~.
T . llt ttianrugkon loi'rnAt
BY WM. BREWSTER.
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attrg.
Why, Bless Her, Let Her Go.
Some time ago I fell in love
With pretty Mary Jane;
And I did hope that by-and-by
She'd love me back again.
Alms, my hopes, a-dawning bright,
Were all at once made dim ;
She flaw a chap, I don't know whore,
And fell in love with him I
Next time we met, (now how it was
I dont pretend to say.)
But when my chair moved up to her's,
Why her's would move away.
Before, I always got a kiss.
(I own with some small fuss,)
But now, for south, for love nor fun,
'Twas non•comc•at-a-busr.
Well, there we sat—and when we spoke,
Our conversation dwelt
On every thing beneath the sun,
Except what most we felt.
Enjoying this delightful mood,
Who there should lost pop in,
But he, whom I of nil the world
Would rather see than him
And he would sit down by her side,
And she would—all the while
He pressed her hand within his own—
Upon him sweetly smile;
And she could plu ck a rose for him,
So sweet, and bright, and red,
And gave mo one which hours ago
Was shrunk, and pale, and dead.
And she could freely, gladly, sing
The song ho did request,
T.° ones I asked were just the once
She always did detest.
I ?rise to leave—and she'd "be glad
To have and
No doubt of it I No noubt they wept
To see mo go away!
I eat me down, I thought profoutil;
This maxim w! , i , )
It's easier fur to like a girl
Than to make a girl like you.
But after all, I don't believe
My heart will break with wo;
If she's a mind to love "that chap,"
Why. bless her, let her go !
Pistdiantous.
An Essay on Flowers.
TIIEIR LISPS.
They are of all kinds of shapes. They are
of all kinds of perfumes, disagreeable or de-
licious ; they are of all kinds of toughness— '
delicate, so that they die of a stroke of the sun,
or so strong that the hotter the sun the bright•
er they are. Some cannot live in a hot climate,
others cannot live in a cold; some cannot bear
wet soil, others cannot hear a dry—all owing
to their different constitutions. Some are tall;
others are short; some have big heads ; others
little. The heads of some ate long; of others,
almost perfectly round. As to color, the rain
bow is not a circumstance to them; the num
ber of their color is legion—all sorts of grades.
They are not as accommodating as people.—
The man from Africa will live in Halifax, and
the man from Halifax will do well in the West
Indies; hut the aloe will Jmint flourish at the
North, and the rose will not get aim gin South
A omnerAW ,
" I SES NO STAR ABOVE THE nogizos, PROMISINO LIGHT TO GUIDE us, BUT THE INTELLIGENT, PATRIOTIC', UNITED WHIG PARTY OP THE UNITED STATES."—[WIDETZIL
L.l To . 7llEpt rAWSB.
.. - :Tlidrimve the Commin nitmei they
railiurly known by, and the uncommon
they are christened by botanists ; Ofc Ga
miner names are much the most significant,
being generally connected with the peculiar
character of the flower—the morning.glory, be
cause it is the most brilliant in the morning,
and the sunflower, because it has a peculiar
way of turning towards the sun. The morn
in;-glory is called, by the scientific gentlemen,
the cotrolvulus. which is certainly not as agree
able a
,title as the other.
CAPACITY FOR IMPROVIDISNT.
It is.extraordinary what a change can he
produced by a mixture and association with
other flowers, and by proper attention to the
food of the plant; according as the earth is
rich or poor, clayey or gravelly, will the plant
change its color, its size and its perfume. The
hydrangea changes its color as it changes its
soil; and by mixture with other dahlias, by
skillful graftings, the dahlia becomes larger
and more double,
WILD OR DOMESTIC.
The wild run wild—nobody takes any care
'of them ; the cultivated are watched, trained,
and guarded. I said nobody takes care of th e
wild; this is wrong. The wild are taken care
; the kind Being who is always looking af•
ter the poor, the desolate, and the unprotected,
takes care of them. but the cultivated are far
better; they not only have the protection of
Providence, but; of man in the bargain.
$1 2
1 50
2 50
WllO LIRE THEM.
The young girl is attached by beauty. She
is enthusiastic at color, She shows them smi
ling ; her love is not grounded upon any knowl
edge of virtu in the plant—her eye alone is
sonsulted. Sometimes she is most terribly de
ceived ; she suffers from bad associations—she
learns a lesson rather to late. The old florist
takes delight in a flower. He has deposited
the small seed ; he has watched its first appea
rance in the world—its first leaves, it has, per
haps, been almost killed by the heat or the
cold ; but by good management, he has pre
served its life. It is a monument of his exer
tions ; he becomes an amateur, and then a
connoisseur, and likes to see every new variety.
SIDS TAKES CARE Or TIMM ?
They are generally rough•looking fellows,
perfectly unsuited to the beautiful object they
are connected with. Rut theFe objects thrive
in their green.houses ; they seem to understand
them thoroughly ; they know when they require
watering, and know when they have enough.—
Every plant looks as if it was thriving and get
ling on. There nre none of the miserable,
sickly, half dead things you find in private col•
leetions, or in the collections of those who do
not understand their management. The fin.
riots are interested. There are others who
keep them, not for money, but for love—in the
windows, right up against the glass, the glass
beautifully clear ; doctors keep them, and keep
them beautifully. I cannot say so much for
them when left to the guardianship of the
young and beautiful belle ; she is apt to be a
cruel guardian—one half generally die in the
winter through neglect, frozen to death; or
roasted in summer by exposure to the sun.—
Now and then you may find a judicious lady,
but, take the sex in general, they are pretty
bad managers. There are good, however; a
good housekeeper is often a good flowerkeeper;
one who can make a pudding, can often make
a soil. To make a pudding she deposites a
certain quantity of flour, a certain quantity of
' sugar, and judiciously sprinkles her apices; to
make the soil, she mixes clay, and gravel, and
manure, and sprinkles carefully with charcoal.
In this way a lady sometimes succeeds beauti
fully ; whatever she touches is sure to do well,
success is sure to follow. Success is apt to ho
culled luck. It is no nude thing; it comes
from peculiar skill in a proper formation of the
earth; and, moreover, in not exposing at wrong
times to too much sun, and by risking an ex.
pounce at a proper time—withdrawing from the
rain at the right moment, and coining into it
when good will follow. All this requires good
judgment, which some ladies have.
WIIERE TIIET Alt FOUND,
I should like you to tell me where ilr aro
not: ire whore you please in the country, and
you find then—in the low grounds and in the
high. In low grounds, where the soil is rich
est, you will usually find them the most robust.
In the high grounds they are apt to be smaller,
and not so deep in their color. You will often
find the same flower in the high situations and
the low; usually the high have their peculiar
set, and the low theirs. The wild althic will
not only refuse to grow on high grounds, but it
will not grow on low, unless it is peculiarly sit
uated right on the water; it cannot live away
from the water. There are some plants that
will live anywhere, if they are constantly wat
ered; the hydrangea, for invtanre. There arc
others whirls require little water, if any ; they
are dry flowers; such as many of the cactus
tribe.
WHERE TREY GO AFTER DEATII
Some go to the most delightful resting-places
—the valleys of the blessed—the bosom of the
beautiful maiden. Others go into the interior
of her body, arranging difficulties there, bring
ing relief to its distresses, the poppies aro
among these. The last go when they aro
withered and dried; the first, when the youth
ful beauty takes for her baled, have all the
brilliancy and complexion of life, and the shape
of life also. They are received so soon after
death they do not appear dead; decomposition
and decay have not begun ; the moment they
do begin. before they become offensive, they
avwjndirfrereisnl.Mrdmvel. tlflltn flay tas
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 27, 1854.
•
alts dissectors. They are taken for the promo
•inn of science; they are carefully anatomized
--the, different tnembers examined by the skill
ful botanist; ho gives you their anatomy.—
Sometimes they go into depositories; they are
skillfully dried, preserving much of their form
and color, all the moisture being taken Irmo
their sisterns by lying between two sheets of
blotting paper.
TUETft MAR.
Some will last a year, and are called annuals:
others last longer. Small specimens of vege
tation, however, have not the length of life of
large trees ; they resemble birds—the wren
will not live as long as the eagle.
Work.
It is not, after all, such a delightful thing to
be rich. Who would be tethered to houses
and lands, or be obliged to carry about upon
his shoulders a bank or block of stores? Men
are often not so much possessed of riches, as
riches are possessed of them I They are slaves
to their fortunes, instead of fortunes being a
slave to them.
Talk about money elevating a man above
the necessity of labor! It can't be done.—
Nothing can raise a man above the neeil of
exertion, Even rich men must eat, and nobo
dy can enjoy food without labor. As Poor
Richard says, if a mail does not need to work
to find meat for his stomach, he must work to
find stomach for his meat. Thus the rich need
to labor no less than the poor. Labor is a
glorious inutitution,and in most cases a fortune
is the worst thing that can befall a man. For.
tune may indeed furnish the table with rich
viands, but laborgives a delicious taste to the
hardest crust. Fortune gives ease, but labor
brings- with it the luxury of rest. The misery
of it is, however, that like most earthly bless
ings, labor is very unequally distributed.—
One man does not work enough to give him an
appetite, and dies of dyspepsia; another is cop
dennietL,to ceaseless toil, until labor becomes
drudgery. And so it is that work is looked
upon as an evil. It was while bound to the
desk at the East India Rouse, that Charles
Lamb wrote thus of work:
. Who first invented work, and bound the free
And holiday rejoicing spirit down
To the ever haunting importunity
Of lowliness in the green fields, and of the
town—
Tojilow, loom,anvil, spade—and oh! most sad,
To that dry.drudgery at the desk's dead
wood ?
Who but the Being untlest, alien from good
Sabbathless Satan I he who his unglad
Task ever piles 'mid rotary burnings
That round and round incalculably reel—
For wrath divine bath made hiss like a
wheel—
In that red realm from which there are DO re
turnings:
Where toiling and turinoiling, ever and aye,
Ile and his thoughts keep penury working
day.
This the poet s,od ,'ten he was weary, but
lie knew that labor u.,s out tiac invention of
Satan. He know that it was a good gilt per
verted by human Institutions. Labor is too
often looked upon as only a means to an end,
and that end fortune. But labor should he
loved for itself. It gives health, which fortune
cannot do; it keeps down evil passions, which
rise ut fortune's touch; it bestows the cheerful
heart and the glad countenance, while fortune
brings heart-ashes and wrinkles. Let us think
well of labor.
"Puss in Boots."
Even more laughable and ridiculous a sight
than a little boy with a high standing dickey,
or a straight-bodied coat, is one with a Begar
in his mouth, and his head enveloped in smoke.
We well know the charms of tobacco, in all its
uses, but have yet to find the man who will ad
vise any one else to use it. Little boys and
girls are our admiration, and we would have
them grow up with good habits and minds well
cultivated and refined. The week past we
have been pained to see a group of little boys
indulging daily in the use of a weed which will
surely make their cheeks sallow and eyes sunk
en,—which will gradually wear upon their
nerves, and otherwise permanently injure their
bealth, The use of tobacco, in any shape, is a
vile, filthy practice. We have seen thousands,
each who would give large sums of money to be
rid of the habit ; and we never yet saw the man
who was glad that he learned to use it. But
once get the habit firmly fastened upon you,
and there is not one chance in five hundred
that you will ever be able to shake it off. Itis
not like a troublesome wen that you can cut
off, or a tooth that can be extracted, and you
are soon relieved; the lodging and pain, occa
sioned by the want of it, will follow you day
and night, like a tooth-ache, for mouths, rob
bing you of all comfort, and causing great
mental depression.
A friend of ours, fifteen years ago, was as
strong and healthy as any of us ; three winters
ago, with his constitution shattered and health
ruined by constant chewing and smoking, as
he said, lie died. In that period many times
he struggled along for months without tobac-
I no, but never could long resist the cravings of
his appetite. Boys, once get in the habit of
using tobacco, and we pledge you our word
that when you are worth one thousand dollar s,
you will be willing to give the whole of it to be
free from its ceaseless influences.
Vet.'Ned, who is the girl I saw you walking
with r
'Miss Hogg.'
'Hogg, Hogg—well, she's to be pitied for
having, such a name.'
'So I think,' rejoined Ned. 'I pitied hot so
*nosh that I offered her mine. end she is go;rig
th flikb prelenvlf.'
The Drunkard and His Story.
From the N. Y. Five Points' Monthly Re.
view, we select the ensuing scene from real
life :
A few Sabbaths since, of morning service,
one of the most degraded specimens of human.
ity that ever greeted my viaion, came stagger.
ing into the chapel of the House of Indnstry.
His wild and frightful looks, ragged and dirty
beyond description, hie face bruised and swol
len, rendered hint an obi Set of terror and
dirgust. He seemed to look at the children
with wonderful interest, occasionally muttering
to himself: "Beautiful! beautiful! 0, that
mine were there I" Ile sat an hour or two
more, and then with a long earnest look at the
children, staggered out of thq,chapel, and stag
gered up to the dark "valley of the shadow
of death."—Cow Bay.
As the bell rang for service in the afternoon,
and while the children were Mustering together,
the same wild looking man staggered in once
more. He surveyed the faces of the children
with the closest scrutiny, and at length his eyes
rested on two bright eyed little girls, who were
singing one of their little hymns. lie sat ins
movable as a statue during the whole service,
gazing intently on the faces of these two chit.
dren.
The service closed, the congregation dis•
persea, yet he lingered, and the tears came
coursing down his face, thick and fast..
Dr. S-asked him "what was the mat
ter 7'
"I am a drunkard I A wretch—an outcast,
homeless, and without a penny. Once I had
a home and friends—father, mother, wife, chil
e dren, and hosts of friends wtio loved, respected
me. Time passed on and' became a drunkard!
One friend after another left me ; still 1 drank
on, and down, down I fell. Father and moth
er went to their graves with„, broken hearts.—
My poor with clung to cue Vlen all others de
sorted me. I still drank ont pawned one arti
cle after another, till all war 'gone, and when
my wife refused to give me her wedding ring
which she had clung to with the tenacity of a
death grasp, I felled her to the earth, seized
her finger, tore off the ring and pawned it for
rum. 'That fatal blow maddened her, and, in
despair, she too drank, and together we wallow
in the gutter.
"Penniless we begged our way from Ver
mont to this great city. Itore we hired a
small cellar, in a dark disnrt . street, and sent
our children cut, to beg. M.iny it weary day
in that dreary cellar, while our children were
wandering in the streets, begging for their
drunken parents. About forty days since my
little girls w tut out to beg, and from that hour
to this I have not seen them.
Without food or fire I clung to my dismal
abode, till hunger forced me out to search for
my children. My degraded wife has been sent
to Blackwell's Island as a vagrant, and alone
I went to the Islands, to the Rouse of Refuge,
to the fumbs, and in despair I wandered to
the Five Points, and for the last few days I
have lived in Cow Bay. among beggars and
thieves. To-day I saw two children , who, if
they had not looked so clean, and song so sweet
ly, I would have called them mine. 0 I would
to God they were I"
"Tell me the name said Dr. S—, "and
I will see." In a few moments two interesting
little girls were led towards him, At the first
sight of this frightful looking man, they shrank
back. The poor man sprang to his feet exclai
ming: "They are mine, mine! My children,
don't you know your poor old father? Come
to me, my children. Father loves you, ho won't
hurt you." He reached out his arms, the lit
ones were timid at first, but they soon climbed
upon their father's knee, while the tears were
streaming down his face.
"Kiss your poordrunken father, mychildren.
But the face of the man was so black and 61-
thy, not a fit place could be fonnd. Soon
they forgot the dirty face, and remember
ed their poor degraded fisther,and each entwin
ed their little arms around his n eck,and fondly
kissed him, and the elder onesaid, with a voice
that touched every heart: "Father, we are so
happy here, we want to stay. Won't you come
and live here, too. lap ? What makes you
drink so ? Dear Papa do sign the pledge And
not drink any more. Mr. Pease found as in the
street begging, and now we are happy.—
Do, papa, come and live here, and be good to
us, as you used to be."
The father's heart was overwhelwed—he sob
bed and groaned aloud. For more than an
hour they sat together, till at last the old man
arose, still clinging to his children, and ex
claimed : "The pledge I the pledge! I will
never drink again I
I give the pledge, and iron that honr he has
most faithfuly kept it. He is now a man again
engaged in business, earning ten dollars per
week, and none would recognize in the well
dressed man—who still boards in • the house—
the degraded origtnal whose portrait can stll
be seen at the Haus° of Industry, daguerreo
typed in all its striking deformity and squalor.
VALUABLE following is given
in the Norristown Herald as the receipt for
making corn cake, which was exhibited at
the late Montgomery County Agriculrural
Fair, by a lady of Towamencin, and pronoun
ced so good as to deserve a special premium
"Take the white of eight eggs ; one-fourth
pound each of corn starch, flour, and butter ;
half pound of sugar; one toa•tpoou full of
cream of tartar ; half teaspoon full of soda.
Flavor with almond to suit the taste.
air" The stick of type bath more of might
Than warrior hosts or fortress wall,
And it shall batter towers to duet
That lath at otaga or iktrifen Fnll "
The Hole in my Pocket.
It is now about a year since my wife said to
me one day "Pray, Mr. Slackwater, have you
that half dollar about you that I gave you this
morning?" I felt in my waiscoat , pocket, and
felt in my breeches pocket, and turned my
purse inside out, but it was all—which is very
differget from specie; so I said to Mr. Slakwa•
ter, "I've lost it, my dear; positively, thorn
must be a hole in my pocket!" "I'll sow it
up," said she.
And hour or two after I met Tom Stebbins
"Bow did that ice cream set I" said Tom.—
"It sets," said I, 'like the sun gloriously," and
when I spoke, it flashed upon me that my mis
sing half dollar had paid for those ice creams;
however, I held my peace, for Mr. Slackwater
sometimes makes remarks; and there was no
hole in my pocket, what could I do but lift up
my brow and say, ‘,Ah l isn't there I reply!"
Before a week had gone by. my wife like a
thitiful helpmate as she is, always gave me her
loose change to keep, called for - twenty-five
cent piece that had been deposited in my sub.
treasury for sate keeping I "There was a poor
woman at the door," she said, "that she'd
promised it to for certain." "Well. wait a
moment," I cried; so I pushed inquiries first
in thin direction, then that, and then is the
other, but vacancy returned a horid groan on
my soul," so I thought it best to show a bold
front: ?You must keep my pocckets in better
repair, Mrs. Slackwater ; this place, with
know not how many more,- is lost, because
some corner or seam in my plaguay pockets
is left open." "Are you sure?" said Mrs.
Slackwater. " Surel aye, that I are, it's gone
totally goner My wife dismissed her promise
and then in a quiet way asked me to change
my pantaloons before 1 went out: and to bar.
all argument, laid another pair on his knees,
That evening, allow me to remark. gentle.
men of the specie " husband," I was very loath
to go home to tea. I had half a mind to bore
some bachelor friend; and when hunger and
habit, in their unassuming rummer, on each
side, walked me up to my door, the touch of
the brass nob made my blood run cold. But
do think that Mrs. Slackwater is a Tartar, my
good frieds because I shrunk from the house;
the fact was, that I had, while abroad, called to
mind the fate of her twenty-five cent piece,
which I had invested, as large ainoun is are of
ten itivestml, in smoke—that is to say, segars;
and feared to think of her comments onmy pan
taluiWs p.mketa.
These things went on for some mouths—we
were poor to begin with, a new poorer, or, at
any rate, no richer, fact. Times grew worse;
my pockeo-book was no longer to be trusted,
the rags slipped from it in a manner most in
ered ohms to relate; and as an Irish song says:
Such was the fate of poor Paddy O'Moore.
That his purse had the more rents as he had
fewer.
At length one day my wife came in with a
subscription paper for Orphans Asylum. I
looked at it and sighed, and handed it back to
her. "Ned &men," said she, .has put down
ten dollars."
"The more shame to him," I replied ; "be
can't afiord it ; he cant but just scrape along
any how, and in these times it ain't right for
him to do so." My wife smiled in her sad way
and took the paper hack to him that brought
it.
The next evening she asked me if I would
go with her and see the Bowens ; and as I had
no objeotion, we started.
I knew that Ned Bowen did a small busi
ness that would give hint about $6OO a year
and I thought it would be worth while to see
what that sum would do in tho way of house
keeping. We were admitted by Ned's wife,
a very neat little body of whom Mrs. Slckwater,
had told me a great deal, as they had been
schoolmates. All was as nice as wax, and
yet as substantial as iron q comfort was written
all over the the room. The evening passed,
somehow or other, though we had no refresh
ments, an article which we never have at home,
but always want when elsewhere, and I retired
to our own establishment with mingled pleas.
mire and chagrin.
"What a pity," said I tomy wife, "that Bow.
en don't keep within his income.
"He does," she replied.
i i cw can he on We was my answer,
"if he gives $lO to this cia.rit; and five to that,
and lives so sung and comfortable too?"
"Shall I tell you?" asked Mrs. Slekwater.
"Certainly, if you can."
"ills wife," said my wife, "finds it just as
easy to go without $lO or $3O worth of rib•
bons and laces, as to buy them. They have no
fruits but what they raise and have given'them
by country friends, whom they repair by a
thousand little acts of kindness. They use
no lager beer, which is not essential to his
health, as it is to yours; and then ho buys no
segars or ice creams, or apples at 100 per cent,
or candy or new novels, or rare wanks that are
still more rarely used; in short, my dear Mr.
Slaekwater, he has no hole in his pocket.'
It was the first word of suspicion my wife
had uttered on the subject, and it cut me to
the quick I—Cut 'MO ? I Should rather say it
sewed me up—me and my pockets ton; they
have never been in holes since that evening.
SECRET PRATER.—Thou shouldst prayalone,
for thou hest sinned alone, and thou art to die
alone, and be judged alone. Alone thou wilt
have to appear before the judgment•neat! In
the great transaction between thee and God,
thou canst have no human helper. Yon can
be free before God. You may be sure he
will not betray your confidence. Whatever
reasons there may be for any species of devo
tion, there are more and etruncer TOMTIT for
rie#•el
The Traveller.
A WORD Ig SNASON
I recollect in another journey, three per.
sons entering the stage where we stopped to
change the homes. One was an old man.
nearly eighty years, with white locks and
stooped shoulders; the second a middle aged
woman, with a discontented countenance and
querulous voice; the third, a fair delicate
youth aboutsixteen, very fragile in his appear.
ante.
They were strangers to each other, and Lot
of the same party. The aged man had not
been seated five minutes, when he commenced
a conversation with a gentleman next him,
interlarding every few sentences with an oath,
frequently calling on the name of the Deity in
the most profane manner, and in a short
time showed himself a scoffing infidel. That
gray headed old man, on the verge of the
grave, whose actions would decide his state in
eternity, was pouring out such horrid blasphe•
mites, that our very blood was chilled! There
were twelve passengers, all remaining silent,
until that delicate boy, who had waited for
those older than himself to speak, laid his thin
hand upon the arm of the old man, and in a
mild, sweet voice said—
.‘My aged friend, have you any one that id
dear to you , any one that you luve and rover ,
once ?"
"A strange question, my boy; do you think
that I tun without ties in the world?
"Would you permit me then to ask, would
you like to hear them abused, or spoken of un
kindly ?"
"That I should not," he answered, nor would
I permit it:"
"I know," replied the youth "that I am but
a buy, but do not be offended when I say you
have spoken in such a manner of ate I love
the best friend I have, that my heart has been
deeply pained l"
"Plats cannot be, fur I ktow no ono you
love; you are an entire stranger to me. -
"Ah, sir, it is the great God, whom I have
been taught to Imo and reverence ; that holy,
sacred name you }Ave used in the must unhal•
lowed manner. It may appear presumptuous
in me, a stripling, to speak to the hoary headed
one, but permit me to • say, there is a God, not
only of mercy, but of justice, and, will not
spare the guilty. The sands of your life are
nearly run out; what will become of your im•
mortal soul ? It is appointed unto man once
to die, and after death the judgment; from
that trial there is no escape—are you ready
for it? Examine the Bible for yourself."
Then drawing from his pocket the inspired vol.
ume and placing it in the band of the old nm,
he continued, while tears of feeling stood iu his
eyes—" May God in his infinite mercy enable
you to see at i.elieve the important truths re•
vested (in its pages."
The old man gazed intently into the young
speakers face. his color rose. I knew not
whether from shame or anger, until he said
with a quivering voice and deep emphasis, "1
thank you, Goy; you have given me a good
lesson, which I hope I may never forget. I
will read the book. I had a religious mother,
alas I I heeded not her instructions I"
The rest of the journey he remained perfect•
ly silent, deep in thought. Indeed, a solemn
stillness was upon all, fur that young disci plc
of Christ had made an impression for good up
on more hearts than oue, and, is after years,
fruit sprang up from that short, but faithful Her
mon in the stage couch.
Only a few mouths, and that pions youth
was ;;one hum earth I His spirit reposing
with the blest ; and no doubt one of the bright
est gems is his glorious crown, is the turning
of that infidel old man from sin to holiness.
A faithful servant can do much for his Mas
ter ;and the eon of the pious can be brought
in, even at the eleventh bour.—Presbyterian
Banner.
Sick-room and Nursery.
Cough.—A gill of molasses, three tablespoon•
fulls of vinegar, thirty drops of laudanum, well
mixed together. Take a teaspoonful when the
cough is troublesome.
Excellent Remedy for a Cough.—Take one
drachm of sweet spirits of nitre, one dramch
of exilir of vitriol, sixty drops of laudanum,
three teaspoonfuls of clarified honey. Take
thirty drops three times a day in warm water.
A Receipt for LIOUIVCIICYS. —Dissolve one
ounce of manna in a little warns water; add a
gill of runs, a quarter of a pound of honey, and
the juice of two lesions. Take a teaspoonful
often until you benefit by it, and then occa
sionally.
Pills for the Sick-Headache.—A drachm
and a half of castile soap, forty grains of rhu
barb, oil of juniper twenty drops, syrup of gin
ger, sufficient to form the whole into twenty
pills; two or three to be taken occasionally.
Cure for Corns.—Mr. Cooper, in his "Dic
tionary of Surgery," has the following infalli
ble cure for corns: Take two ounces of gum
ammoniac, two ounces of yellow wax, and six
drachms of verdigris; melt them together, and
spread the composition on soft leather; cut
away as much of the corn as you can, then ap
ply the plaster, and renew it every fortnight
till the corn is away.
IrA pedlar calling on an elderly lady, re
cently to dispose of some goods, in his conver
sation inquired if she could tell him of any
road that no pedlar had ever travelled.
"Yes, I know of one, and one which no ped
lar has ever travelled, (the pedlar's counte
nance brightened,) and that is the road to
Heaven "
1/11. Grtfrir is 0 2, 'Arteto• • 'c'e
0
VOL. 19. NO. 52
Mysterious Ciroumstanoe.
The Nei (Tenn.) Evening News fur
nishes the latest ghost story, and it is one that
is exciting the fears of nearly all the good pen.
ple of Nashville, including even those who are
not prone to listen or believe tales of ..ghoats
or goblins damned." The story runs in then
wise:
In a tenantless house just a few steps this
side of Brown's Creek, on the Nashville and
Murfreesboro' turnpike, it is said something
resembling the figure of a woman in a state cf
nudity has been seen at various periods wit , ltti
the past two years. It was first observed by a
lady who lives a short distance beyond the
creek, and who has to pass the 'haunted bon,:
in coming to and returning from the city.—
She is a highly respectable lady, and her we•
rarity would not be questioned by those who
are personally acquainted with her. Other
members of her family, arid other persons who
have passed this house, testify to having seen
this supposed apparition at various times sod
under various circumstances.
Before and after this appearance, on several
occasions, the house has been thoroughly
searched, but no evidences of its being occu•
pied by any living creature, (except fleas an,
rots.) have been discovered. These circum•
stances bring about the inquiries t—lf this crew•
tort is really a woman, in the enjoyment of
human life, how can she conceal herself when
persons enter the house ?—how does she avoid
detection and arrest?—how is it possible for
her to live there without food and clothing?
In company with a number of citizens, we
visited this place of haunted fame, for the
purpose of being convinced as to the truth or
falsehood of these strange reports. Detach•
menu of the party approached the house in
four different directions, so that there could
be no egress undiscovered. Afterentering the
ghostly establishment, candles were lighted,
and the party made a thorough investigation of
the premises, but discovered nothing more mys
terious than a few rats' nests, and an old hen
with a family of juvenile chickens under her
motherly care.
The lights were extinguished and the party
retired from the house ; took position at car,
ous points in the yard, and patiently waited for
what might transpire. We were not kept
lung in suspense; the apparition appeared is
the usual manner--the figure of a woman dee ,
titute of clothing. It answered no questions,
but shook its head nud hand in a frightful and
thrbidding way. then suddenly disappeared,
how and where we know not. The house was
again searched, but with no better luck thar
before. We returned to the city satisfied that
we had seen something fur the existence am:
appearance of which we are unable to account.
Prepartion for Boots.
The Febuury number of the American Fe.
mer containing the iblbwing recipe:
Composition fin. rendering Boots and Sholg
Water pruol—"Take 1 pint of boiled linetc,'
oil, 2 oz, Ines.unu, 2 oz, of spirits qf turpcm
t ine, and '2 oz, of Burgundy pitch. Let them
be carefully melted over a slow fire.
this mixture new shoes, are to be rubbed 1: ,
the sun, or at a little distance from the
with a sponge or brush. This operation •hull
be repeated without warming them as often
they become dry, until they aro fully saturated
which will require four or five times brushit:;
by this, the leather become itnperuious to at,
ter. The 'mot or shoe, thus prepared, las•,
much longer than common leather; it acquires
such pliability and softness, that it will never
shrivel, nor grow hard. and in that state, :e
the most effectual preventative against c01,'.3
&c. It is necessary to remark that shoes a , :j.
boots, Ulna prepared, ought to be worn, ul.!i
they become perfectly dry and elastic ; an i:}
the contrary case the leather will become ton
and wear out mach sooner than it otherw.is
would.
The Editor of the Farmer endorses this as
follows:
We have tried the efforts of the compost•:en
made ogre cably to this recipe, and can vot:eh
for its tendering leather water proof. In order
to teat it, we procured a very new pair of shoe..
gave them five successive rubbings with it, el
lowing sueicient time between each for the
competition to become dry. After the :act
had become perfectly absorbed by the leather
we placed one of the shoes in a tub partially
filled with water, and left it there 4} hours.—
When we took the shoe out, it was dry as wh,,
we first placed it in the tub q the effect of
composition is,that while it renders them mate:
proof, in the broadest sense of the term, it
makes it soft and pliant, and therefore the me:,
elastic and durable. From our experience in
the wear of shoes made waterproof, we hare
no hesitaucy in saying that a pair thus treated
will last as long as two pair that my be worn
without it.
Mir The following lines are supposed to
have been written by a young lady of remar
kablo taste and judgement.
I love the man sincere at heart;
I love the man who takes Lis part ;
I love the man who will be free ;
I love the man of liberty;
I love the man who loves to labor ;
I love the man who loves his neighbor;
I love the man who loves his wife ;
I love the man who ne'er has strife;
I love tne man who loves not gold ;
I love the man candid and bold;
I love the man who ne'er gets mellow;
I love the man who loves his fellow,
1 love the man summer and winter,
Who ne'er forgets to pay the Printer.
108.1Vbere libertF thin*ip igy ow.