Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, September 03, 1850, Image 1

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[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.
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
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.
"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.
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,
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
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
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.
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.