V 01... .18. •
COURT AFFAIRS
NOVEMBER TERM, .1854.
TRIAL LIST.
FIRST WEEK.
ThO4..T. Crinfiffell vs Wm Pollock.
A. P. Wilson vs Michael Buoy.
Di Reynold:is Ew'rs. vs Wm. Long.
Christian Coats vs John Hildebrand.
John Savage's Trust. vs Piper & Aurandt.
same . vs John Fisher.
J. E. Thompson et al vs John W. Swoops.
Moore's Ex'rit. vs John Zenimyre.
Sat fuel. vs John S. Miller et a/. •
H, Shoemaker for use vs-Huut. Pres. Cong.
Edwin J. Neff vs Math. Crownover.
U. Bickerstaif et al vs David Patterson et al.
john Ex•rS. vs George Wilson.
Cosui•th for Robinson vs John Shaver et al.
James Entrekin vs John Fisher et al.
Gaglishau vs. Wm. Colder et al.
'Walters for Wagoner vs Snang. Keller, & Co.
lidarrltaytimind vs John Whittaker.
Robert Cummins vs Jos. A. Bell & .Bro.
gamed 31Touley vs Math. Crownover.
SLCOXD
Cajeb Cope & Co. vs The Penn R. It. Co. '
Haman Tussey & Co. vs Christian Haruish.
Logan
.& Cook vs Foreman & Pym.
Hope &c Turn. Co's. vs Thos. Weston.
George Jackson vs Peter Sassaman's Ex'rs.
John Brown vs Caleb Brown. -
Henry Mvtinger vu Peter Livingston.
A. Drsari!s Ex'rs. vs Israel Crvder's Adm.
Abraham Mattern Vs John & Peter Stryker.
Abner E. WDonald vs John Henry.
-Dr. P. Shoenberger s's A. P. Wilson et al.
Beni. Johnston's Ex'rs. vs Thos. Weston, Esq.
John Savage's Trio. vs Jno.Barkstresser et al.
Jolla Ann Hegie vs David l3nrket.
J. Simpson Africa vs W. Reynolds et al.
E. L. Faxon vs John Bumbaugh.
David Caldwellvs Dell & Crotzley.
John Simrrer vs Wm. Templeton.
Wm. Matthew's Eers. vs E. L. Plowman.
Con Alt. for Stonehralter vs - Math. Crownover.
Andrew Newell's Ex'rs. vs E. J. Neff et al.
James Chambers vs Graham M'Carnant's Adm,
James B. Elliott vs Thos. H. Pollock et al.
'AMU & Cresswell vs John Corbin.
BRAND JURORS.
David Aurandt, filmier, Tod.
John Anderson, just peace, Penn.
Samuel Bnrr, farmer, Jackson.
James Bell, merchant, WarriorstnntY.
Joseph Cornelius. farmer, Cromwell.
'Pugh Campbell, farmer, Dublin.
,
Moses Canto, wagonmaker, Morris.
James Cree. farmer, Dublin.
John Colestock, farmer, Henderson.
Alexander Duffield, farmer, Tell.
John C rep:o7, farmer, Jackson..
,
'David P. Gwin, merchant, Henderson,
Jimes Harper, farmer, Dublin.
George Hartley, grocer, Henderson.
Christian !famish, farmer, Porter.
'William Irvin, farmer, Tell.
Henry Lower, bricklayer. Henderson.
John Long, merchant, Shirley.
James Morrow, farmer, Franklin.
Charles IL Miller, tnnner, Henderson.
James 'Ceder. farmer, Dublin.
Smith Park, farmer, Cam.
Henry Rhoden, far Mer, Cromwell.
William 13. Swoop,. farmer, Clay.
TRAVERSE J 'MRS,
11 . 113 T WE4
'Benjamin Beers, farmer, Cromwell.
John D. Boring, farmer, Gijon.
A. H. Bumbaugh, saddler, Henderson.
,Humphrey Chilcote, laborer, Union.
Richard Cunningham, farmer, Jackson.
Isaac Clugsten, physician. Shirley.
Elijah CurSnan, farmer, Cass.
Joseph Cadman, of P. fanner, Cass.
Jacob Dopp, blacksmith. West.
Jonathan Doyle, miller, Union.
Jacob Detwiler, farmer. Brady.
John Feebler, brewer. Henderson.
George French, farmer, Tell.
Caleb Greenland, farmer. Coss.
Matthew Gill, car penter ,. Brady.
George Hudson, Just peace, Clay.
William Harper, stone mason, Cromwell.
John Hcrnenne, farmer, Porter.
Nathan G. Harlon. farmer, Tod.
Williant Hennon, farmer, Barree. .
John Jackson, farmer, Jackson.
William Johnston, farmer, Werriorsutark,
Lewis Keith, farmer, Hopewell.
James Kerr, farmer, Brady.
Wm. B. LOOS, merchant, Shirley.
Wm. S. Lincoln, farmer, Porter.
Daniel J. Logan. farmer, Cromwell.
David I.ong, farmer, Me.
.Joseph Law, merchant, Morris.
J. Wareham Mattern, farmer, Franklin.
William Mat% jr., fanner, Barree.
Joseph McCracken, farmer, Brady.
Moses' Miller, farmer, Franklin.
William Morrow, farmer. Dublin.
Robert Madden, farmer, Springfield.
John Myerly. farmer, Springfield.
MeClain, farmer, Clay.
Daniel Neff, of Andrew, farmer, Porter.
James Porter, farmer, Henderson.
Isaac Peightal, farmer, Penn.
George Russell, jr., farmer, Hopewell.
Daniel Shultz, farmer, Franklin
John Smith, (manor,) farmer, Barren.
John Shultz, farmer. Hopewell.
John Sprankle, farmer, Morris.
David Stoner, farmer, Clay.
Benjamin Sprinkle, farmer, Morris.
William T. Whittaker, farmer, Porter.
seem, WEEK.
Ben.jamin Baker, carpenter, Tod.
'C. 8...81ack, just. peace, Henderson.
Stewart Cornet, farmer, Walker.
Abm. Carothers, farmer, Shirley.
J. J. Cunningham, com. merchant, Morris.
Jacob Cressivell, surveyor, Tod.
John Douglass, farmer. Shirley.
Henry . Harvey, farmer, Franklin.
James Haslet i inn keeper, Morris.
Solomon Houk, Esq., farmer, Tod.
Jacob Hight,.farmer, Brady.
Collins Hamer, farmer, Porter.
John Henderson, farmer, Warriorsmark.
George Kreiger, farmer, Clay.
John M. Leech, mill Wright, Jackson.
Peter Myers. fernier, Shirley.
Francis A. McCoy, ihrmer, Bendy.
Wm. E. MeMurtrie, gentlemen, Henderson.
John Nets, physician, Brady.
John M'Clure, farmer,.Tell.
John Madden,
'
farmer Springfield.
Perry Moore, farmer, Morrie.
Nathan M'Diyit, farmer, West.
Wm. M'Carthev, farmer, Brady.
Josenh Reed. iarmer, West.
Cabin Smith, laborer, Franklin.
Henry Spanogle, farmer, Warriorsmark.
..David Shingle, miller,Franklin.
Abednego Stevens. merchant, Warriorsmark.
. Abraham States, Esq., blacksmith, Walker.
Min L. Travis, fernier, Franklin.
Ephraim Thompson, carpenter, Tod.
George Whittaker, farmer, Porter.
Henry Walburn, farmer, Jaelsoil.
George Filson, farme...,
Jahn Ni',
0•'
i,Hf . .. Itulttlitgb . .qt . '4w..oirit_aL
I SEE NO STAR ABOVE THE HORIZON, PROMISING LIOIIT TO GUIDE US, BUT TIIE INTF.LLIOZNT, PATRIOTIC, UNITED WWII PARTY OP Tim UNITED STATES."-INVEBSTISIL
• TERMS :
The "IlemNonox JOURNAL" is published at
the following rates:
If
If paid in advance sit,ao
If paid within six months after the time of
subscribing 1,75
If paid at the end of the year 2,00
And two dollars and filly cents if not paid till
lifter the expiration of the year. No subscription
will be taken for a less period than six months,
and nopaper will he diseontimicd, except at the
option of the Editor, until allurrcaragcs ore paid.
Sithacribers living in distant connties,or in other
States, will be' required to pay invariably in
advance. ' •
Cl* Tho above terms will be rigidly adhered
to in all cases: •
RATES OF ADVERTISING.
One square of 16 lines or true
For 1 iffsertion $0,50, For 1 month, $1.25
• 4: 2 ‘t 0,75, " 3 " 2.75
(c 3 a, 1,00, " 5.00
ritt.EERSIOEAL CAM), not exceeding 10 liner,
and not changed during the rear $4,00
CARD and JOURNAL in nilrance 5 ,00
Bustrtnes Ciatne of the mom length, not
changed
CARO snit JOURNAL, in advance 4,00
fir Short transient advertisements will he nil
mitted into our editorial columns at treble the
used rate,. . .
On longer advertisements, whether yearly or
transient, a reasonable deduction will be made
ihr prompt payment.
0I n 5u i >
License Laws.
RIC TUC RCP. .10111 PIERPONT,
"We license thee for so much gold,"
Said they who filled St. Peter's chair,
"To put away thy wife who's old,
And take thee one who's young and fair,
For public good requires a dome
To swell like heaven's for us at Rome."
For so much gold we license thee,"
So say our laws, "a draught to sell,
That bows the strong, enslaves the free,
And opens wide the gates of hell;
For public good requires that some,
Since many die, should live by rum."
Ye civil fathers I while the foes •
Of this destroyer seize their swords,
And Heaven's own bail is in the blows
They're dealing, will YE cut the cords
That round the falling fiend they draw,
And o'er him hold your shield of law ?
And will ye give to man a bill.
Divorcing him from Heaven's high sway?
And while find says, "Thou shalt not kill,"
Say ye, 'Tor gold ye may—ye may ?"
Compare the body with the soul I
Compare the bullet with the bowl!
In which is felt the fiercest blast
Of the destroying angers breath ?
Which binds its victim the more fast?
Which kills him with the deadlier death ?
Will ye the felon fox restrain.
And yet take off the tiger's chain ?
The livine to the rotting dead,
The Uod conteming Tuscan tied,.
Till by the way, or on his bed,
The poor corpse•enrried dropp'd and died,
Lashed hand to hand and face to face,
In fatal and in loathed embrace.
Less cutting. think sc, is the thong
That to n breathing corpse. for life,
Lashed in torture loathed and long,
The drunkard's child, the drunkard's wife,
To clasp that clay to breathe that breath,
And no escape 7-0, that is death I
Are ye not fathers? When your sons
Look to you for their doily bread,
Dare ye, ;It mockery, load with stones
The table that for them ye spread ?
How can ye hope your sons will live,
If ye, for fish, a serpent give?
0, holy God, let light divine
Break forth more broadly from above,
Till we conform our laws to thine—
The perfect law of truth and love,
For truth And love alone can save
Thy children front a hopelces grave.
t:anlaT maDlTim.
"Let Me Die Quietly."
"Be still—make no noise—let me die quiet.
Iy."—VICE PRESIDENT KING.
"Be still!" The hour of the soul's departure
is at hand; Earth is fading from its vision; Time
is gliding.from its presence! Hopes that elms
ter around Young life, that swell in the heart of
manhood; flare fallen front around it, like the
forest leaves, when the frosts of autumn have
chilled them unto death. Ambition, with its
hollow promises, and pride. with its lofty look,
have vanished away, The world, with its de
ceitfulness, pleasure, with its gilded temptations
are gone, and alone. in utter destitution of all
that time promised, it must start on its solitary
journey acroSs the valley of the shadow of
heath
"Make no noise!" • Let the tumult of life
cease. Let no sound break the soul's-comma.
Mott with itself, ere •it starts on its returnlesss
flight. Trouble it not with the accents of Sot'-
row. Let the tear stand still on the cheek of
affliction, and let not the wailing of grief break
the solemn stillness of the death scene. Let it
gather the ascents that Come from within the
dark shadows of eternity. saying to it, come •
home. The whispering of angels are in its ear;
obstruct not their silvery voices by grosser •
sounds. A fur off music comes floating to it
by the air. 'Tis the sound of the heavenly harps
touched by viewless fingers—mar not the har
mottv by the discord of death.
" Let .nie die quietly!" 'The commotions of
life, the struggles of ambition, the strife and
warring with human destiny, are over. Wealth
accumulated 'most he Scattered; honors won
must be resigned, and till the triumphs that
come within the range of human achievement,
be thrown. away. The past, with its trials, its
transgressions, its accumulating responsibili
ties, its' clinging memories, its vanished hopes,
its rendering up to the future its long account;
disturb not the quiet of its awful reckoning.—
Speak not of fading , memories, of affectious
whose objects perish in their loveliness, likg,
the flowers of spring, or wither in a sluw decay.
Talk nut of an earthly home where loved 01108
linger, where a seat will limit be vacant, a
cherished voice hushed forever, or of the deso
lation that will seat itself by the hearth, stone.
The soul is at peace with God, let it puss calm
lv away. Heaven is opening upon its vision.
'the bright turrets, the tall spires, the lofty
domes of the Eternal City, are emerging Clpin
the spectral darkness, and the glory alb.
Most High is dawning around them. Th e
white throne is glistening in the distance, and
the white robed angels are beckoning the wea
ry spirit to its everlasting home. What is life
that it should be clung to longer? What the
Boss of she world, that they should be regretted? .
What has earth to place before this Lpint of a
le tci.pt h:, stay, • it frptir t:,
yet r..:3;
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 1853.
The Tree that Never Fades.
'Mary,' said George, 'next summer I will not
have a garden. Our pretty tree is deie and
I won't have another tree as long as line. I
will have a bird next summer, and 'that will
stay all winter.'
`George, don't you remember my beautiful
canary? - It died in the middle of the summer.
and we planted bright flowers in the ground
where we buried it. My bird did not live R 3
the tree.
'Well. I don't see as we can love anything.
Dear little brother died before the bird, and I
loved him better than any bird, or tree or flow
er. 0, I wish we could have something to love
that wouldn't die.'
The day named. During, the, school hours,
George and Mary had almost forgotten that
their tree was dying; but at evening, no they
drew their chairs to the table where their moth
er was sitting, and began to arrange the seeds
they had been gathering, the remembrance of
the trek came upon them.
'Mother,' sail Mary, 'you may give these
seeds to cousin John, I never want another
garden.
'Yes:, added George, pushing■ the papers in
which he had carefully folded them towards his
mother, 'you may give them all away. If I
could find some needs of n tree that would nev
er fade, I should like then to have a garden.—
I wonder, mother, if there ever was such a gar
den ?'
George, I have read of a garden where
the trees never die.
'A real garden, mother?'
'Yes, ray son. In the middle of the garden,
I have been told, there runs a river of pure
water, clear as crystal, and on each side of the
river is the tree of life—a tree that never fades.
That garden is heaven. There you may love,
and love forever. There will be no death—no
fading there. Let ranr treasure he in the tree
of life. and you will have something to which
your hearts can cling without fear and without
disapnointment. Love the Saviour here, and
he will prepare you to dwell in those green pas
tures and beside those still waters.'
The Price of Pardon.
Reader, in all seriousness I ask yon, have
von well considered what Christ did and suffer
ed that you, through faith in him, might be
saved from the wrath to come? Does business
press you? Does pleasure invite you? Do
friends throng you? Does aversion to present
attention plead for delay? I pray you, say to
me.not. •Permit me most serious•
ly and most affectionately to urge you now.—
now, to ponder well what he has done and what
he has suffered.
Need I remind you that, though he wet with
God and was God, yet he condescended to be
made lower than the angels; to become man,
to take our infirmaties and bear our sickness;
to be subject to weariness, want, pain and
death. Need I remind you that, for your Hake,
he endured a constantly accumulating load of
sufferings, till at length, exceedingly sorrowful
—sorrowful until death—in agony, his sweat
ns great drops of blood falling down to the
ground, he gave himself into the hands of those
who sought his life, and is by them nailed to
the cross.
Consider well the closing scene. The qua
king earth; the rending rocks; the death-pall
darkness; the cry With a loud voice, ..kly God,
my God, why host thou farsaken me?" These
things and the like of these proclaim, and dm
ring eternity will continue to proclaim. to the
highest heaven and to the deepest hell, how
great our guilt, and how boundless the compas
sion of the great God our Saviour who conde
scended to unbar the door of hope and mercy,
that we might enter and be saved! How just
as well as awful, if we neglect a salvation so
great—so dearly purchased I Render. how
stands the case with you 7 Vt. Chronicle.
I Cannot.
I cannot get ready in time for public Ivor.
ship on the Sabbath morning, I din so tired on
Saturday, so hard at work all the week. Could
you not get ready it you had a pleasant journey
to take ?
cannot keep awake in the House of God,
lam so drowsy." Would you he drowsy sit
ting to hear a will read, if you were expecting
a legacy was left you, though the reading of it
lusted an hour ?
" I cannot find time roe secret prayer or rea•
(ling the Scriptures in private." Rather say
I ant not willing. Were you to receive triple
wages liir an hour's early rising, would you say
I cannot ?
" I cannot have family worship. I never
was accustomed to it.." Do you tell the . beg
gar whathe has to sae? Can you calmly read
in Jeremiah a. 25, "Pour out thy tury upon
the heathen that know thee not, and upon the
families that call not on thy name"' and not
feel ? and, friend, will this excuse please you
on a death-bed?
" I cannot make a profession of religion for
fear of dishonoring the cause of God." Does
not the Lord promise to assist yon, for none
goes on a warfare on his own charges ? Does
not Paul say, "I can do all things, through
Christ strengthening me.
"t cannot give my heart now to Jesus; by
and by I hope to do so. Boast not thyself of
toinorrow; fbi thou knowcst not what a day
may bring forth. Will this excuse do at the
judgement seat?
The Rocka of Calvary.
In Fleming's Christology, it isstated that an
unbeliever visiting the sacred places of Pales•
tine, was shown the clefts of Mount Calvary.—
Examining them narrowly and critically he
turned in amazement to his fellow travelers and
said, "I have long bees a student of nature,
and I am sure that the clefts and rents in this
rock have never been done by eat nre, or any
ordinary earthanake ; for, by such a concussion
the rock must have split according to this veins.
and where it was the wenkest in the adhesion
of parts; for this," he said, have observed to
have been done in other rooks when separated
or broken atter an earthquake; and reason
tells use it must be always so. But it is quite
otherwise here; for the rocks are split athwart
and across the veins in a most strange and pre.
ternatural mutter; and therefore," said he, "I
thank God that I came hither to the standing
monument of a miraculous power by which
God gives evidence to this day of the divinity
of Christ."
Pulpit Ostentation.
How little. save the eloquent Chalmers, must
the word .of God . he felt in that place where the
high functions of the pulpit arc degraded into
stipnlated exchange of entertainment On the
Otill hand, and of admiration on the ether.—
And surely, it were n sight to make nngets weep,
when a weak and vapoaring merle], surround
ed by his fellow sinners, and hastening to the
grave nod to tbo judgement along with them,
to regale his hearers by the exhibition of him
self, than do in plain earnest the work of his
Master, and urge the liminess of repentance
and faith, by the impressive simplicities of the
gospel. •
11:.,•• 'So evil is un9pportaVe, put that
•Aleich is ,r,ompr.taci vith UCES. Cl 4.
EM2llArtl'Eglo<,
Sermon foi , Young Wives.
ST AN °LI! HOUSEICZEPER,
..----.
My :sermon is a very practical and a very
brief one, and can be rend without much fa.
tigue either to soul dr body,
Take care of your health. Do not do every
thing on wn-sli-day yoarself, if your husband is
shout rind has a kindltcart. Ask him to help
you Milne-. the tubs, and procuring rinsing wts•
ter,,arain hangiug out the • clotites.line, and
fixing on the clothes: He will do It, if you Co.
ly ask him in a kind lone. 136 careful not to
get your feet and yoar tires.: wet, and then have
a had cold or a bad .toothache to pay for your
imprudence. '
Be carefirl not to cook too murk • For your
breakfast it.is not, necessnry to hove pies, and
i
(*ekes, and •sanees, a ';gravies, and forty other
things. Simple,gO bread and butter, with a
little plain. sauce. a d'a clear cup of tea or
coffee, will, in ordinary cases, do very well.—
Here area few shell words from one who
knows all tibout the nuhject.nnd it Will . do your.
Self good to rend them carefully: •
..„-
4 verily believe it is the trimmings of our
meals—the non-essential rather than the essen
tials—that:consume the great bulk of the time
of our femnles. Cooking there must indeed
he; boiling, baking. stewing., roasting, etc.; but
these processes need not be so condticted as tb
absorb all our time. There bun more need of
cooking everything new for each meal than
there is of washing clothes every day, not a
whit. Nor is there any necessity for having
half a dozen courses of food at the same meal.
One course is enough and one cooked dish is
enough—for prince or pennant—at the nue meal.
The preparation of meat. and potatoes, and
pudding, and pie, and fruits, to succeed each
other as so many different courses, with their
accompaniments—pickles. settees, gravies, etc.,
—to say nothing of any hot drinks to areom.
pony them, is a species of tyranny imposed by
fashion, to which no horse-keeper ought ever
to be compelled to submit. It mac he difficult
to her to oppose the current: • but it is for her
life. and the life of her. husband and children
to do so.
"I tremble when I think how woman's time
—one of the most precious gifts of God—is
frittered away in pampering the wants and ad-
ministering to the pleasures of the more physi•
cal nature of man. She must toil twelve, fif
teen, or eighteen boors a day, attending to his
apartments. his clothe*, his stonier+, etc., and
wear herself out in this way, and leave the
marks of this wear and tear in the constitution
of her children; and to her daughters the same
legacy which she received from her mother—
the permission to wear herself out in the same
manner. And the worst of all is—l repent thin
sentiment—woman neither knows nor feels her
degradation. Nay, she often glories in it.—
This is in - fect,the wore feature of slavery. It
obliterates the tore relish of' liberty, and
makes the slave embrace her chains. Espe
cially in this SI, with slavery of our lusts, and
passions, - and propensities. and eppetites.-
1 W 01.1) not only toils on, the willing slave of
an arbitrary .fashion. that demands her to sur
render her life—hodlily. mental, and moral—
to the din of plates, -...1p0t5, and kettles, but
she is often proud of these employments. and
seeks her reputation in them. She vainly
seems to slippage time to prepare fashionable
compounds in the most fashionable style, and
to set an immense variety of her fashionable
compounds on the same table, is to act up to
the highest dignity of her natere. Ido not
mean that she ever asserts this, twat, many
words; but she does so in her actions—anti ac
tions according to the old maxim, speak
louder thanwords."
Practice neatness at home. If everything in
the cupboard is upside down, pieces of bread.
and bits of meat,and half filled saucers scattered
here and there on the shelves, depend on it
your husband will not think too highly of you
for them. Dirt and carelessness are miserable
things. They have no comfort in themselves,
and of course, cannot give comfort to any body.
If von have a large amount of work on hand,
and always on hand, do be neat, even if the
work go undone. Rents in your dress, knots
in your hair, and holes in your stockings are
inexeusable. Have all such things fixed up.
Nothing will add to the happiness of the fami
ly more than e 1... tidy rooms, and neat,
though coarse and darned garments.
Ile• economical. Perhaps your husband
complains occasionally about family expendi-
tures. Fault-finding is hard, I know: but,
then, who is to blame ? Is it not possible, at
least, that you have gone a little too far ?
Look about and see. How many dresses have
you? Just enough for comfort, or one for eve
ry week or-month in the year? Some people
are everlastingly poor—by which I mean, that.
live where or long as they may., they spend
every cent that is earned. Impose a little self.
denial and thus remove a few. at least, of the
chances of future poverty and want. There
were a great many snares for females years
ago, as Cowp'er, I think, says. Here are kis
words:
"We seerifleo to tires!, till loose-hold
And comforts cease. Dress drains our culler dry,
And keeps our larder loan; puts ont our fires,'
And introduces hunger, frost, and woe,
here peace and hospitality might reiin."
But there are as many, if not more. snares,
now than then. A thousand dollars is no liar
der to be drawn front One's purse than a hun
dred, when the desire to spend once gets into
the soul, and the money goes, one knows not
where or how,when a leak is once started.
Lore to labor. Ido not intend contradic
ting my first precept, but I mean to urge the
necessity of doing all the work about the house
that you can do in computability and justice to
your health. Some young wives lose their
health by doing nothing. They sit up by the
fire-place with nothing in their hands, and
nothing in their heads, and soon get to think
ing
they are appointed unto death. And when
any such feelings get hold of a person, there is
a taw chance to introduce disease; and then
come suffering and misery to complete the pic
ture. Gentility is a bans to thousands—at
least false ideas of gentility—for these ideas
lead to the belief that none but servants can
cook a piece of meat, bake bread, and wash
dishes; whereas, the fact is the case are, that
these very things properly attended to by the
wife,are the surest preservatives of health. It is
hard, uninterrupted werk, that kills off so
many. For this there is no necessity, as inti
mated by me in the beginning.- •
But, to redeem pry promise of perspicuity
and broyity. 1 must stop.liere. I hope soma
Gate again to sit down and have a kind of Ili
miller, general conversation with young wives;
for I was once young myself, mid have semi
many.n year in the pester andkitchenmnd will
lir glad to give items of Co pccienee, and spe
cially
so, if I think I can in any way protit.my
younger and less experienced sisters. I bore,
however to be guilty of no intrnsion on the
rights and feelings of ethers, and if I ant stop
red in my career, I shall neither make any
threins,•ttortbel hurt by what is deemed Lett
for all purties..oincerned h—Lenfics Repos.
• . •
‘• pjy► He vim takFs his ebarieter from what
()there say rf Lin , , will if•norant rf ,enl
Fashion in Funerals.
'lt has lately been unfashionable in N. York
for ladies to attend funerals to the grave. Even
the mother 'wisp not accompany the lifeless
form of her beloved child beyond the diresh•
* old without violating the laws of Fashlon."
Are there such mothers ? Live there one
who, at Flisltion's bidding, stands back, nor
presses her lips to the little marble form that
once lay warm and quivering beneath her
heart-strings)-who with undimmed eve, re
calls the trusting clasp of that tiny hand, the
lovino glance at' that veiled eye, the music of
that merry laugh—its low pained moan, or its
last fluttering heart quiver ?—who would not
(rnther than strange hands should touch the 1
habc,) herself robe its dainty limbs for. burial?
—who shrinks not, starts not, when the care-
less business hand would remove the little dal ,
jing fl•oin its cradle-bed, where loving eyes so
soft have watched its rosy slumbers, to its last
gold, dreamless pillow?—who lingers not ,rheei
all hare gone, and vainly strives, will straining
eye, to Pierce beloth that fresh laid mound?—
who when a merry group go dancing by, stops
not, with a sudden thrill, to touch some sunny
head, or gaze into a soft blue eye, that has
opened afresh the fount ei tears, and sent to
troublid aps the murinuring heart plaint:
"Would tram I had died feir thee, my child
i r
--tiny' - child!" - ho when the wintry , blast
.comes .howli rt . yishndders no;, because she
, cannot fold to er own warm breast the little
lonely sleeper in the cold chureb-yard ?
' And oh, is there. one who, with such "trea
tures lakt.eit in Heaven,"
clings not the less
i to earth ; strives not thatffbre to keep her spir
t undefiled; than not the less the, dim, dark
valley. cheered by • n cherub voice, inaudible
save to the dying mother's car?
01,, stony-era, stony-hearted, relentless
I Fashion! turn for us day into night, if thou
wilt; deform Our women; half clothed, with
flimsy fabric, our victim children; wring the
last penny from the sighing, over-tasked - hits
band ; banish to the back-woods thy country
cousin, Comfort; reign supreme in the banquet
hall ; revel undisputed at the dance, but when
that grim gaunt whom none invite—whom
none dare deny—strides with defiant front
across our threshold, stand back thou heartless
harlequin, and leave us alone with our dead;
so we shall list the lesson those voiceless lips
should teach ns—
"All is vanity."
FANNY FERN.
The Autumn and its Lessons.
All that is earthly must fade. This annual
lesson, taught by the falling leaf, the withering
frost, the silence which pervades the air, and
the wreck and decay of vegetation as each re•
turning Autumn assumes her reign. Another
Autumn is upon us now. The tassels of the
corn arc dead and the honks of the standing
have lost their green. Flower stocks that but
a few short weeks since stood green and grow.
ing, bearing proudly up their wealth and floral
heatay, now stand stark and dead. The first
intimation of approaching dissolution rests upon
4:141 vegetation, yet amid these scenes; the fruits
of Autumn are spread upon every side. Ap
plesb end from the boughoitits wait on the trees
for the loosing lingers of the frost, wagons go
creaking home with homely roots, the groheries
am already filled, and soon housed and gar
nered, the product of the year will await the
grateful use of inmt nod animal.
All that is earthly assist fade. "We all do
fade as the leaf." Alen has his Spring, his
Summer, his Autumn, and his Winter. Some
leaves wait not for the frost .d thll early. but
we who grow crisp and dry with age. and we
who grow golden and glorious in the frosts of
time, must all alike follow them to the earth.—
There are, worm eaten fruits and blasted corn
ears in the fields of humanity, as in the fields of
vegetation. The good ones only cats find a
place in the storehouse of the great husband
man. The lesson of the Autumn bears upon
and illustrates the whole stlk:et, of the close of
j hum. life.
Tim ycnr is but a hollow farce without fruit
as the grand result, A human life, in its Au
turns, in which is seen no fruit, betrays a per
version of soul that it might make an angel
weep, as the angels look down upon the world,
may they find graces which blush like apples
among the leaves, characters well filled out
and clean from all impurity, true wisdom til
ling all the store-houses, and seeds of an im
mortal life perfected, and ready to be unfolded
in
Those everlasting gardens
Where angels walk and. seraphs aro the wardens.
Rules for the Journey of Life,
The following rules, from the papers of Dr.
West according to his memorandum, are thrown
together as general way-marks in the journey
of life:
Never ridicule sacred things, or what others
may esteem as such, however absurd they may
appear to you.
Never show levity when people are engaged
at worship.
Never to resent n supposed ininry till 1 know
the views and motives of the author of it. On
no occasion to relate it.
Always to take the port of an absent person
who is censured in company, so fur as truth
and propribtv will allow.
Never to think worm of another on necount
of his differing from moon political or religious
subjects.
Not to dispute with a man who is more than
seventy years of age, nor with a woman, nor
any enthusiast.
Not to affect to be witty, or to jest so as to
wound the feelhnrs of another.
To say as, little as possible of myself and of
those that are near me.
To aim at cheerfulness without levity.
Never to court the favor of the rich by flat•
tering either their vanities or their vices.
To speak with calmness and deliberation on
all occasions, especially in circumstances which
tend to irritate.
Frequently to review my conduct nod note
my feelings.
Marry.
Jeremy Taylor says if you are for pleasure,
marry—if you prize rosy health, marry—and,
even if money be your object, Timmy. A good
wife is heaven's last best gift to man—his an
gel and -minister of gna•es innumerable—Lis
oem of tunny virtues—his casket of jeuvh;—
her voice his sweetest manic—her smiles; his
brightest day—her kiss the guardian of his in
nocence—her arms, the pale of his safety. the
balm aids health, the balsam of his life—hcr
industry his surest wealth—her economy, his
safest steward—hur lips, his faithful counsel
lors—her bosom—the softest pillow of - his cares
--and her prayers, the ablest advocates of hes
ven's blessings on -his head.
- - ,
THOMUT.—Thoug,ht is the electricity of tilt!"
brain ; it shoots to the remotest periods of his.
tort', nud touches the first link of life. It dash.
es through the elements of tire, uir, earth, and
water. It penetrates to the depth of Itnowl•
edge, and rises to the gates of Heaven. It is
an infinite small ray of the Deity, be,towed on
littu aril ; it returns to Hint from a eorrupti.
ble to a spiritual existence. Cultivate it, and
yetvnill be refined; 'l7 !..
'&4,...,1... J . R.
MrOffinfilOalgi.
A Coon Hunt.
Not many years ago we happened to rusti
cate in what coon hunters desig,nate a "shack
country"—by which is meant hills which
abound with beech and other nuts to which
the raccoon eentrc are very partial. Of course
we sallied often with the boys for a night expe
dition and seldom returned home at sunrise
without one, if not two of the "critters." But
we are not going to regale the reader with any
of our achievements—they hardly would bear
publication. We mean simply to tell of the
exploit of some raw hands that come into the
mountains from a somewhat eityfied village,
for the purpose of astonishing us on our own
ground.
Their sporting appointments were certainly
unexceptionable—lanterns, axes, guns and
dogs, nll and everything looked as if on pur
pose to do nothing but Mint raccoons. The
men were well fitted out, with boots above the
knees, skull caps, shooting coats, and every.
thing caps-pie to carry on a sporting cam
paign. The idlers of the village watched them
with gaping mouths: but the old hunters look
ed sinmiciously on their sleek dogs, their 6ne
clothes, and supercilious aim. They paraded
about so consequentiallv. at last, that all resol
ved to let them go on their own way, and do
their own huntint,,,
The party waitedimpatiently for the night
to close upon the iiills, when they atarted for
the mountains. bouting upon the sagacity
their dt*s..,lieliieh, they said, would soon lead
them to tlfeboon trees and - ledges. Off thev•
started, each man anitb a lighted lantern,
ing for all the world as did thelnonks, probe;
12,1 v, when Maier Nonsoon (in "Charles O'Afal
, rei")lnitrched them in procession around the
ramparts of some Spanish town, the'name of
which we recollect ended like that of most
Spanish towns, in either era' una, or ossa.—
From this evident token that the gentlemen
had no idea of hiding their lights under bush
els, the villagers judged that the expedition
would do wonderfully absurd things;
and it
was with some impatience that many loungers
sat up for. the purpose of welcoming them
home, sometime between twelve at night and
sunrise.
And return they did in due course of time,
and such a squad of loeking beings we ne'er
before saw. Some had lost their caps, others
the skirt of a coat, and sonic nearly everything
but their hoot ler, which, being of leather,
had resisted the encounters with briars and
sharp rocks pretty well, and to hear them tell
their "hair-breadth 'scopes" one would wonder
they did not lose their lives too ; jointly and
severally.
"What luck ?" was the landlord's query.
"Well," drawled out the man who apparent
ly filled the role of captain to the party ; "it
was pretty good— we killed four of the con
founded creatures."
"And I tell yen what." said a pompons little
fellow, kith an eye which some wag present
said he mast have run against a knot hole, it
was so black—'l tell Tou %hat, old fellow, I
ha I a terrible. fight with one of the tildes, and
killed it sin,'e•handed."
"How so ?" wns the query.
"I'll tell von. We' were .goitt,g. throzglf a
pasture, Indian file. I brought up • the rear.
swinging my lantern about carelessly, when ell
at once I heard something rustling in the
brakes dear me. I started, and turned. Jest
then the light of my lantern fell upon some
thing crawling off. I followed and saw what
it wits. 'Boos.' I cried, 'a raccoon. no I live.'
and with tluit I made fbr him ; for I knew I'd
run him down. I spree , : for It, the others eon,
ine up, when all at once I heard a queer kind
of noise, such as raccoons make when giving
'fight, I suppose, a n d the man behind nee fell a
Telling as if he had icon shot. 'lv'e cot hint,'
I cried and we rolled or, e anti over, the crett
doing his worst, until at last I conquered him;
and ain't he a whopper? 'Look at him,' cried
the overjoyed young gentleman, producing
front his game bag 'in animal at the sight of
which the spectator, shouted :
"By gully, a skunk r,
skunk!" gasped the poor feliow, drop
' pine the booty to the ground.
His companions were thunderstruck ; "a
skunk." cried each in his turn.
thought so," said the young man who was
said to have been hit.
'Wall, I declare if that don't beat all my
mother's relations," cried the landlord, holding
his sides to keep them from bursting with
laughter. "Why. do you mean to say, ye fel•
lens, ye don't know what a skunk is?
"Why," cried the erest-fullett victor in single
eomhaf, "do ,elll mean to say duct a skunk has
black and white spots; and looks almost like a
rat?"
"To be sure I dew," replied the landlord.
"And that they can hit a man at five rods
and knoilk him down, as they4lid Pipkins,
there?" nointins: to a poor fellow who seemed
to he still at a loss how to account for what
struck hint.
“Sartin,” again replied the landlord.
"Do you mean to oar, too," continue,' the
hero, looking more and more horrified, "that n
skunk will smell no awful no this animal does ?"
“Sn-sn-sartin I" screeched the old man, nl•
most. speechless from laualuer.
"%% - 11, then," added the dandy sportsman,
`lf that's so, landlord, we've killed four of the
infernal things!"
Such a shoot greeted this mitionneement
that the strangers themaelves had to join in it.
one, a waggish fellow, remarking that after all
no one could deny they, were good hunters, as
they were pretty good on the "scent.", 7
IM_ Mrs. Partington says, it is a great mar•
ey the President haS n in his cabinet:
ho must, want to set down pretty often, poor
man. But what on arch did he do with
hoes Dahbia Did he ride him to the Texico
writ's,' like (leneral Taylor did
\l'hi~c•v.
I would`nt a gone to North Celina to get a
host any how, for they do have soma of the
miserahlest looking Lutists that you ever seed.
And that eiriad, too—what does he do with
him? Is the poor, doer general a goin' to
light the Arabs? Or did he get the camel and
old Bobbin after the etither hose broke down,
the time he fit the !lexicons. My husband had
an old, hoss Bobbin—l do wonder nos• if that
that's the same one! And they do say lie keeps
all of them ottimois in a cabinet! .Itarcy 'on
us, what a gear cabitlt•l rhet must bc:!"
Wk.. Tee 44•01 nn n 'train
thought,' Plitys it pay., he sprained
his memory, cracked his iniellret, and braised
his perceptive thenities. He says no biani,
VMS attached to the conduetor.
skir A publisher an thorsprirpr nut 11 . c.,1.
in the first issucof his journal. return, tit:ITN
to those who have loanglrhint means.
and gratitude to Heaven that tht.re in
tha t 44tate, Luthi,iit t e iniur . quitouvnl for debt.
Dun-Am—An Anieric.nn lady. tc
weekly neviepaper havin,z been It.it no her kit.
let table, refubetlio drew: herteij iJecause abater
woo an Qbeerv, in tint mow.
05y. A haelicim• re , en.tv kft Maiding
place in which wart a trlmber a Old nisidSkon
th, -tab: f , 1,1 ',fore nine
w
NO. 46.
The Dnteh Widower.
'Mine frow Ras no better as she ort to be.
till chest pefore she diet; then she WM so good
as pefore, remarked Mr. Vanderhorn to Lis
neishbor.
'Your wife wan an amiabledkoman, and you
do creat injustice to her memory, said Swartz
'Val, vat you know no much about mice
frow, for?'
'I was not intimately acquainted with her but
I am sure that all her acquaintances loved her.'
'Vet right had they to love her I—May be•--'
'May be' what?'
'May be you loved mine frow too.'
'Why do you speak so strangely?
'Vp, von day, a pig ugly man, alcusiliko yon,
came into our house and kissed mina frow
right ',afore her face.'
'Were you present at the time?'
'To no sure I vos.'
'Well, what did yen do?'
kicked him right pehind his pack.'
Did he resent it?'
'Yaw ; he proke me and the looking•glßse,
and all to rest of te crockery in the house, 'ceps
te feather bed, into one tam smash!'
'What did you do then?'
'Then I cried murder! murder! and I called
for to shudge, and to shery, and to pollee ofE •
cer and constable, to come, and he rend away!'
Do you intend to eharge me with taking
Ruch unwarrantable liberties with the compan
ion of your bosom ?'
‘Me . no ehttr;re nothing fur it now. because
she be tend and perried'
'I Will not allow Con to mike such insinua
tions. You are an old tyrant, and everybody
said you were glad when your wife died.'
'Everypody pe one tam liar.'
saw no symptoms of sorrow.'
Me felt more wusht tan if my pest cow has
'Your cow? What a comparison!'
'She vos a great loss—a heavy loss—for she
tiros so pie as dat (spreading out his arms,) and
she weighed more tan two hundred ponds.'
'Lookout old man, or you will see trouble.
I doubt if - yonr wife was ever kissed by any
man after her marraige. At all events. you
must apologize for what you.have said of me.'
'Vot is pologize?'
'You must beg my pardon and say yon Al*
sorry ; if you do not, 1 will cuter a complaint
against you and have you arrested.'
'1 pe sorry ten'
'Sorry for whet?'
'Sorry you kissed nine frog.'
'You incorrigible idiot That is not what
you must soy, for I outer did such a thing. in
my life.'
- 'llust i sav that , you pe sorry that you never
did such n thing ?
'No—you must take back ulna 'you have
said.'
While the Dutchmen was in this clan:min
his friend Hans Bantbergher -earne along., and
finally succeeded in reconciling.. the parties.
when the trio adjcurned to a neighboring cof.
fee.houee.
"Little Dicky."
A young lady, an only daughter of it very
fond, devoted, and scrupulous father, who was
sent to a fashionable boarding school whore
she became the companion and rnom•mnto of
another young lady, who rejoiced in one of
those perversion,' of mnvuline names for which
some Indies have a event affectation: in other
words, her name vas Richardettn, and she was
commonly known amour the girls as "NAY."
Writing to her father, the new young lady at
the fashionable school assured him that the
was so happy, no she had for her room-mate
"sweet littlu Dicky H-."
"Blood and thunder I,' exclaimed the old gee.
demon, this a specimen of the morality of
your fashionable hoarding sehnols ?". Order.
lug his carriage. he iitarted immediately for
the acad.'', and on his arrival asked to 4c
shown into his dangbter's room, where he found
her sitting very ntlreetionately in the lop of
another young lady. The affeetionate girl
rushed Itrward to greet the indignant father.
who drawing himself up very frowningly, en.
I .
'Where is that rascal V
'Who, papa ?,
'That Dicky you wrote about, wh6 is your
room-mate?'
'Why, there she is, exclaimed the innocent
damsel, throwing her arils around the inno
cent cause ofso much anguish. The hasty old
gentleman was perfectly disgusted with hits,
Self; also with the confounded - bad taste of giv
ing girls boy,' names.
Dodging the Re sponsibility.
'Sir,' said rimwtheias, the lawyer, to an un
witne, qo von say, upon your oath,
that Blimpkins is a dishonest man ?'
'1 didn't day he Rae ever neensed of being
an honest man, did I ?' said Pipkins.
.I)ues the court understand you to one, Mr.
that the plqintitrs reputation is had?'
inquired the : f udge. merely putting the question
to keep his eyes open.
•1 didn't sae it %rat: good, I reckon !'
`Sir,' snid FierytneiZ, upon your oath.,
von say Blimpkins is a rogtie, a N ioain, aid a
ihirf
'You say Ex),' was Pipltin's reply.
'Hoven% you said so r
'Why you have said Piplans, 'what's
the use of my rk:pent;nz
.
'Sir!' thuriderea Fierstiteins. the demosthe
nom thunderer of Thembton, 'Sir, I charge
you, upon your sworn oath, do you, or do you
not say, that Illitupkins stole things?'
'No, sir,' was the cautious reply of Pipkins.
never said Illitnpkius ktole things; hut I do
nay—he's got a great way of:finding' things that
Ituibogly lost." - -
. .
'Sirrl, said Fieryfactas, 'you can retire,'
and the court adjourned:
Wt. First class in sacred music stand
many kinds of music are there ?"
,'Three air—long metre, short metre, and
MELT FIER ha moonlight alone!"
"Who told you that, yon booby?"
"Bil Jones; sir."
"Go to your seat. When school i,, over wo
will try and establish the key note.of a pickled
Cowhide."
Sur.An Irishman observing a dandy taking
his usual strut insHrbadvray, steps up to him
and inquired
'How inth:ll do.you tusk for those houses?'
•Whiit dot.. nsk ine that for?'
an 4 I tliniight the whole street be
larva& to ye,' roplied.the Irishman. • •
wk-s- A good Quaker buy. aft, listening to
the travetattnt Farm itrit'sl'orker,per na lung
nu her patience would allow. said to.him—
"Friend whattritr-that it is pia to
16114ibliisitty . lti thy litisigesi.-
num.+s Ltue.—Our hfe is like alpine coiu,
int.', is 0 r 5 ,„, 1 .
mer. and whcf it is hut a s.ter, from a flow,
garden to a glacier I
afe' A to',. was .Nown .1 , 04 u latelv by a
strong uewsp4,p,r ptfq,' Ti. ro.f of th,
slug allies suffered raucla dawai,o, at tha.ilailue
time. •
Rader cgia;t•rat —46 ara3 by 1.,;;