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TEE PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE.
DT GARRET B. MIN.
Americans I the heritage for which our fathers
bled, .
And barefoot follow'd o'er the ice, the god-like
chief who led,
Is menaced by the serpent forms of bigotry and
hate,
Who coil their folds around to crush. Rise, ere
it is too late!
Up! if you value liberty, your native land and
home—
With
indignation hurling back the insolence of
Rome.
Speak as your patriot sires spoke, when Britons
on this shore,
Forgot the ties of brotherhood, and stained our
soil with gore:
Speak with your sabres buckled on—the rifle
in your hand;
Or standing at the cannon's mouth, speak for
your native land;
Ay I let them plainly understand, no Pope shall
interfere,
With freedom drove from other climes, and find
refuge here.
'Tis yoqr bequest; oh, guard it then with vigi
lance and care.
And keep your sleepless eyes upon the tiger in
his lair,
When landed from the 'May Flow'rs' deck, the
staunch old Pilgrim stock,
Found that for which they left their homes, on
Plymouth's sacred rock ;
What reck'd they for the driving snow, and
Winter's chilling blast,
Or for the blinding hail and sleet, that fiercely
whistled past?
They stood unshackled on the ground, where
white man ne'r had trod,
No prelate there, denying them the right to
worship God
Here in their thankfulness of heart, they breath
ed the fervent prayer,
And hymns arose where savage yells were wont
to fill the air.
Alone, these iron men endured, but for spin
ion's take,
'The red man's tomahawk and brand, the scalp.
• ing knife and stake ;
The acorn planted there, has grown unto a
goodly tree,
And spread its sheltering branches o'er the
birth-place of the free.
Shall Loyola's demons to its roots the fatal axe
apply,
While we who claim it as our own, with folded
arms stand by ?
Look back upon the dreary past where Rome
has held the rein,
Upon the poor benighted lands of Italy and
Spain.
See in the future, thongi and chains, racks,
dungeons—everywhere,
Whilst your posterity with shrieks and curses
rend the air.
Remember St. Bartholomew, whence flowed
the crimsoned flood;,
And gray-haired men, and fair young maids,
lay weltering in blood,
Behold the mocking, taunting priest, devoid of
truth and shame,
Exulting laugh at every groan arising from the
flame!
Gaze on the quivering, shrinking flesh, whore
heated pincers tear,
And see the torured victim writhe in anguish
and despair.
These are the blessings in reserve for those
who will not bend
Their reason to the mandate which an imbecile
Ohl if thec tet erre . nt of our sires is coursing thro'
your veins,
Tarn on the jailors of the mind and rend their
loathsome chains;
Encourage not the papist crew, in word, is
-deed, iu thought,
Bat keep inviolate the boon for which our
fathers fought.
In vain they bared their dauntless breasts—in
vain they bled and died,
If that fair gift for which they strove, to us is
now denied;
The right to speak, to think, to act, the right
to worship God
As conscience dictates, where they sleep in
peace beneath the sod:
This sacred privilege secured, by them trans
mitted down
Unto their sons; and shall they stoop when ty
rants choose to frown?
Shall laws enacted by the soltie, give way to
Popish rules?
Or shall they excommunicate the "Bible" from
our Schools?
Shall lust and superstition reign throughout our
favored land—
The sacred volume hid or burnt when foreign
priests command?
Must we be governed by the Pope, his minions,
knaves and fools ?
Shall they who know not liberty, direct our
public schools?
The pure and sparkling fountain, where the ire
Ant mind can drink
'the waters of intelligence, that fort up to the
brink.
Itu 11411tii gb/ion OVtrilia •
" I SEE NO STAR ABOVE THE lIOIUZON, PROMISING LIGHT TO GUIDE US, BUT THE INTELLIGENT, PATRIOTIC, UNITED WHIG PARTY OP THE UNITED STATES."--.[WEDSTER,
Turn from the serpent's glittering eye, that
dazzles hut to lure •
Its unsuspecting victim to sting that has no
cure.
When beads and paler noslers are forced upon
the youth,
And holy coals and winking daubs drivo out
tho word . of truth—
When sticks and stones, and locks of hair, are
looked upon with nwe,
And subjects of a foreign prince direct and
force the law—
Then will our great Republic fall, or linger but
in name,
And we who eon avert the blow, damned to
eternal fame.
Lulled into false security, we're closed our
eves too long,
And 'find the faction we despised grown inso•
.
lent and strong.
Shall such things be? A million hearts of
brave men answer—no I
Arouse, then, 'ere it is too lute, and give them
blow for blow;
If there is no alternative, let force with force be
met,
Unsheath the sword, and crimson dye the
gleaming bayonet.
Rather than yield our birth-right up, the land
shall stream with gore,
And Muskets flash, as - flashed the ones our
darling fathers bore;
The only Spot where freedom holds a resting
place on earth,
Will find its sole protection from her citizens
by birth.
Pure as the virgin gold shall be that freedom
from alloy- - -
No alien hand dare tamper with the blessings
We 17la e c e e n d jo tIo : Bible in our schools, to point
the young on high,
And cheer them in their pilgrimage—well
keep it there or die.
OUR UNION.
The blood that flowed at Lexington, and crim
soned bright Champlain,
Streams still along the Southern Gulf, and by
the Lakes of Maine ;
It flows in veins that swell above Pacific's
golded sand,
AC throbs in hearts that love and grieve by
dark Atlantic's strand.
It binds in one vast brotherhood the trapper of
the West,
With men whose cities glass themselves in
Erie's classic breast;
And those to whom September brings the fire
side's social hours,
With those who see December's brow enwreath
ed with gorgeous flowers.
From where Columbia laughs to greet the
smiling Western wave.
To where Potomac sighs beside the patriot he•
ro's grave :
And from the streaming everglades to Huron's
lordly flood,
The glory of the nations past thrills through a
kindred blood!
Wherever Arnold's tale is told it dyes in cheek
with shame,
And glows with pride o'er Bunker Hill or
Moultrie's wilder fame ;
And wheresoever above the fray the stars of
empire gleam
Upon the deck or o'er the dust it pours a com
mon stream.
It is a sacred legacy ye never can divide,
Nor take from village urchin, nor the son of ei•
ty pride ;
Nor the hunter's white hair'd children who find
a fruitful home
Where nameless lakes are sparkling, and where
lonely rivers roam I
Green drew his sword at Eutaw; and bleeding
Southern feet
Trod the march across the Delaware amid the
snow and sleet
And lo! upon the parchment, where the natal
record chines,
The burning page of Jefferson bears Frank
lin's calmer lines.
Could ye divide that record bright, and tear the
names apart,
That first were written boldly there with plight.
ed band and heart?
Could ye erase a Hancock's name e'en with a
sabre's edge,
Or wash out with fraternal blood a Carroll's
double pledge ?
Say, can the South sell out her share iu Bunk•
er's hoary height?
Or can the North give up her boast in York•
town's closing fight S
Can ye divide with equal hands a hermitage of
graves,
Or rend in twain the starry nag that o'er them
proudly waves?
Can ye cast lots for Vernon's soil, or chaffer
mid tho gloom,
That hangs its solemn folds about your com•
mon Father's tomb ?
Or could ye meet around his grave as fratrici•
dal foes.
And wreak your burning curses o'er his pure
and calm repose ?
Ye dare not ! is the Alleghenian thunder-to.
ned decree,
'Tie echoed where Nevada guards the blue and
tranquil sea,
Where tropic waves delighted clasp our flowery
Southern shore,
And where through frowning mountain-gates
Nebraska waters roar.
THE SPIRIT OF PROGRESS.
The gloomy night is breaking,
E'en now the sunbeams rest,
With faint, yet cheering radiance,
On the hill-tops of the West.
The mists are slowly rising
From the valley and the plain,
And the spirit is awakening,
That shall never sleep again.
And ye may hear, that listen,
The spirit's stirring song,
The surges like the ocean,
With its solemn bass alone—
Ho I can ye stay the rivers,
Or bind the wings of light,
Or bring back to the morning
The old departed night?
Nor shall ye check my impulse,
Nor stay it for an hour,
Until earth's groaning millions
Have felt the healing power
The spirit is Progression,
In the vigor of its youth;
The foeman of Oppression,
And its armor is the TRUTH.
Old Error with its legions
Must fall beneath its wrath;
Mor blood nor tears nor anguish,
Will mark its brilliant path.
But onward, upward, heavenward,
The spirit still will soar,
I ill PF.ACE and Love shall triumph,
F.II.9TMOOD Trig. on MOT,
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 23, 1854.
gnaw of Nistog.
The Circassian's Daughter.
Some years ago a gentleman arrived one
morning at the door of the British consul-gen.
cral at Bucharest, dressed in the wild, travel
stained garb of a Transylvania shepherd. His
beard was untrimmed, his sandals covered with
soil, while a settled melancholy pervaded his
features. The consul-general invited him to
his house, and made him his guest. He was
an Englishman of large fortune. A wound in
the affections had driven him from home, and
he wandered on as far as the Carpathian Moun
tains, where for sometime he led the rude life
of the hunter—hoping that in change of scene
and excitement of the chase he might . find a
cure. He was disappointed, however, for there
was not sufficient danger in bear and wolf-hun.
ting to give it the excitement he required, and
ho left the Carpathian forests, and wandered
alone in the desolate steppes of Wallachia, slt.
ring the food of the stray herdsmen he happen.
ed to meet and sleeping wherever he was over
taken by the night. Each day that he remain
ed at Bucharest he grew more and more 'tulip.
py, till one morning the consul.general happen.
ed to receive a letter from Constantinople, giv
ing the details of a victory which the Circas.
skins had gained over the Russians. The let
ter was written by an enthusiast in the cause
of Circassian independence. The description
of the fight was animated, and the letter con.
clued with a glowing panegyric upon the bra
very of the Circassian warriors, and prediction
of the noble cause in which they were engaged.
The moment this letter was shown by the con
sul-general to his guest—whom .I shall call
Manly—the latter determined at once to start
for Cireassia, and volunteer into the ranks of
mountaineers. That very night Manly started
for Guirgevo, where he crossed the Danube to
Rutschuk, and there engaged horses and a
guide, and proceeded on to Constantinople. In
that city Manly found another Englishman
ready to join in his expedition, and instantly
freighting a Turkish vessel with salt, some am
munition and arms he sailed for the coast of
Cireassia. This was about the time the Vixen
was captured by a Russian man-of-war, and
her crew imprisoned. The coast of Cireassia
was more strictly blockaded than ever, and it
was only after the most hair breadth escapes
that Manly and his freind succeeded in landing.
They were well received by the Circassian
chiefs, to whom they brought letters of intro
duction; but what was more highly prized than
the letters was the salt, the ammunition, and
the arms, which were quickly landed, The ves
sel in which they came then sailed on her way
back to Constantinople, but, a short distance
from the Circassian coast, was captured by a
Russian cruiser, was brought into the Turkish
port of Trebizond, and was there burned by
the Russians, notwithstanding the objections of
the Governor. The two Englishmen proceed.
ed into the mountains with the Circassians, to
where the fighting was going on, and they were
soon busily engaged in skirmishing and am.
buscading, and at times in hand to hand en
counters with the Muscovites. Manly, mount.
ed on a fiery Tartar horse, clad in chain armor,
and with a long lance in his hand, was in the
thick of every danger. lie courted death: but
for a long time passed unscathed front lance or
bullet. At length, in a sharp encounter wills a
party of Russians, he was struck by a chance
shot, and, though not seriously wounded, he
was forced to submit to be carried to the house
of one of the chiefs, where he was recommend
ed to remain till his wound should be healed.
The wife and daughter of the chief in whose
house he was quartered, tended him with care
and skill, and he was soon able to move about,
but was still too weak to return to the camp.
The chief's daughter was about fifteen years
old : she was called in the country "The Rose,"
on account of her beauty. She was gentle and
intelligent, and Manly passed many of the hours
of his convalescence in giving her instruction
in some of those simple accomplishments which
form the first rudiments of an education in Eu
rope. There is something ineffably winning
in the manners of the Mahominedun women of
the east. They possess a timid gentleness rind
a native grave which are commonly feminine.
They are taught to believe themselves as far in
ferior to men—as creatures of clay that have
no existence beyond this world—and their
manner therefore, to our rougher sex, is one
that woos protection. It is this feeling of in
feriority which gives to the face of the oriental
girl, when in repitse, that expression of dreamy
sadness, and that inward look to her lustrous
eye—for if she is not beloved, the end and ob
ject of her life is not fulfilled. Rose made rap.
id progress under Manly: and when, after some
months, the camp was broken up on approach
of winter, and when her father returned home,
she quite astonished the poor chief with her
Frankish learning.
The winter passed rapidly by. The snow and
the ice disappeared—the stream was again
babbling merrily before the door of the Circas
sian keep—the forest trees were coming into
leaf—and the wild flowers and aromatic plants
which covered the hills filled the air with per
fume. The mountaineers began their prepa
rations for war; but Manly had found a pallia
tive for the sorrows of his brain, and determi
ned to return to England; but he would not
part from "The Rose." He knew the fate for
which the poor child was destined, and, there
fore, bad no hesitation in proposing to the old
chief to take her with him to Frankistan, and
to adopt her as his daughter; for, he said ho
had grown to love her as his child. The chief
said that his daughter was beautiful, and that,
thanks to Manly, she had learned certain ac
complishments which increased her value.—
She would, therefore, he said, fetch a eery high
price at Constantinople, arid that it was his in
tention at once to take her to the slave tparket
in that city, where she was sure to be bought
' by one of the great paehaa, or perhaps by the
pedischa Manly offered to give any
sum the chief named—but it was useless. The
old man said he would never permit his child
to live among Giaours—for she would be much
happier and bettor as an odalisk at - Stamboul,
where she would ride in a gilded araba, wear
a jewelled fez ; and have armed kislers to do
her bidding. Manly still persisted in his offers;
and the chief at length said he would give him
a final answer on the following day. At a
short distance from the house manly found
Rose, seated on the ground, weeping. It was
a place at which they had often sat together,
talking of the strange country from which the
Englishmen came. Poor Rose had overheard
Danly's proposal and her father's refusal. She
was no longer a child; she had passed rapidly
into budding womanhood. If Manly loved her
ns a daughter, her feelings for him had grown
into a timid and passionate love. Manly said
that her father would be sure to consent, and
that they would both be happy together in
Frankistan. So poor Rose was comforted.—
She dried her tears, and returned to the house
confident and cheerful.
The sun had risen for a time when Manly
awoke next morning. He was astonished to
hear none of the usual sounds about the house.
There was something ominious in the silence.
He dressed hastily, hurried into the principal
apartment, and found it empty. With a beat
ing heart, he called Rose; but there was no an
swer. He went out, and met an armed Circas
sian coming from the stables where his horse
was kept. This man told him that the chief
and all his family had left for. Batoun in the
middle of the night, where they were to embark
for Constantinople. He was left behind, he
said, to wait on the Monsafeer, and to be his
guide wherever he wished to go.
Some months afterwards, Manly arrived at
Constantinople. He made every inquiry among
the Circassians at Tophana, to try to discover
some clue to the old chief and his daughter;
but all in vain. One day he was coming down
the Bosphorus in a calque he was passing
close along the Asiatic shore, and had reached
the village of Kandejee, when an old woman
who was standing on the marble steps which
led into the piney, or summer residence stone
of the great pacha's, called to him to stop.—
' She asked him if he was a doctor. He answer
ed that ho knew something of medicine; so she
made him a sign to follow her into the house.
She led him along silently into one of the small
rooms of the harem. The apartment was dim
ly lighted, for the silken draperies of the lattice
were closely drawn. On the divan lay the
form of a young girl. Her hands were pressed
upon her bosom, and she was moaning feebly.
At the noise which Manly made in approach.
ing she raised her eyes, .8,, suddenly starting
sip, she put back the long, dark hair, which fell
loose upon her shoulders, and, after staring
wildly at him for a few minutes, she fell back
upon the divan, apparently lifeless. It was
poor Rose who lay before him. Under his care
her senses returned; but instantly saw to his
unutterable grief, that She was dying. Immo.
diately on her arrival at Stamboul, she told
him, she was bought for a large! suns by the
pacha in whose house she then lay. The 'm
elte made her Isis favorite, and the other oda.
lisks grew jealous. Finding they could not
succeed in alienating the pacha's love from
Rose, they determined to poison her; and that
very morning she had swallowed the fatal drug
in her coffee. She said she did not regret to
die; for her life had been one of constant suffer
ing since her separation from Manly. She
could never love but him, and she would take
her love with her to the other world he spoke
of, and there await his coming. And she talk
ed of her native mountains, and of the happy
hours they had passed there together; and
speaking in this way, she laid her head upon
his shoulder, and drawing a long sigh, she died.
She is buried among the cypress trees, upon a
height above the pacha's yallay. It was on a
summer's evening, years ago, when seated be
side Rose's grave, that I heard her story.
Manly went home and entered Parliament;
and he is at present a worthy member of the
House of Commons. He is still unmarried,
and, I believe, means to die a bachelor.
( iogral)l2 . y.
John Jacob Astor,
Vincent Nolte, a Frenchman, has written a
book of his experiences in America. He was
acquainted with John Jacob Astor, the richest
man in the United State?, who died several
years since, leaving a property which at this
time is worth between twenty and thirty mill
ions of dollars. Seven millions of this he will
ed to his nieces and grandchildren, and there.
sidue to his SOO ; Wm. B. Astor, who bidsfair to
be a much richer man than his father, and per
haps is so at this moment. M. Nolte gives the
following sketch of Astor's eady life
John Jacob Astor had distinguished himself
front the mass of German emigrants by his im
portant successes, his speculative spirit, and
his great wealth, and had won a certain celeb
rity. He was the founder of thi Amercan col
ony of Astoria, on the northermonst of the Pa
cific Ocean, which ho has hoer so graphically
and picturesquely described the pen of
Washington Irving. Astor was born at Heid
elberg, where the original name of his family is
said to have been Asebtor. and bad come to N.
York as a furrier's apprentice. His first sac.
ings,that is to eay,the wages he got in the peltry
warehouse for beating out andrprepariug bear,
doe and other skins, he invested in the purchase
of all kinds of peltry, hear, mink, mid rabbit
skins, which he got from the Indians, who, at
that time, wandered about the streets of New
York; and so soon as he had collected acertain
quantity, he sent them to Europe, particularly
to the Leipsic fair. There he traded them . uff
for Nuremberg wares, cheap knives, glass bends
and other articles adapted to trade with the In
dians on the Canadian frontiers,and took them
himself to the latter points, where be again ex
changed them for furs of various kind, Ache
has often told me with his own lips, he carried
on this traffic untiringly for twelve long years;
going, in person, alternately, to the Canadian
frontiers, and then to the Leipsie fair, and liv
ed all the while as be had ever been accustom
ed to do, humbly and sparingly. At length he
had managed to bring together a considerable
capital, and gradually became a freighter of
ships, and fitted out expeditions to the North
west Coast, to trade with the Indians of Nootka
Sound for furs. Another circumstance contri
buted to the increase of his means. At the
peace concluded in 1783,between England a her
revolted provinces—the thirteen United States
—many acres of land in the State of N. York,
sense even in the neighborhood of N. York ci
ty, were voted by Congress to the German sol•
diers who had fought in the American army.—
The latter were chiefly Hessians and Darm
stadters. Most of them died in the course of
the year, without having converted this proper.
ty into money; but the relatives and heirs they
left behind them in Germany did not forget
these little inheritances. Upon the one occa
sion of a visit made by Astor to Heidelberg, in
later years, most of the parties last refferred to,
as inheriting the allotments of the deceased
German soldiers, and residing in Heidelberg,
united and made our friend their legally auth
orized attorney in order to realize something,
if possible, from their hitherto useless acres.—
But the hoped for increase of the value of this
property was on the whole rather slow in com
ing, and the heirs wanted money, money, quick
and ready money. Astor having been applied
to on this score, said that in order to get ready
money they must reckon up the real presentval•
ue of the cash itself, and not any imagined val
ue of the land, and that only through pretty con
siderable sacrifice could they get cash for the
sin% Thereupon the parties advised with each
'Ala ) and finally Astor received peremptory
orderli to sell without further delay. Unknown
speculators were found ; the proceeds were
srnall, but the heirs got what they wanted—
money. At the present day, many of these pie
ces of ground are among the most valueable
and important in the city, and have gradually
passed through Astor into other hands; the un
known speculatorrs, however, hare faded from
the memory of everybody.
Astor, at the time of Jefferson's embargo,
was a rich man, and a successful merchant,—
The permission (procured by Parish) to send
out ships in ballast to bring home silver, had
given Astor the idea that the same privilege
might be extended to vessels dispatched for the
purpose of bringing home the amount of detbs
due abroad in gOods; with this view, he went to
Washington, and there, under the pretence that
he had an important depot of teas at Canton,
obtained permission to send a vesssel thither in
ballast. This step, however, was only the fore
runner of another one. Astor, in reality own
ed no depot, and hence he brought teas and
sold them in America at vast profits. To effect
this he hunted up, among the Chinese sailors,
or bascars, on the ships lately arrived from
China, a fellow suited to his purpose, dressed
him as a Mandarin, and took him with him to
Washington, where he had to play the part of
Chinese creditor, under the name of Hong Qua,
or Kina Hole. No ono dreamed of suspecting
the Mandarin's identity, and Astor, pushed his
scheme safely through. He sem etly sent $2OO,
000 to Canton, and the returns realized half a
millions dollars profit. Thus a stroke of skill
had been achieved whose morality no one in
the United States doubted for a moment.
Astor left a fortune of about $24,000,000,
chiefly to his only son. His mind was inces
santly busied with the increase of his resourc
es, and had no other direction. He was com
pelled by physical infirmity to repair to Paris,
where he could avail himself of the skillful as
sistance of Baron Dupuytren. The latterthor
oughty restored hint, and advised him to ride
out every day. He frequently tools occasion
to accompany his patient on these rides. One
day—and this anecdote I have from the Baron's
own mouth—when riding, he appeared by no
means disposed to converse; not a word could
be got out of him; at length Dupuytren declar
ed that ho must be suffering from some secret
pain or trouble when he would not speak. He
pressed him, and worried hint, until Astor loos
ed his tongue—" Look ye I Baron I" be said,
'how frightful this is I I have here in the hands
of my banker, at Paris, 2,000,000 francs, and
cannot manage without great effort, to get
more than 21 per• cent. per annum on it. Now
this very day I have received a letter from my
son in New York informing me that there the
best acceptances are at from 1 to 11 per cent.
per month. Is it not enough to enrage a man?"
Rules for Life•
The following rules for the business of life,
were lately written by a father on the blank
leaf of his son's bible, and contains much in
little:—
Choose the path of virtue, and imitate a high
pattern.
Do all the good in thy power, and let every
action ho useful.
Cultivate thy mind carefully—it will be a
atom of reflection.
Bo diligent in thy business, and strictly up-
right in all thy dealings.
Investigate affairs closely, and engage in
them cautiously.
Lay thy plans with prudence, and be prelim.
red for emergencies.
In difficulties be patient, and overcome them
by perseverance.
Do that first, always, which needs doing
most.
Have a place for everything, and everything
in its place.
In all things ho economical without mean•
nets, and combine utility with elegance'
Ifel.lt often happens that they aro the best
people whose characters have been most injur
ed by slander—as we often find it to bo the
sweetest fruit which the birds have been pick•
ing at.
S' The weather continn , pl •a arc
pisallantous.
Wearing Apparel at tliiT l Nime of the
American Revolution.
In those days men wore wigs, surmounted
by three-cornered or cocked hats, no higher
than the crown of the head. Their coats had
standing collars, large wide stiffs, mud volumi
nous skirts, lined and stuffed with buckram.—
That of a beau had three or four large plaits
in his skirts, with an immense quantity of wad
diug to keep them smooth; cuffs extended to
the elbows, open below, inclined down, with
lead therein; and a cape worn low, so as readi
ly to expose the closely-plaited neck-stock of
fine linen cambric, and the large silver stock
buckle at the back of the neck. Their shirts
had frills, hand ruffles, and finely-plaited sleeves,
but no collars. Gold and silver sleeve-buttons,
set with stone or paste of various colors and
kinds, adorned the wrists of all. Their breech
es fitted closely, with silver, stone, and paste
buckles at the knee. Suspenders were un
known; and it was considered the test, as well
as the pride, of a well-formed man, when he
could keep his breeches above his hips and in
his stockings above his calves, without belt or
garter. They wore shoes or pumps, with
sil
ver buckles of various sizes and patterns.—
When riding, hunting, Le., they wore long
hoots, or leather leggins, The boys were dres
sed like the men, even to the shaved head and
powdered wigs. The ladies all wore caps, stiff
stays, hoops extending from six inches to two
feet on each side (causing a full dressed lady
to enter a door sideways like a crab), and high
heeled shoes of black stuff, with white silk or
thread stockings. In the miry time of Winter
they wore clogs or pattens. Their hair was
most elaborately arranged, being powdered, po
matumed, and drawn over a pad frequently
three or four inches high. As soon as wigs
were abandoned by the men, the natural hair
was particularly cherished, and it became cus
tomary to plait it, or wear it in a black sills
bag or sack, adorned with a large black rose.
In time, "Brutus beads"—which consisted in
discarding powder, perfume, frizzle, sacks, cues,
&c.—came in vogue. Those who first braved
public opinion, by adopting this fashion, were
considered very courageous; and the old men
were particularly obstinate in their opposition
to it. Death, however, constantly lessened their
number, and the mode gradually became pop
ular.
A Home Item.
We adopt the following hints which we find
in an exchange, as a "home item," and we wish
that all our readers may treasure them up in
their hearts and suffer them to be ever presen t
in their memory. We have probably all of us
met with instances in which n word heedlessly
spoken against the reputation of a female hits
been magnified by malicious minds until the
cloud has become dark enough to overshadow
her whole existence. To those who are accus
tomed—not necessarily from bad motives but
from thoughtlessness—to speak lightly of fe
males we recommend the "hints" as worthy of
consideration: "Never use a lady's name in an
improper place, at an improper time or in a
mixed company! Never make assertions about
her that you think aro untrue, or allusions that
you feel she herself would blush to hear. When
you meet with men who do not scruple to make
use of a woman's name in a reckless and un•
principled manner, shun them, for they are the
very worst members of the community, men
lost to every sense of honor—every feeling of '
humanity. Many a good and worthy woman's
character has been forever ruined, and her
heart broken by a lie, manufactured by some
villain, and repeated where it should not have
been, and in the presence of those whose little
judgment could not deter them from circulating
the foul mid bragging report. A slander is
soon propagated, and the smallest thing derog
atory to a woman's character will fly on the
wings of the wind, and magnify as it circulutes
until its monstrous weight crushes the poor un
conscious victim. Respect the name of wo
man. for your mother, your sister, are women,
and as you would have their fair name untarn.
ished, and their lives unembittered by the slim.
tierces biting tongue, heed the ill that your
own words may bring upon the mother, the sis
ter or the wife of some fellow creature."
A Singular Animal.
Among the lower animals tenacity of life is
the most remarkable iu the polypi : they may
he pounded in a mortar, split up, turned inside
out like a glove, and divided into parts without
injury to it. Fire alone is fatal to them. Ii is
now about a hundred years since Trembly made
us acquainted with these animals, and first din.
covered their indestructibility. It has subse
quently been taken up by other natural histori
ans, who have followed these experiments, and
have followed these experiments, and have
gone even so far as to produce monsters by
grafting. If they he turned inside out, theyat.
attempt:to replace themselves, uusuccessfully,
the outer surface assumes the properties and
power of the inner, and the reverse. If the ef
fort be partially successful only, the parts turn
ed back dissappeared in twenty-four hours, and
that part of the body embraces it in such a
manner that the arms which project behind are
now fixed in the centre of the body; tho origin
al opening disappears, and in the room of feel
ers a new mouth is formed, to which new feel
ers attach themselves and this new mouthfeeds
immediately. The healed extremity elongates
itself into a tail, of which the animal has two.
If two polypi be passed into one another like
tubes, and pierced through with a bristle, the
inner one works its way through the other and
comes forth again in a few days ; in some in
stances, however, they grew together and then
a double row of feelers surround the mouth. If
they be mutilated the divided parts grow to
gether again, and even pieces of two separate
individuals will unite into one.
tor"ltteognitio - nw.v the tt-rm for
"drunk...
VOL. 19. NO. 34.
Roadside Confab.
"And eo, Bquire, you don't take your county
paper ?"
"No, Major. I get the city papers on much
better terms; and no I take a couple of them."
"But, Squire, these county papers prove
great convenience to us. The morelife en
courage them the better their editors can make
them.;"
"Why I don't know any convenience they
are to me."
"The farm you sold lest fall was advertised
in one of them, andy i p thapby obtained a
customer. Did you nor"
"Very true, Major, but I paid three dolls&
for it." •
"And made much more than three dollars
by it. Now, if your neighbors had not main
tained that press and kept it ready for your
use, you would hare been without the nteans
of advertising your farm. I saw a notice of
your daughter's marriage in one of those pa•
pers; did that cost anything
"No, but.—" -
"And your brother's death sass published
with a long obituary notice."
"Yes, but—"
"And the destructicor of your neighbor
Brigg's house by fire. You knew these things
were exaggerated till the authentieeecounts of
our newspaper set them right."
"Oh, true, but--
"And when your Cousin Splash was out for
the Legislature on appeared much gratified
at Ins newspaper defence, which cost him noth•
"Yes, yes, but these are news for the read
ers. They cause people to take papers."
"No, no, 'Squire Grudge, not if all are like
you. Now, I tell you, the day will come when
sumo one will write a very long eulogy on your
life and chef:icier, and the printer will put it
in type, with a heavy black line over it and
with all your riches this will be done for you
us the grave is given to a pauper. Your wealth,
liberality and such things will be spoken of,
but the printer's boy as he arranges the types
to these sayings will remark of you: "Poor,
mean devil, he is even sponging an obituary
Good morning, Squire."
Look at the Bright Side.
What is the use of looking as if you had
season ticket for a funeral? Can't you find any
better name for this world than "a ville of tears,"
and "a scene of tribulation?" If you can't, it
will do no good to read a letter which a friend
has just furnished us. It is from a wife, in
Mass., to her husband, in California. She al.
ways looks at the bright side. ,She doesn't in•
tend going through the world as if
"Muffled drums were beating
Funeral marches to the grave."
Here is her letter:
MY DEAR HESDAMI: As it is some time
since you left us for California, I suppose you
would be glad to hear how we are getting along
in your absence. lam happy to say that we
are enjoying very good health on the whole.—
Just at present two of the boys have got the
small pox Amanda Jane has got the measles,
Samuel got hooked by a cow the other day,
and little Meter has chopped off three of his
fingers with the hatchet. Its a mercy that ho
didn't chop them alt Itr. With these trifling ex.
ceptions, we are all well and are getting along
nicely. You needn't be at all anxious about us.
I almost forgot to nay that Sarah Matilda e
loped, last week, with a tin pedlar. Poor girl!
she's been waiting for the last ten years for a
chance, and I'm glad she's got married at last.
She needn't have taken the trouble to elope,
though, for I'm sure I was glad enough to hare
her go. She was a great cater. and I find the
baked beans don't go off near as fast as they
did. The way that girl would dip into pork and
bear.s, was a caution to the rest of the family.
The cow took it into her head yesterday to
run away, which was very fortunate, I'm sure,
for the barn caught fire last night and was con
sumed. I was in hopes the house would go, for
it's very inconvenient; but the wind was the
wrong way, so it didn't receive much injury.
Some boys broke into the orchard the other
day and stripped all the trees. lam very glad
of it. If they hadn't, I presume the children
would have made themselves sick by eating too
much fruit.
Hoping that you enjoy yourself in California
as well as we do at home, I remain your affec-
tionate wife.
A Husband or a Hundred Dollars.
A few days ago a buxom Irish woman, fat
and forty, arrived in Springfield, Mass., by one
of the Boston trains, in hot pursuit of a truant.
lover. Having ascertained his whereabouts, a
warrant is procured fur his arrest for breach of
marriage promise, alleging damages in the sum
of $lOO. Duly armed with this missive, officer
Walker made Isis acquaintance, giving him a
choice of alternative, marriage or damage. The
former was assented to, and under pretence of
arranging his toilet for the nuptial ceremony,
he was permitted to retire to his room, but was
followed almost immediately by the officer,
who was just in time to see the promised bride
groom, thro' an open window, spanning an op
posite field at 2.40 gait. Quietly taking pos
sion of the fugitive's forgotten wardrobe, which
was found to contain nearly $l5O in cash, more
than enough to satisfy the warrant and heal
the brokenhearted, the knight of the "star" was
content to wait issue. Twenty-four bourn bret
back the unwilling bridegroom, who, unable to
recover his money without giving himself in ex
change, finally yielded obedience to his fate.
The marriage was soon perfected, and the
groom, apparently resigned and contented, left
in the next train for Boston, accompanied by
his bride, whose extravagant grins betokened
an overjoyed heart at her successful pursuit of
& husband under difficulties.—.sprinftfitid Rep.
sir An author unknown achieves the fol
lowing remark. The entrance of a single wo
man of talent into a family, io suffieient to keep
it clear of fools for several generations.