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[l3®29xnal.
THE BURSTING OF THE BUD,
Spring is coming—Spring is coming t
With her sunshine and her shower I
/leaven is ringing with the singing
Of the birds in brake and bower;
Buds are filling, leaves are swelling,
Flowers on field, and bloom on tree;
O'er the earth, and air, and ocean,
Nature holdii her jubilee.
Soft then stealing comes a feeling
O'er my bosom tenderly;
Sweet I ponder as I wander,
For my musings are of thee.
Spring is corning—Spring is coming!
With her mornings fresh and light ;
With her noon of chequered glory,
Sky of blue and clouds of white,
Calm and gray night falls, when light falls
For the star•bespangled sky,
While the splendor, pale and tender,
Of the young moon gleams on high,
Still, at morn, at noon, and even,
Spring is full of joy for me,
For I ponder, as I wander,
And my musings are of thee.
Still on thee my thoughts are dwelling,
Whatsoe'er thy name may ben
Beautiful beyond words telling,
Is thy prei'enee unto me.
Morning's breaking finds the waking,
Wandering in the breeze's light;
Noontide's glory mantles o'er thee,
In a shower of sunny light;
Daylight dying, leaves thee lying
In the silvery twilight ray;
Stars look brightly on thee nightly
Till the coming of the day.
Everywhere and every minute
Feel I near thee, lovely one ;
In the lark and in the linnet
I can hear thy joyous tone.
Bud and blooming, mark the coming
Of thy feet o'er vale and hill;
And thy presence, with life's essence
Makes the forest's heart to fill.
Low before thee, I adore thee,
Love creative, thee I sing;
Now I meet thee, and I greet then
By the holy name of Spring.
W2Eri l l [br-W-lAWE , c 4 .I 0
The Invalid Wife.
BY FANNY FERN'.
"Every wife needs a good stock of love to be
gin
with."
Don't she ? You are upon a sick bed; a lit
tle, feeble thing lies on your arm, that you
might crush with one band. You take those
little velvet fingers in yours, close your eyes and
turn your head languidly to the pillow. Little
brothers and sisters—Carry and Henry, and
Fanny, and Frank, and Willie, and Mary, and
Bitty—half a score—come tiptoeing into the
scorn "to see the new baby." It is quite an old
story to "nurse," who sits like an automaton,
while they give vent to enthusiastic admiration
of its wee toes and fingers, and make profound
inquiries, which nobody thinks best to hear.—
You look on with a languid smile, and they
pass out, asking, "why they can't stay with dear
mamma, and why they musn't play puss in the
corner," as usual. You wonder if your little
croupy boy tied his tippet on when he went to
school, and whether Betty will see that your
husband's flannel is aired, and if Peggy has
cleaned the silver, and washed off the front
door steps, and what your blessed husband is
about that he don't come home to dinner.
There sits old nurse keeping up that dread
ful treadmill trotting "to quiet the baby," till
you could fly through the keyhole in despera•
tion. The odor of dinner begins to creep up
stairs. You wonder if your husband's pudding
will be made right, and if Betty will remember
to put wine in the sauce, as lie likes it; and
then the perspiration starts on your forehead
as you hear a thumping on the stairs, and a
child's suppressed scream; and nurse snatches
the baby up in a flannel to the tip of its nose
dumps it down on an easy chair, and tells you
to have the family to her and go to sleep.—
By and by she comes in—after staying long
enough to get a refreshing cup of coffee, and
walks up to the bedside with a bowl of gruel,
:tasting it, and then putting the spoon into the
rbowl. In the first place you bate gruel; in the
next, you couldn't eat it if she had a pistol to
your head, after the spoon had been in her
:mouth so you meekly suggested that it be sot
,on the table hoping by some providential inter
position, it might get tipped over. Well,' she
moves round the room with a pair of creaking
alms and bran new gingham gown, that rattles
tz';l le in Li 1 / 4 ,1 at.
" I SEE NO STAR ABOVE THE HORIZON, PROMISINO LIGHT TO GUIDE US, BUT TITE INTELLIGENT, PATRIOTIC, UNITED WHIG PARTY OF TUE UNITED STATES."-EWPDSTEIL
like a paper window curtain at every step; and
smooths her hair with your nice little brush,
and opens a drawer by mistake, (?) "thinking
it was the baby's drawer." Then you hear lit
tle nails scratching on the door, and Charley
whispers through the key-hole, "mamma, Char
ley's tired; please let Charley come in."
Nurse scowls, and says no; but you intercede
—poor Charley he's only a baby himself. Well,
ho leans his head against the pillow, and looks
suspiciously at that little moving bundle of
flannel in nurse's lap. Its clear he had a hard
time of it, with team and molasses! The little
shining curls you have so often rolled over your
fingers, are a tangled mass; and you long to
take him and make him comfortable, and cor
set him a little, and then baby cries again and
you turn your head on the pillow with a moth
ered sigh. Nurse hears it and Charley is taken
struggling from the room. You take your
watch from under your pillow to see if your
husband won't be home soon, and then look at
nurse, who takes a pinch of snuff over your
gruel and sits down nodding drowsily, with the
baby in an alarming proximity to the fire.—
Now you hear a dear step on the stairs. It's
your Charley! How bright he looks and what
nice fresh air he brings with him out of doors !
He parts the bed curtains and looks in, and
pats you on the cheek. You just want to lay
your head on his shoulder, and have such a
splendid cry! but there sits that old Gorgon of
a nurse—she don't believe in husbands, she
don't! You make Charley a free mason sign,
to send her down stairs for something. He
says—right out loud—men arc stupid I "What
did you say dear ?" Of course you protest you
didn't say a word—never thought of such a
thing! and cuddle your head down to your ruf
fled pillow, and cry because you are weak,
weary, and full of care for your family, and
don't want to see anybody but 'Thorley I"
Nurse says "she will have you sick," and tells
your husband, "be had better go down and let
you go to sleep." Off he goes, wondering what
on earth ails you to cry! wishing he had noth
ing to do but to lie still.and be waited upon.
After dinner he comes to bid you good-bye
before . he goes to his office—whistles "Nelly
Bly" loud enough to wake up the baby, whom
31 25
1 50
2 50
he calls a comical little concern, and then puts
his dear thoughtless head down to your pillow,
at a signal from you, to hear what you have to
say. Well there's no help for it, you cry again,
and say, "Dear Charley!" and he laughs and
settles his dickey, and says you are a "nervous
little puss," and gives you a kiss, lights his ci
gar at the fire, half strangles the new baby with
the first whiff, and takes your heart off with
him down the street.
You lie there and cat that gruel and pick the
fuzz off the blankets, and snake faces at the
nurse, under the sheet, and wish Eve had nev•
er ate the apple—Genesis iii. 16—or that you
were "Able to Cain" her for doing it I
Sketch by Fanny Fern,
"An elderly gentleman, formerly a well-known
merchant, wishes a situation; ho will engage in
any respectable employment not too laborious."
I don't know the old man. I never saw him
on 'change, in a flue suit of broadcloth, leaning
on his gold-headed cane; while brokers, and
Insurance officers, and Presidents of Banks,
raised their hats deferentially, and the crowd
respectfully made way for him. I never kept
account of the enormous taxes he annually
paid the city, or saw his gallant ship ploughing
the blue ocean, with their costly freight to for
eign ports. I never saw him in his luxurious
home, taking Isis quiet siesta, lulled by the li
quid voice of his fairy daughter. No; nor did
I hear the auctioneer's hammer in that prince
ly home, nor see the red flag floating like a
signal of distress, before the door. I didn't
read the letter that recalled his only boy from
college, or see the bumble family, as they pass
ed, shrinking over the threshold into poor lodg
ings whose landlord coarsely stipulated for "a
week's rent in advance."
"Any occupation not too laborious." how
mournfully the old man's words full upon the
ear I Life to commence anew, with the silver
head, and bent form, and faltering step and
palsied hand of age! With the first ray of
morning-light, that hoary head must be lifted
from an unquiet pillow, to encounter the
drenching rain, and driving sleet, and piercing
cold. No reprieve for the throbbing brow and
dimmed eye, from the wearisome ledger.—
Beardless clerks make a jest of the "old boy;"
superciliously repeating in his insensitive ear,
their mutual master's orders. With them he
meekly receives his weekly pittance; sighing,
as he counts it over, to think of the few com
forts it will bring to the drooping hearts at
home. Foot-weary he travels through the
crowded streets; his threadbare coat, and nap-
less hat, and dejected face, all unnoticed by the
thriving young merchant, whom the old man
helped to his present prosperous position.—
The birth-days of his delicate daughter come
and go, all unmarked by the joy-bestowing gift.
With. trouble and exposure, sickness comes at
last; then, the tardy foot, and careless, proles- -
sional touch of the callous Dispensary Doctor;
then the poor man's hearse stands before the
door; then winds unheeded through the busy
streets, to the "Potter's field," while his former
cotemporaries take up the daily paper and sip
ping their wine say carelessly, as if they had a
quit-claim from sorrow, Well, Old Smith, the
broken down millionaire, is dead.
Alt, there are tragedies of which editors and
printers little dream, woven in their daily ad
vertising sheets; the office boy feeds the fire
with many a tear-blotted manuscript, penned
by trembling fingers, all unused to toil.
Iffar "Stolen fruit is the sweetest," and we
are inclined to think that stolen knives are the
sharpest; for the more we Mel them, the better
they cut.
may' It is absurd to gall "old maids," vino
gar•faced, inasmuch as thus is uo mother
about them.
iriMT,'!?,ITILATA'rDr.)
Frederic the Great,
FREDERIC of Prussia was a tyrant, without
doubt; but an enlightened one, and, in many
respects, a liberal one. He had the sentiment
of justice somewhat strongly developed, al
though he would commit, now and then, very
arbitary and cruel actions—witness his treat
ment of Baron Trenek, which, let the provoca
tion—never clearly understood—have been
what it might, could not have justified the at
rocious, systematic, and unintermitting perse
cution to which he was subjected. But allow
ances ought to be made for Frederic, if they
are to be made for anybody, possessed of so
much power, and so wholly irresponsible for
the use of it. It is surprising that the son of
suck a father as his could have had nny vir
tues at all—any feeling, or honor, or justice—
and then he was an absolute monarch—a posi-
tion but little calculated to foster and tumour.
age virtuous propensities. He was greatly su
p'erior to the crowned heads of his day—and
the affix of Great, accorded to him by his co-
temporaries, was very appropriate then, and
the judgment of posterity has confirmed it.—
Napoleon, though little addicted to saying flat
tering things of other majesties, admired Fred
eric, visited his tomb, fillibustered his sword,
and said of him that it was a pity so great a
man should ever die. Had Fritz, as his sold
iers called him, lived and reigned in our times,
it is likely that he would have been as much
superior to his crowned "brothers . ' and "sis
ters" of the year 1834 as lie was to those who
flourished seventy or eighty years ago. He
had the elements of greatness in him—and,
had be lived in better and more favorable
times, they would have been more signally de
veloped, it is likely. Voltaire, who professed
to hold atheists in great contempt—though but
little better than one himself—and who, as
Cowper says of him,
"Built Coda church, and laughed his word to
scorn,"
regarded the king as an atheist, when he was
in a bad humor with him. He was tolerant,
however, and enforced toleration throughout
his dominions—which no other monarch of his
time did fully, we believe. This at that day,
was much.
Frederic has had no equal, probably, in some
respects—in fortitude and tencity of purpose.
Here Napoleon was his inferior. He never
lost heart, never desponded, never despaired,
even when ho carried poison in his pocket as
the derider resort, if fortune should declare
against him finally. Napoleon did the same.
Such a war as ho carried on against more than
half of Europe no other man could have car
ried on then; and it is doubtful, we think,
whether.either Napoleon or iVellington could
have done so much, with such small means,
comparatively.
We have been led to make these few
remarks about Frederic in consequence of
finding, in the London Times, a letter of his to
his Minister, Finnkerstein, published recently
at Berlin, dated January 10 1657. This was a
very gloomy period of the war, and he tells his
Minister what ho must do in case the French
and Russians should be • successful against
him at certain points, and in it is the following
remarkable passage:
"Should Ibe killed, affairs are to be man
aged as if nothing had happened, without the
slightest alteration, and without seeming to be
in other hands. Should Ibe made a prisoner
by the enemy, I positively order that my per
son is not to be at all considered, nor the least
N. Y. Daily Paper.
attention paid to any thing I may write while
a prisoner. Should such a misfortune happen
to me, I intend to sacrifice myself for the
State: and obedience must them be paid to my
brother, [the heir presumptive,' for which he,
and the Ministers and Generals, shall answer
to one with their heads, that no ransom shall
be offered for me, and the war shall ho contin
ued precisely as if I had never existed."
In this there is nothing dramatic, no affecta
tion of a patriotism and resolution simulated
and not felt. Tho posture of the king's affairs
was a very critical one, and from the manner
in which he exposed himself in the battle he
fought, it was very likely that he might be kill
. ..
ed, or taken prisoner, against either of which
contingencies he bad made most heroic provi
sion. His brother and his Ministers and Gen
erals, knew him too well to attempt any depar
ture from his orders. About a question of a
political or military obedience he inherited the
ideas of his father, in a great degree. What
he says about their heads was no flourish, no
brutare fulmen, and that they knew, and would
have implicitly obeyed him with respect to all
ho said about himself, not from indifference to
his fate but from respect to his wishes, and
from fear of bis vengeance, if they did not
obey. - . .
But few letters have been written by kings
and potentates, we imagine, under similar cir
cumstances that can compare with this, for
self-sacrificing patriotism and disinterested
ness. The king bad plunged his country, very
unnecessarily into a war, but being in it, he
bore himself in a manner that endeared him
greatly to his countrymen and subjects. Had
ho lived later, he would probably have been a
greater man, and a better one; his ideas would
have been more expanded and liberal. But,
tried by the standard of his times, the oomph.
mentary epithet added to his name is not mis
applied, for he was—as the word was then, and
is now used—Great.—Daily Globe.
BM. An editor out west, in ,peaking of his
domestic increase, gives the following:
Sound the stage horn—blast the trumpet,
That the waiting world may know;
Publish it through all our borders,
Even unto Mexico.
Sieze the pen, Ohl dreaming poet!
And in numbers smooth as may be,
Spread afar the joyful tidings!
Belsy'd got another baby!
IS- Question fur philosophers—Which is
the worst, to contract debts, or enlargu them?
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 19, 1854.
There is talk, at present, over a revival of
the ancient arts for making the eye bright. A
lady writes to a correspondent of the London
Leader on the subject, who thus gives her ques-
tion, and his reply:
"Is it true that women stand over the fumes
of charcoal to make their eyes more bright?—
Arabella doubts it, but has beard it gravely
stated; Vivian has not heard it stated, but he
gravely doubts. Opium gives an unusual dis
tension to the pupil of the eye; but the effect
is not permanent, and after repeating that dan
gerous experiment a few times, the effect cea
ses altogether. Rouge gives lustre to the eye
—but unappily rouge itself is discernible, and
its moral effect on the beholder is dangerous."
There is also a rage for long eyebrows and
eyelashes—for which Roseland gives a recipe:
"In Cireassia, Georgia, Persia and India,
one of the mother's earliest cares is to promote
the growth of her children's eyelashes, by tip.
ping and removing the fine gossamer-like points
with a pair of scissors
_when they are asleep.—
By repeating this every month or six weeks,
they become, in time, long, close, finely curved
and of a silky gloss. The practice never fails
to produce the desired effect, and it is particu
larly useful, when, owing to inflamation of the
eyes, the lashes have been thinned or stunted."
But beauty is so rare, after all, in any very
astounding degree, its to be a phenomenon—
an exception—with which the laws and succes
ses of society have little to do. In Paris, at
any rate, the superiority is given altogether to
distinction of look—to the distingue woman of
fashion. In our country, (thank Heaven!) it
is given to the superior woman in all respects
—temper, education, character and grace. But
let us quote once more from the French writer
whose notions on the subject (translated for
the Albion) we made extracts from, a week or
two ago:
"I have sought to prove, both by theory and
illustration, that in the matter of beauty there
are only tastes and fashions. But should there
be those who, after criticising all, declare them
selves of a different opinion from every one—
who, when they see men to whom we owe the
most brilliant theories of beauty, take to their
arms and their hearts the most cynical and
frightful, and revolting refuse, are, in view of
such an anomaly, led to believe not only that
there is no type of the beautofid, but even . that
within certain limits there is neither individu•
ality in perception of the beautiful, nor individ
uality in a sense of what is ugly; that there are
only sentiments and sensations, sympathies
and antipathies, that attraction comprehends
everything; in short, that we have only love
and lovers—if, I say, them be those who fall
into such conclusions, I ant not one of them.
I have my creed. I have my enthusiasm, my
adored type. I have my own idea of the beau
tiful.
"Brought into comparison with the distin
guee woman, what becomes of others, half dei
fied in their day? We make models for artists,
from them; such and so great is the difference.
No; that alone is beautiful which has the pow
er of exciting agreeable emotions. Such is the
opinion of Plato, St. Augustin, Wolfe and Vol
taire—and they are right.
"In place of so much insipid perfeetion,how
greatly do I prefer all those pretty defects
which captivate us! Can anything., be more
seductive than our distingvees women? Can
anything be more charning than these slight
creatures, swaying, sparkling and ethereal,
like the flame of punch/ Al:! even if they
are what was said of than by llesiod ninehun
dred years before Christ—when be indignantly
stigmatized them as yule puyoslolos, that is to
say, women addicted to flesh. If their mind
be a problem, and their heart a myth, what
matters it? They are irresistible- Who could
remain insensible to emir witchery? They
have every sort of refinement, every manner of
charming weakness; they gather around them
all the silks, all the lace:, all the exquisite per
fumes of modern civiization, and then—
and to crown all. I do believe I am
giving into the je use eats gust. It is in truth a
little in the style of the girdle of Venus. Ho
mer, after exhausting hmself in enumerating
the gifts of the talisman after specifying "all
the charms of beauty and grace," makes an
awkward pause and winls up with this, which
is likewise our eonclution :—'Coupled with a
secret and mysterious charm which baffles
speech.' With us this tarot charm is, Fash
ion."
But let us wind up wth the following advo
cacy of plain women, vhich we find floating
about as an extract fres an American writer:
"Most ladies think it's the summit of mis
fortune to bo ugly. Ths is a mistake, quite
frequently. The chanes are, as the world
goes, that homely wonen are altogether the
best at heart, head and soul. A pretty face
often presides over I false heart and a
weak head, with the smallest shadow of a
soul."—Home Journal.
,'Where is your louse?" asked a tray.
eler in the depths of me of the "old solemr
wildernesses" of the Gnat West.
"House ?—I ain't gotno house."
"Well, where do you ire ?"
"I live in the woods—sleep on the Greni
Government Purchase, eat raw bear and will
turkey, and drink out o the Mississippi I"
And he added:
is getting too tick with folks about
here. You're the secold man I've seen with
in the last month, and[ hear there's a whole
family come in about fity miles down the river
I'm going to putout ira the woods again!"
M. "All things tirWsossible," said a coun
try parson, more distinplished for his immense
ly large mouth; than le the eloquence that
proceeded from it. "l'o," replied a darkey
hearer, "not possible t• make your mouf any
bigger widout settin' ear cars filmier back."
Cial- A man in attoupting to seine a favor•
able opportunity, 1611 bid on the borne of a
dilemma.
Woman's Beauty.
Sohn Milton the chief of poets, held the post
of Latin Secretary under Cromwell. At the
restoration, he was of course dismissed from
his office. He was now poor and blind, and
to these afflictions, Charles 11, added political
persecutions:—he fined him, and doomed his
writings on liberty to be publicly burned•—
Nrothing more daunted by these fierce nod
multiplied trinls, the great poet retired into
private life, invoked his mighty genius, and
produced "Paradise Lest !" But after he had
endured the ills of poverty several years,
Charles feeling the need of his matchless tall.
ents, invited him to resume his former post,
with all its honors and emoluments and court
favors. But Milton knew that the price of his
honor must be silence on the great question of
human liberty. Therefore, ho did not hesitate
a moment. It was a strong temptation—the
bribe was splendid. By merely keeping si
lence he could have honor, in abundance, and
high position, in exchange for poverty, perse
cution and neglect. But this could not be.—
The poet loved truth too well; his soul was too
noble, too sincere, too firm in its allegiance to
God and liberty; to barter away its right to
condemn tyranny for place or gold. Iknce,
he spurned the royal offer, clung to his princi
ples and his poverty, until death called his free
soul to cuter its congenial heaven. And so
gentle was the:summons; so sweetly calm was
his unruffled spirit in the hour of dissolution,
that his friends knew not' the precise moment
of his dead,.
how sublimely beautiful the grand old poet
stand out before the mind in this fact! liar
reused, tired, aged, and blind; having the pow
er to turn the enmity of n royal dispositism in
to favor, by simply refraining to speak and
write on the liberties of mankind, he grows
majestic in his poverty, as he nobly spurns the
bribe in obedience to the voice of duty. For
the truth's sake he holds fast to poverty and
obscurity. To maintain the right of free
speech, ho sacrifices himself, and defies the
power of the king. Noble Milton ! As the
author of "Paradise Lost," seated in his study,
surrounded by the sublime creation of his ge
nius, lie wears an aspect of sublimity; but in
that act of fidelity to God and liberty, his atti
tude is far more grand, sublime and beautiful.
As the first of poets, he shines resplendent with
intellectual lustre; as the scorner of the royal
bribe, ho exhibits the moral granduer of a
faithful man—he wills our ideal of the man of
faith, stauding defiant and unawed by human
power, because upheld by an immovable trust,
and by an unconquerable allegiance to his in
visible God. Well did the ancient heathen ex
claim, in similar circumstances See a sight
worthy of God l"—Zion . s 11,t7,1.
A B pectacle of Moral Grandner.
Happiness.
There is implanted in the mind a desire for
happiness, whirls all are endeavoring by every
possible means to gratify; some in one pursuit
and some in another; but however various the
pursuits may be, all are aiming at the same re
sult. All seem to be seeking it as the great
object of life; and I think this is perfectly jus
tifiable, if the right course is pursued. But
why do so many seek in vain ? It is because
happiness is not attainable in this life? It is
true that perfect happiness is not the growth
of a terrestrial soil; but earthly happiness is
comparative, and if rightly pursued may be
arrived at. Yet many, very many seek for
this gem of earthly good,all to no purpose; and
this is because they take the wrong course; for
unless sought in something besides sinful plea
sures and trifling pursuits, the so much covet
ed prize will never be obtained. There may
be a momentary pleasure attending such scenes
which might for the time being be mistaken
for happiness; and even this consists more its
anticipation than reality; but this will soon van
ish and leave an aching void in the heart.—
Happiness is more equally divided and also
more easily obtained than many may suppose;
but it will not be found in the trifling bubbles
of life, nor is it confined to the halls of wealth
as ninny suppose; but dwells with those of a
contented mind and quiet conscience; those
who employ their time and talents in useful
ness, and in endeavoring to promote the happi
ness of others. Wills such there will be the
consciousness of pure motives and right con
duct, which is of itself a well-spring of happi
ness, and which those who are pursuing an op
posite course, will never gain. But happiness
is equally in the power of all. All that will,
may secure the prize, fin• it is the good alone,
who are truly happy.---Pear/ Gatherer.
Facts in Human Life.
The number of languages spoken in the
world amounts to 3000-587 in Europe, 896 in
Asin, 276 in Africa, and 12GG in America.—
The inhabitants of the globe profess snore than
1000 different religions. The number of men
are about equal to that of the women. Life's
average is 28 years. Ono quarter die previous
to the ago of 17; and those who pass this age
enjoy a facility refused to ono half of the hu.
man species. To every 1000 persons, only one
reaches 100 years of life; to every 100, only
six reach the ago of 95; and not more than one
in 500 lives to 80 years of age. There are on
earth 1,000,000,000 inhabitants; and of these
33,333,333 die every year; 91,334 every day;
3780 every hour; and GO every minute, or one
every second. These losses are about balanced
by an equal ',tuber of births. The married
are longer lived than the single, and above all,
those who observe a sober and industrious con
duct. Tall men live longer than short ones.—
Women have more chances of life in their fa
vor previous to being fifty years of age, than
men have, but fewer afterwards. The number
of marriages is in proportion of 75 to every
1000 individuals. Marriages are snore frequent
after the equnioxes; that is dosing the months
of Juno and December. Those born in the
spring are generally more robust than others.
Births and deaths are more frequent by night
than by day.. The number of men capable of
bearing arms is calculated at one.fourth of the
population.
Another New Territory.
A letter to the N. Y. Herald, dated Carson
Valley, Utah territory, February 3d, says:
"We have applied to Congress to be separa
ted from Utah into a territory of our own, to
be pounded on the East by the Goose Creek
Mountains, North by Oregon, South and West
by California. A few snore voters are wanted
in Congress to 'preserve the balance of power.'
We will come in due time to demand a scat
there."
The area included within the limits thus de
scribed is about one-third of the territory of
Utah, of which it is the western part. It is re
mote from the Mormon settlement and adja
cent to California, by emigrants from which
the valley of Carson River Las been settled.—
These people are not Mormons, nor have they
any affinity to that strange collection of polyga
mists. They are industrious Americans, who
have occupied their present position because
of the beauty and fertility of the valley. Find
ing themselves beyond the pale of "the Eureka
State," it is quite natural they should feel res
tive at being under Mormon rule, and it would
seem no more than proper float their petition
for a separate territorial government should
receive consideration. But right in the path
way of their movement stands Senator Doug
las' slavery-agitation, obstructing all progress
towards providing governments for our at pre
sent uncared for territories.
The object of these and other settlers on the
Pacific is plainly avowed, for they honestly tell
us that they want to increase their numerical
strength in Congress. They think that if all
the new States on the Pacific slope of the con
tinent are made as large as California, the in
terests of that division must inevitably suffer--
in which idea we cannot think they err. The
States of the Mississippi valley are already ex
orbitant in their demands, and even refuse the
old original thirteen of the Atlantic seaboard
an equal participation in the favors of the na
tional government. The Pacific settlers can
hope fur no favors at their hands unless by the
force of munbers they can compel them.—
They arc right, therefore, in endeavoring to
build up such a power as by its array must
command respect at the national capitol. The
efforts which are now in progress to erect a
new territory out of the northern pert of Cali
fornia and the southern part of Oregon, are a
part of this policy. Ultimately some of these
plans must prove successful, however they may
be postponed or defeated fur a time. For as
soon as the seaboard States of the Atlantic
come to understand the true position of affairs,
they will perceive that it is to their interest to
create these new territories on the Pacific side,
in order to raise op an ally against the grasp
ing disposition of the States of the interior.
The Hand that Saves us.
Two painters were employed to fresco the
walls of a magnificent cathedral; both stood on
a rude scaffolding constructed for the purpose,
some forty feet from the floor. Ono of them
was so intent upon his work, that ho became
wholly absorbed, and in admiration stood from
the picture, gazing at it with intense delight.
Forgetting where he was, ho moved back slow.
ly, surveying critically the work of his pencil,
till he had neared the edge of the plank upon
which ho stood. At this critical moment his
companion turned quickly, and, almost frozen
with horror, beheld his imminent peril; anoth
er instant, and the enthusiast would be precip
itated upon the pavement beneath. If he spoke
to him it was certain death; if lie held his peace,
death was equally sure. Suddenly he regain
ed his presence of mind, and seizing a wet
brush flung it against the wall, splattering the
beautiful picture with unsightly blotches of col
oring. The painter flew forward, and turned
upon his friend with fierce upbraiding; but,
startled at his ghastly face, ho listened to his
recital of danger, looked shudderingly over the
dread space below, and with tears of gratitude
doubly blessed the hand that saved him. Just
so we sometimes get absorbed upon the pictures
of the world, and, in contemplating them, step
backward, unconscious of our peril, when the
Almighty, in mercy, dashes out the beautiful
images, and draws us, at the time we are com
plaining of his dealings, into his outstretched
arms of compassion and love. '
Raising Poulry,
As raising poultry is becoming a matter of
considerable interest, I send you a few remarks
on my experience, and some caThulations which
I have made, thinking they might be interes
ting to those, who, like myself, have had an at
tack of the chicken fever:
I have often heard it said that it was more
profitable to sell eggs than to raise chickens.
I did not think so; but to prove the matter, I
kept an account the past season of every egg
set and hatched. The following is the result:
Eggs set, 701
Chickens hatched, 457
" raised, 109
I consider that I had very "bad luck" in
raising so few. It was not entirely owing to
bad management, although I now see where I
made several mistakes. I had so many diffi
culties to contend with—the hawks, crows,
hogs, rats, &e.,—each and all took a large
share, and yet had the eggs been sold, the
average price would not have been more than
14 cents per dozen which would have amount
ed to $8,21 cents, whereas, I have sold 88
chickens, used in the family and given away
45, and have 36 left.
No accout was kept of the feed, because
those used in the family would considerably
more than have paid for that, had the "al
mighty dollar" been the entire object. Chick
ens pick up a great deal that would otherwise
bo wasted on a farm, and ono living in the
country knows what a satisfactio • it is to have
plenty of chickens and eggs of their own rais
ing.—Country Gentleman.
Ur A rather suspicious looking fellow was
seen, the other day, skinning the lost sheep of
Israel.
VOL. 19. NO. 16
Sleigh Riding with a Widow.
snow had fallen; the young of the village
got up a grand sleighing party to a country tav
ern at some distance; and the interesting Wid
ow Lambkin sat in the same slegh, under the
same buffalo as myself. "Oh I oh! don't' she
exclaimed, as we came up to the first bridge,
catching me by the arm, and turning her veil.
ed face towards me while her eyes twinklial in
the moonlight. "Don't what?" I salted; "1
ant not doing anything.
"Well, but I thought you were going to take
toll!" replied Mrs. Lambkin. I rejoined,
"what's that?" "How!" exclaimed the wid
ow, her clear laugh ringing out above the mu
sic of the bells, "Dr. Meadows pretends he don't
know what toll is" "Indeed, I don't then," I
said, laughing in turn. "Don't you know that
gentlemen, when they go on a sleighing party
claim a kiss as toll, when they cross a bridge
Well, I never!'' When next we earns to a
bridge and claimed toll, the struggles of the
widow to hold the yell were not sufficient to
tear it, and somehow when the veil was re
moved her face turned directly towards my
own, end in the glittering of the moonlight the
horse trotted on himself; toll was taken for the
first time in his life by Dr. Meadows. Soon
we came to a long bridge, but the widow said
it was no use to resist, and she paid up as we
reached it without a struggle. "But you won't.
take toll for every arch, will you doctor?" sho
asked. To which the only reply was a practi.
de affirmative to the question. Did you ever,
reader, sleigh-ride with a widow, and take toll
at the bridge?
Hibernian Simplicity.
An amusing instance of Hibernian simplici
ty is afforded by the following little story, told
us by a friend, in whose words we give it.
"Molly, our housemaid, is a model one, who
handles the broomstick like a sceptre, and who
has an abhorrence for dirt and a sympathy for
soapsuds, that amounts to a passion. She is
a bustling, busy, rosy-checked, bright-eyed,
blundering Hibernian, who hovers about our
book-shelve 6; makes war upon our love papers,
in the shape of undusted and unrighted con
ners.
"One day she entered our library in a oon•
fused and uncertain manner, quite different
from her usual bustling way. She stood nt the
door with a letter between her thumb and fin
ger, which she held at arm's length, ns if she
had n gunpowder plot in her grasp. In an
swer to our inquiries as to her business, she
answered:
"An' it plate yer honor, I'm a poor girl, and
host much larnin,' and ye sees, phase yer hon.
or Paddy O'Reilly, and the betther than bins
doesn't broths in ould Ireland, has been writ
in' of me a litther—a love letther, plate yer
honor; an'—an'—"
"We guessed at her embarrassment, and of
freed to relieve it, by reading the letter to her.
Still she hesitated, while she twisted a bit of
row cotton in her fingers.
"Shore,' she resumed, "an' that's jist what I
want, but it isn't a gentleman like yearself that
would be likin' to know ov the secrets between
us, and so (here she twisted the cotton quite
nervously) if it 'ill only phase yer honor, while
yer racking it, so that ye may not hear it per
self, if y'll jist put this bit of cotton in per ears
an' slap up per hermit', an' thin the secrets
be unbeknown to pc!"
"We hadn't the heart to refuse her, and with
the gravest face possible, complied with her
request; but often since, we have laughed hear-
tily as we have related the incident."
"Go it, Old Sorrel!"
"In my boyhood days," said the narrator, 6 1
used to reside with an old aunt, in the country,
who was strictly pions, went to church regular.
ly, and made me also follow the same Christian
practice. Among those who attended the
church regularly, was a man known among all
the villagers by the appellation of "Old Joe."
Old Joe, in addition to being a strict church.
gocr and devout Christian, (ho passed fur the
latter,) was something of a sporting character
—delighted in frequently indulging in horse
racing. His favorite nag he called "Old Sor
rel," and be would at any time put up his 'pile'
on "um Sorrel' against any other animated
home-flesh in the neighborhood. Well, as I
said before,Old Joe attend churched frequently,
and occasionally, like many others, used to in
dulge in a 'nap' during the sermon. While
thus luxuriating one Sunday—the divine put
ting in the big licks—spreading himself aston
ishingly—and just at that moment the latter
was indulging in one of his loftiest flights, Old
Joe, doubtless dreaming that he was on the
track, and participating in an animated race,
sung out, in aloud voics—"Go it, old Sorrel I
Go it, old Sorrel I" It is needless to say that
Joe's unconscious exclamation brought the
house down. Sober countenances, that had
never indulged in a smile, were distorted with
laughter; old women "snickered," and young
girls with cambrics up to their pretty faces, in
dulged in suppressed giggles. What added a
zest to the incident, was the fact that the min
ister had a most brilliant vermilion-tinted head
of hair. "Old Sorrel" wasn't bad, and the
crowd took the force of it."—N. Y. Monthly
Magazine.
_ _ _
EFFECT or THE RUSSIAN WAR.--WOILISII—
"A three forties candle, if you please." Chan•
dler—"They're a penny apiece now!" Woman
—"Why how's that I" Chandler—"lt's on ac•
count of the Russian war." Woman—" Don't
mean to tell me they're fightin' by candlelight?'
1%4'. There is a man "down east," so tall
that he has to use a ten.foot pole to pick his
teeth with.
There is another so fat that he has to set his
shadow up edge ,ways.
Another so lean that his neighbors have to
shut one eye to see him.
"What's whisky bringing V' inquired a
dealer in that article.
'Bringing men to the gallows, was the reply,