Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, October 11, 1854, Image 1

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CO secure attention. ,49
N. P. 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.
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.
• 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
'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
'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
'Yes, sir; we have to be cautious'
'Eh, yes,' abstractedly responds the Nut.
'Can't speak out to everybody:
'Yes, sir; now I know you're a good egg.'
'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•
'The land of the free, and the home of the
'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
'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-
'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-'
- '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
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-
'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.
'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
"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•
"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
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?"
"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•
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
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
"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•.
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.
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
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
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.—
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.
"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, and en.
deavored to drag him into their 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
"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
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
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