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A MOTHER'S LOVE,
BY NAME GREY.
A Mother's Love! Ah! who can speak,
The thoughts that in her bosom dwell?
The changing color on her cheek,
And anxious eye too plainly tell.
She heeds them not, though toil and care
Have stamped their signet on her brow;
She heeds it not, though pale disease,
Bath caused her once fair form to bow.
What! though the hoary frosts of time,
Have silvered o'er her raven hair,
And sorrow's lines have rudely crossed
Her fading cheek, once fresh and fair;
What! though the spring of life be past,
And summer's sun long since hath set,
Some pleasant days are lingering
With fall and winter nearly met.
What! though the world. should frown with
On hint who was her joy and pride;
And friends forsake, and misery came,
Yet it will find lien by his side;
Perhaps with soothing words of love,
She win him back to bright'ning fame,
If not, and honor's self be lost,
She will not leave him in his shame.
Or, if her child should higher rise,
And write his name in words of light,
Her heart will heat with tender throbs,
Her aged eyes will beam more bright.
Oh 'tis a holy, sacred thing—
Which strife and envy cannot move,
And burns with constant, steady fire,
A deathless flame, a Mother's Love.
Thoughts at Church.
I have an old fashioned way of entering
church; before the bells begin to chime, I en
joy the quiet, brooding stillness. I love to
think of the many words of holy cheer that
have fallen there, from heaven-missioned lips,
and folded themselves like snow-white wings
over the weary heart of despair. I love to
think of the sinless little ones, whose pearly
temples have been laved at the baptismal font.
I love to think of the weak, yet strong ones,
who have tearfully tasted the consecrated cup,
on which is written, "Do this in remembrance
of me." I love to think of those self-forgetting,
self-exiled; who counting all things naught for
Gethsemene's dear sake, are treading foreign
chores, to say to the soul-fettered pagan, "Be
hold the lamb of God." I love to think of the
loving hearts that at yonder alter have throbbed,
side by side. while the holy man of God pro
'Jounced "the twain one." I love to think of
the seraph smile of which death itself was pow
.eriless to rob the dead saint, over whose upturn
.ed face, to which the sunlight lent such mock
ing glow, the words, Dust to Dust," fell upon
the pained ear of love. I love, as I sit here, to
list through the half-opened vestry door, to the
hymning voices of happy Sabbath schollars,
sweet as the timid chirp of morn's first peeping
bird. I love to hear their tiny feet, as they
patter down the aisle, and mark the earnest
gaze of questioning childhood. I love to see
i the toil-hardened hand of labor brush off the
.penitential tear. I love—"our
How very sad he looks to day. Aro his par
ishioners unsympathetic? Does the laborer's
"hire" come-tardily and grudgingly to the over
tasluul, faithful servant? Do censorious, dis
satisfied spirits watch and wait for his halting?
Now he rises and says, slowly—musically,
"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want."
Why at such sweet, soul resting words, do his
tears overflow? Why has his voice such a
heart quiver? Alt I there is a vacant seat in
the pastor's pew. A little golden head, that
last Sunday gladdened our eyes like a gleam
of sunlight, lies dreamlessly pillowed beneath
the cotlin lid; gleeful eyes have lost their bright
ness; cherry lips are wan and mute, and beneath
her sable veil the lonely mother sobs. And so
the father's lip quivers, and for a moment na
ture triumphs. Then athwart the gloomy cloud
flashes the bow of promise, He wipes away
the blinding tears, and with an angel smile,
and upward glance, he says, "Though Ire slay
me, yet will I trust in Him."
stir A Yellow wash fur walls is made by M.
king a quarter of a pound of gum senegal. and
and two ponnds of whiting. These, dissolved
in pure rain water, will form au excellent yel.
tit °tuttingDon i0"41(11
" 1 SEE NO STAR ABOVE THE HORIZON, PROMISING LIGHT TO GUIDE US, BUT THE INTELLIGENT, PATRIOTIC, UNITED WHIG PARTY OP THE UNITED &ATM.".
,An Intercepted Letter.
The following glimpses at a young lady's
heart, taken from a letter to a bosom friend,
will amuse, if they do not instruct, the render:
1. You tell me, dear Amy, you're anxious to
know all about that affair with my recreant
beau. 'Tis quite an embarrassing matter, 'tin
true; but you know, dearest love, I've no se
crets from you; and so, without any undue af
fectation, I'll tell you a tale you may tell to the
2. I had met him quite often at party and
ball, had danced with him, talked with him,
walked with him, all—had heard all those sto
ries, where largely he draws on the works of
his countryman, Baron Munchausen—had look
ed at his pictures, and laughed at his 'brogue,'
and thought him a charming unprincipled
3. Conceive my surprise, when, one fine
summer morning, without e'er a word or whis
per of warning, the elegant Herman, (for that
is his name—from some old Dutch Duchy he
says that he came,) in terms which I cannot
this moment repeat, his heart and his palette
laid down at my feet.
4. 0, Amy, I trembled and colored up so!
I dared not say 'Yes,' and I couldn't say 'No.'
My breath came so fast that I hardly could
speak—all the blood rushed at once from my
heart to my cheek; while Herman sat by me,
quite tranquil and cool, and thought me, no
doubt, a complete little fool.
5. At last I got out, "It was such a surprise
—knew not what to say"—and he looked in
my eyes with a kind of a look that I couldn't
resist—and then with such ardor my fingers
he kissed! In short, my dear Amy, I hardly
know how, I ended with saying—l would be—
6. After that, matters went along smoothly
and trim; he made love to Me, and I lstened to
him. We often took rides in the sunshiny
weather, and, on rainy nights, sat on the sofa
together. He used to talk to me sometimes of
his mother—also of the Colonel, his wonderful
7. I loved him, dear Amy, I'll own to the
truth! my soul was bound up in the picturesque
youth! It was not his beauty that won me
alone; but a something he had in each look and
each tone—a mixture of poetry, romance and
art, that, taken together, quite "did" for my
S. I was proud of him, too—only, once in a
while, when he told his adventures, and people
would smile, and tread on each other's toes un
der the table, even my warm affection was al
most unable to keep mo from telling hint that
I did wish his tales would not smell so strongly
9. But then I'd excuse him one way and an
other. say, "All the world lies, for some
thing or other—politicians for places and law
yers for pelf, and merchants to get the goods
off from the shelf; they're in for it all, though
they 'fie!' and `pooh-pooh!' it—and since he
enjoys it, he may as well do it."
10. Herman was all devotion, all passion
and sighs; he seemed but to live in the light of
my eyes. What words of endearment would
fall from his lips! how countless the kisses on
my finger-tips! "Love thinks but of love!" was
his ardent pretence. Alas! I found his reck
oned—dollars and cents!
11. One day he came in from his labors at
school—l thought he appeared unaccountably
cool. Not one "Dearest angel," or any such
word, from the tongue of my altered adorer was
heard. That evening he called upon Annabel
Chase: the next day I learned the whole state
of the case.
12. He supposed, it appears, dear papa had
the "rocks," was rolling in dollars, and swel
ling in "stocks," would "cut up" in good style,
and in consequence, that his child would come
in for a bit of "the fat." When he learned his
mistake, it was odd to discover how the rock
went at once to the heart of my lover(
13. Ile came up to see me, and saw me
alone, and unfolded affairs with a grace all Isis
own. He would have "prefered" me, he said,
for a wife to any one that ho had met in his
lite; but as for himself, he hadn't a lien ; and I
must agree that it was it foul Vivre.
14. Such being the case, he would bid me
adieu, and hoped the affair would not render
me "blue." I thanked him, and told him I al
ways was taught that the sea held as good fish
as ever was caught—"and perhaps I may yet
do as well, my dear Herman, as be linked for
my life to a pennyless German."
15. So we parted. I hurried away from the
scene, if qot very "blue," I did feel rather
"green." I left in the stage coach the very next
day, and shed a few tears the first part of the
way; but five miles passed over, the roads grew
BO bad, I looked out for the jolts and forgot to
16. When I got in the cars, and was safe in
my seat; what person, of all in the world, I
should meet? Why, whom but Fred. Forrest?
Ile has as you know, been travelling in Europe
these three years or so, and has grown—oh, so
handsome! why, Herman himself, when Fred.
was at hand, would be laid on the shelf!
17. Now I had intended, when no one was
by, to let down my veil and indulge in a "cry;"
but talking a while with that love of a Fred.
put such sentimental trash out of my head.—
He made his adieux at the Utica Station, but
oh! we commenced a delicious flirtation.
18. Ile cause out to see me—we rode and
we walked, and newspapers over and over we
talked. The end, dearest Amy, you'll easily
guess—he asked me a question—and 1 answer
ed, "Yes." Pack up and come on, I don't care
how soon, to "stand up" with me on the 2Uth
19. A more thorough contrast there never
was seen, than Herman and Frederick, in per
son and mien. Fred's eyes are so smiling, so
blue and serene, his mouth is so delicate, rosy
and clean. Herman's eye had at times, quite
it sinister flash—and often 1 saw crumbs on his
.10. Thee Herniae, you know, ssa unplcas-
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, JULY 5, 1854.
anti) , small, while Fred. is so elegant slender
and tall. He wears such a diamond, and sings
so divinely, and plays the guitar and violin fine
ly I He has a sweet place on the shore of the
Bay, and a four story mansion, just out of
21. I feel quite content, and my dear foreign
beau is welcome to marry for money or show.
Poor fellow! I pity him—grubbing away at
those old rusty landscapes of his, day by day.
Here's my parting advice to that pupil of art--
"Beg, borrow, or steal, sir, a conscience and
22. "With these small additions to your
stock in trade, rest assured, my dear Herman,
your fortune is made." Good-bye, beloved Amy,
till sometime in June. Come along—well, I
suppose the tenth ain't too soon; your image
will fill my heart's innermost cranny, while life
warms the breast of your own attached ANNIE.
A writer in the "London Notes and Queries"
furnishes the following interesting account:
A few weeks ago, in clearing out the ruins
of an old chaplet at Nuncham Regis, War
wickshire, which had been pulled down, all but
the belfry tower, forty years since, we thought
it necessary to trench the whole space, that we
might more certainly mark out the boundaries
of the building, as we wished to restore it in
some measure to its former state. It had been
used as a stack yard and depository for rub
bish by the tenants of the farm on which it
was, ever since its dilapidation. We began to
trench at the west end, and came on a great
many bones and skeletons, from which the
coffins had crumbled away, till finding the earth
had been moved, we went deeper anu discover
ed a leaden coffin, quite perfect, without date,
or inscription of any kind. There had been an
outer wooden coffin which was decayed, but
quantities of the black rotted wood were all
round it. We cut the lead and folded back the
top, so as not to destroy it; beneath was a
wooden coffin, in good preservation, and also
without any inscription.
As soon as the leaden top was rolled back a
most overpowering aromatic smell diffused its
elf all over the place. We then unfastened the
coffin, and found the body of a man embalmed
with great care, and heaps of rosemary and ar
omatic leaves piled over him. On examining
the body snore closely, we found it had been
beheaded. The head was seperately wrapped
up in linen; the shirt that covered the body was
drawn quite over the neck where the head was
laid straight with the body, and where the joint
ing of the neck and head should have been, it
was tied round with a broad, black ribbon.—
His hands were crossed on his breast, the wrists
were tied with black ribbon, and the thumbs
were tied together with black ribbon. He had
a peaked beard and a quantity of long, brown
hair, curled and clotted with blood round his
neck. The only mark on anything about him
was on the linen on Isis chest, just above where
his hands were crossed; on it were the letters
"T. B." worked in black silk.
On trenching towards the channel, we came
on four leaden coffins, laid side by side with
inscriptions on each; one contained the body of
Francis, Earl of Chichester, and Lord Duns.
mure, 1633; the next the body of Audry, Count
ess Chichester, 1652; another the body of Lady
Audrey Leigh, their daughter, 1640; and the
fourth the body of Sir John Anderson, son of
Lady Chichester by her first husband. We
opened the coffin of Lady Audrey Leigh, and
found her perfectly embalmed and in entire
preservation, her flesh quite plump, as if she
were alive, her face very beautiful, and her
hands exceedingly small and not wasted. She
was dressed in fine linen, trimmed all over with
point lace, and two rows of lace flat across her
forehead. She looked exactly as if she were
lying asleep, and seemed not more than sixteen
or seventeen years old; her beauty was very
perfect, even her eyelashes and eye-brows were
quite perfect, and her eyes were closed; no part
of her face or figure was at all fallen in. We
also opened Lady Chichester's coffin, but with
her the embalming had totally failed. She was
a skeleton, though the coffin was full of aroma
tic leaves. Her hair, however, was as fresh as
if she lived; it was long thick, and glossy as
that of a child, and of a perfect auburn color.
In trenching on one side of where the altar
had been, we found another leaden coffin with
an inscription. It contained the body of a
Dame Maria Browne, daughter of ono of the
Leiges, and of the Lady Marie, daughter to
Lord Chancellor Itrackley. This body was also
quite perfect, and embalmed principally with a
very small coffee•colorcd seed, with which the
coffin was nearly filled, and it also had so pow
erful a perfume that it filled the whole place.
The linen, ribbons, &c., were quite strong and
good in all these instances, and remained so
after exposure to the air. We kept a piece out
of each coffin, and had it washed without its
being at all destroyed. Young Lady Audley
had ear-rings in her ears, black enamelled ser
pents. The perfume of the herbs and gums
used in embalming them was so sickening,
that we were all ill after inhaling it, and most
of the men employed in digging up the coffins
were ill also. My object in sending this ac•
count, is, it' possible, to discover who the be.
headed man was. The chapel is on the estate
of Lord John Scott, who inherited it from his
paternal grandmother, the Dutchess of Buck.
uch, daughter of the Duke of Montague, into
whose family Nuneham Regis and other poss.
essions in Warwickshire came by the marriage
of his grandfather, with the daughter of Lord
Dunsinure, Earl of Chichester.
WASH FOR TREES.—One pound of sal
soda, heated to redness in an iron pet, dissolved
in a gallon of water. it is said will tako off all
moss and dead bark, kill insects on trees or
grape vines, make them smooth and polished,
and even make old trees bear anew. Never
whitewash a tree.
M. 4 We have met the enemy and they are
ours,' as the old woman said alter she had alai
about a reek of bcd•hugs.
An Affecting Court Incident.
" LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION."
We take pleasure in relating an incident
which greatly enlisted our sympathies, held us
spell-hound by its interest, and finally made
our hearts leap with joy at its happy tenni.-
In the spring of 1838 we chanced to be
spending a few days in a beautiful inland
country town in Pennsylvania. It was court
week, and to relieve us from the somewhat
monotonous incidents of village life we stepped
into the room where the court had convened.
Among the prisoners in the box we saw a
lad but ten years of age, whose sad, pensive
countenance, his young and innocent appear
ance, caused him to look sadly out of place
among the hardened criminals by whom he was
surrounded. Close by the box, and manifest
ing the greatest interest in the proceedings, sat
a tearful woman, whose anxious glance from
the Judge to the boy left us no room to doubt
that it was his mother. We turned with sad
ness from the scene, to inquire of the offence
of the prisoner, and learned he was accused of
The case was soon commenced, and, by the
interest manifested by that large crowd, we
found that our heart was not the only ono in
which sympathy for the lad existed. How we
pitied him The bright smile had vanished
from his face, and now it expressed the cares
of the aged. His young sister, a bright-eyed
girl, had gained admission to his side, and
cheered him with the whispering of hope.
But that sweet voice, which before caused
his heart to bound with happiness, added only
to the grief his shame had brought upon him.
The progress of the case acquainted us with
the circumstances of the loss—the extent of
which was but a dime, no more!
The lad's employer, a wealthy, miserly, and
unprincipled manufacturer, had made use of it
for the purpose of what he called "testing the
boy's honesty." It was placed where, from its
very position, the lad would almost see it, and
least suspect the trap. The day passed, and
the master, to his mortification, not pleasure,
found the coin untouched. Another day pass
ed, and yet his object was not gained. He,
however, determined that the boy should take
it, and so he let it remain.
This continued temptation was too much for
the boy's resistance. The dime was taken. A
simple present for that little sister was purcha•
sed with it. But while returning home to glad
den her heart, his own was made heavy by be
ing arrested for theft! a crime the nature of
which he little knew. These circumstances
were sustained by several of his employer's
workmen, who were also parties to the plot.—
Au attorney urged upon the jury the necessity
of making the "little rogue" an example to
others by punishment. Before, I could see
many tears of sympathy for the lad, his widow
ed mother, and faithful sister. But their eyes
were all dry now, and none looked as if they
cared for aught else but conviction.
The accuser sat in a conspicuous place, smi
ling as if in fiend-like exultation over misery
he had brought upon that poor but once happy
We felt that there was but little hope for the
boy, and the youthful appearance of the attor
ney who had volunteered in his defence gave
no encouragement, as we learned that it was
the young man's maiden plea—his first address.
He appeared greatly confused, and reached to
a desk near him, from which he took the Bible
that had been used to solemnize the testimony.
This movement was received with general
laughter and taunting remarks; among which
we heard a harsh fellow, close to us, cry out
"He forgets what it is. Thinking to get hold
of some ponderous law-book, he has made a
mistake and got the Bible."
The remark made the young attorney blush
with anger, and turning his flashing eyes upon
the audience ho convinced them that there was
no mistake, saying, "Justice wants no better
book." His confusion was gone, and instantly
he was as calm as the sober Judge on the
bench. The Bible was opened, and every eye
was upon him, as he quietly and leisurely turn
ed over the leaves. Amidst breathless silence
he read the jury this sentence "Lead as not
We felt our heart throb at the sound of these
words. The audience looked at each other
without speaking; and the jurymen exchanged
glances as the appropriate quotation carried
its moral to their hearts. Then followed an
address which, for pathetic eloquence, we have
never heard excelled. Its inluenee was like
magic. We saw the guilty accuser leave the
room in feu of personal violtnce. The pris
oner looked hopeful; the mother smiled again;
and, before its conclusion, there was not an
eye in the court-room that was not moist. The
speech, affecting to that degtee which caused
tears, held its hearers spell-bound.
The little time that was necessary to trans
pire before the verdict of the jury could be
learned was a period of great anxiety and sus
pense. But when their whispering consultation
ceased, and those happy wads, "Not guilty,"
came from the foreman, the; passed like a thrill
of electricity from lip to lip, the austere dignity
of the court was forgotten, and not a voice was
there that did not join in the acclamation that
hailed the lad's release. Tee young lawyer's
first plea was a successful me. He was soon
a favorite, and now represents his district in
the councils of the Commonwealth.
The lad has never ceased his grateful re
membrances, and we, by tie affecting scene
herein attemped to be detcribed, have often
been led to think how manfold greater is the
crime of the tempter than o' the tempted.
To PRESERVE SWEET CIL/Ht.—We have beard
it stated that cider may be kept perfectly sweet
by taking a pint of pulverised charcoal and
putting it into a bag, and then putting the bag
into a barrel of now eider. It is said by so do
ing, the cider will never ferment, and it will
never contain any intoxi.mting qualities.--
This is something for temperance people to
In the year 358, before the earthquake of
Nicomedia, the darkness was very dense from
two to three hours. Two years afterwards, in
all the provinces of the Roman empire, there
was obscurity from early dawn to noon. The
stars were visable; and its duration precludes
the the idea of a solar eclipse. At the return
of light, the sun appeared first in a crescent
form, then half its face was seen, and was gra
dually restored to its whole visible disk. In
409, the stars were seen by day at Rome.—
About 536, the sun was obscured for 14 months,
so that very little of his light was seen. In 567
such darkness prevailed from 3-P. M. till night
that nothing could be seen. In 626, halt the
sun's disk was obscured for eight months. In
763 ho was again darkened, and people were
generally terrified. In 934, Portugal was in
darkness for two months, the sun having lost
its brightness. The heavens were then opened
in fissures of lightning, when there was sud
denly bright sunlight. September 21, 1091,
the sun was darkened for three hours. Febru
ary 28, 1206. for six hours complete darkness
turned the day into night. In 1241, on Mich
aelmas day, the stars were visible at 3 P. M.
In 1547, April 23-25, three days, the sun was
so obscured that manystars were visible at once.
Thus says Humboldt in cosmos.
If we come almost to our own time, to Mny
19, 1790, history and tradition assert the oc
currence of a remarkable day prevailing over
New England, at least, and considerably in
some other places. It came on between 10
and 11 A. M., and continued until midnight.
growing gradually darker and darker, even till
11 at night. Candles and lamps were lighted
for the people to see to dine and to perform
work about the house. These became requi
site before 12 o'clock, M. In the evening, so
dense was it, that farmers could scarcely, even
with the uid of a lantern, grope their way to
the barn to take care of the cattle. The birds
retired to their roosts at 11 A. M., and the day
was converted into night.
Power of Prayer,
Tho Bible accounts of the power of prayer is
the best wq,have, or can have.
Abraham's servant prays—Rebecca appears
Jacob prays—the angel is conqurer ; Esau's
revenge is changed to fraternal love.
Joseph prays—he is delivered from the pris
on of Egypt.
Moses prayer—Amelck is discomfited ; Is
Joshua prays—the sun stands stil!; victory
Hannah prays—the prophet Samuel is born.
David prays—Ahithophel goes out and hangs
Asa prays—lsrael gains a glorious victory.
Johoshaphat prays—G od turns away his an
ger, and smiles.
Elijah prays—the little cloud appears; the
rain descends upon the earth.
Elijah prays—the waters of the Jordan are di-
vided; a child is restored to life.
Isaiah prays—one hundred eighty and four
thousand Assyrians are dead.
Ifezekialt prays—the sun-dial is turned back;
his life is prolonged.
Mordecai prays—Haman is hanged, Israel is
Nehemiah prays—the king's heart is soften•
ed in a minute.
Ezra prays—the walls of Jerusalem begin to
The church prays—the Holy Ghost is pour.
The church prays again—Peter is delivered
by en angel.
Paul and Silas pray—the prison shakes; the
door opens; every man's bands are loosed.
Selections for a Newspaper.
Most people think the selection of suitable
matter for a newspaper the easiest part of the
business. How great an error. It is by all
means the most difficult. To look over and
over hundreds of exchange papers every week,
from which to select enough for ono especially
when the question is not what shall, but what
shall not be selected, is no easy task. If every
person who reads a newspaper could have edit
ed it, we should hear less complaints. Not un
frequently is it the case, that an editor looks
over all his exchange papers for something in
teresting, and can absolutely find nothing.—
Every paper is dryer than a contribution box;
and yet something must be had—his paper
must come out with something in it, and he
does the best he can. To an editor who has
the least care about what he selects, the wri
ting that be has to do is the easiest part of the
labor. Every subscriber thinks the paper is
printed for his own benefit, and if there is
nothing in it that suits him, it must be stopped
—it is good for nothing. Just as many sub
scribers as an editor may have, so many tastes
ho has to consult. One wants something smart,
another something sound. One likes anecdotes,
fun and frolic, and the next door neighbor
wonders that a man of good sense will put such
stuff in his paper. Something spicy comes not,
and the editor is a blackguard. Next comes
something argumentative, and the editor is a
dull fool. And so, between them all, you see,
the poor fellow gets roughly handled. And
yet ninety-nine out of a hundred, these things
do not occur. They never reflect that what
does not please them may please the next man;
but they insist that if the paper does not suit
them it is good for nothing.— Vt. /tibia
Mr That man who runs down the girls,
speaks ill of married women, throws a quid of
tobacco in the contribution box, and takes a
penny out to buy more, can never have peace
in this world and never will. Bed-bugs, mus•
quitos aud the nightmare, and all the hobgob
lins of a guilty conscience, will haunt him on
his way to that well heated prison where the
convicts are fed cinders and aquafortis soup,
and are allowed no other amusement than to
sit and pick their teeth with a red hut poker
through all eternity.
The following passage is from "Rural honrs,"
by Miss Cooper, daughter of the late J. Fenni
more Cooper. It beautifully expresses the son
timents dell women of pure feelings and cor
"We American women certainly owe a debt
of gratitude to our countrymen for their kind
ness and consideration of us generally. Gal
lantry may not always take a graccfnl form in
this part of the world, and mere flattery may
be worth as little here as elsewhere; but there
is a glow ofgenerous feeling toward women in
the hearts of moat American men which is high
ly honorable to them as a nation and as individ
uals. In no country is the protection given to
woman's helplessness more full and free; in no
country is the assistance she receives from the
stronger arm so general; and nowhere does her
weakness meet with more forbearance and con
sideration. Under such cirrumstances, it must
be a woman's own fault if she be not thorough.
ly respected also. The position accorded to
her is favorable. It remains for her to fill it in
a manner worthy her own sex, gratefully, kind
ly, and simply; with truth and modesty of heart
and life; unwavering fidelity of feeling and
principle; with patience, cheerfulness, and
sweetness of temper—no unfit return to those
who smooth the daily path for her."
The Value of a Man.
A railroad car occasionally furnishes some
scenes that occur nowhere else. One of these
we witnessed not many days since:
Dramatis persoure—a lady and one of the
conductors of the 0.. b P. railroad. Scene—
Pittsburgh depot, crowded morning train, with
a general rush for seats. Present—anxious
lady passenger and affable condnetor.—Dia
logne as follows:
Conductor.—‘.Madam, here is a seat that
you can occupy if you wish."
Lady.—" I am looking for soy man."'
Conductor.—" But, madam, if you do not ac
cept this seat you will, perhaps, be deprived
from having any other."
Lady.—"l'd rather lose the scat than lose
Me man l"
Conductor.--" Small matter, madam,"
Lady.--"He is small, but he is better than
Conductor.—'Excuse me, madam, if you
Enter—small man, showing by his counte
nance that he is of those gentlemen who never
quarrel with themselves. Lady passenger high
ly pleased—over the left. Spectators fully con
vinced that a man is more valuable than a rail
road seat. Scene close with suppressed laugh
ter, on the part of all the lady passengers—
while the gentlemen remain mum, with a strong
The Kisses of Girls.
Hardly any two females kiss alike. There
is as much variety in the manner of doing it as
in the faces and manners of the sex. Some
delicate little cretures merely give a slight
brush of the lip. This is a sad aggrvation.—
We seem to be about to "have a good time,"
but actually get nothing. Others go into us
like a hungry man to a beef steak, and seem
to chew up our countenances. This is disgust.
ing, and soon drives away a delicate lover.—
Others struggle like hens when burying them
selves in the dry dirt. The kiss is won by
great exertions, and is not worth so much as
the trouble it costs. Now, we are in favor of
a certain shyness when a kiss is proposed, but
it should not be continued too long; and when
the fair one "gives is," let the kiss be admin
istered with warmth and energy. Let there be
a soul in it. Halle close her eyes and sigh
immediately after it, the effect is greater.—
She should be careful not to "slobber" a kiss,
but give it as a humming bird runs his bill into
a honeysuckle deep, but delicately. There is
much virtue in a kiss, when well delivered.—
We have had the memory of ono we received in
youth last us forty years; and we believe it
will be the last thing we shall think of when
The Emperor Nicholas.
- - -
The Czar of Russia's dress and concomitants
are thus described:—His costume is invariable;
being always that of a superior officer. Noth
ing distinguishes him from the officers of his
army, unless it is his tall figure and handsome,
manly face. Ife does not allow any of his offi
cers to dress in plain clothes, and only assumes
them himself when abroad. The Emperor Nich
olas has inherited the antipathy and hatred of
of his ancestors for beards and long hair. Ex
cept his coachman, whom he chooses from
among the most blackly-bearded individuals in
his empire, all persons connected with the civ
il administration are obliged to shave off every
particle of hair on their faces. The army alone
wears the moustache and imperial. The no
bility and free citizens may wear whiskers, but
only as far as the bottom of the ear. The Czar
himself personally watches over, besides caus
ing others to do the same, the scrupulous ob.
tervance of these regulations.
THE MEANEST YET.—"I am afraid, Freda.
rick," said Mrs. Smith to her husband, "that
Betsy is dishonest."
"Ah! what makes you think so?"
"Why I gave her seven apples to prepare
for a pudding, and will you believe it, 1 count
ed over the quarters, and only found twenty.
"Are you share you counted right ?"
"Yes, for I couuted them over three times
carefully. Heaven only knows where the other
quarter is gone. The world is full of iniquity."
Betsy was discharged without a character.
Dn. Boys, did you ever think that this great
world, with all its wealth and its woe, with all
its mines and mountains, its oceans, seas and
rivers, steamboat.; and chips, railroads and
steam printing presses, magnetic telegraphs,
etc., will soon he given over to the hands of the
boys of the present age? Believe it, sod look
abroad upon the inheritance, and nr.t ready t.,
enter upon your rbitics.
VOL. 19. NO. 27.
Influence of a Long Summer in the Arc.
The perpetual daylight had continued up to
this moment with unabated glare. The sun
had reached his north meridian altitude bumf,
days before, but the eye was hardly aware of
the change. Midnight had a softened charac
ter like the low summer's nun at home, but
there was no twilight. At first te novelty of
this great unvarying day made it pleasing. It.
was curious to see the "midnight Arctic ass
set to sunrise," and pleasant to find that,
whether you ate or slept, or idled or toiled, the
same daylight was always there. No irksome
night forced upon you its system of compulsory
alternations. I could dine at midnight, sup at
breakfast time, and go to bed at noonday; and
but for an apparatus of coils and cogs, called a
watch, would have been no wiser and no worse.
My feeling was at first an extravagant sense of
undefined relief, of some vague restraint remo
ved. I seemed to have thrown off the slavery
of hours. In fact, I could hardly realize its
entirety. The astral lamp, standing, dust-cov
ered, on our lockers—l am quoting the words
of my journal—puzzled me, as things obsolete
and fanciful. This was instinctive, perhaps;
but by-and-by came other feelings. The per
petual light, garish and unfluotuating, disturb
ed me. I became gradually aware of an un
known excitant, a stimulus, acting constantly
like the diminutive cup of strong coffee. My
sleep was curtailed and irregular; my meal
hours trode upon each other's heels; and but
for stringent regulations of my own imposing,
my routine would have Veen completely broken
up. My lot had been cast in the zone of lirio
dendrons and sugar maples, in the nearly mid
way latitude of forty degrees. I had been ha
bituated to day and night; and every portion of
these two great divisions had fur me its peri
ods of peculiar associations. Even in the tro
pics I had mourned the lost twilight. How
much more did I miss the soothing darkness,
of which twilight should have been the precur
sor! I began to feel, with more of emotion
than a man writing for others likes to confess
to, how admirable, as n systematic law, is the
alternation of day and night; words that type
the two great conditions of living nature, action
and repose. To those who with daily labor
earn the daily bread, how kindly the semen of
sleep! To the drone who, urged by the waned
daylight, hastens the deferred task, how fortu
nate that his procrastination has not a. six
month's morrow! To the brain workers among
men, the enthusiasts, who bear irksomely the
dark screen which falls upon their day dreams,
how benignant the dear night blessing, which
enforces reluctant rest!—Dr. Kanes Journal.
Fashion, says the Buffalo Republic plays
some queer freaks with its wand. The last in
novation is, we believe, the using of the middle
name and dropping the first and "christen" in
dex. For instance, Jones, who always was
distinguished in Isis younger days by plain
John D. or "Jack," has concluded that appel
lation to be "vulgar," and is now only known
as J. Daw Jones, more appropriate to bo given
in full, and would doubtless be a most correct
index to the fellow. Peter G. Jenkins has be
come convinced that Peter is too homely a cog
nomen for one who walks so high in aristocratic
circles, and brings him too much on a level
with the common herd; he therefore now plumes
himself P. Green Jenkins. Just so with Isaac
C. Bacon; all the fellows are making the
change, and he cannot see how he can keep in
good standing at the club, and not join in the
revolution, away goes the "Isaac," and "I
Cooke Bacon" is engraved upon hie card. So
goes the new mania, no matter bow ridiculous;
but it is the 'rage,' and the brainless devotee of
fashion's shrine must arm and equip according
A traveler, fatigued with the monotony of a
long ride through a sparsely settled section of
the country, rode up to a small lad who was
engaged in trimming and dressing out a sickly
looking field, and relieved the oppression of his
spirits thus :
"My young friend, it seems to me your corn
is rather small kind." "Yes, daddy planted
tho small kind." "A it, but it appears to look
rather yellow, too."
" Yes, sir, daddy planted the yeller kind."
" From appearances, my lad, you wont get
more than half a crop."
"Just half, stranger, dady planted it on the
The horseman proceeded on hi a way, and,
has not been known to speak to a boy since,
He considers them bores.
How to Grow Pat.
We recommend the annexed paragraph to
the notice of all lean ladies who have a desire
to increase their bulk and beauty :
"The women of Egypt, in order to acquire a
degree of fatness, bathe themselves several days
in lukewarm water. They stay so long in their
baths that they eat and drink therein. During
the time they are in the bath, they take every
half-hour some broth made of a fat pullet and
stuffed with sweet almonds, hazel-nuts, dates.
and pistschoi nuts. After taking this kind of
broth four times, they eat a pullet, all to the
head. When they come out of the bath they
are rubbed over with perfumes and sweet po
maum, and after that some of them take my -
robalans before going to bed; others take n
draught prepared with gum tragacunth and su
SENSIBLE Giat.—"My sear, how shall wo
have our marriage printed? Will you hay..
your•name simply Delilah, or do you insist on
that long string of titles you spoke of yester•
"I do most assuredly. Do you think ring,
ing to be known es simple Delilah? No, by
alt the gods of love! you shall have my non,
printed thus:—Delilah Antoinette Victoria ,1.1
Oujda Maria; and. then, if you choose, yog link
'to year name—but a tom pi±tnil outenilatii•