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BY JAS. CLARK.
.From the New 'York Tribune.
THE AMERICAN FLAG IN ISM).
ET WILLIAM BOSS WALLACE.
We regard the American Banner as already
levered."—From a kintion Newspaper.
It is not severed ! No ! as soon
The sister stars by tempest-wrack
Shall be divided in their sky—
And darkle into chaos back !
No! there it floats, with every hue
Unditn'd, as when it first unfurled
Against the storm, and proudly threw
Defiance to the Tyr.mt's world;
And still the awful Bird that wheels
Amid the tempest wildly swelling,
And calmly hears the thunder-peals
Within his storm-god's misty dwellirig,
Aye, still he guards from traitor-feet,
The glories of that stranded sheet,
And boars it in his guardian hand
Resplendent over Freedom's Laud
Clime of the Valient and the Tried!
Where MARION fought and Wannstc died:
Where Mointourn still to GUELEORD calls,
And Valor walks through VERNON'S halls;
While Honor muses in the gloom
And glory of the Hero's tomb,
Or chants that grand old lay she made
Accordant with the dark-blue seas,
That murmur wild where Freedom laid
Her lion-souled Mit.TIADEs :
Land of the Forest and the Glen!
'non hardy nurse of hardy Men!
Land of the Mountain and the Lake!
Of Rivers rolled from sea to sea,
In that broad grandeur fit to make
The symbols of Eternity
0, fairest Clime ! 0, dearest Land !
Who shall thy banded children sever
God of our Fathers ! 0, dearest Land !
From Plymouth's rock to Georgia's strand—
Heart pressed to heart, hand linked in hand—
And swear, "the Union lives Forever I"
Then float, float on thou banner, bright
With glory from the olden fight !
Yes 1 stainless standard of the brave,
Thy wreath of stars will deck the wave
Where Honor once her Lawrence rolled
To quiet in thy spangled fold:
Still, shining banner of the free,
The shackled Nations turn to thee,
,And when at home thy shadow falls
Along the Armory's trophied walls,
The ancient Trumpets long for breath—
The dinted sabres fiercely start
To vengeance, from each clanging sheath,
As if they sought come Traitor's heart !
0, sacred banner of the brave !
0, standard of a thousand ships!
0, guardian of the Patriot's grave !
Come, let us press thee to our lips!
There is a trembling of the rocks
-I.law EivoLsito feels the Patriot-shocks—
There is a trembling of the reeks—
The West, the mighty West awakes ;
There is a noise amid the pines—
The white magnolias whiter bloom,
Cpon the South new glory shines,
And see the heave of PL' cave's tomb!
'Behold ! the troubled air is dark
With martial ghosts—the hills are bright
With band. of living men, and bark!
Their voices come in mingled might—
The Right shall live while Faction dim
The Traitors draw a fleeting breath,
lint Patriots drink from God's own eye.
The light of Truth that conquers Death!
Then fairest Flag! then dearest Land !
Who shall thy banded child' en sever?
God of our Fathers ! hero we Maud
From Plymouth's rock to Georgia's strand—
Beart pressed to heart, hand linked in hand,—
And swear, "the Union lives Forever!"
WITAT we call good sense in the conduct of life,
eansists chiefly in that temper of mind that ena
bles its possessor to view at all times, with per
fect coolness and accuracy all the various circum
stances of his situation, so that each of theta may
produce its due impression on him, without any
exaggeration arising from his own peculiar haldts.
but to a man of of ill regulated imagination, ex
ternal circumstances only serve as hints to excite
his thoughts, and the conduct he pursues has in
general far less reference to his real situation,
than to some imaginary one, in which he conceives
himself to he placed; in consequence of which,
while he appears to himself to be acting with the
most perfect wisdom and consistency, he may fre
quently exhibit to others all the appearances of
A New VIGETADLE.-" Pa, do cannons grow ?"
" No, you simpleton, but why do woo ask that r
"Because the papers say as how the French
base planted some in Rome."
0 Well, come to think of it, sonny, cannons
will sometimes shoot if they are planted; and I
have heard of them yielding grape," he added
with a smile of satisfaction, as he fumbled his
pockets for a cont, to reward the boy for being the
innocent occasion of such n wise observation.
Thera cannot be a more glorious object in crea
tion than a human being replete with benevolence,
meditating in what manner ho may render himself
most acceptable to his Creator, by doing moat
good to hie creatures.
Good work, are an evict/nee of Chrifttian Faith,
and not
The Closing Year.
It is a melancholy task to reckon with the de
parted year. To trace back the curious threads
of affection through its many-colored woof, and
knot anew its broken places—to number the miss
ing objects of interest the dead and the neglect
ed—to sum up the broken resolutions, the defer
red hopes, the dissolved phantoms of anticipation,
and the many wanderings from the leading star of
duty—this is indeed a melancholy task, but, with
al, a profitable, and, it may sometimes be, a pleas
ant and a soothing one. It is wonderful in what
short courses the objects of this world move.—
They are like arrows feebly shot. A year—a
brief year, is full of things dwindled and finished
and forgotten. Nothing keeps evenly on. What
is there in the running calendar of the year that
has departed, which lies kept its place and its
magnitude ? Here and there an aspirant for fame
still stretches after his eluding shadow—here and
there an enthusiast still clings to his golden dream
—here and there (and alas ! how rarely) a
friend keeps his truth, and a lover his fervor—but
how many more, that were as ambitious, as enthu
siastic, as loving as these, when this year begun,
arc now sluggish, and cold, and false? You may
keep a record of life, and as surely as it is human,
it will be a fragmented and disjointed history,
crowded with unaccountableness and change.—
There is nothing constant. The links of life are
forever breaking. but we rush on still. A fellow
traveler drops from our side into the grave—a
guiding star of hope vanishes from the sky—a
creature of our affection, a child or an idol, is
snatched from us—perhaps nothing with which we
began the race is lett to us, and yet we do not
halt. " Onward—still onward !" is the eternal
cry, and as the past recedes, the broken ties are
forgotten, and the present and future occupy us
alone.
There aro bright chapters in the past, however.
If our lot is capricious and broken, it is also
new and various. One friend has grown cool,
hut we have won another. One chance was less
fortunate than we expected, but another was bet
ter. We have encountered one man's prejudices,
but, in so doing, we have unexpectedly flattered
the partialities of his neighbor. We have ne
glected a recorded duty, but a deed of charity,
done upon impulse, has brought up the balance.—
In an equable temper of mind, memory, to a man
of ordinary goodness of heart, is pleasant compa
ny. A careless rhymer, whose heart is better
than his head, says :
"I would not escape from memory's land,
For all the eye can view;
For there's dearer dust in memory's land,
Than the ere of rich Peru.
I clasp the fetter by memory twined,
The wanderer's heart and soul to bind."
It was a good thought suggested by an ingeni
ous friend of mine, to make one's will annually,
and remember all whom we love in it in the de
gree of their deservings. I have acted upon the
hint since and truly it is keeping a calendar of
one's life. I have little to bequeath indeed—a
manuscript or two, some half dozen pictures, and
a score or two of much-thumbed and choice au
thors—but, slight as these poor mementos are, it
is pleasant to ruts their difference, and write against
them the names of our friends, as we should wish
them left if we knew we were presently to die.—
It would be a satisfying thought in sickness, that
one's friends would have a memorial to suggest
us when we were gone—that they would know
that we wished to be remembered by them among
the fist. And it is pleasant, too, when alive to
change the order of appropriation with the ever
' varying evidences of affection. It is a relief to
'
vexation and mortified pride to erase the name of
one unworthy or false, and it is delightful, as an
other gets nearer to your heart, with the gradual
and sure test of intimacy, to prefer him in your
secret register.
If I should live to be old, I doubt not it will be
a pleasant thing to look over these little testa
mews. It is difficult now, with their kind offices
and pleasant faces ever about one, to realize the
changes of feeling between the first and the last—
more difficult still to imagine, against any of those
familiar names, the significant asterisk which
marks the dead—yet if the common chances of
human truth, and the still more desperate changes
of human life, continue—it is melancholy to think
what a miracle it would be if even half this list,
brief and youthful as it is, should be, twenty years
hence, living and unchanged.
The festivities of this part of the year always
seemed to me mistimed and revolting. I know
not what color the reflections of others take, but
to me it is simply the feeling of escape—the re
leased breath of fear after a period of suspense
and danger. Accident, misery, death, have been
about ns in their invisible shapes, and while one
is tortured with phi, and another reduced to
wretchedness, and another struck into the grave
beside us, we know not why or how, we are still
living and prosperous. It is next to a miracle we
are so.. We have been on the edge of chasms
continually. Our feet have tottered, our bosoms
have been grazed by the thick shafts of disease—
hod our eyes been spirit-keen we should have
been dumb with fear at our peril. If every tenth
sunbeam were a deadly arrow—if the earth' were
full of invisible abysses—if poisons were Sown
thickly in the air, life would hardly be more in- I
secure. We eau stand upon our threshold and
see it. The vigorous arc stricken down by an in
visible hand—the active and basy suddenly disap
pear—death is caught in the breath of the night
wind, in the dropping of the dew. There is no
place of moment in which that horrible phantom
is not gliding among us. It is natural at each
period ofescape to rejoice fervently and from the
HUNTINGDON, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 16, 1851.
heart; but I know not, if others look upon death
with the same irrepressible horror that I do, bow
their joy can be so thoughtlessly trifling. It
sterns to me matter for deep and almost fearful
congratulation. It should be expressed in reli
gious places and with the 'solemn voice of wor
ship; and when the period has thus been marked,
it should be speedily forgotten lest its cloud be
come depressing. lam an advocate for all the
gayety that the spirits will bear. I would reserve
no particle of the treasure of happiness. The
world is dull enough at best. But do not mis
take its temper. Do not press into the service of
gay pleasure the thilling solemnities of life. I
think anything which reminds me of death, sol
emn : any time, when our escape from it is thrust
irresistahly upon the mind a solemn time : and
such is the season of the new year. It should he
occupied by serious thoughts. It is the time to
reckon with one's heart—to renew and form res
olutions—to forgive and reconcile and redeem.
Dangerous Fellow at Large.
There is a dangerous fellow somewhere Down
East, or somewhere else, who ought not to be al
lowed to run at large. He threatens to play the
very deuce and break things all in consequence of
a faithless gal, who has broken her troth with him,
and married some one else. If he should put his
threats into execution, the Lord have mercy on
us. Hear him :
"I'll grasp the loud thunder,
And with.:lightning I'll BILLY,
I'll rend the earth asunder,
And kick it away !"
Now, that's attempting considerable for one
man; however, if he is willing to assume the re
sponsibility, and pay damages, why let hint smash
away, we're not afraid. Ile next says:—
" The rainbow I'll straddle,
And ride to the moon;
On the ocean I'll paddle,
In the bowl of a spoon."
Well, that won't hurt nobody. Go ahead, old
chap; we like to encourage a laudible spirit of
adventure:—
"I'll set fire to the fountain,
And swallow up the rill;
I'll eat up the mountain,
And be hungry still."
Good gracious! what a destructive and vora
cious animal he is ! Is there no way to appease
his wrath and stay his stomach? Must we suffer
this, just because his gal gave hint the milks, and
took a notion to another? No, never. Down
with him we say, if he continues to conduct him
self in this extravagant way.
" The rain shall fall upward,
The smoke shall tumble down,
I'll dye the grass purple
And paint the sky brown."
Hear that! A pretty world this would be
then ! We might as well live in an old boot,
with a dirty solo for the earth beneath and brown
upper leather for the heavens above.
"The sun I'll putout,
Wills the whirlwind I'll play,
Tuns day into night,
And sleep it away."
There is no doubt if he cuts the caper, the sun
will feel as much put out about it as we shall. We
leave it to the whirlwinds to say whether they are
to he trilled with or not. And as for his turning
slay into night, and sleeping it away, we would
just as soon he would do that as not, that is if he
can. But hear him again :
" I'll flog the young earthquake,
The weather I'll be-physic,
Volcanoes I'll strangle,
Or choke them with phthisie."
Oh, ho ! for shame now. He dare not clinch
with the old earthquake, and so he threatens to
flog a new one, and that of the neuter gender.
Oh you outrageous fellow, why don't you take one
of your size 7 And then he says
The moon I will smother,
With nightmare and woe,
For sport, at each other
The stars I will throw."
Serve them right—they have no business to be
out when they ought to be in bed.
" The rocks shall be preachers,
The trees do the singing,
The clouds shall be teachers,
And the comets go spreeing."
Well, that's all right enough, except getting the,
comets on a spree—we don't like that pretty much.
Our hero concludes as follows:
"I'lltie up the winds
In a bundle together,
And tickle their ribs
With a monstrous feather."
Oh, cracky ! now he's done it. We did not
think it in the gizzard of any man to do half so
much. neatly we think that such a desperate
fellow ought to be caught and put in jail for half
a week, and safely guarded by ono flea, two mos
quitoes, and a bed-bug.
STATE'S ErtnalyeE.—A drunken lawyer on
going into church, was observed by the minister,
who addressed him thus:
"I will bear witness against you at the day of
judgment."
The lawyer, shaking his head with drunken grav
ity, replied :
"I have practiced twenty-five years at the bar,
and always found the greatest rascal the first to
turn State's evidence."
I'assioNs are winds to urge us o'cr the wave; ,
REANON is the rudder, to direct and to save.
From the Cyracuse Transcript.
WINTER.
11Y. E. A. C.
" Oh when I was a tiny boy
My days and nights were full of joy,
My mates were blithe and kind !
No wonder that I sometimes sigh,
And dash the tear-drop from my eye,
To east a look behind !"—Tom Hoot),
WINTER, that venerable and distinguished visi
tor, ever so mindful of the sons of men, is with us
once more. Like a worthy maiden aunt, he has
always so planned his allitirs, as to pay us a good,
long visit at least once a year. But from some un
accountable freak of nature, the Old Fellow recent
ly has taken to travelling incog., fur we were not
even warned of his approach, until we found him
on our threshold. He has not, as usual, been ush
ered in under a canopy of dark portentous clouds,
for the Sun has shown as brightly, and the moon
looked as lovely, as in May.
remember years ago in childhood, how differ
ent was his coming. The thunder of his chariot
wheels were heard in the distance. Stormy Bor
eas heralded his approach.
The dark and glowing sky seemed to indicate
that a war of elements was near at hand. As he
drew near, and his furious steeds joined to his tri
umphal ear, with his retinue of attendants sent out
from the caves of Eolus, became visible, so great
was the consternation and alarm, that both man
and beast sought covert, and even the Ike of na
ture turned pale through fright.
But when fear had subsided, the veteran was
greeted with a hearty welcome, fur he always
brought with him so many resources fur enjoyment
that we hail him with delight.
The husbandman, mindful of his coming, had
toiled and sweat through the long summer months,
and his labor having been crowned with abundant
success, he was content to pass the winter in ease
and enjoyment. Ills barns and cribs were well
tilled, and his cellar was teeming witlt plenty. A
supply of the choicest fruits and nuts were careful
ly laid by in anticipation of cracking times. When
the morning came, little John and Mary were pee
ked off to school; Mary clad in a good homespun
frock, and Johnny rejoicing in his first boots, and
new coat and gilt buttons, the pockets of which
were cremated with apples for himself and the
"musters." He darts along, drawing his sled mt
which are his basket, hooks, skates and little Mary
and is soon at the door of the school house. After
wiping the snow oft his boots, ott which depends
his admission among the larger boys, with hispoe
ket handkerehkr he enters. Every eye is fastened
alternately on him and the boots. Ile meets the
gaze with the eye of one having triumphed, and
then casting a disdainful look upon the little "uns"
in front, he proudly walks up the aisle and takes
his scat back.
The old school house by the way side, surroun
ded by snow built palaces, methinks I see it as of
yore, with the well beaten play ground and the
fields adjoining cut up with innumerable paths, em
blems of joy and merriment. Would dust I could
again join in those mimic battles there fought, in
which snow balls supplied the place of bullets, even
though I should come off among the wounded.
Then those skirmishes with buxom, rosy lasses,
in which, from an innate courtesy, we always come
off second best with our faces well rubbed with
snow. This only made us blush, and we consider
ed ourselves tolerably fortunate, if the impression
of their nails were not left on our cheeks.
A sleigh ride was ne plus ultra in the way of en
joyment. The tipping over, if not attended with
any serious accident, was filarial% and furnished
careful mothers with gossip for weeks. But here
memory is becoming too prolific. 'Twere useless
to dwell farther upon what are deemed the trifling
events of youth and childhood. In short, the hap
py hours of youth are only equalled by the sorrow
ful ones of age.
"Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot des
troy.
And which come in the night-time of sorrow and
care,
To bring back the features that joy used to wear."
erA shrewed old gentleman once said to his
daughter: "Be sure, my dear, that yon never
marry a poor man ; hut remember, the poorest
man in the world is one that has money, und no
thing else."
Preaching hi the Point.
Passing along one Wednesday night—for eve
ning at the South is our afternoon—inlMontgomery,
Alabama, I stepped into the Presbyterian lecture
room, where a slave was preaching:
" My Bredren," says he, "God bress your souls,
ligion Is like de Alabama river. In spring conies
fresh, an' bring in all do ole logs, slabs an' stick;
dat hub ben lyin' on de bank, an' carrying dem
down in de current. Bymeby do water go down
—den a log cotch hero on dis island, den a slab
gas cotchce on do shore, and de sticks on de bush
, es—and dare doy lie, witlerin' and dryln' till conies
'tinder fresh. .Ins' su dare come 'viral of
—dis ole sinner bro't it,, dat ole backslider bro't
back, an' all de folk seem cumin', an' mighty good
times. But, bredren, God bress your souls; byme
by 'vivid's gone—den dis ole sinner is struck on
his ole sin, den dat Mc backslider is cotched where
he was afire, on jus' such a rock ; den one arter
'under dat had got ligion lies all long dc shore,
an dare day lie till 'nutter 'vivid. Beloved bred
ren, God bress your outdo, dew in de eurecta .1"
I thought his illustrations beautiful enough for
a more elcgatt dress, and too true, alas ! of oth-
Cr 3 than hie own race.—Christian (Jerold.
Rising in the World.
You should bear constantly in mind that nine
tenths of us are, from dm very nature and necessi
ties of the world, born to gain our livelihood by the
sweat of the brow. What reason have we, then
to prcsnme that our children are not to do the same?
If they be, as now and then one will be, endowed
with extraordinary powers of mind, those extntor
dinary powers may have an opportunity of devel
oping themselves ; and if they never have that op
portunity, the harm is not very great to us or to
them. Nor does it hence follow that the descen
dants of laborers are always to be laborers. Tho
path upward is steep and long, to be sure. Indus
try, care, skill, excellence, in the parent, lay the
foundation of a rise, and, by and by, the descen
dants of the present laborer become gentlemen.—
This is the natural progress. It is by attempting
to reach the top at a single leap, that so much mis
ery is produced in the world. Society may aid in
making the laborers virtuous and happy, by bring
ing children up to labor with steadness, with cure
and with skill; so show them how to do as many
useful things m possible; to do them all in the
best manner; to set them an example in industry
sobriety, cleanliness and neatness; to make alt
these habitual to them, so that they never shall be
liable to fall into the contrary; to let them always
see a good living proceeding from labor, and thus
to remove from them the temptation to get at the
i goods of others by violent or *mildew, means, and
to keep from their minds all inducements to hypoc
risy and deceit.
Toleration.
When Abraham sat at his tent door, according
to his custom, waiting to entertain strangers, he
espied an old most stooping and leaning on his staff
weary with age and travail, coming towards him,
who was a hundred years of age. He received
hint kindly, washed his feet, provided supper, cau-i i
him to sit down; but observing that the old
man eat and prayed not, nor begged for a blessing;
on his meat, he asked him why he did not worship
the God of heaven. The old 111ast told him, that
he worshiped the fire only, and acknowledged no,
other God. At which answer Abraham grew so
zealously angry, that he thrust the old man out of
Isis tent, and expos, hint to all the evils of the
night, stud an lingua ed condition. When the old
mast was gone, find called to Abraham, and asked
him where the stranger was? Ile replied, I thrust
him away because he did not worship thee. God
answered hint, I have suffered him these hundred
years, although he dishonored tae; and could'st
not thou endure him one night ?—Bishop Taylor.
Christ and Mahoinet.
Go to your natural religion; lay before her Ma
' hornet and his disciples arrayed in armor and in
blood, riding in triumph over the spoils of thou
sands who fell by his victorious sword; show her
the cities which be set in flames, the countries
which he ravaged and destroyed and the miserable
distress of all the inhabitants of the earth.
When she has viewed him in this scene carry
her into his retirements—show her the prophet's
chamber—his concubines and wives—let her see
his adultry, and hear him allege Revelation and
his divine commission to justify his lust and op
pression. When she is tired of this prospect, then
show her the blessed Jesus, humble and meek,
doing good to all the sons of men; patiently in
struting both the ignorant and perverse; let her
see him in his privacy; let her follow him to the
mountain and hear his supplications to God ; Cur
ry her to his table to see his poor fare and hear
his heavenly discourses; lot her see him injured
but not provoked ; let her attend him to the tri
bunals, and consider the patience with which he
endured the scoffs and reproaches of his cnontiest
Lead her to his cross, and let her view him in the
agonies of death, and hear his last prayer fht his
persecutors, "Father forgive them, for they know
not what they do."—When natural religion has
seen both, ask which is the prophet of God I But
her answer we have already had. When she
saw part of this scene through the eyes of the
Centurion, who attended at the Cross, by him she
spako and said, "Truly this man was the son of
Advertising.
Allow me to say a few words on the subject of
advertising, because I think there is a false deli
cacy among some people on this matter. In my
opinion, advertising is a legitimate messes of mak
ing known the wants and wishes of both buyers
and sellers—whether they
. he an estate worth half
a million of money, or for a pair of "Meelti's best
razors." It is merely making an extension of
your shop front in the newspapers, whether the
articles be seen there or in the windows, in boils
eases its qualities remain to be tested. It never
can answer to advertise a bad article. By adver
tising a good one, you extend your cosineetlom
which mght otherwise be limited by the number
and class of people who happened to pass yoUr
door, and their connection.
[Mechi's Principles to insure success in Thule.]
ANCCDOTE OF VAN DV:K.-Van Dyck was
the pupil of Reubens, and being fond of a joke,
was in the habit of indulging himself sometimes
at the expense of his master. One day when
neatens had finished painting for the day, he
left his slippers, as usual, by the side of his easel,
on the floor. Van Dyck, when ho entered the
giallo, noticed the slippers, and, taking advan
tage of his masters absence, removed them and
substituted an exact Me simile in the shape ore
painting ! On the return of lineliens, he endeavored
to push his pedal extremities into the slippers ; but
what was his surprise on finding the slippers were
not! 110 could hardly credit his own senses, till
he stooped over and examined more closely the
bentiful substitute of his pupil. Hie admiration
Of the pupil's skill was only equalled by the joy
of Van Dyck.— Trarelgr.
VOL. XVI.-NO. 2.
A Trifling Mistake.
Some weeks ago, we had occasion to journey a
short distance in Ncw Hampshire, by stage, after
leaving the railroad terminus. It cha..ced that
Bill a well-known wag and punster of that
region, was one of the 'outsiders," on the way up.
Bill is not a bad man, by any manner of moans,
but it is also well known that he will "partake, or
indulge," at times, and especially when traveling.
int this occasion he enjoyed the companionship of
a mysterious black bottle, to which he turned his
countenance so frequently, en route, that he even
'acknowledged himself, finally, a "leetle over the
bay I" (The nigh horse, by the by, was a bay one,
and Bill sat on the left side of the box.)
We were proceeding quietly along, listening to
Bills joke's and drolleries, when on a sudden, the
coach came in contact, with a huge stone in the
rut. Bill lost his equilibrium, and tumbled heels
over head across the dasher, striking heavily upon
the sod.
Bill arose to his feet, got the gravel from his
nose and cars, and commenced berating the driver
lbr his carelessness in upsetting the • coach, and
thus endangering the lives of the passengers.
" thunder yer dont 7" said Bill. '•You
mis'able ease ('ic) sawney ! a knock ('ic) knock
in' people's brains ouen this way !"
The driver informed hint that the stage had not
been overturned at all, and the passengers assured
Bill that Jell's was right.
Our good natured friend approached the vehicle
again, and remounted slowly to his former seat out
side.
" Didn't upset, tryou say 7"
"Not at an," replied the driver,
" ('ic) if I'd a know'd that," said Bill "1
wouldn't ha' gel of 1"
" What are you writing there, my boy 7" asked
a fond parent the other din•, of his hopeful sou
and heir, a shaver 'of tett years.
"My eompethition, thin"
" What is the subject 1"
"International law, thir," replied the youthful
Crotius. "But really, I than be unable to eon
thentrate my identh, and give them relation, if I
ant conthtantly interrupted in dial' manner by Ir
relevant inquirerth."
Mrs. Partin4tims on Politics.
" I don't blame people forcotnplaining about the
ektravagranee and costiveness of goveniment,"
said Mrs. Partington, as she was reading an ardent
appeal to the people in a political news paper—she
always took an interest in politics after Paul wee
selected one year as candieate for Inspector. "I
don't blame 'cm a mite. Here they are going to
canvassing the State: Gracious nie ! as if the
Dinh wasn't good enough for 'em to walk on. I
wonder why they didn't have ile cloth or kidminis
ter and done with it." "And I heatd, aunt yes
terday," said Ike, "that some Wein were going
to scour the country to get voters." dWell," con
tinued she, that would be better than throwing
dust in the people's eyes, that Paid used to tell
about. Canvassing the State, indeed !" She fell
into an abstraction upon the schemes of politicians
and took seven pinches of snuff in rapid succession
to aid her deliberation.—Paddinder.
''There is no saying &Mks me so much u
that which I hear very often, "that a man does
not know how to pass his time." It would hare
been bdt ill spoken by Methasela in the nine hun
dred awl sixty-ninth year of his life.—[ Cowley.
47`A modern moralist says—.ldleness and
fhshionahle clothes destroy more young men than
any other causes."
JENNY taco IN TuAtts,t-The Washington Re
public states the following incident in connection
with the titir Swede's departure from that city :
" When the boat was about to start, Mr. Reside
approacheh her to take leave. She gave him her
hand, uttering a kind "Good-bye," and then she
said—"Oh, I have been so honored by the people
of your beautiful city, by the great and good men
of your nation, that" - -Jenny said "that," but she
said no more, for Jenny's voice—that most beau
tiful of all voiceshad failed her fur once, and Jen
ny Witt weeping like a very child ; and it was thns
that Jenny left us. We do not envy her the great
gift she possess., but he will be greatly envied
who shall ever possess herself."
Steamboat Disasters.
The Steamer Kuoxvill exploided her boilers at.
New Orleans on the 17th ult., killing sevend of
her crew, and wounding ten or twelve others. She
had fdiir boilers, all of which exploded. The boat
was a perfect wreck, and several other boats along
side were greatly shattered by the explosion.
kNOTHEIL—On the day following the explosion
of the above vessel at New Orleans, the steamer
South America was burned, and a number of lives
lost. She was on her way down the Mississippi,
and had about two hundred passengers on board,
including one hundred and five U. S. troops from
Newport Barracks. The boat was ran ashore, and
the passengers and crew had no other means of es
cape but lay the yawl boat.
The cabin passengers, thirty-two in number, were
all saved, with the exception of Mrs. Logan, the
engineer's wife.
Seventeen of the U. S. recruits, and several Of
the crew also lost their lives, making twenty-five
lives lost in all. A terrible disaster.
SCOTT MEETING.-A large and enthusiastic
meeting of the friends of tletteral Winfield Scott
assembled at Harrisburg on Saturday last, and or
ganized by the appointment of Captain John P.
Huthford as President. Major Saunders opened
the meeting with a very. eloquent address, in which
.10 forcibly urged the nomination of Gamma Stlcttk.
as a candidate for the Preeidenc7.