VOLUME XVL
The
of i'ming.
The minstrels of spring have returned,
To gladdest the woodland and grove,
To charm with a song they have learned,
As sweet as the accents of love;
0 list to their carols on high,
While flittering on gold burnished wing,
And tell me what numbers outvie .
The warble of birds in the Spring
The blue-bird, the robin and lark,
Ere morning's bright flashes appear,
To chase off the shadows so dark,
And dry up the dew's pearly tear,—
Are out on the hill end the lawn,
Preparing an anthem to sing,—
To herald the coming of dawn,
And welcome the fairy-like Spring.
How oft have I wandered along,
Or stood 'nenth the blossoming trees,
And drank in the hirdling's wild song,
That rang on the flower-scented breeze;
And then I have longed for a voice,
And pinions on which I might rise,—
To sail with the birds and rejoice,
:A.'nd lift my glad scalp to the sky.
I love the wild minstrels of Spring,
Rapt feelings their wood-notes impart;
Their full, gushing melodies bring?
A balm to the grief-stricken heart;
Then pour out your musical strains,
Ye birdlings of fancifitl plume,
Make vocal the hill tops and plains,
Rejoice o'er the late Winter's tomb.
TO Wav to be Happy.
Some think it a havdship to work for their bread,
Although for our good it is meow;
But those who dote; work heri no right to be fed,
And thee idle are never etaitent.
An honest employment brings pleasure and gain,
And makes us our troubles finget;
For thu,,e who work hard hare no time to com-
And 'tis better to labor than fret.
,(1 if We had riches, they could not procure
A h.lipy and peaceable mind;
I eup;e have trouble as well as the poor,
of a different kiud:
It siguities not what our stations hare been,
Jam,. whether we're little or great;
For haMpUess lies in the temper within;
Aud not in the outward estate.
We only need lubor no well as we can,
For on that our bodies may need,
Still doing our duty to God and to man,
And we we shall be happy indeed.
The Bache lt►l
A bachelor sat by his blazing grate
And be fell into a snooze,
And We dreamed that o'er his wrinkled pate
had been thrown the nuptial noose.
t rosy boy came to his side
bounded on his knee,
A; • . from his beaming face he shook
curls in childish glee.
rang out his merry voice
loud, "Papa,
I don't love anybody else
Bat you and dear mamma!"
01 the father's heart o'erran with joy,
fie tong by love unlit,
And from its unseen depth poured out
Alketion
Outstretching nrms of strength unshorn,
lic hugged the old house eat,
Malt, us' twos wow, when master slept,
ltud leupytt tzpoti his hip:
The Temptations of Social Life.
"What wnr so cruel, or what siege so sore,
As that which strong temptation cloth apply."
How fearful are the temptations of social life,
especially to the young in years, the buoyant in
di, position, the confiding in spirit, the credulous,
the sanguine, and the self-confident! How few
who rush wildly and recklessly into fife fascina
tions of pleasure, and fhe' delusions of society,
"know themselves," or understand their weak•
ness, their tastes, their infirmities! How few can
realize the full force and power of habit, especially
if their experience ha's been limited, if their phys
iral organization be imperfect, if their imposes
are warm and rash, and if, with the ability to
please, and the disposition to enjoy, thb4see only
the bright flowers, and are unconscious of the
thorns and brambles that beset the wayside of
fife! &air re-unions, conducted on correct prin
ciples, are every way commendable. They cheer
and gladden existence, they call forth the better
qualities of the human heart—they promote friend
ships and associations that ofttn last foi years and
years. Hilt how many young men have been
tempted to their ruin, by scenes, habits, and a
musements, which at the first seemed perfectly
harmless, and every wily tinotteeptiOnabla—llliw
many have thus been Won to extravagance, dissi
pation, intemperance, and its many kindred vices!
They rush on, step by step, unconsciously to
themselves—first neglect ono duty, then' are re
miss in another—first excite the surprise and re
gret, then' lose the confidence and respect of their
employers, and thus are thrown iipbn the Oorld,
Compelled to commence a new struggle, and under
Circumstances requiring extraordinary activity
and superhuman energy!—How few, so situated,
are able to wrestle with and overcome the trials
Of such time, and to regain the foothold that they
So recklessly threw away! We recently had so-
Casion to allude to the dangers of infidelty, and
the perils of Criminal association. May we not,
with equal propriety, utter a word of admonition
in relation to the fadeinations of social life, the
pleasures and temptations of impulsive convivial
ly, the dangers of stimulants and, excitements,
however insidious, plausible, and apparently in
nocent, they may at first appear? Are there nut
at this mbnient, hundreds of active, intelligent
and promising young men, with bright and golden
prospeeti before them, gradually yielding the bet
ter sad higher principles of their nature, drat to
- 1 - , <
ccuntiv(Oen
the seductions of evil companionship, •ti d second,
to the subtle fascinations of tho wine cup, and it•
kindred excitement? Our attention has been di
rected to this subject by More than Orin kind
hearted but watchful employer. A re , kless spir
it is abroad among the young. Many are sadly
mistaken.ns to true propriety, gentility, and man
liness. They seem to imagine that a species of
foppishness, if not rowdyism—together wills smo
king, drinking, chewing, swaggering and Ws
phemy, constitute not foibles, but accomplish
meats; and that, instead of detracting from the
polish and finish of refined and intellectual char
acter, they embellish and adorn it. The error is
sad, deplorable, and its consequences are often
fearful. The first Tay of a young man, especial
ly if dependent upon his ownsefforts fi'r success, is
to secure for himself a good moral reputation—a
roman , n for truth, integrity and sobriety.—His
next is to win, deserve and retain the Confidence
of his employer. And how can all this be ac
complished? Assuredly not by the course of folly
and dissipation to which we have referred—by as
suming a flash character, and affecting a false
'confidence based upon recklessness, emptiness and
imprudence. Some of our young men fancy that
they are accomplishing quite a feat, when with
cigars ia their mouths, and hats placed jauntily
upon their heads, they swagger after nightfall,
arm in arm, through some leading thoroughfare
of the town, indulge in silly or impertinent re
marks at the top of their voice, and assume art
air at once of insolence and audacity. They be
lieve, or assume to believe, that they excite ad
miration if not envy, when in fact they only dam
1, 'age their reputation, exhibit their folly and pro
voke contempt. We speak now in a general
sense, and it is unnecessary to specify particular
eases. The foible is widely spread.. It amounts
a kind of monomania. Let us not be misun
derstood. We would not have the young to be
sullen, morose and cheerless. Exercise and ac
tivity aro essential to health, while animation,
gaity and recreation are all commendable. But
We have sects so many totter and fall throUgh in
ekperience, good:nature and the seductions of
pleasure associated with vice—we have seen so
many fine young men, who commenced life with
buoyant hopes and bright expectations, won front
the right path, made drunkards, gamblers, or
Werett,-Ehat we have deemed a "gentle hint" ab-
Colutely essential. A Vicious habit is rapidly ac
quired, but alas! how difficult is it to abendun!
Youth is facile, ductile and plastic, and thus im
pressions arc rapidly made, images are easily gra
ven, mut vices are promptly grasped, absorbed
and retained. The dupe knows not that he is a
victim ufliil his Moral nature is weakened and de
praved. His character developer end ehaiiie; so
gradually, that he is not aware of the fearful piO
gress, or, if aware, turns with weakness or with
fear from its painfid contemplation. Ho endeav
ors to persuade himself that what is vice is only
fashion, mid to lull "the still small vci ,, e of con
science," by some sophistry or deception. He
sees the abyss before him, and feels that he is ap
proaching its dizzy edge; but he resolves that
to-morrow—alas fur the weakness of procrastina
tion—he will make a vigorous effort and retrace
Isis footsteps. Ile fancies, too, or feigns to fancy,
that his follies and inflrmities have escaped the
eye of the world, that no one has observed his
downward course, dint he has adroitly managed
to lull all suspicion, and that he will yet amend,
reform, and recover the early path of rectitude,
right and virtue. And this is ever the delusion
of the erring. They feel that they are descend
, lug, they know that they are nrchg; they hope to
pursue a better course—nay, they resolve to do
so. But the tempter agaih comes. ThO wine
cup, the old associates, the reckless companions,
the jest and the laugh, the sneer of the world, the
scoff of self-confidence—and thus, fold after fold,
the serpent coils of vicious habits are bound round
the vPitial, until at last he sinks a yielding and
despairing prey! YOUNG Max, who have but en
tered upon the path of temptation, who have tast
ed of the bewildering Circean cup, who, in the
flash of excitement, and in the vigor of fresh ex
istence, not only mistake your own moral strength
' but your physical power and physiological eon
fbruunion,—be warned in tithe—BEWARE!
HUMAN NATUnE.—Whoever wrote the follow
ing his read one page of the hook of the human
heart to some purpose:—"There is, after all,
something in those trifles that friends bestow upon
each other, which is an unfailing indication of the
place the giver holds in the tiffeetiofis. I would
believe that one who preserved a lock of hair, a
simple flower, or any trifle of my bestowing, loved
me, though no slain , Was made of it; while all the
protestationi In the world would not win my con
fidence in one who set no value on such little
things. Trifles they may be; but it is by such
that character and disposition are , oftenest re
veuled."
THE DAnitusi noun OF ALL.—An old "Rev
olutioner," who had been through all the hardest
fights of the war of 76, once said that the darkest
and most solemn hour of all to him, was that oc
cupied in going home one dark night, from the
widow Bean's, after being told by her daughter
Sully that there was no earthly use in brs coining
back any more.
lErThe good man contributes to the welfare
of others, not alone by positive act and Untrue
' tion, but his life resembles a fruit-bearing shade
tree, by which each passer-by finds shelter and
refreibinent, which disinterestedly end even in
voluntarily scatters happy germs upon the sur
rounding soil, whereby it prOduces what is like
i and similar to itself
HUNTINGDON, PA., THURSDAY, MAY 1, 1851.
WHO IS TIDE TRUE LADY,
An Interesting and Instructive Story.
We once knew a "young lady," who lived in
fine style. Iler parlors were elegantly furnished,
and her dress wee always of the latest fashion.—
She had her piano and her teacher, and she play
ed Italian music charmingly. In all the exquis
ite graces of life she was faultless. She had a
rich vein of sentiment, too, and could talk phi
losophy, or discuss standard authors, at pleasure.
Of course she read novels—in fact, a large portion
of the day was devoted to that inleresting and in
structive class of polite literature. She was also
somewhat industrious, for she would occasionally
work elegant embroidery. With an abundance
of curls, that floated over her neck in a beautiful
profusion, a fine form, hands white and delicate,
large Powers of conversation in the usual drawing
roma style, site was followed by the young men
of taste. Yet somehow, she never married. The
" beaux" fluttered around her like flies over a put
of honey, but they were careful not to get caught
us those other insects are apt to do. Their at
tentions were never so particular as to require
"some friend of the family" to demand what were
their intentions. This was no (halt of the young
lady. She was within the market as plainly as
though she had inscribed on her forehead, A
HusisArno WANTED ;fQr partimdars, ing?o'rf !Ot
is." But the husband never tcrour knowledge,
came ; find we believe that at this day she is a
disconsolate old maid.
What was the trouble 7 Step with us into the
kitchen. That fat woman, with a red face, is
the servant of the house. She does the cooking,
the washing, the chamber-work. From early
dawn until late at night, she is a slave. Well,
that woman is our charming young lady's moth
er She never sees her daughter's "callers." If
by accident she shoal drop into the parlor while
visitors wero present, she would hasten out again,
with embarrassed manner, looking as though she
had committed an offence, while her own 'child's
face would be suffused with blushes.
Now take a walk with us. In that workshop,
do you see that bard-working mechanic? The
wrinkles are hardening upon his face, and the
gray hairs are thinly sprinkled over his head. He
looks anxious, and as though at his heart-strings
tugged some deep sorrow and mortification. He
is the father of our beautiful "young lady,"
and his hard earnings for many years have been
absorbed in the expensive luxuries, that her ad
mirable taste has craved. He too, is excluded
from the society of his own daughter.
She moves in a circle above her parents, and
in short, is ashamed of them, They lire in the
kitchen, We is in the pntlur. They drudge—she
,• •
reaps the fruit. She has no pulsation of gratitude
for all this; she thespians them, and in fitshionable
gath . erings; is among the first to curl her pretty
lips "lots mechanics"—provided she can do
it iatiAY.
Is she a true lady? No—ten thousand tithes
INo 7 We object not to her accomplishments—
,to her taste in (tress—to her manners. We look
upon and admire such, knit as we do a superb stat
ue of Vehus. Work of art it is beautiful;
but nevertheless it is insensate marble having no
soul, being of no use in practical life, and good
for nothing but to look a?.
The beauty of the mind is the true beauty:
and the affectionate daughter, who nestles . her
self lovingly into the heart of hearts of her pa
rent—who makes her mother her companion and
co,ifirlante—who not only works with thai Mother
but takes the heaviest burden upon herself—is the
true lady. Site may never have struck a note on
the piano, yet her boson is melodious with harmo
ny such as angels sing. 11cr exterior may be
humble, but her interior life is clothed in the
vestments of immortal beauty.
There are many "young ladles" whose whole
character is on the surface. Dress, manners, ac
complishments, all are extettal. They are "out
siders.” When the scorching fires of adversity
burn beneath the surfitee, there is no protecting
wall upreared within. The whole becomes a heap
of ashes, though it may retain the outward sem
blance of humanity.
The true Wu cultivates the higher nature.—
She is religious, but not fanatical—courteoits but
not fawning. Reposing serenely upon the arm of
her Heavenly FATHER, and associating with un
seen angelic spirits, she meets the storm with
calmness, and accepts it as a disciplinary. mercy.
Her sympathy ever pulsates to the cry of suffer
ing, and her band is ever open to relieve. Sho is
beautiful at home, at the bedside of the
sick, beautiful at the hour of her departure into
the world of spirits, beautiful through life, and
trancendantly and externally beautiful in Heaven.
That is the trite lady.
Conversation:
If I were to choose the people with whim I
would spend my hours of conversation, they should
be certainly such as labored no &rater than to
make themselves readily and clearly apprehended,
and have patience and curosity to understand
me. To have good sense, and ability to express
it, are the most essential and necessary qualities
in companions. When thoughts rise in us lit to
utter among thiniliar friends, there needs but ve
ry little care in clothing thein.—Stc&.
lEN'There is a man whose hair is turned into
bristles, ih conseqUence of his having paurchaied
a pot of hog's lard, sold to him for bear's grouse.
Surely the government, which interferes in matter
of less moment, ought to look after this, or the
venders of such things inay take it into their
heads to sell goose grease, and feathers become
the fashion of the day.
Boy Love.
One of the queerest and funniest things to think
of in after life; is "Boy 7 loge."—No2kainer does a
boy inquire a tolerable stature than he begin: to
imagine himself a man; and to ape mannish ways.
He casts sidelong glances at every tall girl he hap
pens to meet; becomes a regular attendant at
church or meeting; sports a cane, , carries his
head erect and struts a little in his walk. Present
ly, and how very soon he fitthr its love; yes, fidls is
the proper word ; because it best indicates his
happy, delirious, self-abasement. He lives now,
in a fairy region, some where collateral to the
world, and yet somehow, blended inextricably
with it. He perfumes his hair with fragrant oils,
scatters essences over his handkerchief, and despe
. cutely shaves and anoints for a beard. He quotes
poetry in which "love," and "dove," and "heart."
and "dart," peculiarly predominate; and as he
plunges deeper into the delicious labyrinth, fancies
himself tilled with the divine afflatus, and sudden
ly breaks out into the scarlet-rash—Of rhYme. He
feeds upon the looks of his beloved, is raised to
the seventh heaven if she speaks a pleasant word:
is betrayed into the most astonishing ecstasies by
a smile; and is plunged into the gbieMicst regions
of misanthropy by a trown.
He believes himself the most devoted lover in
the world. Be is the very type of magna
nimity and self-abnegation. Wealth! he des
rises the grovelling thought. Poverty, with the
adorable beloved, he rapturously apostrophises as
the first of all earthly blessings; and 'Love in a
Cottoge, with water and a crust," is Lis beau
ideal paradise, of dainty delights.
declar.< to himself, with the most solemn
emphasis, that he would go dna' tire and water,
undertake a pilgrimage to China or Kantselattkai
swim steam-tossed oceans; scale impassible moan-
tains; and face legions of bayonets, but for one
sweet smile from her dear lips. He deals upon a
flower she haS east away Ile cherishes her glove
—a little worn in the fingers—next his heart. Ile
sighs liken locomotive letting 011 steam. Ile
screw's lice dear iiatne over quires of fooli&P—
-fitting medium far his insanity. lle scornfully
' &Maniacs the attentions of other boys of his own
age; ruts Peter Tibbets, dead, because he said
that the adorable Angelina had carroty hair; and
passes Harry Bell contemptuously, for daring to
compare that "gawky Mary Jane" with his income
weld° Angeliha.
Happy! llnppyi foolish Boy-loye; . with its hopes
and fears; its joys and its sorrows; its jealousies and
delights; its raptures and its tortures; its ecstatic
fervors, and terrible beart-burnings; its solemn
ludicrousness, and its pilisnic termination.
how A LADY 811001.0 WASH HERSELF.-
Mrs. Swissbelm, in the Saturday Visitor, has a
long article to young ladies upon the necessity of
cleanliness. In the article she gives the follow
ing directions as to the niodus operandi, which, to
the bachelors wile have no idea as to the manner
in whic:l such thhigs arc managed, will be ek
tretnely interesting:
"You only want a basin of Water, a towel, a rag,
And five minutes' time. When you get up in the
morning pin a petticoat very hiosely at the waist,
tat: ytitir rag well wetted and slop your arms and
chest, throw handsfull of water around your cars
and neck. Then throw .a towel across your Intel
and "saw it dry—rub fast, until you are quite; dry,
put on yotir ehethise sleeves, dote ott a night gown
to keep you from chilling, while you tuck your
skirts up t i nder your arm, until you wash and dry
one limb, drop that side and do the other likewise,
and be sure that the small of the back and the
sides get their full share of rubbing; this done, sit
down, dip one foot in the basin, rub and dry it,
put en your Stocking and shoe, and then wash the
other."
•
iletained by the Other gide.
When Burchard, the revival preacher was in
Lockport, New York, it was his custom to go about
the village, and call upon the most prominent of
the citizens especially the wealthy, titled & influen
tial in order to invite them to attend his meetings,
and give countenance and eclat to lti lobe's. Iu
the course of his perambulations, one day, he fell
in with "Bob S-," an attorney of some re
putation, and very famous fur his wit and readi •
nes, at repartee.
"Good morning, Mr. S-," said the evan
gelist, "understanding that you are one of the lead
ing men of this town, and a lawyer of high stand
ing, I have called upon you in hopes to engage
you on the Lord's side."
"Thank you," replied Bob, with an air of great
sobriety, and with the most professional manner,
possible—"thank you—l should ba Most happy to
be employed on that side of the case, if I could do
so consistently with my engagements; but you will
have to go to some other counsel, as I have a stan
ding retainer from the opposite party:"
' The itinerant was amazed; phitted, tionpltissed
and laughed very heartily, and calling Bob a
"sad dog," departed from his presence.
The Poor Boy.
Don't be ashamed, my lad, if you have a patch
on your elbow. It is no mark of disgrace. It
speaks well for your industrious mother. For our
part we would rather see a dozen patches on your
jacket, than hear one pram.) or vulgar wdrd es
cape from your lips. No good boy will shun you,
because you cannot dress as well as your compan
ions; and if a bad boy sometimes laughs at your ap
pearance, say nothing, my good lad, but walk on.
We know many a rich and good man, who was
once as poor as you. Bo good, my boy, and if
you are poor you will be respected—a great deal
more than if you wore the son of a rich man, and
were addicted to bad habits.—Olivc Branch.
„ iv
There is no vice which combines so much
wickedness with meanness ns slander. Like the
pirate, the cold blooded and malicious slanderer
is the enemy of his race, and deserves to be treat
ed with the came degree of mercy that one would
show a viMomous snake that should creep in
among a fireside circle. A law ordaining that
the tongue thus oi:tiding should be plucked out
by the roots and thrown to the dogs, would be
not a tittle too severe, if actions arc to be judged
of by the baseness of their motives, or the mis
chievousness of their consemences. To delight
in the misfortunes of others, is cruel and base;
but.to whisper detraction against the innocent—
to blast the lame of the pure, and bring Jhe.,.ter
tare of reproach upon those whii,'While blameless,
cannot help themselves-6 the acme of perfidy,
the climax of infitmy and dastardly depravity.
A modern writer well says that one might forgive
Togo his hatred, of Othello, but who can forgive
that well-joingin4 villain his slander ot nestle
mono? No one who bus a human heart: And
lachimo, too; does he not stand accursed in the
imagination of every one of sense and feeling who
has read .ShakspeareT How well does Pisani°
describe the venomous and dastard vice—
Slander,
Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose
tutte
Outvenoms all the worms of the Nile; whose
breath
Rides on the posting winds, and cloth belie
All corners of the world; kings, queens and states,
Maids, matrons; any, the secrets of the grave,
This viperous slander enters. •
The world appears extremely disinclined to ac
cord any practical success to those endowed with
superior imaginations. The injustice of thin pre
jadicc has lie en often r , :ftiled in the case of ac
countants, clergyman, and lawyers, who have
been favorites of the muse ; but there is perhaps,
no instance to ehich it applies with so little force
^s tc tliat of a idlysicia. Pis daily business
opens a vast and peculiar field of observation both
in regard to nature and man. He sees the myste
ries of the heart laid bare by the encroachments of
pain and the approach of death. He has to do
with his race under the least artificial conditions ;
and it is his vocation to study the varied influences
which operate on the mind. He is near the moth
er when she feels, fur the first time, her first-born's
breath. lie iitnessesthe,last fitful flashes of re
awakened memory, when departing age lives over,
at life's close, the scenes enacted at its Sawn.—
The benign and gifted physician is a priest at the
altar of humanity; and it is, therefore, only strange
that her oracles do not more frequently inspire
poetical, as they Coritinihdly do scieritifie i.evelu
tions. There are, too, some charming literary as
sociations connected with the prole.doo. The
names of Garth and Arbuthnot are intimately
blended with those of Pope and Swift; and Aken
side, and Armstrong, and Danvin have left poems
which do as much credit to their diseernment as
liberal followers of the healing art, as to their pow
ers of imagination. It is indeed true, that in ex
tensive practice in a career which exacts so much
both front intellect and heart, as well as physical
strength, as that of medicine, it is next to impos
sible to prosicute ably any great literary underta
king; lint when time permits, the studies and re
lations incident to the profession are in no degree
incompatible with, but rather favorable to poetry.
Hence Appollo Was equally the god of song and
physic.— TaCkerrnati.
Arthur home Gazette.
We have read with infinite pleasure, eulogiums
on the sex, from Mango Park, Ledyard, Schiller,
and every gallant writer of modern times. But
the Macon (Ala,) Republican beats them all.—
Here it is
Wosuix AND NawsrirtML-Women are the
best subscribers in the world to newspapers, mag
azines, etc. We have been editor now going on
eight years, and we have never yet lost a single
dollar by female subscribers. They seem to make
it a point of conscientious ditty to pay the preach
er and the printer—two classes of the-cominnuity
that suffer more by bad pay (and no pay at all)
than all the rest put together. Whenever we have
a womou's name un our book we know it is just
as good fOr two dollars and a half as a picayune
is fur a ginger cake. Besides, whatever they sub
scribe for they read, whether it be good or bad,
or indifferent. If they once subscribe for a paper
they are sue to read it upon the principle, We
suppose, that if they did not their money would
be thrown away—as an old lady, whom wee once.
knew, for whose sick servant girl the Doctor had
prescribed a dose of oil; but as the girl would not
take the oil, she took it herself, rather than let it
be wasted. Hence, we say, they are the best,
readers. For these reasons, we had, at any time
iu the world, rather have a dozen women on our
books than one man.
HINTS TO VEAUXB.—Don't always believe a
Young lady is in love with you, because she ac
cepts all your presents With a smilo and a 'thank
you.' Girls are like young horses in that respect
—remaining so long as there is a morsel in the
measure, and then, unless you have the bride! in
your hand, turning about and kicking their heels
at you.—Erperience.
0^ Some slandering old bachelor says it is
much joy, when you first get married, but it is
more joust after a year or so.
" The desponding Chrishtin," says Leigh
ton, .‘ turns to his Saviour its surely as the nee
dle to its pole, oven though, like the needle he
turns trembling.
The Climax of Vice.
The Physician
Honor to Woman.
NUMBER 17.
The Future Wives of England.
Itly pretty little dears, you are no more tit for
matrimony than a pullet is to look after a family
of fourteen chickens. The truth is my dear girls,
you want, generally speaking, more liberty, and
less fashionable restraint; more kitchen and less
parlor; more leg exercise and less sofa; snore ma
king Wings and less piano; more Rankness and
less mock-modesty ; more breakfast end less bus
tle. I like the bincitn, bright-eyed, rosy-cheek,
full-breasted,bouiring lass, who can darn stock
ings, make her own frocks, mend trowsers, com
mand a regiment of pots and kettles, milk the cows,
feed the pigs, chop wood„ and shoot a wild
. duck,
as well as the Datchess of Marlborough, or elm
Queen of Spain; aad be a holy withal in the
drawing-room. But as for your pining, moping,
wasp-waisted, putty-fined, music-murdering, no,:
el-devouring daughters of fashion & idleness, with:
your consumption-soled shoes, silk stockings, and
calico shifts, you won't do fur the future wives
and mothers of England.—Mrs. Lectures
addressed to liylng Lczdies..
Quite applicable, perhaps, for future American
wives and mothers. .
The Bible.
"I am of opinion that the Bible contains more
true exquisite beauty, more pure morality, more
important history, and finer strains of poetry and
eloquence, than can be collected from all other
books, in whatever age or language tlmy may
have been written."—Sir ti iilliam Joan,.
I will hazard the assertion that no man ever
did or ever will become truly eloquent, without
being a constant reader of the Bible, and admirer
'of the p%tity end sublimity of its langunge."—
Fisher Antes.
"The Bible is a book worth more than all the
books which were ever printed."—Patrick
.
"Young man, attend to the yoke of one who
has possessed a certain degree of fame in the
world, and who will shortly appear before his Ma
hcr; rend the Pit,le every day of your life."—Dr:
.Sumuel Johnson.
10" A lady had two children—both girls.—
The elder was a fitir child; the younger a beauty,
and the mother's pet. Her whole love centered
in it. The elder was neglected while 'sweet' (the
pet name of the yqunger) received every attention
that affection could bestow. One day after a se
vere illness, the mother was sitting in the parlor,
when she heard a childish sfrii upon the stairs,
niidher thodgts were, instantly with the favorite.
'.ls that you, sweet 1' she inquired.
' No, mamma,' was the sad, touching
isn't sweet; it's only me.'
The mother's heart smote her; and from that
hour, Only me' was restored to an equal place
in her affections.
Putting the question:
'Sally, don't I like you?'
'La, Jim, I reckon so.'
'Don't you know it, Sally? Don't you think
I'd tenr the eyes out of any torn cut that dare to
look at you for a second?'
'1 s'pect you would.
'Well, the fuct of it is, Sally, I—' .•
'Oh; now don't Jim, you're too sudden."
'And, Sally, I want to—'
'Don't sny anything more now, I will—'
. 'But it must be done immediately, I want you
to -9
'Oh, hush, hush! don't say any more.'
'I want you to-night to get—'
'What! so soon! Oh, no—impossible!—Father
and mother would be angry at me.'
'How be mad for doing me such .a favor as td
'Yes, dear mc! Oh, what a feeling!'
'But them is some mistake; fur all I want to
have you to do is to mend my trowsers..”
'Sally could hoar no more. She throw un her
arms, screamed hysterically, and' fainted away as
ilead as a log.
tu - r A Western editor speaking of a contempt-a,
re's attack upon hint, says, 'lt rclttind, as of
little boy we once saw squirting dirty water from
a mud hole at the sun.'
cir Hero is a speciman of 'cull a citing'
of poetry:— , There is a man who came to town,
he swallowed a keg of molasses down—the barrel
worked, the molasses bust;the man lay scattered
in the dust!'
Cr A landlord recently called out to ti temper
ance man: 'Why, you arc looking yellow with your ;
abstinence." Yes said the man putting his hand
into his pocket, and pulling out some eagles, 'mid
my pocket is looking yellow too!'
Flirtation, whether seriously or lightly con,itl
'ered, is injurious to a woman as well us exceed
ingly unbecoming in her. It is a broad, unblusli-.
iug .coutession, which the individual makes of her
desire to attract the notice of men.
SAT ART.-A man down in Lynn, Mass, it is !Wet
made so many pairs of shoes in one day that it
took him two days to count them! He was a smart
one, hut not equal to the man in New Hampshire,
who built so many miles of stone-wall in one day
that it took him all night and the next day to
get home.
o — There are very few men now-a-days, no
matter what crimes they may have committO, or,
what kind of life they wad• have led, ha, AM die
"universally respected and e,teeined."
fact.
" Do you drink hale in Anleiioa I" asked;
a cockney. Hail! no, we drink thumlor cud
linhthing," said the Yankee.