Newspaper Page Text
BY JAS. CLARK.
A PRAtER FOR DEM PAPA.
DY MRS. EMILY JUDSON.
Tho following inexpressibly touching lines were
written by this excellent lady, in April 1850, after
the departure of Mr: Judson from Maulmain, on
tho vogage from which ho never returned :
Poor and needy little children,
Saviour, God, we come to Thee,
For our hearts arc full of sorrow,
And no other hope have we.
Out upon the restless ocean,
• There is one we dearly love—
Fold him in thine arms of pity,
Spread Thy guardian wings above,
When the winds aro howling round him,
When the angry waves are high,
When black, heavy, midnight shadows,
On his trackless pathway lie,
Guide and guard him, blessed Savior,
Bid the hurrying tempest stay:
Plant thy foot upon its waters,
Send thy smile to light his way.
When he lies all pale and suffering,
Stretched upon his narrow bed,
With nu loving face bent o'er him,
No soft hand about his head ;
Oh, let kind and pitying angels
Their bright fortes around Idle bow;
Let them kiss his heavy eyelids,
Let then fan his fevered brow.
Poor end needy little children,
Still % , e raise our cry to Thee;
We have nestled in his bosom,
We have sported on his knee;
Dearly, dearly do we love hint—
We, who on his breast have lain;
Pity now our desolation !
Bring him back to us again!
If it please Thee, heavenly father,
We would see him come once more,
With his olden Rep of vigor,
With the love lit smile he wore ;
But if we must tread Life's valley,
Orphaned, g,uideless, and alone,
Let us lose not, 'mid the shadows,
Ills dear foot prints to Thy Throne.
From Arthur's Home Journal.
It STORY FOR TUE SEISON.
DY T. B. AIiTDDR.
"Why Lizzy, dear," exclaimed Uncle Thomas
to his pretty nice, Miss Walton, as she stepped
upon the pavement from her mother's dwelling,
one morning in mid-winter. "You're not going
in this trim 1"
" In what trim 7" said Lizzy, glancing first at
her gloves, then upon her dress, and then placing
her hand upon her neck and bosom to feel if all
was right there. "Is anything wrong with my
dress, Uncle 7"
"Just look at your feet V'
"At my feet:" And Lizzy's eyes fell to the
ground. "I don't see anything the matter with
" Why, child, you have nothing on your feet but
paper-soled French lasting boots."
They have thick soles, Uncle."
Thick If you call them thick, you will have
to find a new terns for thinness. Go right back
and put on your leather boots."
'eacher boots !" Lizzy's voice and counten
ance showed an undisguised amazement.
"Yes, leather boots. You certainly wouldn't
think of going out on a day like this without hav
ing your feet well protected with loather boots."
"Leather hoots! Why, Uncle Thomas!"—
And the muOcal laugh of Miss Walton echoed on
the air. "Who ever heard of such a thing?"
Uncle Thomas glanced involuntarily down at
his own thick, double soled, calfskin understand
"Boots like them:" exclaimed the merry girl
" But come along, my good Uncle," she added
more seriously, drawing her arm w ithin his, and
attempting to move away. "We'll have all the
neighbors staring at us. You can't be in earnest,
I'm sure, about my wearing clumsey leather boots.
Nancy, the Irish cook has a pair—but I—"
" And pray Lizzy," returned the old gentleman,
as he yielded to the impulse given him by his niece
and moved down the street beside her—‘`are you
so much heartier than Nancy—so much stouter and
stronger, that you can bear exposure to damp and
even wet pavements in thin shoes, while she will
not venture out unless with feet well protected by
"My shoes are not thin, Uncle," persisted Lizzy
—"they have thick soles.;
" Not thin ! Thick soles ! Look at mine !"
_ . _
Lizzy laughed aloud as she glanced down at her
Uncle's heavy hoots, at the thought of having her
delicate feet encased in leather.
" Look at mine !" repeated Uncle Thomas.—
"And am I so much more delicate than you are'?"
But Miss Walton replied to all this serious re
monstrance of her Uncle, who was on a visit from
a neighboring town, with laughing evasion.
A week of very severe weather had filled the
gutters and blockaded the crossings with ice. To
this had succeeded rain, but not of long enough
continuance to free the streets of their icy encum
brance. A clear, warm day for the season follow
ed—and it was on this day that Miss Walton and
her Uncle went out for tho purpose of calling on a
Mind or two, and then visiting the Art Union Gal-
n'tf 11 1 btll4
Uncle Thomas Walton was the brother of
Lizzy's father. The latter died some few years
before, of pulmonary consumption. Lizzy, both
in appearance and bodily constitution, resell/MA
her father. She was now in her nineteenth your,
with veins of young life, and spirits us buoyant as
the opening spring. It was just four years since
the last visit of Uncle Thomas to the city—four
years since he looked upon the fair face of his beau
tiful niece. Greatly had she changed in that time.
When last he kissed her blushing cheek, she was
a half grown school girl—now she burst upon him
a lovely and accomplished young woman.
But Uncle Thomas did not fail to observe in his
niece certain signs that he understood too well as
indications .of a frail and susceptible constitution.
Two lovely sisters, who had grown up by his side,
their charms expanding like Summer's sweet flow
ers, had, all at once, drooped. faded, withered and
died. Long years had they been at rest—but
their memory was still green in his heart. When
he looked upon the pure face of his niece, it seem
ed to Uncle Thomas as if a long lost sister was re
stored to him in the freshness and beauty of her
young and happy life, ere the breath of the des
troyer was upou her. No wonder that he felt con
cert, when he thought of the past. No wonder
that he made remonstrance against her exposure,
in thin shoes, to cold and damp pavements. But
Lizzy had no fear. She understood not how fatal
a predisposition lurked in her bosom.
The culls were made—the Art Union Gallery
visited, and then Uncle Thomas and his niece re
named home. But the enjoyment of the former
had only been partial—for he could thing of little
else, and see little else besides Lizzy's thin shoes
and the damp pavements.
The difficulty of crossing the streets, without
stepping into water, was very great—and is spite of
every precaution, Liny's feet dipped several times
into the little pools of ice waiter that instantly
penetrated the light materiale of which her shoes
were made. In consequence, she had a slight
hoarseness by the time she reached home, and
Miele Thomas noticed that thd.tolor on her cheeks
was very much lightened.
Now go and change your shoes and stockings
immediately," said ho, as soon as they entered the
house. "Your feet must be thoroughly saturated."
" U, no, indeed they aro not," replied Lizzy.—
"At the most, they 'are only a little damp."
"A little damp !" said the old gentleman seri
ously. " The grass waves over many a fuir young
girl, who, but for damp feet, would now be a source
of joy toiler friends."
"Why, Uncleillow strangely you talk !" ex
claimed Lizzy, becoming a little serious in turu.—
Just then Mrs. Walton came in.
"Do, sister," said the old gentleman, "sec that
this thoughtless girl of yours changes her wet
stockings and shoes immediately. She smiles at
" Why, Lissy, dear," interposed Mrs. Walton,
"how can you be so imprudent? Go and put on
dry stockings ut once."
Lizzy obeyed and as'ilie left the room, her Un•
" How can you permit that girl to go upon the
street, in mid-winter, with shoes ahnost as thin us
" liar shoes have thick soles," replied Mrs.
Walton. "You certainly don't think that I would
let her wear thin shoes on a day like this."
Uncle Thomas was confounded. Thick shoes !
French lusting, and soles of the thickness of u half
" She ought to hare lentber boots, sister," said
the old gentleman, earnestly. "Stout leather
boots. Nothing less can be called a protection for
the feet in damp, wintry weather."
" Leather boots !"
Mrs. Walton seemed little less surprised than
her daughter had been at the same suggestion.
" It is a damp, cold, day," said Uncle Thomas.
" True, but Lizzy was warmly clad. lam very
particular on• this point, knowing the delicacy of
her constitution. She never goes out in winter
time without her furs.
" Furs for the neck and hands, and lasting shoes
and cotton stookings fur the feet !"
" Thick soled boots," said Mrs. WaV quick
" They are thick-soled boots." .
And the old gentleman thrust out both of his
feet, well clad in heavy calf-skin.
Mrs. Walton could not keep from laughing, as
the image of her daughter's feet, thus encased,
presented itself to her mind.
"Perhaps," said Uncle Thomas, just a little
captiously—" Lissy has a stronger constitution than
I hare, and can bear a great deal more. For my
part, I would almost as Here take a small dose of
poison as go out on a day like this, with nothing
on my lout but thin cotton stockings and lasting
"Boots," interposed Mrs. Walton.
I call them boots," said the old gentleman,
glancing dowu again at his stout, double-soled calf
But, it was of no avail that Uncle Thomas en
tered his protest against thin shoes, when, in the
estimation of city ladies, they were "thick." And
so, in due time, he saw his error and gave up the
When Lizzy came down from her room, her
color WAS still high—much higher than usual, and
her voice, as she spoke, was a very little veiled.—
But she was in tine spirits, and talked away mer
rily. Uncle Thomas did not, however, fail to ob
servo, that every little while she cleared her throat
with a low h-h-pent; and be know that this was
occasioned by en increased secretion of mucous
by the lining membrane of the throat, el:imminent
upon slight influrninetipt. . T,be NM he attribn,
ti• 4 't i o thin fth ,,,, sad wet fuer; and he tymr. nc.t for
HUNTINGDON, PA., THURSDAY, MARCH 13, 1851.
wrong. The warm boa and muff were not suffi
cient safeguards for the throat, when the feet were
exposed to cold and wet.
That evening, at ten time, Mr. Walton discov
ered that I.izzy ate scarcely anything, and that
her face was a little pale. He also noted an ex
pression that indicated either mental or bodily
suffering—not severe, but enough to make itself
"Are you not well !" lie asked.
"0 yes, quite well," was the quick reply.
"You are fatigued, then!"
"Go early to bed. A night's rest will restore
Mr. Walton said this, rather because ho hoped
that) believed it would be so.
. 0 yes. A night's rest is ell I want, replied
But she erred in tide,
"Where is Lizzy t" asked Mr. Walton, on
meeting his sister-in-law at the breakfast table
on the next morning. The face of the latter
wore a sober expression.
"Not very well, I am sorry to say," was the an•
"What ails her 7"
"She has taken a bad cold ; I hardly know how,
perhaps from getting her feet wet yesterday; and
is so hoarse this morning that she can scarcely
speak above a whisper.
" I feared as much," was the old man's reply.
"Have you sent for your doctor 7"
"Not yet." ,o
"Then do so immediately. A constitution like
hers will not bear the shock of a bad cold, unless
it is met instantly by appropriate remedies."
Its due time the family physician came. lle
looked serious when he saw the condition of his
" To what are you indebted for this I"he risked.
" To thin shoes," was the prompt reply of the
Uncle, who was present.
",`I have warned you against this more. than
once," said the doctor, in a tone of gentle re
"Oh no; brother is mistaken," spoke up Mrs.
Walton. "She wore thick soled shoes. But the
streets, as you know, were very wet yesterday,
and it was impossible to keep the feet dry."
"If she had worn good, stout, sensible leather
boots, as she ought to lave done, the water would
never have touched her feet," said Mr. Walton.
"You had on your gums: " remarked the phy
sician., turning to Lizzy.
" They are so clumsy and unsightly—l never
like to wear them," answered the patient, in a
husky whisper, and then she coughed hoarsely.
The doctor made no reply to this, but looked
Medicine was prescribed and taken ; and, for
two weeks thi3 , pliyiiiidan'was' hi daily Abend:lnce.
The inflammation first attacked Lines throat—
deconded and lingered along the bronchial tubes,
and finally fixed itself upon the lungs. From
this dangerous place it was not dislodged, as an
acute disease, until certain constitutional predis
positions hail been aroused into activity. In fact,
the latent seeds of that fatal disease, known as tu
bercular consumption, were, at this time, vivified.
Dormant they might have lain for years—per
haps through life, if all exciting causes had been
shunned. 41a5,l the principle of vitality was now
Slowly, very slowly did strength return to the
body of Miss Walton. Not until the Spring open
ed, was she permittad to go forth into the open
air. Then her pale cheek, and slow, feeble steps,
showed too plainly the fearful shock her system
A week or two after his romonstrance with his
neice about her thin shoes, Mr. Walton returned
home. Several letters received by him during
the winter, advised him of the state of Lizzy's
health. In the Spring her mother wrote to him.
"Lizzy is much better. The warns weather, I
trust, will completely restore her."
But the old gentleman knew better. He had
been a deeply interested party in a case like her's
before. He know that Summer, with its warm
and fragrant airs, would not bring hack the bloom
to her cheeks. In July came another epistle.
" The hot weather is so debilitating for Limy,
that I am about taking her to the sea-shore.
Uncle Thomas sighed as he read this, permit
ted the letter to drop from before his eyes, and
sat for some time gazing on vacancy. Far back
his thoughts had wandered, and, before the eyes
of his mind was the frail, fadind form of a sister,
who had, years before left her place and her mis
sion upon the earth, and passed up higher.
"The doctor says that I must go South with
Lizzy," wrote Mrs. Walton, early in December,
"and spend the winter. • We leave for Charleston
next Tuesday and may puss over to Havana."
Uncle Thomas sighed as before, and then be
came lost in a sad reverie. He had been to Ha
vana with both of his sisters. The warns South
had been of use to them. It prolonged but did
not save their lives.
And so the months passed on—the seasons
came and went—hut health, alas l returned not to
the veins of the lovely girl.
It was an Autumn day, nearly two years after
that fatal cold, taken in consequence of wearing
thin shoes, that Mr. Walton received a letter seal
ed with a black seal.
"As I feared," he nuirmered, in a low, sad voice,
gazing half abstractedly on the missive. Ito
knew too well its contents. "Dear child! I saw
this from the beginning."
And the old man's eyes became dim with mois
He had not erred in hit conjectpre ; Lizzy was
There are people whom one occasionally meets
with in the world, who are in a state of perpetual
fidget and pucker. Everything goes wrong with
them. They aro always in trouble. Now, it is
the weather, which is too hot; or at another time,
too cold. The dust blows into their eyes, or there
is " that horrid rain," or " that broiling sun," or
" that scotch mist." They are as ill to please
about he weather as a farmer; it is never to their
liking, and never will be. They " never saw such
a summt...." " not a day's fine weather," and they
go back to antiquity for comfort,—" it was not so
in our younger days."
Fidgety people are rarely well. They have
generally "a headache," or "spasms," or they
are " nervous," or something of that sort; they
cannot be comfortable in their way, without troub
le. Most of their friends are ill; this one has
the gout "so bad," another has the "rheumat
ics," a third is threatened with "consumption,"
and there is scarcely a family of their acquaint
ance whose children have not got the measles,
whooping-cough, scarlet-fever, or some other of
the thousand ills which inthatile flesh is heir to.
They are curiously solicitous about the health of
everybody this one is exhorted not to " drink
too much cold water," another not to " sit in the
draught," a third is advised to "wear flannels,"
.d they have great doctors at their fingers' ends
whom they can quote in their support. They have
read Buchan and Culpepper, and fed their fidgets
upon their descriptions of diseases of all sorts.—
They offer to furnish receipes for pills, draughts,
and liniments; and if you would believe them,
your life depends on taking their advice gratis
To sit at meals with such people is enought to
give one the dyspepsia. The chimney has been
smoking, and the soot has got into the soup; the
fish is over-dude, and the mutton is under-done;
the potatoes have had the disease, the sauce is not
of the right sort, the jelly is candied, the pastry is
fusty, the grapes are sour. Everything is wrung.
The cook must be disposed of; Betty stands talk
ing too long at the back gate. The poultry wo
man must be changed, and the potato man dis
carded. There will be a clean sweep. But things
are never otherwise. The fidgety person remains
unchanged, and goes fidgeting along to the end of
the chapter; changing servants, and spoiling them
by unnecessary complainings and contradictions,
until they becothe quite reckless of ever giving
.._The fidgety person has been reading the news
paper, and is in a ferment about " that murder !"
Everybody is treated to its details. Or somebody's
house has been broken into, and a constant fidget
is kept up for a time about " thieves !" If a cat's
whisper is heard in the night, " there is a thief in
the house ;" if an umbrella is missing, "a thief
has been in the lobby;" if a towel cannot be
found, " a thief must have stolen it off the hedge."
You are counselled to be careful of your pockets
when you stir abroad. The outer deers are furn
ished with latches, new bolts and bars are provid
ed for out-houses, bells arc hung behind the shut
ters, and all other posible expedients are devised
to keep out the imaginary thief."
"Oh ! there is a smell of fire !" Forthwith the
house is traversed, down stairs and up stairs, and
a voice at length comes from the kitchen—" It's
only Bobby been burning a stick." You are told
forthwith of a thousand accidents, deaths, and
buntings, that have come front burning sticks !
Bobby is petrified and horror-stricken, and is
haunted by the terror of conflagrations. If Bob
by gets a penny from a visitor, he is counselled
not to "buy gun-powder with it," though he has
a secret longing for crackers. Maids are caution
ed to " be careful about the clothes-horse," and
their ears are often startled with a cry from above
stairs of "Betty, there is surely something singe
The fidgety person "cannot bear" the wind
whistling through the key-hole, nor the smell of
washing, nor the sweep's cry of " svec-cep, over
ecp," nor the beating of carpets, nor thick ink,
nor a mewing cat, nor new boots, nor a cold in
the head, nor callers for rates and subscriptions.
All these little things are magnified into miseries,
and if you like to listen, you may sit for hours
and hear the fidgety person wax eloquent about
them, drawing a melancholy pleasure from the
The fidgety person sits upon thorns, and loves
to perch his or her auditor on the same raw ma
terial. Not only so, but you are dragged over
thorns, until you feel thoroughly unskinued. Your
cars are bored, and your teeth are set on edge.—
Your head aches, and your withers are wrung.—
You aro made to shake hands with misery, and
almost long for some real sorrow as a relief.
The fidgety person makes a point of getting out
humour upon any occasion, whether about private
or public atfitirs. If subjects for misery du nut
otter within doors, they abound without. Some
thing that has been dune iu the next street excites
his ire, or something done a thousand miles oil; or
even something that was done a thousand years
ago. Time and place matter nothing to the fidg
et•. They over-leap all obstacles in getting at
their subject. They must be in hot water. if one
question is set at rest, they start another; and
they wear themselves to the bone in settling the
affairs of everybody, which are never Bottled;
" Are made desperate by a too quick sense
Of constant infelicity."
—Their feverish existence refuses rest, and they
fret themselves to death about matters with which
they have often no earthly concern. They are
spendthrifts in sympathy, which in them has du
generated into an exquisite tendency to pain.—
They are launched on a •ea of trouble, the shores
otiu , ri
I , t( r
of which are perpetually extending. They are
self-stretched on a rack, the wheels of which are
ever going round.
The fundamental maxim of the fidgety is, that
whatever is, is wrong. They will not allow them
selves to be happy, nor anybody else. They al
ways assume themselves to be the most aggrieved
persons extant. Their grumbling is incessant,
and they operate us a social poison wherever they
go. Their vanity and self-conceit are usually ac
companied by selfishness in a very aggravated
form, which only seems to make their fidgets the
more intolerable. You will generally observe
that they are idle persons; indeed, as a general
rule, it may be said that the fidgety class want
healthy occupations. In nine cases out of ten,
employment in some active pursuit, its which they
could not have time to think about themselves,
would operate as a cure.
But, we must make an allowance. Fidgets arc
often caused by the state of the stomach, and
fit of had temper may not unfrequently be traced
to an attack of indigestion. Ono of the most
fidgety members of the House of Commons is a
martyr to dyspepsia, and it is understood that
some of his most potalent and bitter diatribes have
been uttered while labouring under more than
usually severe attacks of this disease. He has
"pitched into" some "honourable gentleman"
when lie should have taken a blue pill. And so it
is with many a man, in domestic and social life,
whom we blame for his snappish and disagreeable
temper, but whose stomach is the real organ at
limit. Indeed, the stomach is the moral nil less
than the physical barometer of most men ; and
we can very often judge of tempers, conditions,
and sympathies, pretty accurately, according to its
state. Let us, therefore, be charitable to the
fidgety, whose stomachs, rather than their hearts,
may be at theft ; and let us counsel them to mend
[heat, by healthy and temperate modes of living,
and by plenty of wholesome occupation and ex
Scene between two Snuff Takers.
" Good bordig, Bin Cubbids. flow do you do
to day 7"
" Putty well, Bias Gribes. I hope you are well
"Quite well. I tbadk you."
" What paper was you readig wiled I cube id,
" Oh, I Was rcadig the Yaulkee Blade. It's ad
excelledt paper I thiilk, dod't you?"
"Yes, it's a faddy paper, add has dice stories
add poetry. Do read n little Bias tribes."
" I'll rend a little pock, To by fir* Tob."
"Do you robebber, 'Fob, the tibe
Wised wo were yang together,
How buck we cost our hubs add dads,
For solo add upper leather."
Oh, Biss Gribes, that's too sedtibcdtal. Do
read a t o ddy piece."
" Well, here is a sog. This bust be ruddy. It
is by Alice Carey."
"Where the hood is lightig softly,
The hist that bags so pale,
O'er the woods, that heb with darkdess
The silent river vale,
Is a baided id the shadow,
Pacig softly to add fro,
Add the locks about her bosob,
Arc like sudshide over sdow."
" That's quite good, Biss Gribes, but I like the
adeedotes best after all."
" Well, there's ad adecdote abottt Jeddy Lidd,
but I wiat read city bore, I such a bad cold."
"Add I declare I bust rod slog add buy sobe
sduff—so, good bordig, Bias Gribes."
" Good bordlg—call agaid sood."
A True Proof of Love.
The. delight of being with her, nenr her, was
like no other delight. And in her, also, this same
feeling remained unchanged; she, too, could nut
withdraw herself from the dominion of this sweet
necessity. After the resolution which forever di
vided them, no less than before it, un indescriba
ble, almost magical power of attraction, exerted
itself in each towards the other. If they wore in
the same room, it was not long cre they stood,
they sat near each other. Nothing but the near
est nearness could tranquilize them—and this
tranquilized them fully. It was not enough that
they were near: not a look—not a word—nut a
gesture—not a movement was needed; nothing—
but to be together. For they were not two human
beings; they were one—one lapped in un uncon
scious, absolute delight, satisfied wills itself and
with the world. Nay, had one of them been for
cibly detained at a remote part of the house, the
other would have followed, step by step, without
plan or premeditation. To them, life was a rid
dle, whose solution they could only find when they
Nobleness of Woman.
It was not woman who slept during the agonies
of Gethsemane ; it was not woman who denied
her Lord at the palace of Caiaphius; it was nut
woman who deserted his cross on the bill of Cal
vary. But it was woman that dared to testify her
respects for his corpse, that procured spices fur
embalming it, and that was found last at night and
tirst in the scorning, at his sepulchre. Time has
neither impaired her kindness, shaken her con
stancy, or changed her character. how, as for
merly, she is most ready to enter, and most re
luctant •to leave the abode of misery. Now, as
formerly, is her °Mee, and well it has been sus
tained, to stay the fainting head, wipe from the
dim eye the tear of anguish, and from the cold
forehead the dew of death.—Dr. Molt.
igir B trying to kill calumny it is kept alive ;
leave it to itaelf, and it dies a natural death.
VOL. XVI.---NO. 10.
The following eloquent eulogy upon Clay and
Webster, we extract from is lute speech of Ex-
Governor Young, of New York:
"For more than a third of a century whenever
this bark of ours has encountered a dangerous
sea and the grim tempest has threatened to unship
her masts, and wash away her bulwarks and eve
ry sea has swept her decks, whose voice but that
of Henry Clay has been heard above the storm
rebuking the wind and the waves. Never has
Mr. Clay's capacity been more developed, and
never his voice more potent, than in the conflict,
the elements through which we have juwt pass
ed. ! pray his voice may long be heard in the
councils of the nation.
But "maturity shakes hands with decay," and
we are admonished by the past that Mr. Clay,
with the men of his thee, will pass away. I trust
that the time is far remote when this intelligence
shall fill the land with woe. With it the low wail
of women and young children shall come up from
every city, village and hamlet—from every farm
house front the St. Lawrence to the Rio Grande,
and the "sterner sex," though all unused to the
melting mood, will "drop tears as the Arabian
trees their medicinal gums." . Titan will assuage
their grief, and men will resume their usual avo
cations. The seasons will come again at their
routed periods. New parties and new combina
tions will be formed and dissolved. New goy
ernntents perchance kingdoms, will spring up and
decline ; but when, oh when, again, will men lis
ten to the profound wisdom, aml the bold,
teued and persuasive eloqnence of a Clayl
In illustrating the patriotism and Intellectual
power of the great New England statesman, lan
guage has taken all its various forms, without
success. The picture falls far short of the origi
nal. The world had conceded the superiority of
his intellectual strength, but on no other occasion
has his patriotism, firmness, and self-sacrificing
devotion to his country., been so made manifest
as in the recent conflict. The tone of Massachu
setts was early maifested, and to none more so
than is hint who had so largely shared her, confi
dence and enjoyed her honors. Shall he lice .for
Massachusetts alone, or for his country ? was the
alternative. To this inquiry solemnly put, by the
aspect of things at home, his first speech in the
Senate was the response. We heard him at home
say "I tread no step backwards ;" aid again in the
Senate of the United States, when he announced
to the world that he lived for the country, and the
I will nut attempt to speak of the character of
Mr. Webster, as illustrated by these evidences
of his firmness and patriotic devotion to his coun
try ; hut I remember the language applied by an
English poet to that great Roinan who sought
death by his own hand, rather than survive the
subjugation of his country by Julius Caesar:
Thou bast seen Mount Atlas, when storms and
Gather on his breast, and oceans break
Their billows at his feet. It stands unmoved.
A Hard Shell Hymn Book.
A traveler called at nightfUll at a farmer's house
the owner of which was away front home, the
mother and daughter being alone, refused to lodge
the traveller. "Bow far, is it then," said he, "to
a house where a preacher can get lodging 1"
"Oh, if you are a preacher," said the old lady,
"you can stay here." Accordingly he dismount
ed. lle deposited his saddle-bags in the house,
and led his horse to the stable. Meanwhile, the
mother and daughter were debating the point as to
what kind of a preacher he was. lie cannot be a
Presbyterian said the ono, ••for ho is not dressed
well enough." "He is not a . .Methodist," said tho
other, "for his coat is not the right eat for a Meth
odist." "If I could find his Hymn Book," said
the daughter, "1 could tell what sort of a preach
er he is," and with that she thrust her hand into
the saddle-bags, and pulling out a flask of liquor,
she exclaimed—"Lui Mother, he's a Hard Shall
0" The lady whose lover fainted away when
he popped the question, and wns revived by tho
smell of upodildue, was twitted of it:
" Yes," she replied with a quiet Audio, "I be
lieve I must confirm the story, and I have a fancy,"
she added thoughtfully, "that timidity in a lovex_ia
in general a sign of innocence ; and I cannot help
thinking that when a man is fluent at love making
eithcr his heart is not in it, or he has had too much
experience in the art
0' Scxxx, a grocery store—Exit customer
with a jug.—Groccry-keeper to his sons t "Jona
than, did you charge that liquor?"—"Yes."—
"Timothy, did you charge that liquor t"--“Yes,
sir."—"Joseph, did you charge that liquor?"—
"Yes, sir-ree."—"All right—so have I."
lir BLUNT things sometimes cut best. It is no
recommendation of a paper-knife that it is very
sharp. So, it is not always the keenest wits that
are most effective in life or conversation.
IFIr As Irish gentleman having a small picture.
room, several persons desired to see it at the sense
time. "Faith, gentlemen," said he, "it you all gq
in, it will not hold you."
Cer TITEY now make, it is said, a "Very excel
lent and durable cement, from rico flour boiled in
co- THERE are two dilliculth, oflifc ; men aro
dkposett to spend more t!nat they c u ttiturd, and
to indulge more than they eon of ,lure.
At the celeqution of February,
at Martinsburg, Berkley following
was one of the regular toasts:
Tat RIGHT OF 8E0E5816)1.-11'1A tales two to
malts II !amain—it tskos two to 'weak It.