Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, October 11, 1854, Image 1
..... _,- /.4.?4isivi i 1 ' --' • • i l. • 1 • ' 1' k -- . t , - 4 . , .. 4 . ! .;:''.-'''''- •:. . .. - • .. . ..„ • -.- - -...-- " I SEE NO STAR ABOVE THE HORIZON, PROMISING LIGHT TO GUIDE US, BUT THE lETELLIGENT, PATRIOTI , 1,- ~ 1 . ,Y WM. BREWSTER TERMS : p"titiNTlN MJI, Jo l' I:N.1 L " is published at owing. rates "Paid in advance $1,50 f paid within six months tiller the titan of subscribing 1,75 y paid at the end of the yen). ... 2,00 Alia two Aollims and tifty cents if not paid till after the expiration of the year. No subscription vnllJ be taboo for it less period than six months, and nopaper will be diicontiqued, except nt the Option of the Eilitor, until all arronmges are paid. Subscribers living in distant connties,or in other Fitntes, will be required to pay invariably in advance. • — fir The chore tends will be rigidly adhered p in all 1.504. 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Wti.LIS *rites from Idlewild:—"When Copway, our Ojibbeway friend was here, a day or two ago, he told the children on Indian le gend of the water-lily, how it came to earth— heavenly flower (hot it is. One of our fair neighbors who happened to be listener, thus rendered the beautiful story into verse: A star looked down from its glowing throne • Ts the azure-vaulted sky, And said—"l am weary here all alone, Doing nought but throb and sigh. Par down iu the vallies of earth I ace The red mon's children at 'play; ih innocent sound of their carless glee Mines faint on. the air all day. ! will 'Teals to the bravos at 01,ir council tire, Aod ask them to let no dwell Where earthly love may warm my heart - With its human, holy spell." P) they told the star slio might at night come Whtin the wood and wigwam were still, And sit on the mountain and throw her light f !trough the vale and along the hill. She jam all trembling, but when the morn Woke the birds and children again, The Aar Nat ; ; rieving and all forlorn, For she knew that her hope vow coin. 'ASot near enough yet! I can hoar nod sea The rod rumps children at. play, Ina they waste neither wish nor fiat on ma From the morn till the clo,e of day. il,en they' bade her alight on the tree top old, them asleep with its song ; rock'd und wad k shiver'd with eold, impatient the whole night long. t lil4 th the children awoke once more, ihoy heard the pine•tree High, no heed of the watching star, B.:twat, them and.the aky. Film Paw diem skimming in a light canoe, thu lovely lake below, But the longing, that hourly tenderer grew, how could elm make them know. She pondered another night rt)vay, And at length when the morning brake, She dropp'd fronlber height with tearful plunge • And sack iu the silver lake. The star was shivered ! But every ray Was caught by a faithful wave ! ls,:aeltscintillant beans grew a snowy flower, Where she thought to find a grave ! When the red maiden, in her light canoe, • Seeks lilies for bosom and brow, The star is content, fur she softly says— " I lupe conquered They love me nor. glis(ctlantou, A KNOW NOTHING YARN. All creation and the balance of mankind w ,re, early one morning, aroused front the usually pervading the pious, prim, and town'of East Nutmeg, by the cry of— ' ".Vllat's it all about?' 'When did they comer 'Li,, many aro they ?"What do they look 'Did you see 'em ?"Arc they human ;7't!. ,. .,r5? ' 'What are they going to do?' • ''''ho?' 'What ?' • The Know Yothinge." 'Loon Nothings ?' sacs a native. • 4.now Nothings. •Well, I'd give a flipence to know,' coatis• the native, 'what in sin it all abeout.' 'Oh, you haven't seen 'em, eh?' says a jolly, Tr. - and-visaged, bright-eyed individual, who, with otherstrau,gers, and natives of East Nut• wero gathered in a knot about the depot, , li,cussing the topic which had iu a siuglo night ',so, saw, and took the town: •Haven't Seen 'e T' 'Seen who?' says the native. 'The Know Nothings.' Know Nothings! Wal, kinder &elate I 1.. o few.' • 'Oh, you aro one of 'em, ch?' 'Look a hero, squire, if you don't want to be cross•logged in yon heap o' sand, I cali?!:, you'd better not say my education has neglected in any sich a way.' 'No, at all, my dear friend; I only predicted t:, it ? .,•1 were a—that in, hang it-1 mean, do 'on know what's out ?' 'Yen j I'll tell you whites oat', squire.' 'Good; what in it ?' 'A writ agin Josh Pruden for breakin the Sabbath all iew flinclers, playing keards in Deacon Dinkle's born.' ‘l'Slia I' said the jolly man, 'I don't mean that sort of work; I suppose you are like the rest of these Know Nothings, too sly, eh—to be caught ?' 'Squire, don't you chaw? 'Yes,' said the jolly man. :Hand us youi' tobacco then' 'Yes, I don't chow. eout I gettin kinder shnrp•set, too, I cale'inte, Now look n here, squire, I gin to expect your from York.' 'I 'spect you are correct in your remake.' iWal, I know yeou was; con tell you fellers a mile off; yes, can, by kingdom: . Now, I calelate there's something goin' on, that's a fact—all.firedest raow areound this yer tnown, this.inornin', 'beout somethin' a feller never Imam' 'Ah, that's what I was coming at. Now, they say, you'vegot a new invention—a new. fangled society, or a new order, party, or sect, or something that's bound to get Christendom in an uproar; how is it ?' 'Eh, yes; when they goite to begin it, squire ?' 'O, yeou git eout, sly dog, aint you one of 'em ?' $1 25 1 50 'What! them fellows that's goin' to Win An and break things?' don't ; I only ask you'—continued the squire ; 'I only ask for information, -you see' 'Wel, naow, look a here, a feller never made much by dod•rotted ignorance in this land of universal liberty and gincral edecation ; and a feller hates tew come right daown and confess he don't Vow nothing, that's a fact ; but, squire, I've got ten acknowledge the corn, a•a.nd it's no use talkie'; but darn my buttons tew apple sass, of I wont, as poor a feller as I be, gin jist ten shillins and upards tow• know what's kinder busted mound here.' 'Would you?' 'Wouldn't I? By golly, squire, I guess yenur the critter kin jist tell us all abeout it ? 'l'm just the man that can.' knew yeou be ! Grea.a-t kingdom, let's hear all about it.' 'His.s-b,' said the humorous man, 'his-s•h!— Eve been sounding you.' 'Yeou don't say so? echoes the citizen of Nutmeg. 'Yes, sir; we have to be cautious' 'Eh, yes,' abstractedly responds the Nut. moger. 'Can't speak out to everybody: 'So.' 'Yes, sir; now I know you're a good egg.' 'Riggs?' 'Good egg—sound to the core!' 'Sa mna? wouldn't wonder, never ailin' but once in my hull life; then I had the darnest scratehitte time yeou ever did see, I reckon.— Ever had the itch, squire 'Never, thank you.' 'O, not at all, squire, you are quite welcome, as Uncle Nut said, when he shot the login.' 'Well, sir, now I'll give you a whisper, an idea of what's up ; and it' you love your coun• try—' "ale?' 'The land of the free, and the home of the brave 'Grea-tot Fourth of July 1 pitch in the big licks squire.' 'Our own dear nalice land I' 'That's the ginger! go it, squire!' says Nutmeg. 'Well, sir; now you just follow me over to the hotel, ao ; now take a chair. Here we are ; now I'll give you the secret. You see this is a grand secret society.' 'EI, yes.' 'And the greatest secresy is to be adhered to. Now rise, hold up bulb hands, high above your head, so; now swear—' 'swear? can't dow it, squire—agin my re- ligiou. 'Are you an American V `Am 1? I aint within' clue, by , Bunker 'Will you stand by your country ?' 'Will .1? Yes, sir; till Gabriel toots his horn !' • 'Then swear that you will stand by the Amer ican Eagle, the stars and the stripes, and never reveal the secrets. 'Fourth of July, and Bunker Hill !' chimes in the excited Yankee. 'That's it, good, good egg l' said the humor ous man.. 'Now, sir, you are one of us, you aro a Know-Nuthiug.' 'Yeou don't say so?' 'Yes, sir; now we have some mysterious signs and countersigns, by which you can tell a brother of the society. When you see a man looking at you with his right eye shut, his hands is his Tockets, and a cigar (should he be smo: king) in the left aide of his mouth--you may know he's a Know-Nothing.' 'Eh, yes.' 'Well, then, you go toward him, and shut your left eye, so; you bite your thumb, of the left hand, if he bites-' 'Bites?' - 'Yes, if he bites; if lie is really one of 'em he will say something like "what do you mean?" or "do you mean that for me?" Then he bites, you see; then you advance close, and say, slow• ly "nix a treed in cally"P Tut ', shit it ?' says Yankee. 'Well, no, not exactly, it', our language.— Then he'll say,„"what do you mean 1" mind he'll be very apt to say that, once or twice, sure. You reply, don't forget, "nibs,—stug his nibs cully"r "Nibs," eh, yes' cully, how's nibs?" You then ap proach close up, shut the right eye, grasp his hand, and put your forefinger alongside of your nose, so. then up and tell you all about it l' 'kin will? How many fellra in this town HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 11, 1854. have joined this society?' 'O, hundreds ; nearly everybody you meet are members; its raising the greatest excite• meat imaginable 'Beate Millerites ? I was one of 'em: 'Beats everything out, sir. Now here's the oath; you sweatby this emblem'—(elevating a boot jack.) 'What, a boot jack?' 'Yes, it liaoks like a jack, but it aint, it's a blind, a mystery; we swear by this. You put your forefinger on your nose, shut one eye, and swear never to reveal these, our secrets, so help your Independence day! Now, tonight, there will be a crowd near the depot. about dark ; when the crowd moves, you follow; they will take you to a secret chamber, where you will learn more particulars. Now scoot. 'Eh, yes;' and Nutmeg left. Ile had just got into the street, when a veri talle sign net his eyes. A long-legged, don!). lefisted fellow, with but one eye in his head. stood gaping around, with his hands in his breeches ; up goes Nutmeg, shuts his eye, and pokes his thumb between Livolers. The man with the other, awl by the twitching of his lips segued to be speaking, or doing something like it, inwardly. 'Nix a weed in enlly I' says Nutmeg, advan- cing. 'What in yallcr thunder d'ye mean say!' says the one-eyed man. 'Nibs—stag his nibs, eully, how's nibr?' con tinued Nutmeg, advancing, and placing his finger upon his long , shargmose and grabbing at the stranger, who, mistrusting the move meant no good, drew off, and put in such a "soult paw" that Nutmeg doubled up sod went duwn all in a heap—cot/Ur 'Coll darn you, slot you one of 'em ? Why didn't yon say so?' bawls Nutmeg, trurelliny into the hotel to find the Professor of Know. Nothingness, settle his hush! But Professor Pete Morris had suddenly left fur parts un known! Nutmeg has been looking for Pete, for some time. JACK HUMPHRIES. TOOTHACHE. 'lt had been raining all day. The eye could no longer read the poetry of the blue heavens. A most monotonous vapour obscured the beauty of nature, and the air was filled with watery particles, which did nut come from any place im particular, but went in all sorts of oblique directions to people's doors and under the umbrellas. Men strided along in the dim distance indistinctly, with 'huge shapeless over shoes and melancholy countenances: and chilli' neys and steeples loomed up through the fog with something of the dignity of " misty moun tain tops." There is nothing extraordinary in the fact, that after having paraded for some. time through the streets I was rather wet. From a smart shower when big drop; cusses dashing and spattering down in straight lines, there is a refuge ; and when the umbv Is becomes satu rated, and discharges its huh. rivers from the cads of the whalebone, you are content to step fur a Ilse moments under a shed, or on a door sill, till it is over; but from such drizzling weather there is no refuge; it defeats all calculation ; the whole city is soaked, the bum misters are.damp, and one may often write his name with his finger on the entry wall. flour after beer dragged heavily on. The sun it was presumed, had descended, and nox atm in cubaif tare. I went home through the. mud, splashing on by the obscure lamp-light, so completely undone in regard to dress, that I had scarcely the ambition to turn aside for a mud puddle, but trudged on alike through wet and dry with a kind of miniature despair.— Well, I reached the house, flung aside my dripping cloak; shook the drops from my forlorn hat, and laid my unfortunate looking gloves on the table, hoping to lose the uncomfortable feeling of the day in the cheerful warmth of a blazing fire; but mortals are seldom blessed with a freedom from trouble; as one vanishes others come on like the waves of the sea, and so we are not often at rest. A dull pain which, had for some time suffered in my face, excited some suspicions of a visit from a bitter enemy of mine; until increasing gradually, it assumed a character more distinct than agreeable, and I was compelled reluctantly to acknowledge that I had the toothache. I will nut linger to remind the reader what an insufferable torment this is ; how it goes on aching, aching, hour after hour; how nobody sympathizes with you but some poor wretch who has recently been himself excruciated in a similar way—with the long train of treble recollections which throng upon the mind with the gloom of a funeral at the mention of that unhappy and inexorable disease ; but hasten to the conclusion of my history. The imperturbable gravity which overshadowed my visage excited some atten tion. Yielding with apparent patience, be cause 1 knew it could not be avoided, 1 drew forth from my pocket ono of your long red silk handkerchiefs, and bound it around my face. "What's the matter ?" said one "Oh, nothing, a little toothache. It will go off presently." "What's the matter?" asked another. "Thu toothache," said I. 'Ah, how du you do ?" said a third. "What's the matter with your face?" "Toothache—the toothache—the toothache," said I, pacing backward and forward across the room. "bold some brandy in your month said "Put year face is euld water," said au• other. "Covor your head up warm,', said a third. "Have you tried opium ? Have you taken laudanum ?" said one. "Smoke a cigar." acid another. I allowed myself to be persuaded into never- al remedies. They put my feet into boiling hut water, enveloped my head in flannel, and sent me to bed iu some measure relieved. The tooth, believer, coutinued to ache, ache, ache, as If acme fiend were beating uud beating upon the nerve with his invisible hammer. Some times I would sink into a troubled sleep; I lost my hold upon my waking thoughts and the objects around and fleeted off among stones of strange burlesque confusion familiar faces ap penred laughing and bilking, and, perchance, I would catch the glance of a bright eye, or the tone of a sweet voice, which I had known be fore and remembered'i for these will occasion ally recur to the memory, waking or asleep, when a sudden start Would put them all to in stantaneous flight, and there I was, the still moonlight streaming in upon the floor, and the fiend still beating, Itid beating, and beating with unrelenting perieverance. I heard the distant clock, through the silence of the night, striking two, three, and four, and despairing at length of winning 'death's beautiful brother" to my eyelids, I lay watching with feverish anxiety, the first steaks of gray light that broke in the east. I had almost resob;ed to "have it out;" but thitee "gothic appeals to. cold iron" are any thing but agreeable. I have an instinctive horror of a dentist: There is to me something monstrous in his deliberate self.possession.— He walks so coolly td his care, choose you out with so much tranquility his proper instrument, wraps his buckskin wand it with such attro cious saitg froid—regards your recoiling min ery with such palpable unconcern—says he wont hurt you, and t}s his vile steel rattles against your teeth, talks about the weather-,- apd.--oh bate the very name of a den tist. When I rose in the morning, the thoughts of him frighiened away the pain; and still buri ed in handkerchief.; I sallied forth with a res- olution to hold out the fortress at all eveots fur another day- It was a .fine sunshiny morning; all the world were merrily in motion ; but my unlucky llindages continued to be the object of notice and topic of-conversation, whereever I went. "How do you do ?" asked my friend Tom.- "Whet the donee is the' matter? Huve you the mumps ?" • "Good morning," replied I, speaking thick tlrough the handkerchiefs so as scarcely to be intelligible. "I have the toothache—had it all night—havn't slept a wink," (a white fib which every body tells when_be has been disturbed during a part of the night; it does.the hearer no harm, and there is no fear of a discovery ;) "havn't slept a wink—cheekall swollen,—head. ache—felt like the deuce." ''Have you tried a hot brick and vinegar?" "No," returned I, still struggling fur utter. once against the obstructions which bound my mouth and ndie„. "I. Lathed my feet, held brandy in my motah; 'and covered my head with hot flannel." "Pooh I nonsense! brandy indeed ? nothing worse fur the teeth than brandy. The others decny too as quick again. I'll tell you how to cure your toothache. My wife had the tooth ache, lust as you have, and I made her wash behind her ears with cold water every morning for a week. Try it. It's a certain cure." will t good morning." Went into my friend M.'s office. There wore Mr H. theimet;•Mr. F. the lawyer, Col. S. and young Dr. P., ad fine fellows and excel lent friends of mine i would certainly cure me if they could. "Ah, how 'd'ye do? how are you?" "Good morning gentlemen." "Why, what's the matter ?" "Got the toothache, face swelled up. as large as a• goose's egg. Look here—havn't slept these two nights." "Have you tried a .-hot onion applied out wardly? You must squeeze it in a flannel bag, -and keep it close to the cheek. It's the only cure, and a certain one. My cousin was relieved of a horrid toothache by it." "ill try it," said I. 'Take oil of cloves," said .lawyer F.; "that's the only thing in the world." "I can tell you an infallible remedy for the toothache," observed. my friend the Colonel,- "Take a tablespoonful of brandy, and four tablespoonfuls of mustard; wrap up your bead in flannel; go to bed; put a couple of hot bricks to your feet, and keep on the poultice till it takes the skin off. You'll never have the toothache again as long as you live." fib A little while after—tooth still aching—l sat over my desk in a brows study. My two friends H. and W. walked in. "How do you du this moruing? What's the matter with your face?" • "The toothache—had it all night—no sleep —look like a fright" "Hand the that pen," said W., "I'll give you a cure. Take of nitri. daki.r. so much, and alum. pup. so much. • "Hurible," said 11-, "I tried that once, and it screwed my face all out of joint. Have you tried the vapor bath?" "No." "Only thing in the world fur toohache, Try "I will," said I. We were interrupted by Mr. L. Ho is one of your plain common sense sort :of practical, fixed in his 31%11 optnio., a little in clined to stoicism, with a dash of savage phi losophy, partly alluded to hide tenderer feel ings, and about six feet and ea inch high with out his shoes. '•What's the matter with your face? inquired "Toothache," said I, "all swelled ; keeps we 'awako—and—" • . "Try my nifri. dukia. and Wilda. par.." said W. "Curse your n ri. tluleis. and alum. pull," said L., "there is but sue cure for the tooth ache, and that's a aure ouo." I looked tremblingly up. He had his great square fist doubled, as if be held something in his hand. He raised it to his mouth, and screwed it around with the motion of s dentist uprooting some huge double grinder with three diverging prongs. 114 friends were silent. I turned a little pale. He saw what an impres• :C, UNITED WHIG PASTY OF THE . UNITED STATES sion he had made, and with a grin that went to my soul, added:— "Out with it, you fool ; and there's an end. It's worth all the nilri. dulcis. alum. polo. in the universe." There was a melancholy truth in what he re marked. It sunk into my heart; I made up my mind; and when my worthy advisers left me I walked around ft Dr. Miller—the prince of .dentists, There was an awful silence—an agoaya cry from, the heart's core—l came out the happiest of men. The Power of Music We were seated in the cabin of the steamer Ocean. There was a large number of passen gers who seemed desirous of beguiling the te• diem of the trip by contributing something to the general amusement. Among the passengers was a long, lank, -specimen, whom no one could fail to recognize as a Yankee. He sat somewhat apartfrom the rest, notwithstanding which the singularity of his appearance did not fail to draw many cu rious eyes towards him. At length when all the resources of their company seemed ex hausted, one of - them turned dubiously to our Yankee, and politely requested him to.fdvor the company with a song. "A Song?" echoed looking up. " Yes sir, you sing do you not?" "I did once" replied he "and I may add it saved my life." All were eager to hear how this could be, and after some littlo urging the stranger con sented to gratify them. " You must know said he that 1 was. ono of the first to go to California when the report first readied us at our homes of its stores of gold. It was nothing then to what it is now-- a perfect waste in fact, with hardly a mark of civilization, where now you can see flourishing towns numbefing their thousands of inhabi tants. Tieing food of adventure,. I separated from my company and determined to find the way to the diggins myself. One night I found my self lying on the grass with my pack for a pil low, just upon the edge of a large forest. It did not enter into my head to be afraid until it became dark, and I heard with fearful distinct ness the cry of the prairie wolf. I listened again, and was alarmed to find the cry coming nearer. Evidently they scented me. At length the whole pack of the blood thirsty rascals came bounding on till they came with in a hundred feet of me, and then they stood stock st 11, and then began to draw nearer. My 11:::e rose on end. I was terribly nlarmed. to think of some possible way of smarinsT Mom. Having heard. that they were territied ay the sight of lire I lighted a match. They drew off a little, bat immediately retra ced their steps. This movement was repeated on both sides. I found this would never do; must think of something more decisive. But what ? I recollected having in my youth attended singing school for the space of Ort.kvenings, during which I received some no tions of the manner of singing ‘! Old Hun dred." That recollection saved inc. Without more ado, I began, and did as well us I could. By the time I had got through the first line, I observed that the wolves began to luok a little wild and uneasy, and—will you believe it, gentlemen ?" said the narrator car. costly, " before I finished, every individual wolf, putting his tore paws up to his ears, scatu pored away us if the old Jack were after him !" A shout of laughter both loud and long, fol. lowed this narrative, at the end of which the speaker, who had not stirred a muscle, gravely continued. "You see, gentlemen, I have been frank with you. I did not wish to take an undue advan tage of your very kind and complimentary iu• vitation without forewarning you of the conse quences. If, after what 1 have told you, you arc still desirous of hearing me, I will endea vor 10 give you Old Hundred, which is the only song I know, and ono which, for reasons already given, 1 feel uncommonly attached." It is needless to say that lie was unanimous ly excused. ear Learn to play on some musical instru. meut. It will prove a great source of pleasure and add vastly to the social institution. Wo know a man who can get up a week's stock of happiness with " Old Hundred," on a penny's jew's harp, and another who is never iu so great ruptures as when sawing something like " Yaukee Doodle" on a two string four and sixpenny fiddle. Music is a great discovery. For hatching happiness, it is not surpassed, except by a pretty wife, stewed oysters, or a sirloin smothered in Wethersfield onions. Married Men. So good was he that I new take the oppor tunity of making a confession which I have often had upon my lips, but having hesitated to make known, from the lear of drawing upon myself the hatred of every married woman.— But now I will run the risk—so now fur it— sometime or other people must unburden their hearts. I confess, then, that I never find a man more lovable or more captivating than when lie is a married man. A man is never so handsome, *icier so perfect in my eyes. as when he is a husband, and the father of a family, supporting inhis manly arms wife and children, and the whole domestic circle, which, on his entrance into the inurrricd state, close round him and constitute part of his home and world. Ile is not merely ennobled by his po sition, but beautified by it—then ho appears to me as the crown of creation ; and it is only such a man as this that is dangerous to me, and with whom I ant inclined to fall in love. But, then, propriety forbids it. Aud Moses, and aU European legislators, declare it to be sinful, and,n.ll married women would consider it a sacret duty to stone me. Nevertheless 1 cannot rrevent the thing. It is so, and it cannot be ntherwise; and my only hope of ap•. [WrBSTER peasing those who are excited agnind me is in my future confession, that nu love affects tee so pleasantly; the contemplation of no hapiness makes me so happy as that betweer. married people! it is so amazing to Myself, because it seems to. tee that 1, living unmarried or match less, have but little to do. But it is so, and alwas was so:—Mils Bremer. THE DEVIL. Start not, moat timid reader, at the name of this thine own acquaintance; for why should'st thou be frightened at the name of so familiar' and popular a character? Thou heat known him from thy youth up—a good looking and courteous personage, who could tell thee, an' thou would, many a forgotten reminiscence of thee and thine, and who is, withal, one of the blandest and most affable creatures in the world. He moves in the best society, is rigidly scru pulous of his outward appearance, and prides himself no little on his knowledge of the human heart. Polite to a fault, with a voice of the richest tone, and an eye of the brightest glance; bewitching by his smile, and entrancing by his eloquence; with a mind with knowledge and overflowidg, with light, he has ever been one of the most popular and influential characters of, the day. Full often has he taken thee by the hand, and led thee into green pastures, and by the side of still waters, whilst thou, poor delu ded soul, imagined thyself in the.society of one of "Heaven's elect." And yet thou•tremblest at the mention of his name--and the very idea of contact with him blanches thy warm, cheek, and fills thee with terror. Mistaken soul! On the pages of the primer, and on the tablet of thy mind, this gen. tlemanly and accomplished Devil is painted, perhaps, as a poor fleshless body, gaunt and grim, having eyes of fire and feet that are clo ven ; with horns growing from his head, sad barbed arrows from his mouth ; with a long tail of many folds behind, aud a long arm with ma. ny claws before ; in short, monster of such frightful mien, As to be hated needs but to be seen." I tell thee, reader, such a picture is a gross slander on the personal appearance of the Dark Prince. He is "black, but comely, U ye daughters of Jerusalem, us the tents of Kcdur, or the curtains of Solomon." Herein, thou should'st know, is the secret of Isis power—the charm of his life. Deformity has no attractions. Men arc mit drawn into any snare by repulsive and sieliessing leaders. They will not-:-unless barbarians inde,l— at the shrine ofaoy monster. Nu. lie who would lead them captive must array him. self it . ipurple and fine linen. 'So at least think 4 ' the personage in question, and he acts accord ingly. I. ,lle comes in the glided habiliments of pleasure. With smiling face a lightsome stop he trip along, 1 7 .2!10we..1 by a gay and thought. le,, ~1,1 dance along the road to ruin, unck,sis.iious of their danger and careful only of immediate and palpable enjoyment. Lured on, step by step, from innocent mere. ation to unlawful indulgence; from unlawful indulgence to gross licentiousness; from gross licentiousness to loss of self•respect and utter recklessness ; with besotted mind, and broken heart; and withered body; their polite and fat, einating conductor leaves the portals of the grave, where a press of other business obliges hies to bid them u polite and affectionate good bye, promising—the only promise the deceitful wretch keeps—to ascot them on the other side of the grave ! 2. Ile comes in the flowing dishabille of the Idler. With a jaunty air, a mind at peace with all the world, an enviable indifference to all the storms and calms of life, an unwrinkled brow and a spotless hand—ho allures Many sons and daughters of industry from their toil, and soon teaches them to look upon work as a bur. don, and industry as a disgrace. Cunning and. crafty, art thou, indeed, oh Devil, with thy oily tongue and bland address, and thou dust truly creet thy busiest work shop iu the bruin of the idle man. 3. The Devil comes also in the "sober black" of hypocrisy. Uoulletnanly, indeed, is he in this favorite character. In cowl and gown,. with smooth thee and smoother speech, ho walks cautiously before the people, and gathers jute his dark fold many a wandering sheep.— Sympathizing with all sorrow, subduing all passion, regular in attendance upon Church, loudest in exhortation and longest in prayer, he soon wins upon the heart of the credulous, and ingratiates him into his. black art. The name of his followers is legion. It needs not, oh reader, that we describe them to thee; for thou lino west them too well already. Neither is it necessary that we should show up the too fascinating Devil in any othersuit from his ma ny colored wardrobe. In conclusion, see to it, oh ye people, that ye look for his Majesty as a horned nod bloat- ed monster, but miler a blooming and accom plished courtesan. Not in rags, not in defer mity, bet in purple and fine linen, works he about all thy paths, and lurks he about all thy hearts. H. Cum in. Cool, Yet Accommodating. A man by the name of Bnhr in Sebastian county was lately in very peculiar circumstan• ces. Whilst absent from home a vagabond by the name of Hose made' the acquaintance of his family and actually so far transcended.the bonds of propriety as to induce Mrs. Bahr to consent to run away front her husband and co• habit with him. Accordingly ho yoked up Bahr's oxen, loaded the cart with the effects , about the house, placed Mrs. hlnhr and her two children on the top of them, and was just about to cry out "git up, Berry,' whon Bahr made his appearance. lle had already heard of his with's uuthithfulness, and cams up weeping. "Oh, Polly Jane, Polly Jane, are you pin to leave too, and take away Bobby and Sarin du 7" Mrs. Bahr answere4 not a v,ord but An at: VOL. 19. NO. 41. tention of Rose was drawn to the laments. done. "What's the matter, Mr. Bahr ?" said Rose. "Polly and the children is going to be sepa rated from mc," responded Bahr. "No need of that.,".blr. Bahr, no aced-of that. Came and go along with us; in fact we need you to pack water fwd chop wood. Clic . , op and conic along. Don't look at the dark skiu of life, you'll have a first-rate time. Git up Berry l"—Fayettsaille (Ark.) Ind. seirA lawyer, belonging, as he said, to the professiOn which had the reputation of being fond of 'ft.ies„'.offereci .the following - toast at a 'dinner party Fee simple, and a simple fee, And all the fees in tail, Are nothing when compared to thee, The best of fees—m:lllm A Scene at Silistria. The Russians, in order to dislodge the Ar• molt from their ditch, carried their own trench. es within a few yards from that palfry defeat:l which was formidable only because the bravest mon that ever lived held it. So near was the P.ussian ditch, that the engineers threw the earth by shovelsfull into the Arnont ditch.— This was effected with an enormous lose to the besiegers. On one occasion, a Major Brume. na, a gigantic Hungarian, issued from the ditch, leaning ou the pole of a wagon, and chat longed the Russians in the other ditoh to come out end light him. They accepted the chal lenge by taking hold of one of his te..yt, and en. deavored to drag him into their quati..rs. But the Arnouts took hold of his other aim pull. ed him in their direction, while Major Etumena, utterly unconcerned, flourished his heavy pole and laid it on the Russians: -tikulls were crack. ed and bones broken wherever that formidable weapon descended, and thus, being fined from his assailants, the Arnouts drew-Major EalMe no ever to their two side. This gallant officer's life was saved on this occasion 'only to be lost on another. Three days after the Titantie combat in the Arnout ditch, the Rusgans despatched two of their formidable storming whims of eight bat• talions each against the Arab Titbits, and by the mere physieel weight of tirese masses, for• cod their ; way in. A hartd.todiand eugagement ensued in the interior of the 'rabid, wino the Turks fought with the furl of madmen and the agility of 6,l , etits. The 'Russians meanwhile sought to secure the cannon. Perhaps they meditated a retreat, and wished to carry off' at least some trophies from Silistria. They had ropes with them, vhich they. tied to ono of the peice, and Alien commenced pulling it through the•ctd.raso, lute tls ditulArktiou.-- Major liminona saw tire attempt, rushed up 0 the gun and held it back. A Hass* °Meer, almost equal in size and strength 6 the Run. garian, attacked and wounded Major EM:11C113 just as he was cutting the ropes. The two srtoug men then turned against each other.— They fought and fell. When the Arabs had, driven the RUSSiIiII9 back and cleared the Tabia, the two antagonists were found dead by the side of the gun.—Corrapontknce of the Daily Km's. "Now Papa I am Ready." I called recently at the °lnce of one of our most active business men, who is weighed down with earn. and Whose mind is tuned to the utmost tor the public good. While. very busily engaged in writing and conversing, in came a little boy two or three years old, look ing as happy as the birds that entertain us with their sweet music, saying, "now papa, I ant ready to say my little prayer," And gliding swiftly to the side of his father at the tatle. The father laid down his pen, put his arm around the dear child and taught him to pray. Oh! how sweet and confiding, was that ,nice. I was tilled with • ddlight yet with solemn while that child was praying tbr himsa; for his parents and his little mates. In a few minutes came the afibetionate 'gOod-night' and the father was ready again to attend to his ar. duous duties. Such u public servant is a public treasure. Ne)..The lady who did n t think it respecta ble to bring up her children to work, has lately heard from her two sons ; one of them is a bar keeper on a flat boat, and the other is steward of a brick yard. Ittiy-A lady being asked tu joitt a division of the "Daughters of Temperance," replied it is unnecessary, Its it is my intention .to join one of the 'sons' soon." Sensible lady, that. Journeyman Tailot has achieved iho following :—Why coA pantaloons like wells."— "Give it up, eh?" 'Why because they have spring bottoms." iiiir"l'hat'f; what 1 call a nonage press." as the printer said when a rain butted hint against a atone wall. 'Virile who murrico ap - roily face only, is like the buyer of pretty furniture—the varnish that caught the eye will not cal:. the fire side blaze. se-We should choose to bear the hatred of evil men rather than &nerve their just accusa tions, after serving their bane ends. serAfter the sting of fully has made men wise, they find it haill to conceive that ethers can ho as foolish as the• have beau. 'Oral go through toy work," said the nee dle 'to an idle boy. .Bnt not till you're herd pushed," said the idle boy. Sir Why is a philanthropist like an old horse? Because ho stops at the sound of woe. sa.Those who possess the most real excel• lance, nay the lane about it. ge-Anget rests only in fhb bosom of fools. „rear God. shun greet iieo and love y ou w:fe.