-O ,
BY J. A. HALL
TERMS.
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If paid in advance •
If paid within the year• • -
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fetid. Subscribers living in distant counties, or in
other States, wilt be rbtr.fired to pay invariably in
advance.
ogr The above terms will be regidly adhered
to in all cases.
RATES OF ADVERTISING.
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•
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On longer advertisements. whether vearly or
transient, a reasonable deduction will . he made
and a liberal discount allowed for prompt pay
ment.
Vortical.
PAY THE PRINTER.
The following has to be published every wintet .
and we may as well do it now an at any other
time. So here grids
Here comes winter, hero comes winter,
Stories of hail—and snow—and sleet—
Pay the Printer—Pay the Printer,
Let him warm his hands and feet.
Here tomes winter, here come, winter,
Whitening every hill mid (Lae,
Pay the Printer, pay the Printer,
Send your money by the mail.
Pay the Printer, pay the Printer,
All remember his just due,
In cold winter, in cold winter,
Ile wants cash as well as you.
CANT DO WITHOUT A PAPER.
A SOLILOQUT - BY "ORE )1' THE PROPLE."
What! do without a impel! No,
rye tried it to my sorrow;
So, to subscribe for one I'll go,
Nor wait until to-morrow.
Should lovers hang or drown themselves,
Or other foolish raper,
1 never get to hear of it—
I do not take tho paper!
Why, there's my neighbor, Toby Stout,
Ile always reads the news,
And, having news to talk about,
Ile never gets the "blues;"
While others yarn in ennui,
Ilis mind is light as vapor;
The cause is plain to Naafi cyc—
lic always takes the paper
While neighbor Stout hears all the news ;
And knows each enrrent price,
And always minds the rs and Q's,
By taking good advice.
Ise:mot tell the price or grain,
or poultry, coffee, taper,
Or any kind of merchandise—
nerause I take no paper!
Though I have stu lice whitdi require
mh lime and inental labor,
Yet I can spare a little time
Avell as Stout, my neighbor;
Though time be precious. I can use
A longer midnight taper,
And thus find time to read the news—
Therefore I'll take the paper !
_faintly etrric.
Domestic Cutleartnents.
I hold it indeed to be a sure sign of a
mind not poised as it ought to be, if 'it be
insensible to the pleasure of home, to the
little joys and endearments of a family, to
the affection of relations, to the fidelity
of domestics.
Next to being well with his own conci
once; the friendship and attachment of a
u►an's family and dependents seem to me"
one of the most comfortable circumstances'
of his lot. His situation, with regard to
either, forms that sort of bossom comfort
or disquiet, that sticks (dose to him at all
times and seasons, and which, though he
may now and then forgot it, amid the bus
tle of public or the hur►y of active life,
will resume its place in his thoughts and its
permanent effects on his happiness at eve
ry pause of ambition or of happiness.
Reputation after Death
It is very singular, how the fact of a
man's death often seems to give people a
truer idea of his character, whether for
good or evil, than they have over possess
ed while he was living and acting among
them: Death is so genuine a feet, that it
excludes falsehoods or betrays its empti
ness; it is a touchstone that proves the gold,
and dishonors the baser metal. Could the
departed, whoever he way be, return in a
week after his decease, ho would almost in
variably find hiMself at a higher or lower
point than he had formerly occupied on the
scale of public appreciatiam—Htwtho
•
•
Whispering in Company.
This habit, so often indulged in by many
young ladies, in preseence of friends or
strangers, savors strongly of rudeness, if
not of gross ignorance. The vainest being,
the most conceited, ot: the mat perfect,
suffers alike under that emancipation from
the government of true politeness. We
cannot help, though perfect we may ima
gine ourselves; to consider ourselves the
theme of a merry whisper, and the pain
rankling in our wounded self-love, leaves
a thorn which sooner or later will sting the
aggressors, and prove a thorn to them.—
Whispering in the presence of stangers,
without some cogent apology, is therefore
entirely out of place, and should be avoid
ed.—National Intelligencer.
*1,50
-1,75
11,- The more tenderly and warmly one
loves, so much more does be discover in
himself defects rather than charms, that
render him not worthy of the beloved.—
Thus are our little faults first made known
to us, when we have ascended the higher
steps of religion. The more we satisfy the
demands of conscience, the stronger they
become. Love and religion are here like
the sun. By mere daylight and torch
light, the air of the apartment is pure and
undisturbed by a single particle; but let in
a sunbeam, and how much dust and motes
are hovering about!
lA%teceitaticours.
Vile:trued Money
However common may be the desire for
sudden wealth, yet it may be safely affirm
ed that money is never so much enjoyed,
or so pleasantly or judiciously spent, as
when hardly earned, Tho
,Cxertion used
in obtaiuing it is beneficial alike to the
health and spirits. It affords pleasure in
the contemplation, as the result of effort
and industry, of a thing which unearned
money can never impart; and the natural
alternation of labor and relaxation tends
to preserve the body in health, rind heaps
the mind from the injurious extremes of
either parsimony or prodigality. Unearn
ed money, on the contrary, as it is obtain-
ed without any effort, so it is often spent
without a thought. There is no healthful
activity used in obtaining it; uo putting
forth of those energies, the use of which
tends so much to elevate and purify; no
skill or perseverance called into action;
and it is seldom that it is possessed to any
great extent without injuring the possess
or. It induces a distaste forPabor and ac
tivity; it lulls to ignoble rest in the lap of
circumstances; it allures to float along with
the stream, instead of the healthful labor
of stemming the tide of difficulty; and ho
had need be something more than mortal
who can possess much of this unearned
money without being in his moral nature
somewhat paralysed and debased. Natur
ally rampant as are the weeds cf sloth and
sensuality in the human heart, that condi
tion in life in which there is not only work
to be done, but work which must be done,
will be the safest and the best. Money
seldom makes men better, either physical
ly or morally, and often makes them worse.
Seldom does a man become more healthy
in his body as money increases; seldom
does his mind become more powerful as
his purse becomes heavier; not always does
his heart beat more benevolently as his
wealth accumulates. But if money, ever
ltitftlably grantil by wholesome exertion and
enterprise, be of dubtful or injurious effect
upon its possessor, doubly hazardous and
painful must be the possession of that
money which is unearned and untoilcd for,
and which only leaves the dispose: of time
at the mercy of idle dreaminess or ingeni
011,1'mila:bier, and enriches the growth of
those rank weeks of the heart which are
most successfully chocked by wholesome
exercise and occupation.
SAID.—The following is an ex
tract from Mr. Benton's late Speech in
Missouri:
"For myself, I fool all the gravity and
responsibility of my position. Time and
events give admonitions which cannot be'
disregarded—time which hurries us along
to "that bourne from whence no traveler
returns," and events, which thin ranks of
our cotemporaries, and leave solitude whore
associates stood. Four times iu the short
space of two years,—to go no further back
—I have seen the clopature of seine one
of those with wboin I have long been'asso
elated, often matched in fierce political con=
test, never in malice or envy. Calhoun,
Woodbury, Clay and Webster; have all
gone ! leaving voids whore they stood, and
the reflex of a light which shlhes - through
the world, and will be seen in after ages to
the latest posterity. In the presence of
such impressive events, and on the verge'
of such a time, I can have no feelings but
those of good will to the departed, good
wishes for the living, solicitude for the na
tional honor and prosperity, and an anxious
desire to save for myself the good opinion,
•valuable beyond all price, with which my
countrymen have honored we."
iIeN7TINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 19, 1853.
The Title of Louis Napoleon.
A Paris letter in the Brussels Indepen
dence, alluding to the title of Napoleon
111, which will be assumed by the new
Emperor, says—" There is no analogy eith
er in idea, in principles, or in resolutions,
between the representative of the divine
right of the Bourbon family and Louis Na
poleon, demanding his right from Franco.
Louis Napoleon will therefore call himself
Napoleon 111, for the same reason which
led the brother of Louis XVI to call him-1
self Louis XVIII. Let us see whether
there are, in order for him to assume that
title, more motives than those which there
were for Louis XVIII. The son of Louis
XVI languished in prison from the 21st
January, 1798, to his death, under the
goveriiment of the Convention. His right
alone, according to the legitimist doctrine,
made him king, and not any act of the
country; Or of its representatives. This,
on the contrary, is the way in which things
took place in 1815, for the eon of the Eni
peror. A proclamation of the Emperor,
of the 22d June, published in the .Moni
teur on the 28d, announcing his abdication,
expressed itself thus—"My political life is
I terminated, and I proclaim my son Emper
or of the French, under the title of Napo
leon II." If this act, with the condition
of the abdication, had remained personal to
the Emperor, and had not been accepted
by the country, it might only be consider
ed as a wish and an intention, not followed
by effect, as has since happened under oth
er circumstances. It is important, there
fore, to see how it was confirmed and sanc
tioned. The Emperor addressed on the
same day, (the 22(10 his proclamation., in
the form of a message, to the two Cham
bers. Both of them accepted his abdica
tion .unanimously, in the terms expressed
ty him, and sent commissions, selected from
their respective bodies, to inform him offi
cially on their resolutions. The Emperor's
reply to those commissions, was, "If I have
handed the right which France has given
me to my son, while t am alive, I have on-
IY done it for the welfare of the nation, and
for the interest of my son, whom I have
accordingly proelaimedEmperor." Thus.
wits Napoleon II proclaimed in the face of
the official delegates of the two Chambers.
The Chamber of Representatives decided,
on the 22d, soon after having accepted the
abdication that a commission of the provi
sional government should be named. This
commission, composed of five members,'.
three elected by that chamber—the Duke
of Otranto, Carnet, and General Grenier;
and two by the Chamber of Peers--De
Caulincourt, Duke de Vicenza, and Quin- 1
ette. In the sittings of the 2211 and 23d,
numerous propositions were made and de
veloped. At the end of the latter sitting,
the Chamber of Representatives adopted
the following resolution (I copy literally
from the 3foniteur of the 24th June, 1815,
page 725 the text of the resolution and the
account of the vote:l—"The Chamber of
Representatives, deliberating on the differ
ent propositions made, passes to the order
of the day motive:—l, Napoleon 11, 'iv
ing become Emperor by the abdication of
Napoleon I, and the constitution of the
empire, and the two Chambers, having; by
their decree of yeeteiday, nominating
commission of provisional government, de
sired to give to the nation the guarantees
which it requires for its liberty and repose,
the present act shall be transmitted to the
Chamber of Peers." The proposition was
adopted unanimously. A loud ond pro
longed cry of Vim Empereur ! followed
the announcement. On the same day the
Chamber of Peers adhered to the resold
tion. It is thus clearly shown that the
Chamber of Representatives, in nominating
a provisional government, only intended to
organize a means of administration. Na
poleon II was Emperor.
.94
Marrying Drunkards
Young ladies or more elderly womerf, -
who contemplate marrying at all, as most
ladies do, ought to reflect' seribiiSly, that
in forming family relations the drinking
habit must be excluded, or misery, shame,
and disgrace, are inevitable. We caution
in the fear of God—nay, we feel no hesi
tancy in warning young women, whether
rich or poor, educated or uneducated, nev
er to accept for a husband any man who
drinks ardent spirits, however moderately.
And we warn all men addicted to the vile
habit of drinking to excess, or oven in
moderation, that in proposing marriage to
a lady properly informed, he insults her.—,
The promise of such a man to love, pro
tect, cheriilwand keep her in sickness and
in health, is solemn mockery; it is a fraud
of the meanest kind, practised upon an
unsuspeCtilig, confiding,' and innocent fe
male. May Ileavon'stive'the rising gene
ration of females from that worst of earth
ly afflictions, that surest of all degrada
tions,
drunken huibands.—Temp. Jour.
irr A golden rule for a young lady is,
to converse always with your female
friends us if a gentleman wore of the party;
and with young men, us if your tamale
companions wore present.
lientuchi in the Olden Time.
In the early settlement of that territory,
her present aged, queenly matrons were
without many of those things now esteemed
by there sex so indispensable, and amongst
them the looking-Mass, which had barer
made its appearance across the mountains.
In its stead, the eye and hand of a compan
ion, or the smooth, reflective surface of the
glassy brook, were made to subserve the
purpose of the toilette; and a wooden
trough, or hollow stump, filled with water,
not nnfrequently daguerrtotyped the flow
ing curls and tallowed heads of the back
woods beauties.
But it happened, on a time, that there
came along the Indian trails a Yankee ped
lar, who, amongst his precious store of
goods, which he was exehangeing for furs
and skins, had a small looking-glass, such
as fits the top of an old fashioned, round
shaving box. As soon as seen by them,
all bid for the rare and desirable thing;
but, with native shrewdness, under the pre
tence that he could not spare it,—well
knowing it would prejudice his trading, did
he prefer a buyer then—he refsed all offers,
intending,to the end, to accept the highest.
At last, however, ready to pack sod'
leave, he called upoh the best bidder, and
received his offer. The purchaser was a
young beau, who at once presented it to a
family of beautiful sisters, the rival belles
of the country. It was near the time of a
ls,rge bell, to which they were invited, and
where they proudly appeared with pieces
of the looking-glass framed in lead, sus
pended by yellow bark strings to their
beautiful brown necks. They were at once
the observed of all—the main attraction of
the evening—much to the slight of others
equally liandsome, and "quite as repecta
ble," who where, after that, with bitter
ness and wounded pride heard to reproach
their late attending beaux with—" Yes,
oh, yes, you couldn't see us this evening;
we're too common. Yon thole first to
dance up to the girls with the looking
glasses." „And," said the lady narrator,
"that night were first sowed seeds of envy
and hatred that show themselves to this
day between many of the leading families
et' old Kentucky—and all because of the
looking-glasses."
Abstemious Diet
Many cases of illness, both in adults and
children, may be readily oured by absti
nence from all food. Headaches, disorder
ed stomachs, and many other attacks are
often caused by violating the rules of
health, and, in consequence, some parts of
the system are overloaded, or some of the
organs are clogged. Omittin. 'n one, two, or
three meals, as the case maybe, gives the
system a chance to rest and allows the
clogged organs to dispose of their burdens.
The practice of giving drugs to clear out
the stomach, th3ugh it may afford the
needed temporary relief, always weakens
the system, while abstinence secures the
good result without doing any injury.
Said a young gentleman to a distinguish
ed medical practitioner, in Philadelphia,
'Doctor, what do you do for yourself when
yen have a turn of headache, or other
slight attack?'
'Go without ‘ my dinner,' was the reply.
'And if that does not cure you, what
then 1'
'Go without my supper.'
'But if that does not curd you, what
then
( Go withobi m breakfast. We physi
cians seldom take medicines ourselves, or
use thenvih our families, for wo know that
abstinence is better, but we can not make
our patients believe it.'
i\ any cases of slight indisposition are
cured by a change of diet. Thus, if per
sons suffer from constipation, head
ache, slight attacks of fever or dyspepsia,
the cause may often bo removed by eating
rye-mush and molasses, baked apples, and
other fruits. —Domestic Receipt Book.
.TITIMATE:Nt.n DtsttvrTrox IN 411 E
Cutucti or EmmaNu.—lt is stated by
the London Weekly Dispatch that, in con
sequence of the determination of the
Crown not to allow Convocation'tO sit for
the despatch of business, the loaders of the
High Church party at a recent meeting,
have resolved to secede from the Establish
ment, and to connect themselves with the
Episcopal Church of Scotlandi which, while
in its main points it agrees with the Church
of England, adds to its services an ac
knowledgment of something very like the
Roman Catholic doctrine of Transubstanti
ation, and regulates its own affairs by syn
ods of bishops and clergy. The Right
Hon. W. Gladstone, ono of the leaders
of the movement, has taken the first step.
Camphor has been discovered to be
an antidote to that terrible poison, stry
chnine. A man who had been thrown into
conVulsions by two doses of the poison--
One-sixth of a grain each, administered fox'
the rheumatism—was relieved by twenty
grains of camphor, taken in six grains of
almond mixture. Dr. Suddock, in a letter
to the London Lancet, claims to have made
the discovery.
rn4
Printer&
J. T. Buckingham, in his ,Reminiscen
oes,' in the course of publication in the 1
Boston Courier, wake of the importance
of printers to.nuthors, as follows:
"Many who condescend to illuminate
the dark world with the fire of their gen
ins, through the columns of a newspaper,
little think of the printer, who almost suf
focated by the smoke of a lamp, sits up till
midnight to correct their false Grammer,
bad orthography, and worse punctuation.
I have seen arguments of lawyers in high
repute as scholars sent to the printer in
their own hand writing, with many words,
and especially technical and foreign terms
abrevisted; words misspelled, and few or
nd pinnts . : .
hgve seen the sermons of divines sent
to the printer without points or capitals to
designate the division of sentences—ser
mons which, if published with the imper
fections of the manuscript, would disgrace
the printer's devil if he were the author.—
Suppose they had been printed; the prin
ter would have been treated with scorn
and contempt, as an illiterate blockhead—
as a fellow better fitted to be a wood saw
yer than a professor of the art of printing.
Nobody would have believed that such
gross and palpable faults were owing to
the ignorance and carelessness of the au
thor. And nobody but the practical prin
ter knows how many hours the compositor
and after him the proof reader, are com
pelled to spend in reducing to a readable
condition, manuscripts that the author
himself would be puzzled to read.'
I know of no principle which it is
of more importance to fix in the minds of
young people than that of the most deter
mined resistance to the encroachments 9f
ridicule. Give up to the world; and to
the ridicule witlt which the world enforces
its domion; iiifling question' of man
ner appeartinee; it is to toss courage and
firmness to the winds, to combat with the
mass upon subjects such as these. But
learn, from your earlisest days, to insure
your principles against the perils of ridi
cule. You can no more exercise your rea
son, if you live in constant dread of laugh
ter, than you can enjoy your life, if you are
in constant terror of death. If you think it
right to differ from the times, and to make
a stand for any valuable point of morals,
do it, however rustic, however antiquated,
however pedantic it may appear; do it, not
for insolence, but seriously and grandly—
as a man who wore a soul of his own in his
bosom, and did not wait till it was breath
ed into him by the breath of fashion. Let
men call you mean, if you know you are
just; hypocritical, if you are honestl, reli
gious; pusillanimous, if you feel you ere
firm. Resistance soon converts unprinci- '
pled wit into sincere respect; and no after
time can tear from you those feelings
which every man carries within him who
has made a noble and successful exertion
in a virtuous cause.—Rev. Sidney Smith.
The New Member.
A. year or two since, a Mr.' B— was
elected to represent the town of Shelbufne,"
ArtirmOitt, in the Legislature. Ile was a
plain old farmer, full cf sound sense, an&
ready for any real work that wits needed.
When he had made his appearEibee at the
State House, it must be confessed that his
tout ensemble was anything but fashiona
ble. His hat was a perfect relic of anti
quity—his course frock and trowsera of
genuine dapple-grey homespun, his shirt
bosom, the product of his wife's own loom,
and his boots of the thickest and most sub
stantial cow-hide. As Mr. B— entered
the lobby, there were several young ,metn
hers' standing about the fire, and supposing
the new-comer to be only a visitor, they
merely east a glance at his weather-brown
ed face, turned Up their noses at .his ver
dant look, and then continued their con
versation. B—took a sent star the stove.
"No room hero for visitors;" slip ono of
the kirpants.
"0, I'w a member."
'You a member!' tateredlhe first speaker,
'Sartin,' responded B-,in a mild tone,
"Where from ?"
"Shelburne."
"Well," said' a fashionably dressed
"member," ulth'a'diSilainful look at the
rough, course dress of the farmer; "han't
the folks in Shelburne got anybody else to
send here?"
"0, as for that matter," returned Mr.
8., with perfect good nature, "I s'pose
there's a good many men: there that'
know men I do, but they haiht airy of 'em
got any dlothcs . that's fit to weaf'!'
ar7Give the devil his due. Certainly,
says a eotenitiorary; but it is better to hare
no dealings with the dOiil, and then there
will bo nothing due him; •
BY - Theodore Hook says of railroads
and steamboats—“ They annihilate space
and time, not to mention a'multitudc of
passengers.
rf • Sometimes one line fills out a col
umn, but in this instance it takes two.
VOL. 18, NO. 3.
youths , eotumn;
THE BLACKBERRY GIRL.
Why, Phebe, have you come so soon?
Where are your berries child?
You cannot, sure, have sold them all;
You had a basket piled.
No, mother: as I climbed the fence . ;
The nearest way to town,
My apron caught upon a stake,
And so I tumbled down.
I scratched my arm and tore my hair;
, But still did not complain;
And had my blackberries been sale;
Should not have cared a grain.
But when I saw them on the ground;
All scattered by my side,
I picked my empty basket up,
And down I sat, end cried.
Just then a pretty little miss
Chanced to be walking by;
She stopped, and, looking pitiful,
She begged me not to cry.
Poor little girl, you fell, said she
And must be sadly hurt;
0, no, I cried; but see my fruit
All mixed with sand and dirt !
Well, do not grieve for that, she said;
Go home, and get some more.
Ah, no; for I hare stripped the vines,
These were the last they bore.
My father, miss, is very poor;
And works in yonder stall;
Ho has so ninny little ones,
He cannot clothe us all.
I alwayi longed to go to aura,
But never could I go;
P o or widen I asked End for a gown,
He always answered, No;—
There's not a father in the world
That loves his children more;
I'd et Sou uric; w!th . heart,
But, Phebe, am pour.
But when the bliCkberi:iot ripe,'
He said to one day,
Phebe, if you will take the time
That's given you for plaj•,—
And gather blackberries
,enough,
And carry them to town,
To buy your bonnet and your shoes,
/'// try to get a gown:
0 miss, I fairly jumped for joy,
My spirits were so light;
Pod so; whorl I had leave to play,.
I picked with all my might.
I sold enough to get my shoes,
•
About a week ago;
And these, if they had not been spilt,
Would buy a bonnet too.
But now they'ro gone, they all are gone,
And I can get no more;
tud Sundays I must stay at Ironic
Ast as I did before:
And,'Unitliel;, then I cried again,
As hard as I could cry;
And, looking up, I saw a tear
Was standing in her eye.
She caught her bonnet frOdt hor head
Here, here, she cried, take this
0, no, indeed—l fear your 'ma
Would be offended, miss.
MY 'teal no, never ! she delights
. All sorrow to beguile;
Anct'tik the sweetest joy she feels
To take the wretched smile.
She taught rue, when I had enough,
To ahare it with the poor,:
And never let a needy child
GO empty frona . the door:
So take it; for you need not fear
Offending her, you see;
1 have another, too, at home;
And one's enough for we.
So then'T took it; here it is;
For pray what could I do !
And ; mother, 1 shall love that amiss
As long•us I love you.
Cir It i,s vi n etl estniiiished fact that children
who ore accustomed to rend the norTupers, are
. more inielligent and Iwttcr qualified for tla busi
ness of bib, than those who arc depriVed of this
meats of instruction. We not only endorse this'
opinion, but go further, and say;
That evory child that reads, carefully, only the
"Youths' Column" at the litti . nrd every week,
will grow up wirer aini'lici:cr;with one half the
schooling, than the child depriVed of all new spa
per instruction. Deer . eliNien; believe us, and!
try the experiment. ReMl our ”Youihs'
land you' shuffle') u rich rowan]. The
edgo you 'will l/11r i gwin, will prepare ;ou for the
duties of life, and smooth yinir path Way to . the .
I tomb.