham ' mer-bellows—he no go over at all de ground—he no travelle two mile in tree day. Out, sure, he is one grand cheat. You must take him, and fund de mono• back." "Refund the money! Oh, I couldn't think of' such a thing." "Vat! too no fund MC back the money? You sliest me 'old one hundred dollar horse, dat can no go at all!" "I never promised you that he would go." "By gar! vet is one horse good for von he no go? Ile is no better as one dead shaekoss, by gar. Viii yon, sore, take the mare-horse back and give me my money vat I pay fur him?" "No sir, I eaumot—'twos a litir bargain—yon} eyes were your own market, as we gentlemen of the turf say." "Gcntilman de turn You be no gentihoan at all—you be no turf—mon Dicu! you he one grand Torque—one Shew—one mere clam deeeptione.— You cheat your own horn mother—you play one rasealle trick on your own gotten titther. You 'ace no prineipalle—" "The interest is what I look at." "Yes sure, your interest is 115 principalle. You be one grand rascalle sheet. Mon Dien! vere you die when yon go to? heh! Le Diablo black he fetch you no titne quick, by gar." Failing to obtain redress of the jockey, the poor Frenchman sent his "mare-horse" to an auction eer to be sold. But the auctioneer proved to he as great a rogue as the jockey; for he took care that the fees fur selling should cat up the price he gut tar the animal. "By gar said the Frenchman, in relating the story, "I be sheeted all round. De shocky horse he sheet me in trade; and do auctioneer he sheet me in dispose of the animate. lle sellme de mare horse fur ono ten dollar, and by gar he charge me 'leven dollar for sell hint. Mon Dies! so Ibe take all round in. I 'lose 'leven and ono hundred dol lar all in my pocket clear, fur one sacre dam, limp lump, vheeze-rind, no see at all, good for nothing shade of a mare-horse, vorse as nineteen dead shackasses, by gar!" “Touch Me if You Dare.” Some of the Indian Chiefs baying become the open enemies of the gospel, Mr. EworT, some times called the Apostle of the American Indians, when in the wilderness, without the company of any other Englishman, was at various times treat ed in a threatening and barbarous manner by some of these men, yet his Almighty Protector inspired him with such resolution, that he said,—"l am about the work of the Great God, and my Cod is with me; so that I fear neither you, nor all the sachems (or chiefs) in the country. I will go on, and do you touch me if you dare l" They heard him and shrunk away. I Dispose as well as Propose. When Bonaparte was about to invade Russia, a person who had endeavored to dissuade him from his purpose, finding he eould not prevail, quoted to hint the proverb, "Man proposes, but God dis poses," to which he indignantly replied, "I dispose as well as propose." A Christian lady, on hear ing the impious boast, remarked, "I set that down as the turning point of Bonaparte's fortunes. God will not suffer a creature, with impunity, to usurp his prerogative." It happened to Bonaparte just as the lady predicted. His invasion of Russia was the commencement of his full. f&P"' sever allow yourself to be coaxed into do ing that which you know you should not do. The most urgent importunity of another, is no excuse for the commission of an evil deed, but displays a wont of firmness most contemptible. gr The Ilistoric Times of London announces that Gen. Taylor's successor is Mr. Phillimn; VOL. XV.--NO. 35. THE YANKEE ABROAD. Among the great human family that sprung from the great egg-shell of nothing the Yankee shihes as A. No. t. Queen Vie he astonished, just nt the sight of a patent churn; while her . "dear Albert" and' the. rest of the nobility, wonder at the fix up of a patent corn cracker. He sells mouse traps to Metternich ; tooth powders to the Orleans branch ; tin-ware to the Arabs ; introdu ces Anderson's hest to the refined nobility ; pre scribes Townsend's Sarsaparilla to the Pope of Rome; Sherman's Lozenges to the Duke of `Wel lington; Hutching's Dyspeptic Bitters to Queen Victoria; Davis' Pain Killer to the Mandarins of China ; Mottles life Pills to Phillippe ; and Bran dreth's to the famOus Emperor of Russia. He makes a foreign bully run like je hew, just at the doubling up of his fist; talks a three thousand dollax job right into the Governor of Jamaica, on the cash phis ; sells wooden combs of any quality to the grandees of Timbuctoo ; in a gale heaves over is cook stove, when short of an anchor; in troduces himself to Lord Brougham, while letters of introduction remain in his frowners pocket; kis ses a Spanish belle, when uo one else dare under take the delicate job ; appears before the Queen of Portugal as the celebrated Yankee corn doctor, on the "scientific—scientifically" plan, with tools in hand; offers to sell, in a gentlemanly way, the very best of sicyantamuni razor straps to Sir Rob ert Peel just as he is decending the steps of Par liament; sells cowhide boots to O'Connell; makes love to the Florence ladies—sells cakes of the real regular yankee shaving soap; at the main door of the Royal Exchange; takes his but and makes a regular shipshape bow to Lamartine,. and then gets his candid opinion of Bancroft ; boasts of yankee ism right on the steps of the Batik of England; in an independent way he walks before the Emperor of Russia; presents to him nn acorn from Mount Vernon, and rides seven different times in the roy al carriage; rolls up the white of his eye like a duck in thunder, to a celebrated Vienna belle, and says, "how do you do mann'?" and what caps all, makes several Dublin grandees actually believe by "yankee convincing proof," that he could scope the seater of the Thames with a seive ; change tho wind at his calling; run an ordinary horse seven miles in seven minntes ; live forever, and turn into a white oak post!—Whew ! what a genius.—Ex. An Affecting Scene. In a lawyer's office, in a remote part of Connec ticut, lay a mortgage for eleven hundred dollars, which wet within a few days of being due. One morning, the man on whose place the mortgage was held, called and inquired if the payment could be put off for a short time. He was a man some what advanced in life and very intemperate. The lawyer in reply to his inquiries, said that the man that held the mortgage wanted his money,—that he was sorry, but it could not be extended. The tears came in the old nuns eye, and after stan ding a few moments, a perfect image of despair, lie turned and left the office. Ho returned home, be lieving in a few days, his aged and infirmed wife, and iuculid daughter would have to quit the roof which hail so long sheltered them and seek a home he knew not where. lie could say nothing to them about it, it would cause them so much grief. The mortgage became due, and in the morning early, the farmer again repaired to the lawyer's office. Ile pleaded for a time, but to no purpose. Overcome with emotion, the old man sunk into a chair, and there set for two hotws, apparently unconscious of anything that was passing around him, when a carriage drove up to the door, and a lady stepped from it. She en tered the office. After standing a few moments, eyeing the old man with interest and emotion, she spoke and the old man looked up. Father how do you do? Oh ! Sarah, lam well but sad. lam glad to see you, hut sorry for your aged mother and inva lid sister; I cannot return to them, for it will be to tell them they have no home, and this I cannot bear. It will kill your poor mother. bather! Father! said the daughter, could you live a temperate man it this were paid? Yes, oh yes! I would ; but it cannot be, for I have nothing to pay it with. Now, sign the pledge, and here is the money. The old man put his name to theredeeming, the saving pledge, and departed to his home with a hap py heart. The daughter had saved the $1,200 by working in the factory. Don't Waste. Waste nothing! A crumb of broad may keep life in a starving bird. A large and useful volume hos been written with one quill from the wing of a goose; and an inch or so of writing paper has served for a dispatch to save an army from Ming into the enemy's power. Waste nothing. "Gath er up the fragments, that nothing be lost." Cr If girls will kiss,lot them perform the cere mony as if they loved it„ Don't let them sneak about the thing as if they were purloining cheese, nor drop their heads "Like lilies o'erpressed with the rain." On the contrary, they should do it with nn appe tite, and when they "let go," should give rise to a report that will make the old folks think somebody is tiring pistols around the house. GOOD.—An anecdote is told of Governor Jones of Tenn., which is too good to he lost. 'Whilst making a speech some two years since, a rowdy fellow hissed him. Immediately the cry,—"turn him out, turn him out"—arose from various parts of the crowd. Just at that time an ass near by commenced braying, when the Governor remark ed to the audience, "let him alone, gentlemen, his father is calling him, and he will soon leave." cirfiat tut still PAVE.