Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, June 21, 1854, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

The "HUNTINGDON JOURNAL" is published at
the following rates :
If paid in advance
If paid within six months after the time of
subscribing 1,75
If paid at the end of the your
. . . .
Arid two dollars and MY' cents if not paid fill
after the expiration of the year. No subscription
•rill be taken fora less period than six months,
and no paper will he discontinued, except at the
.option of the Editor, until all arrearages are paid.
Subscribers living in distant counties,or in other
States, will be required to pay invariably in
,toThe above terms will be rigidly adhered
ll cases.
Will be charged at the following rates
1 insertion. 2 do. 3 do.
Six lines or less $ 25 $ 37i $ 50
One square, (16 lines,) 50 75 100
Two " (32 " ) 100 150 200
Three " (48 " ) 150 225 300
Business men advertising by the Quarter, Half
Year or Year, will be charged the following rates:
3 mo. 6 mo. 12 mo.
One square, $3 00 $5 00 $8 00
Two squares, 500 800 12 00
Three squares, 750 10 00 15 00
Four squares, 900 14 00 23 00
Five squares, 15 00 25 00 38 00
Ten squares, 25 00 40 00 60 00
Business Cards not exceeding six lines, one
year, $4 00.
.108 WORK:
* sheet handbills, 30 copies or less,
It Cs CS IC If
2 50
4 00
I.ll.Asss, foolscap or less, per single quire, 1 50
" 4 or more quires, per 1 00
Extra charges will be made for heavy
(14r All letters on business must be POST PAID
to secure ntteution. „S9l
pcA - vaaaa,.
He passed from out the cottage•door
As one whom Fate had smitten,
Oh what can stay the heavy grief
Of one whose got the MITTEN?
He dashed along the village street
With frenzy in his eye,
So that withperfect recklesness
He made the gravel fly.
Alas for him! A cheerless bank
Was life's untrodden way,
And with the poet he exclaimed,
'1 would not live alway.'
He rode away, unheeding all,
A cheerless man and Lone,
As if stern grief that ne'er relents
Had marked bins for her own.
He clenched his hand above his head—
His heart no pulse of joy stirs,
So ho dashed into a neighboring shop,
The Fighting Preacher.
The Western itinerants (who were the legis
fielminea of the American ministry of their
day) were usually brawny, athletic men, physi
cally, if not mentally, educated almost to per
fection. They had occasion sometimes to
preach to their rude hearers with their stout
fists, as well as their stentorian lungs. "At a
camp-meeting," says Mr. Finley, "a row was
raised, on Saturday, by about twenty lewd fel
lows of the baser sort, who came upon the
ground intoxicated, and bad vowed they would
break up the meeting. One of the preachers
went to the leader for the purpose of getting
hint to leave; but this only enraged him, and
he struck the preacher a violent blow on the
face and knocked him down. Here the conflict
began. The members saw that they must
either defend themselves or allow the ruffians
to beat them, and insult their selves and daugh
ters. It did not take them long to decide.—
They very soon placed themselves in attitude
of defence. Brother Birkammer, an exceeding.
ly stout man, seized their bully leader who had
struck the preacher, and, with one thrust of his
brawny arm, crushed bins down between two
benches. The aid-de-camp of the bully ran to
his relief, but it was to meet the same; for no
sooner did he come within reach of the Metho
dist, than with crushing force he felt himself
ground on the back of his comrade in distress.
Here they were held in durance vile, till the
sheriff and his posse came and took possession,
and binding them with ten others, they were
carried before a justice, who fined them heavi
ly for the misdemeanor. As soon as quiet was
.restored, Bishop Ashbury occupied the pulpit.
After singing and prayer, he rose and said he
.would give the rowdies some advice
"You must remember that all our brothers
in the church are not yet sanctified, and I ad
vise you to let them alone; for if you get them
angry, and the devil should get in them, they
are the strongest men to fight and conquer in
the world. I advise you, if you do not like
Ahem, to go home and let them alone."
'ln speaking of one of his brother itinerants
—one to whom it was owing "that Methodism
is now the prevailing religion is Illinois," he
At the camp-meeting held at Alton in the
autumn of 1833, the worshippers were annoyed
by a set of desperadoes from St. Louis, under
the command of Mike Fink, a notorious bully,
the triumphant bully of countless fights, in
none of which he had ever mot an equal, or
even second. The coarse, drunken ruffians
carried it with a high hand--outraged the men
and insulted the women, so as to threaten the
dissolution of all pious exercises; and yet such
was the terror the name of their leader—Fink
—inspired, that no one individual could be
found brave enough to face his prowess. At
last, one day, when Mr. ascended the
pulpit to hold forth, the desperadoes, on the
outskirts of the encampment, raised a yell so
deafening no to drown utterly every other
sound. Mr..11— . 8 dark eyes shot light
ning. lie deposited his Bible, drew off his
coal. and remarked aloud
"Wait for a few minutes, my brethren, while
ga I.nd mate the devil pray.-
at filth gbkill lOriTll4t. •
He then proceeded, with a smile on his lip,
to the focus of the tumult, and addressed the
chief bully thus:
"Mr. Fink, I have come to make you pray."
The desperado rolled back the tangled fes
toons of his blood•red hair, arched his huge
brows with a comical expression, and replied:
"By golly! I'd like to see you do it, old
"Very well," said M-, "will these gen.
tlemen, your courteous friends, agree not to
show foul play ?"
"In course they will; they're rale grit, arid
won't do nothin' but the clear thing, so they
won't," rejoined Fink indignantly.
"Are you ready?" asked M-.
"Ready as a race horse with a light rider,"
squaring his ponderous person for the coming
But the bully spoke too soon; for scarcely
had the words left his lips, when M
made a prodigious bound toward his antago•
nist, and accompanied h with a quick, shooting
punch of his herculean fist, which fell crashing
the other's chin, and hurried him to the earth
like lead. Then even his intoxicated comrades,
filled with involuntary admiration at the feat,
gave a cheer. But Fink was up in a moment,
and rushed upon his enemy, exclaiming:
"That wasn't fair, so it wasn't."
He aimed a ferocious stroke, which
parried with his left hand, and, grasping his
throat with the right, crushed him down as if
lie had been an infant. Fink struggled,
squirmed and writhed in the dust, but all to no
purpose; for the strong muscular fingers held
his windpipe as in the jaws of au iron vice.—
When he began to turn purple in the face and
ceased to resist, M— slackened his hold,
and inquired:
"Will you pray, now ?"
"I doesn't know a word how," gasped Fink.
"Repeat after me," commanded M—.
"Well, if I must, I must," answered Fink,
"because you're the devil himself."
The preacher then said over the Lord's
Prayer, line by line; and the conquered bully
responded in the same way, when the victor
permitted him to rise. At the consummation,
the rowdies roared three boisterous cheers.—
Fink shook M—'s hand, declaring:
"By golly, you're some beans in a bar fight;
I'd rather set•to with an old be bar in dog
days. You can pass this 'ere crowd of nose
smashers, with your pictur."
Afterwards, Fink's party behaved with the
utmost decorum; and M— resumed his
seat in the pulpit.
$1 25
1 50
A Perfeot Wife.
Edmund Burke, the distinguished orator,
presented to his wife on the anniversary of their
marriage, his idea of a "perfect wife," which
is supposed to be a true portrait of Mrs. Burke.
It is certainly a lovely picture, worthy of the
pen of the author of "The Essays on the Sub
lime and Beautiful." The following are ex
tracts :
The character of
She ;'s handsome, but it is beauty not arising
from the features, from complexion, or from
shape. She has all three in a high degree, but
it is not by these that she touches the heart;
it is all that sweetness of temper, benevolence,
innocence, and sensibility, which a face can
express, that forms her beauty. She has a face
that just arises your attention at first sight; it
grows on you every moment, and you wonder
it did not more than raise your attention at
Her eyes have a mild light, but they 'awe
when she pleases; they command like a good
mass out of office, not by authority, but by vir
Her stature is not tall, she is not made to be
the admiration of every one, but the happiness
of one.
She has all the firmness that does not ex
clude delicacy.
She has all the softness that does not imply
Her voice is soft, low music, not formed to
rule in public assemblies, but to charm those
who can distinguish a company from a crowd;
it has its advantage, you must come close to
her to hear it.
To describe her body, describe her mind; one
is the transcript of the other; her understanding
is not shown in the variety of matter it exerts
itself on, but the goodness of the choice she
She does not display it so muds in saying or
doing, striking things, as in avoiding such as
she ought not to say or do.
No person of so few years can know the
world bettor; no person was ever less corrupt
ed by the knowledge.
Her politeness flows rather from a natural
disposition to oblige, than any rules on that
subject, and, therefore, never fails to strike
those who understand good breeding, and those
who do not.
She has a steady and firm mind, which takes
no more from the solidity of the female clime.
ter than the solidity of marble does from its
polish and lustre. She has such virtues as make
us value the truly great of our own sex. She
has all the winning graces that makes us love
even the faults we ace in the weak and beauti
ful in her.
Gems of Eloquence.
The followingsare reported amongst the af
ter-dinner toasts, nt a late Irish festival. The
humor of thorn may be well relished without
localizing them.
Tut: LADIES I-11lay the rosy dreams of sweet
hope always embrace them with the bland
breeze of virtuous sleep, anc: may their candid
slumbers never cense to propitiate the gifts of
a favorable heaven. Hero's the man that own
ed the land, that raised the corn, that fed the
goose, that bore the quill, that made the pen,
that wrote the Declaration of Independence.--
IDELAND:—WouId that. all her oppressors had
but ono reservoir of blood—that I might perfo
rate that hatred receptacle with a single dag
ger, and let. the fluid n•asb over tul:1 fertilize
my native land,
From the Cincinnati Commercial,
.A Romantic Match.
We have just learned of some romantic ad
ventures, which took place at Cynthinia, Ky.,
a few days ago. It appears that a very clever,
fine looking young gentleman from Philadel
phia, had occasion to visit Cynthinia, on busi
ness during the past winter, and while there,
became acquainted with a young lady, Miss
B—, somewhat celebrated for her charms.
Mr. S—, the Philadelphian, was not proof
against the bright eyes of the Kentucky maid
en. He had never seen such glorious, liquid,
sparkling pair of orbs among the daughters of
the Old Keystone. He was ravished, intoxica
ted, and finally proposed to the bright eyes and
was accepted. With a light heart he started
back to the Quaker City to make the necessary
arrangements for the celebration of his nup
tials, the day for which having already been
agreed upon.
The winter rolled on, and spring and its flow
ers came again, as did also the particular day
for the lover's return; but he came not. In two
days more the marriage was to come off. The
fair one was restive and mortified. With her
bright eyes full of tears, she denounced the
faithlessness of her lover, and trembled at the
open mortification which would overwhelm her
if lie came not. At this favorable juncture an
old and discarded lover, whom no unkindness
could divest of hope or lessen the fervency of
his first affection, presented himself. He re
newed his suit. He spoke of his undying love;
the holy happiness of the wedded state of a cot
tage somewhere in the deep bosom of an um
brageous grove, with the honey-suckle and the
jasamine creeping Over the windows and along
the latticed porch. The trembling fair one was
charmed at the picture. Love in a cottage—
the quintessence of human bliss in the estima
tion of a girl of "sweet sixteen." She blushed
and smiled, but yet hesitated. The lover was
in exstacies at the favorable symptoms. With
renewed ardor he urged his suit. He was pro
lific in tears and promises, and trimmed the
cottage with a few more honey-suckles and the
thing was done. The Philadelphia gallant was
given up. He was a "laggard in love," and
deserved no consideration. Her faith was
pledged to another, and the same day fixed for
the marriage which was to have witnessed her
union with Mr. —.
But the end was not yet. During the same
day a third lover presented himself and decla
red his passion. The fair maiden frankly told
him she had just engaged herself to another,
and invited him to the wedding as a guest, in
stead of a groom. On the same evening, (Sum
day) Mr. 5 arrived from Philadelphia.
He was not long in finding out how matters
stood, and was aghast at the intelligence that
Miss B--- was to be married to another
instead of himself, on the following Tuesday.—
He at once took his way to her house and had
an interview, with the result of which he seem
ed particularly well pleased. He then stepped
into the principal livery stable in the place,
and asked to hire the very best carriage and
horses to go to Maysville. The proprietor in
formed him that it would be impossible to ac
commodate him. That he was to be married
on the following Tuesday, and would have use
for all his carriages to go on a little bridal tour
which he purposed. "May I ask to whom?''
said Mr. s—, with some misgivings. "To
Miss 13—," was the reply. Mr. S—
preserved his temper, and simply remarked
that it was highly important he should be at
Maysville at the earliest possible moment, and
that he was prepared to give any reasonable
price for a carriage. The liberality of this in
direct offer had a sensible effect on the propri.
etor. He got out his best hack and pair, and
charged the young stranger did' sum of $3O for
the trip. In a very short time afterwards, Miss
13— found herself sitting beside the young
Philadelphian, in the above mentioned carriage,
and going towards Maysville at the rate of
about ten miles an hour.
It was soon noised through the town that
Miss B had run away with her Philadel
phia lover. Her guardian, who was opposed
to the match, at once mounted a fleet horse,
and started in hot pursuit. About half-way to
Maysville, he overtook the fugitives and at
tempted to seize the young lady. The young
Philadelphian waived him off, and spoke in
this wise : "Sir, you can't have her; and you
must do one of three things--you must go back
and leave us to putsue our journey, or you
must kill me, or I'll kill you." This talk
brought guardy up standing. It was entirely
unexpected. And not wishing to kill, and par
ticularly not to be killed, he accepted the first
proposition, turned tail, and took the back
track. The lovers pursued their way to Mays
ville, crossed over to Aberdeen, were married,
drove back to Cynthinia, and put up at the
principal hotel.
A crowd at once surrounded the house and
threatened vengeance on the Philadelphian for
carrying away the prettiest girl in the town,
and who was the promised wife of an esteemed
citizen. The young man, nothing daunted,
placed his wife safely in her chamber, and
then came boldly down to the steps of the hotel
and began to address the mob. If our phono
graphic notes are correct, his speech was ex
actly in these words : "Gentlemen : You ought
not to blame me for what I have done. Most
of you would have done the same thing, had
you been in my place. Instead of threats and
reproaches, you ought to offer me a compli
mentary supper. Still, if you are not satisfied,
lam ready to give you satisfaction. I will
fight you all, one at a time, and if that don't
do. I'm ready to put all through at once, and
then clean out the balance of the town."
This show of chivalry was too much for a
Kentucky audience. The sympathy of the
! crowd, at once changed sides. They gave him
three deafening cheers, and then rushed in and
congratulated him with all the heartiness of the
Kentucky character. The landlord was order
.ed to bring out his best bourbon, and plenty of
it, and the crowd with great good will and sin•
verity, gave and drools to the happy gruotn the
noble sentiment—" None bat the brave deserve
the fair."
A Sailor's Tough Yarn about Foxes.
When I was on the Greenland fishing ground
(said Jack) I came very near being eaten alive
by foxes, and that in a very singular manner.
I was then mate of the ship. We had been on
the fishing ground for three months, and had
twelve fish on board. Finding we were doing
well, we fixed our ice•anchors upon a very
large iceberg, drifting up and down with it,
and taking fish as we fell in with them. One
morning, we had just cast loose the carcass of
a fish which we had cut up, when the man in
the crow's nest, on the look out for another
"fall," cried out that a large polar hear ar.d
her cub were swimming over to the iceberg,
against the side of which, and about half a mile
from us, the carcass of the whale was beating.
As we had nothing to do, seven of us immedi
ately started in chase; we had intended to have
gone after the foxes, which had gathered there
also in hundreds, to prey upon the dead whale.
It was then quite calm; we soon came up with
the bear, who at first was for making off, but
as the cub could not get over the rough ice as
well as the old one, she at last turned round to
bay. We shot the cub to make sure of her,
and it did make sure of the dam not leaving us
till either she or we perished in the conflict.—
I shall never forget her moaning over the cub,
as it lay bleeding on the ice, while we fired
bullet after bullet into her. At last she turned
round, gave a roar and a gnashing snarl, which
you might have heard a mile, and, with her
eyes flashing fire, darted upon us. We receiv
ed her in a body, all close together, with our
lances to her breast; but she was so largo and
so strong, that she beat us all back, and two of
us fell; fortunately the others held their ground,
and she was then at an end, three bullets were
put into her chest, which brought her down. I
never saw so large a beast in my life. I don't
wish to make her out larger than she really
was, but I have seen many a bullock in Smith
field which would not weigh two-thirds of her.
Well, after that, we had some trouble in dis
patching her; and while we were so employed,
the wind blew up in gusts from the northward,
and the snow fell heavy. The men were for
returning to the ship immediately, which cer
tainly was the wisest thing for us all to do; but
I thought that the snow-storm would blow over
in a short time, and not wishing to lose so fine
a skin, resolved to remain and flay the beast;
for I knew, if left there a few hours, as the
foxes could not get hold of the carcass of the
whale, which had not grounded, that they would
soon finish the bear and cub, and the skins be
worth nothing. Well, the other men went back
to the ship, and as it was, the snowstorm came
on so thick, that they lost their way, and would
never have found her, it it was not that the bell
was kept tolling for a guide to them. I soon
found that I had done a very foolish thing; in
stead of the storm blowing over, the snow came
down thicker and thicker; and before I had ta
ken a quarter of the skin off, I was becoming
cold and numbed, and then I was unable to
regain the ship, and with every prospect of be
ing frozen to death before the storm was over.
At last, I knew what was my only chance. I
had flayed all the belly of the beast, but had
not cut her open. I ripped her up, tore out all
her inside, and contrived to get into her body,
where I lay. and, having closed up the entrance
hole, was warm and comfortable, for the ani
tnal heat had not yet been extinguished. This
manccuvre no doubt saved my life; and I have
heard that the French soldiers did the same in
their unfortunate Russian campaign, killing
their horses, and getting inside to protect them
selves from the dreadful weather. Well, I had
not lain there over half an hour, when I knew,
by sundry jerks and tugs at my new-invented
hurricane house, that the foxes were busy—and
so they were, sure enough. There must have
been hundreds of them, for they were at work
in all directions, and some pushed their sharp
noses into the opening where I had crept in;
but I contrived to get out my knife and saw
their noses across whenever they touched me,
otherwise I should have been eaten up in a ve
ry short time. There were so many of them,
and they were so ravenous, that they soon got
through the bear's thick skin, and were tearing
away at the flesh. Now I was not so much
afraid of their eating me, as I thought that if I
jumped up and discovered myself, they would
have all fled. No saying, though: two or three
hundred ravenous devils take courage when
together; but I was afraid that they would de
your my covering from the cold; and I also was
afraid of having pieces nipped out of me, which
would, of course, oblige me to quit my retreat.
At last daylight was made through the upper
part of the carcass, and I was only protected
by the ribs of the animal, between which every
now and then their noses dived and nipped my
seal akin jacket. I was just thinking of shout
ing to frighten them away, when I heard the
report of half-a dozen muskets, and some of the
ballets struck the carcass, but fortunately did
not hit me. I immediately hallooed as loud as
I could, and the men, hearing me, ceased fi•
ring. They had fired at the foxes, little think
ing that I was inside the bear. I crawled out,
the storm was over, and the men of the ship
had come back to look for me. We were very
sorry to lose the skins of the bears, but we took
fourteen foxes, which was as many as we could
conveniently carry aboard ship.
digs, I hoes,
I plows, I mows,
I gets up wood for winter,
I reaps, I sows,
I Caters grows,
And for ell knows,
lin 'debted to the printer.
I do surpose t
Ail knowledge flows
Riglit from the Minting press,
SQ, off I goes,
In Aileen 'ere clu's
And aettie
Reflections of Methuselah,
To day I am a hundred years old. How
blushing are the feelings of boyhood I My aen.
sex are acute as the tree with the shrinking leaf.
My blood bounds through my veins as the river
pours through the valley rejoicing in its strength.
Life lies before me like another plain of Shiner
—vast, unoccupied; inviting—l will fill it with
achievements and pleasure I In about sixty
years it will he time for me to think about
marrying; my kins-woman Zillah, will by that
time have emerged from girlhood; she already
gives promise, I hear, of comeliness and discre
tion—twenty years hence I will pay a visit to
her father, that I may see how she grows; mean
while, I will build a city to receive her when she
becomes my wife.
Nearly three centuries have passed since my
marriage. Can it be? It seemed but yester
day since I sported like a young antelope round
my father's tent, or clinging to the dark ceders
nestled like a bird among the thick boughs—
and now I am a man is authority, as well as
in prime of life. I lead out my trained serv
ants to the fight, and sit head of the council,
beneath the very tree where, as an infant, my
mother laid me down to sleep. Jazod, my
youngest born, a lovely boy of thirty summers,
is dead, but I have four goodly sons remain
ing. And my three daughters are fair as their
mother when I first met her in the acacia grove,
where now stands one of my city watch-towers.
They are the pride of the plain, no less for their
acquirements than their beauty. No damsel
carries the pitcher from the fountain with the
grace of Adah—none can dry the summer fruit
like Azubah—and none can fashion a robe of
skins with the skill of Mach. When their
cousin Mahaleol has sees another half century,
he shall take the choice of the three.
My eight hundredth birth day I And now I
feel the approach of ngeand infirmity. My
beard has become white as the blossoms of the
alinond tree. lam constrained to use a staff
when I journey,tho stars look less bright than
formerly; the flowers smell less odorous; I have
laid Zillah in the tomb of the rock; Misch is
gone to the dwelling of Mahaleel; my son takes
my place at the council and in the field; all is
changed; The long future has become a short
past. The earth is full of violence; the ancient
and the honorable are sinking beneath the youth
and the vicious. The giants stalk through the
length and breadth of the land. where once
dwelt a quiet people; all is changed. The beast
of the field and the monster of the deep growl
and press on us with unwonted fury; traditions,
visions and threatenings are abroad.
What fearful doom hangs over the fair world
I know not; it is enough that I am leaving it;
yet another five or eight score years, and the
tale will be complete. But hard I, in every
deed, trod this earth nearly a thousand years?
It is false, lam yet a hoy. I have had a dream
—a long, long busy dream of buying and sell
ing, marrying and giving in marriage; of build
ing and planting; feasting and warring; sorrow
ing and rejoicing; loving and bating; but it is
all false to call it a life. Go to—it has been a
vision of the night; "Lamech, meson, how long
is it since we planted the garden of oaks be
side the river? Was it not yesterday?" "My
father, dost thou forget? Those oaks cast a'
broad shadow when my sister carried me be
neath them in her arms, and wove me chaplets
of the leaves."
Thou art right, my son, and lam old. Lead
me to my mother's tomb, and there leave me
to mediate. What am I the better for my past
length and being? Where will be its records
when lam gone? They are yonder—on all
sides. Will those massy towers fall? Will
those golden plants become desolate? Will
the children that call me father forget? The
seers utter dark sayings on their harps, and
they sing of the future; they say our descen
dants shall be men of dwindling stature; that
the years of their life shall be contracted to the
span of boyhood; but—l have listened to the
tales of Paradise—nay, in the blue distance I
have seen the dark tops of its cedars. I have
heard the solemn melodies of Jubal when he
sat on the seashore, and the sound on the wa
ter, mingled with his harping. I have seen
angels the visitants of men—have seen the end
of all perfection—what is the future to me?
Titles in the Turkish Empire.
The frequent use of the words 'sultan,'
'porte,' Stc., in the newspapers publishing ac-
counts of affairs in Turkey at the present time,
is erroneously understood by many persons.
The sublime porte is the official title of the
government of the Ottoman empire, and not
the title of any officer of the government, as
many suppose it to be.
The Ottoman emperor is called sultan, or
grand sultan, or grand seignor, according to
the fancy of the person speaking or writing.—
They all mean the same thing.
Packs is the governor of a province, and ac
cording to the importance of his province he is
distinguished by one, two or three tails. Every
paella has his own army in his province, din.
tinct from the grand army of the empire. A
pacha with three tails has the power to punish
any agent who seems to threaten the general
Bey is the sub governor under the pacha.
The divan is the council of the state, and
cons:eta of the principal ministers.
The rein effendi is high chancellor of the
empire, and stands at the head of all the body
of attorneys—which body is thought to contain
the best informed men of the nation.
Cadi is a sort of judge or justice of the peace.
To order the bastinado on common people, to
impose a fine on a rich Greek or European, to
condemn a thief to be hanged, is about all the
duty of an orthatary Cadi.
ger"Pa," said a little seven year old fellow.
.1 guess our man Ralph is a good Christian."
"How so, my boy.?" "Why, pa, I just read in
the Bible that the wicked shall not live out
half their days, and Ralph says b.., be,
out eti•er since be vas a little b."
A New Jersey Magistrate.
A distinguished member of the New York
bar was retained on one occasion by a friend,
also a new Yorker, to attend a complaint made
against him before a New Jersey Dutch justice,
an alleged assault and battery upon one of the
residents of the 'old Jersey State.'
"I appear for the prisoner," said the counsel.
for to the modern Dogberry.
"You appear for de bris'ner, do you? and
who den be you?" interrupted the justice, eye
ing him from bead to foot with marked curios
ity; "I don't knows you; vair bo's you come
from and vot's your name?"
The counsellor modestly gave his name, and
"I am a member of the New York bar."
"Vel, den," replied the justice, "you gan't
bractis in die here gort."
"I am a counsellor of the Supreme Court of
the State of New York," reiterated the attorney.
"Dat makes noting tifferent," said the invet
erate jestice.
"Well, then, suppose I show to your honor
that I am a counsellor of the Supreme Court
of the U. 5.," said the baffled lawyer.
"It ton't make a pit petter," replied the er
mine; "you ain't a gounsellor von do State of
New Jersey, and you gan't bractis in dish gort."
On another occasion, the same dignitary
said to a jury, who had been listening to a 'tri
al' before him of an unfortunate fellow, for
for some offence against the State:
"Shendlemens of der shoory, sthand up; die
here yellow, der bris'ner at de par, says he ish
von New York: now I dinks be he's a pucher.
boy, be trives pigs troo de shtreets, yen he
trives de pigs, he gits odder beeple's pigs mit
dem vot he bud pefore, date vet I call pig
stealin'. Now shentlemens, if de yellow shteal
a gow in Jersey, and derofore, I tink he be a
gow tief; and your shudgement shall be kilty-
Vot you shall say, shentlemen of de shoory ?
lob he kitty, oder not kitty? If you say be is
kilty, I sends him to de shtate brison mit two
years." And be did send him
Dow Jr'a Faith.
I believe that kicking against custom, and
spitting in the face of fashion, is a futile and
foolish endeavor. Both may need correction—
but they must and will have their own way.
I believe that if the devil be the father of li
ars, he has a plaguy large family to look after,
and that it is rapidly increasing.
I believe that girls are like kittens—gently
smoothe them the right way, and they rub and
purr most affectionately, but give them the
contrary brush, and their back is up in the
most disdainful manner. They like to be kis
sed, but sham a delicacy about the operation.
I believe that human flesh is hard to digest.
Jonah didn't sit easy on the stomach of the
I believe that simple honesty, the naked
truth, pure virtue, and straight up and down
way of dealing with the world, have as much
advantage over the vices, tricks and stratagems,
in the long run, as a good square trotting horse
has over a prancing poney, or a racky that
goes his mile or two like the mischief, and is
dose for the rest of the journey.
A Fish Story.
Four clergymen, a Baptist, Presbyterian,
Methodist, and Roman Catholic, met by agree
ment to dine on fish. Soon as grace was said
the Catholic rose, armed with knife and fork,
and taking about one-third of the fish, cotnpre.
hending the head, removed it to his plate, ex
claiming as he sat down, with great self-satis
faction, "Papa est caput ecelesire" (the Pope
is the head of the Church.) Immediately the
Methodist minister arose, and helping himself
to about one-third, embracing the tail, seated
himself, exclaiming, "Finis coronet opus" (the
end crowns the work.) The Presbyterian now
thought it was time for him to move, and ta
king the remainder of the fish to his plate, ex
claiming, "In media est veritas' (truth lies be
tween the two extremes.) Our Baptist brother
had nothing before him but an empty plate and
the prospects of a slim dinner, and snatching
up the bowl of drawn (melted) butter, he dash
ed it over them all, exclaiming, "Ego baptize
vas." (I baptize you all.)
Five boys went into a wood to gather ches
nuts; having procured what they wanted, they
started home, when climbing a fence, A drop
ped half his nuts. Hero cnmmenced a regular
'grab game.' B got 1.3; C, 3.10; D, 1-10; E;
); and &Alm remainder. In the scuffle, C's
basket turned over and spilled all he had pick
ed up, and 2.5 of his original number. At it
they went again, and setting down his basket,
D resolved to get an equal share with the rest
this time, at the same time grabbing of the
booty, and leaving the others in possession of
equal shares of the other half; but looking up
he found that A and B had robbed his basket
of 1.5 of its contents—A having taken 3-20 and
1,20. Enraged at this, he pushed B backwards
against E, who fell and scattered his nuts, (orig
inal stock) in every direction. Hero began
another scramble, at the close of which A had
secured I; B; 1-5; C, 1.10; D, 1.14; and H, the
remainder. Congratulating himself on his
good luck, B began to boast of loosing none,
when a blow from I), knocked 1.3 of his whole
stock out of his basket, of which he got 1-5; A,
1.5 and E, 3-5. Tired of scuffling,they now'pro
ceeded to count their nuts, sad found that A
had gained 1893; B, 613, and D, 2000, and
that C had lost 2055, and E, 2456, during the
scuffle. Required each one's original number.
T heyt ell, mei a Nh a .M sem aye T,
A Nda LLT bola die RS Av;
"Dols OK a Wm. the Deo R,ol D ma N
G row aYo Nge Rev ER Yd ay."
do Dwho n ca Chrir end a tilts A tyou raGe
'Ho wen. Me y out Reef rom il, LS :!'
Jul wa Y cane we Rinm yyn U Th
I pa I Dmypr I ate WS bi L I.
M — The first ,ter to g?tatnels , be bor
VOL. 19. NO. 25.
zilch Cows.
I have never kept more than from twelve to
fourteen cows, and so far as My experience
extends. I have come to the conclusion that it
is hest to keep good ones, and no more than I
can keep well. When they come to the barn
in the fall, I ant careful to give them a change
of feed as much as possible. To those that do
not give milk, I give the poorer hay, and occa •
sionally corn husks, stalks, &c., until about six
weeks before calving, when I give them better
hay, and some grain. By this way of mana
ging, the flesh that the cow puts on by her own
industry in the summer, is easily kept on thro'
the winter, with a little extra care, which era•
hies her to bring us a good, strong, healthy
calf, worth at least five dollars when four weeks
old. To the cows that I milk through thewin
ter, I give good hay, giving them for a change
a foddering of clover, husks and rower (if we
have it) almost every day. The clover I always
intend to use up before the first of March. I
feed them on the chop twice a day, mixing a
few hours before feeding, giving them about
four quarts of shorts and two quarts of cab
meal a day, with about half a bushel of cot
hay of poor quality, with a tablespoonful of
salt at each time of feeding. This I think pro.
duces more milk than the same quantity of
grain given in any other way. Great cars
should be taken not to excite the cow when
driving to water or the pasture. If the boys
must drive them, do not let more than one
drive at a time. Kindness pours out the milk
.d lays on the fat. Kicking cows are always
plenty where there aro kicking milkers. I
know it by experience. It is an old and trus
saying, that "good pastures make fat calves,"
and it is equally true, that much feed makes
much milk. As to the different breeds of cows
I have not had much experience. I have one
that is called the cream-pot breed, which is one
of the best I have ever owned for milk. There
are quite a number of half blooded Ayrsbires
in the neighborhood, which have the name
and appearance of being good milkers. I ant
rather partial to the old rubes breed for milk
ers, when I can get the right pattern; that is, I
want a cow of good size, one that will mako
five and a half or six hundred of becfwhen fat•
ted, wide between the eyes, small horns, long
slender neck, head inclining downward, rather
a thin skin, broad across the kidneys, small tail.
small flatish leg, the udder large, running well
forward and back, equally quartered, and the
teats well apart, thin thighs, and last, though
not least, a large crooked milk vein running
well forward, with a large hole at the end.—
One thing more should be taken into consider.
ation, and that is, the disposition, which can
almost always be told by the countenance.—
Tameness and docility of temper greatly en
hance the value. 9ne that feeds at ease and
does not break over fences, and is kind to her
associates, will always yield more milk than
one of the opposite disposition. When I buy
a cow of the above description, lam pretty
sure I have got a good one, and think the above
marks are a very safe guide to purchase by.—
N. Eng. Farmer.
The Reight of a Colt.
R. Martin, of Kingston, Kentucky, gives out
the following on this point, which is certainly
novel, and perhaps it may bo•true:
"I can tell you how a man may know with
in half an inch, the height a colt will attain
when full grown. The rule may not hold good
in every instance, but nine out of ten it will.—
When the colt gets to be three weeks old, or as
soon as it is perfectly straightened in its limbs,
measure from the edge of the hoofs to the mid
dle of the first joint, and for every inch it will
grow to the height of a hand or four inches
when its growth is matured. Thus: if this die.
tance be found sixteen inches, it will make a
horse. sixteen hands high. By this means a
man may know something what sort of a horse,
with proper care, he is to expect from his colt.
Three years ago I bought two very shabby look
ing colts for twenty dollars each, and sold them
recently for three hundred dollars. So much
for knowledge how to guess properly at a colt."
Largest Sheep in the World.
Francis J. Gray, of Cynthiana, Kentucky,
has presented the editor of the Kentucky Kews
with some specimens of wool. Mr. G. has been
engaged in raising sheep about five years, and
we doubt not is among the most successful in
Kentucky, and has never failed to take the pre
mium wherever shown. Some of the speci
mens shown us of his wool are seventeen inch.
es long, the finest quality measures five inches.
His imported buck, two years old, sheared 24
lbs. 3 or. of wool, and a ewe that sheared 18 lbs.
He has a Kentucky raised buck that weighs
about 300, and measures around the girth five
feet two inches, fresh sheared. The last na
med buck took the first premium at the Paris
Fair last fall.
A VOITCHEIL—A man once went to purchase
n horse from a Quaker.
"Will he draw well ?" asked tho buyer.
"Thee will be pleased to see him draw."
The bargain was concluded, and the farmer
tried the horse, but he would not stir a step.—
Hr returned and said:—
"That horse will not draw an inch:'
"I did not tell thee he would draw, friend.--
I only remarked that it would please thee to
see him draw; and so it would me, but he nev•
er gratified me in that respect."
107,.. A husband, residing in a small village
in the interior, thus announces the departure
from "his bed and hoard" of his dearly belov
ed: "My wife, Anna Maria, has strayed or
been stolen. Whoever returns her gets his
bead broke. As for trusting her anybody can
do so who sees St—as I never pay my Own
debts, it is not at all likely that I will .lay
awake o' nights thinking about other people's.
_ _
Cfir A young Irish student at the Veteran ,
ry College being asked, '•lf a broken winded
horse were brought to biro fr, rum, wive he.
would advise,": prortirt'r •a "to Le!.
111. MAIO 4Poisat