Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, March 14, 1855, Image 1

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11 Akk 1,1 ting Dan 413)), jt titat.
The "HUNTINGDON Jo UUNAL" ie published at
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(elert Petro.
From the National Standard.
1 will build my nest on the mountain's crest,
Where the wild winds rock my Eagle's to
Where the lightnings flash, and the thunders
And the roaring torrents foam and dash,
For my spirit free thencefourth shall be
A type of the sons of Liberty.
Aloft I fly, from my eyrie height,
Through the valted dome of the Azure sky,
On a sunbeam bright, take my airy flight
And float iu a flaod of liquid light;
For I love to play in the noon•tide ray.
And bask in a blaze from the throne of day.
Away I spring on a tireless wing,
On a feathery cloud I poise and swing :
1 dart down the steep where the lightnings
And the dear blue canopy slowly sweep,
For dear to me is the revelry
Of a free and fearless liberty.
Then give to me my flight to see
The land of the Pilgrims ever free,
I ne'er will move from the haunts I love
But watch from the sentinel track above
Your spirit free o'er land and sea;
And exult in your glorious destiny.
0, guard yo well the land where I dwell,
Lest to future times the tale I tell
When slow expires, in mouldering fires,
The goodly heritage of your sires,
How freedom's light rose clear and bright
Till ye quenched its flame in a starless night,
Then I will tare, from your pennon fair,
The stars ye set in triumph there :
My olive branch on the tree I launch,
The fluttering stripes from the flag staff
And away nt flee, for I scorn to see
A craven race in the land of free.
By J. 4. Hall.
Read by A. W. BENEDICT, Esq. be fore the Hun•
iingdon county Teache•e' &dilute,
December 22, 1854 :
The teacher an inflexible
will to love the school, the scholar, the
book, and the hours of toil. No commun
loge of the soil, exhibits so plainly to the
external world its presence in the heart as
love. The poet said :
Like the va4; its which rotee ha , l once been
You may break, you may ruin the vase if you
But the scent of the roses will hang round it
With that all pervading love for the
several objects of your care and guidance,
and the instruments of your labor, with a
manifest pleasure for the hours you spend
in a never ending round of lessons and toil
you impres upon the tender tablet of the
child's heart a kindred love which assumes
and asserts its power ; and the wayward,
the thoughtless, the stupid, the indolent
and even the mischievous and rebellious
are carried captive by the law of lore.
Every where, and at all times you must
present unmistakable evidence that you
have but one aim in all your study, toil
and love, and that aim, the present and fu
ture happiness, well being and prosperity
of those you love. I have said present,
because I desire here •to urge the impor•
tance of making the school room a pleas.
ant and a happy place for the teacher and
the taught. What a grievioun hindrance
to success is the feeling, too often preva
lent in the school room, that the hours of
school are the hours of task and toil, irk
some alike to pupil and teacher, endured
by one as an eye•servant and a prisoner ;
and by the other as an overseer and a jai•
lor. With such a presence in the school
rootn, oh how dull, how purposeless, and
how void of good arc the study hours.—
But how changed the scene and its results,
when all is cheerful joy stud light hearted
hope, and warm and zealous love and
pleasant, gay and earnest zeal to make the
present gladsome and delightful, because
it secures a future full of fruitful and sub
stantial good.
$1 25
t 50
2 50
When the teacher shall have attained
all these ends, and when he shall have
made himself master of himself, of his
books, and pupils, he has used the means,
and success will wear her proudest cha
plet for his crown.
Have I convinced you, that you are all
directed to your destiny by imperative
law ? have I made apparent the impor
tance of obedience to those laws which se
cure progress and prosperity ? Have I
showed you that thus you arc measurably
the arbiters of that destiny? Have I sat
isfied you that it is the duty of every per
son who assumes the high and honorable
responsibility of a school teacher, to adopt
as the law of his life, the la -v of success?
If I have done all this, I have succeeded
beyond my most sanguine hopes. If I
have secured any one of these things, all
my labor is well requited. Whether I
have, or have not, I have endeavored to
perform the friendly office for my fellow
laborers in the cause of schools, which the
wise man says, iron will perform for iron.
To sharpen them for the duties of life.
"There is a divinity which shapes our ends,
Rough hew them as we may."
And it is that rough hewing of life I
would by the law of success, make a co
worker with that divinity, so that our ends
should be sharpened to secure the largest
measure of complete success for the teach
er, and pupil, and I would convince the
listless and careless teacher that there is
no divinity" that will command success
to them, while they remain careless and
listless ; and of the wilfully dull, the idle,
the selfish, the ignorant and the self-wise,
whose pride of opinion spurns the coun
sel and care of his companions in the pro
fession. I say there is a law which marks
them all for a final expulsion from the
school room. They will be known by
their works, and they cannot be allowed
to mar, what they have not helped to
Personal Appearance of Washington.
"From the Republican Court, or Ameri.
can Society in the Days of Washington,"
the following in copied :
From the notebook of the lat e Mr. Hor
ace Binney Wallace, of Philadelphia, I
am permitted to transcribe n record of
some conversations with his mother, Mrs,
Susan Wallace, in which that lady—so
eminent for whatever is beautiful and no
ble in her sex—disclosed her recollections
of Washington's habits, personal appear
ance, and manners. On the removal of
the government to Philadelphia, Mrs. Ma
ry Binney, mother of Mrs. Wallace, res
ided in market street, opposite to General
Washington's—the door of her house a
few paces further east. It was the Gen
eral's custom, frequently, when the day
was fine, to come out to walk, attended
by his secretaries, Mr. Lear and Major
Win. Jackson—one on each side. He al
ways crossed directly over from his own
door to the sunny side of the street, and
walked down.. He carts dre,,cd in black
and all three wore cocked hats. She rev
er observed them conversing; she often
wondred and watched, as a child, to see
if any of the party spoke, hut never could
perceive that anything was said. It was
understood that the aids were kept regal
distance. General Washington had a
large family coach, a light carriage, and a
chariot all alike; cream colored painted
with three enammlled figures en each pan
el, and very handsome. Ile drove in the
coach to Christ church every Sunday mor
ning with two horses ; drove the carriage
and four into the country—to Landsdowne,
the Hills, and other places. In going to
the Senate he used the chariot with six
horses. All his servants were white and -
wore liveries of white cloth, trimmed with
scarlet or orange. Mrs. Wallace saw
General Washington frequently at public
balls. his manners there were very
gracious anti pleasant. She went with
Mrs. Oliver Wolcott to one of Mrs. Wash
ington drawing rooms. The General was
present, and came up and blowed to every
lady after she was seated. Mrs. Bin
ney visited Mrs. Washington frequently.
It was Mrs. Washington's custom to re
turn visits on the third day; and she thus
always returned Mm. Biuney's. A foot
man would run over, knock loudly, and
announce Nirs. Washington, who would
then come over with Mr. Lear. Mrs.
Wallace met Mrs. Washington iu her
mother's parlor; her manners were very
easy, pleasant and unceremonious, with
the characteristics of other Virginia la
dies. When Washington retired from
public life, Mrs. Wallace was about nine-
teen years of age :
The recollections of Richard Rush
on the subject are in agreement with these
of Mrs. Wallace. That accomplished
and distinguished gentleman has com
municated to me a very graphic account
of some interesting scenes, of whi ch he
as an observer, about the close of 'Wash
ington's first administiatron. Looking
upon the old Congress Hall, at the cor
ner of Chesnut and Sixth streets, a few
years ago, he says: "It recalled a scene
never--no, never--•to be forgotten. It
was, I think, in 1794 or 1795, that as a
boy I was among the spectators congrega
ted at this corner and parts close by, to wit
ness a great public spectacle.
"Washington was to open the session
of Congress by going in person, as was
the custom ; to deliver a speech in both
houses, assembled in the chamber of the
House of Representatives. The crowd was
immense. It filled the whole area in
Chesnut street before the State-houses,
extended along the line of Chesnut street
above sixth st , and spread north south
some distance along the latter. A way
kept open for carriage, in the middle of
the street, was the only space not closely
packed with people. I had a stand on
the steps of one of the houses in Chesnut
st , which, raising me adore the mass of
human heads, enabled me to see to advan
tage. After waiting long hours, as it
seemed to a boy's impatience, the carriage
of the President at length slowly drove
up, drawn by four beautiful bay horses.
It was white, with medallion ornaments
on the panels, and the livery of the ser
vants, as well as I remember, was white
turned up with red--•at any rate, a glowing
livery; the entire display in equipages at
that era, in our country generally, and in
Philadelphia in particular, while the seat
of government ; being more rich and va
ried than now, though fewer in number.
Washington got out of his carriage, and,
slowly crossing the pavement ascended
the steps of the edifice, upon the upper
platform of which he paused, and, turn
ing half round, looked in the direction of
a carriage which had followed the lead of
Isis own. Thus he stood for a minute,
distinctly seen by everybody. Ho stood
in all his civil dignity and moral grandeur---
erect, serene, majestic. his costume was
a full suit of black velvet ; his hair, ir;
itself blanched by time, powdered to snowy
whiteness, a dress word at his side, and
his hat held in his hand. Thus he stood
in silence; and what inomentsthose wore!
Throughout the dense crowd profound
stillness reigned. Not a word was heard
not a breath. Palpitations took the place
of sounds. It was a feeling infinately
beyond that which events itself in shouts.
Revery heart was full. hi vain would
and tongue have spoken.
All were gazing in mute, unutterable
admiration. Every eye was riveted upon
that form--the greatest, purest, most ex
alted of mortals. It might have seemed
as if he stood in that position to gratify the
assembled thousands with a full view of
the Father of their Country. Not so.-.-
He had paused for his secretary, (then, I
believe, Mr. Dandrigo, or Colonel Lear,)
who got out of the other carriage, a char
iot, decorated like his' own. wcre-
tary, ascending the steps, handed him a
paper, (probably a copy of the speech he
was to deliver,) when both entered the,
building. Then it was, and not till then,
that the crowd sent up buzzes, loud, long,
earnest, enthusiastic."
Of the simple manners of Washington
and his family we have an interesting ac
count in the Travels of Mr. Henry Wan
sey, F. S. A., an English manufacturer,
who breakfasted.with them on the Bth of
June 1794. " I confess," he says t , 1 was
struck with awe and veneration when I
recollected that I was now in the presence
of the great Washington, the noble and
wise benefactor of the world, as Mirabeau
styles him. When we look down fr im
this illustrious character on other public
servants, we find a glowing contrast ; nor
can we fix our attention on any other
great men without discovering in them a
vast and mortifying dissimilarity. The
President seemed very thoughtful, and
was slow in delivering himself, which in
duced some to believe him reserved; but it
was Bather, I apprehend, the result of
much reflection, for he had to me an ap
pearance of affability and accommodation.
He was at this time in his 03rd year, but
had very little appearance of age, having
been all his life so exceedingly temperate.
There was a certain anxiety visible in his
countenance, with marks of extreme sen
" Mrs. Washington herself made tea and
coffee for us. On the table were two
small plates ofsliced tongue, and dry toast
bread, mid butter, but no broiled fish, as
is the general custom. Miss Eleanor
Custis, her grand-daughter, a very plea
sing young lady of about sixteen, sat next
to her, and next her grandson, George
Washington Parke Custis, about two years
old. There were but slight indications of
form, one servant only tiding, who
had its livery ; and a silver urn for hot
water was the only expensive article on
the table. Mrs. Washington struck me as
something older than the President though
I understood they sere both born the sa me
year ; she was short in stature, rather ro
bust, extremely simple in her dress, and
shore a very plain cap, with her gray hair
turned up under it." 'This description of
Mrs. Washington corresponds perfectly
with that in her portrait by Trumbull,
painted the previous year, and now in the
Trumbull gallery in New Haven.
Mr. Wansey says her drawing rooms
were objected to by the democrats .t as
tending to give he •a supereminency, and
as introductory to the paraphernalia of
courts." With what feelings the excellent
woman regarded these democrats is shown
by an anecdote of the same period. Sho
was a severe disiplinarian, and Nelly Cus
tis was not often permitted by her to idle
or follow her own caprices. The young girl
was compelled to practise at the harpsi
chord four or five hours every day, and one
11 - kerning, when she should have been play.
leg, her grand mother entered the room,
remarking that she bad not heard her tau
sic, and also that she had observed some
one going out whose name she would like
very much to know. Nelly was silent,
and suddenly her attention was arrested by
a blemish on the wall, which had been
newly painted a delicate cream color.—
" ! it was no federalist," she exclaim
ed, looking at the spot just above the set
tee ; a none but a filthy democrat would
mark a place with his good for-nothing
heed in that manner !"
The public business so entirely occu
pied his time, that Washington had no op-
portunities of visiting Mount Vernon. In
1703, however, he was nearly three
months during the terrible period of the
prevalence of the yellow fever in Phila
delphia. The disease broke out some
time in August, but he continued at his
post until the 10th of September. He
wished to stay longer, but Mrs. Washing
ton was unwilling to leaving him exposed
in such danger, and he could not think of
hazarding her life and the lives of the chil
dren by remaining—' , the house in which
we lived in," he says ; "being in a man
ner blockaded by the disorder, which was
every day becoming more and more fatal."
Two days after Washington left, Mr. Wol
cott, wrote to his father ; The apprehen
sions of the citizens cannot be increased,
business is in a great measure abandoned;
the true character of man is disclosed ;and
he shows himself a weak, timid, despond
ing, and selfish being. The ravages of the
dreadful sickness are extending, with ad,
ded circumstances of terror and distress ;
many now die without attendance. The
kind attention, the tears of condolence and
sympathy, which alleviate pain, and in
some degree reconcile the dying to their
fate, urn frequently omitted by the nearest
friends and relldives ; when generelly be
stowed they Am tea Om pric.. cf
Among the public characters attacked
by the fever were Mr. Willing and Col,
Hamilton ; but they both recovered. The
officers of government were dispersed, and
the President even deliberated on the pro
priety of convening Congress elsewUre ;
but the abatement of the disease rendered
this measure unnecessary, apd near the
close of November the scattered inhabi
tants returned to their homes, and Con
gress reasembled on the 2nd of December.
In 17114, his official duties not permit
ting him to make more than a flying visit
to Mt. Vernon, and Mrs. Washington de
ciding against a summer residence in the
city, the President took a house in Ger
mantown, where with his family, he re
mained during the months of July and
August. _ _
Defective Memories.
John, Daniel, and Warren Townsend,
of North Reading, (Mass) were examined
at Lowell on a charge of violating the li
quor law. 'rho witnesses were numer
ous, and, according to the testimony, they
were the most rJrgettul set of witnesses
ever brought into court. Nearly all of
them testified that they had drank liquor
on the day when they appeared be:ore the
court. Four of them wore committed to
jail for appearing in court in a state of
partial intoxication, the court deciding
that witnesses should keep their intellects
clear, and regarding the drinking of li
quor five times in one day by a witnesses
contempt of court. Several of them did
not know as they ever bought any liquor
at Townsend's ; but Robert H. Bird must
be the real original Know-Nothing, accor
ding to his testimony, which is reported as
follows :
" I don't know Daniel Townsend ; I
don't know as I know him at all ; I don't
know his house ; I was in a tavern at North
Reading perhaps one time, but I cannot
remember if I was ; I cannot remember
whether or not, I was in it two times or
ten times ; I cannot remember how often,
or what I went after ; live in North Read
ing, two miles from the tavern ; my mem
ory is very poor, I cannot remember any
thing; I was iiithe lock-up to day; I can
not remember if I drank any liquor today;
I cannot tell who is my next neighbor; I
keep moving all the time; my name is
Bird, and I keep all the time moving;
don t know as I have a wife ; I don't know
as I have a Bird child ; I don't know as I
ever done anything for a living "
To the court . "I don't knowif I live two
miles or one mile from the tavern; I don't
remember anything about my folks; I was
in the lock up 'wo or three hours to day ;
I came up here to get some runt; they said
to me come up to the Police Court on Sat
urday and I came up yesterday."
Bird, With three other witness, was
committed until next day, when the case
was to be resumed.
It was the opinion of Dr. Rush that sing
ing by young ladies, whom the customs of
society debar from many other kinds of
healthy exercise, should be cultivated, not
only as an accomplishment, but as a means
of preserving health. lie particularly in
sists that vocal music should never be ne
glected in the education of a young lady;
and states, that besides its salutary opera
lion in soothing the cares of domestic life,
it has a still more direct, and important
effect. 'I here introduce a fact,' says Dr.
Rush, 'which has been subject to rite by
my profestion'. that is, the exercise of the
organs of the breast by singing contributes
to defend them very much from those dis
eases to which the climate and other causes
expose. The Germans aro seldom talc
ted with consumption, nor have I ever
known more than one case of spitting '
blood amongst them. 'lbis, I believe, is
in part occasioned by the strength which
their lungs acquire by using them frequent
ly in vocal music which constitutesan essen
tial branch of their education.' 'The music
master den academy,' says Mr. Gardner,
has furnished mu with as observation still
more in favor of this opinion. He informs
me that he has known several instances of
persons strongly disposed to consumption,
restored to health by exercising their ungs
by singing,
Elfr Can any of our business mon
solve the following puzzle, which we clip
from nn exchange :
4dit itlt Yptinotir.
Origlniclle‘hTs of Men and Things.
Vl—Doestioksegea the American Trage.
NEW YORK, No. 7,001, Narrow st.
I have alway had a passion for theatri
cals, and was, at one time of my variega
ted existence, much more intimately con
nected with the stage than at present--and
on reaching this City I felt, of course, a
great desire to behold again the theater,
with all its brilliant fascinations—the light,
the music, the varied scenery comprising
gardens, chambers, cottages, mountains,
"cloud•capped towers and gorgeous pal
(laces," barrooms, churches, huts and boy
els,—to look again upon the glass jewels,
the tinseled robes of mimic royalty, the
pasteboard banquets, and molasses wine,
and all the glory, "pride, pomp, cireum
"stance," and humbug, which I once
“knew so ' , well," "et quorum magna pars
So, with my trusty friends, Damphool
and Bull Dogge, I wended my way to the
Metropolitan Theater No. 1, to see and
hear the distinguished Mr. Rantanrave
Ilellitisplit, the notorious American trage
dian, in his great, original, unapproacha
ble, inconceivable, inexplicable, incompre
hensible part of "What a bore the last
of the Vollypogs."
The house was full, and what a spec
tacle for a modest young man—the front
rows of the dress circle being occupied
almost exclusively by ladies, undressed in
the latest fashion, appeared a perfect sea
of bosom.
As the modesty of the third tier ladies
did not permit them to vie in this respect
with their more fashionable sisters, they
had staid away to entertain some audi
ence, not so refined, whose less cultivated
taste would not require so complete an ex
posure of the—in fact,as Micawber would
remark—the maternal fount. There were
several babies in the crowd, who, evident
ly hungry, kept up a constant wailing—
poor things! I really pitied them—but I
presume they were ignorant of the sin of
covetousness, and only wanted what they
thought they hada right to—they had not
yet learned, as we had, that, although
they might see, they must "touch not,
taste not, handle not." It was bad en
ough to starve them, but to tantalize them
in this manner was really barbaric.
And opera-glasses, too, were continual
ly leveled at them, by people who, impel
led by a laudable curiosity, were anxious
to see all that could be seen. [Damphoul
says that when you see a woman with one
of these implements, you may be sure
she wants to be looked at—and called my
attention to the confirmatory fact that all
the Ladies with the finest busts and the
best developed forms wore their dresses
the lowest in the neck and sported the big
gest opera-glasses.] [Bull Dogge asserts
that they were invented by the author of
"Staring Made Easy," and "A Treatise
on the Use of the Globes.L]
By-and-bye, after a season of tramping
by the intelligent audience, which seemed,
by its measured regularity, to intimate
that they had learned the motion in the
tr' -dmill, the bell jingled, and the mem
tiers of the orchestra entered, one by one.
After the audience had endured the pro
longed tuning of the instruments, conduc
ted in a masterly manner by the leader of
the band, the music got a good ready for
a fair start, and nt the word "go," they
went. I could not critically analyze the
uproar, but it seemed to be composed of
these elements--a predominance of drum
and cymbals, a liberal allowance of flute
and horn, a spasmodic sprinkling of trom
bone, a small quantity of aboo, and a great
deal of fiddle. 'lle tumult was directed
by the leader, who waved his fiddle over
Isis bead, jumped up and down upon his
seat, kicked up his heels, disarranged his
shirt-collar, threw his arms wildly about,
stamped, made faces, and conducted him
self as if he was dancing a frantic horn
pipe, for the gratification of the crazy
whims of au audience of Bedlamites. I
At Iciigth the curtain went up—two
men came on and said something, then
two others Caine on and did something—
then the scene changed, and sonic others
came on and listened to a shabby-looking
general, who seemed to be their "magnus
Apollo," and who certainly was very long
Nothing decisive, ho sever, came to
pas, until the long-expected entrance of
the great Hclhtccplit himself et entuated.
1 !TM . cmtf,' •hot T
VOL. 20. NO.. 11
rille, yet serene majesty of his appear•
once. When I so w the tragic codfishy
expression of his eyes, I was surprised ;
when 1 observed the flexibility of Ins ca
pacious mouth, opening and shutting like
a dying mudsucker, 1 was amazed. When
my eye turned to his fingers, which work
ed and clutched, as if feeling for coppers
in u dark closet, I was wondeustricken—
but when my attention was called to the
magnitude of his legs, I was fairly elec
trified with admiration, and could not for.
bear asking Bull Dogge if those calves
were capable of locomotion.
The admiring audience, who had kick
ed up a perfect young earthquake wh.2n
he came on, only ceased when he squared
himself, put out his arm, and prepared to
speak. That voice ! Ye gods! that voice!
It went through gradations that burners
voice never before attempted, imitating by
turns the horn of the City Hall Gabriel,
the shriek of the locomotive, the soft and
gentle tones of a forty horse power steam
saw-mill, the loving accents of the scissor
grinder's wheel, the amerous tones of the, the rumble of the omnibus.
the cry of the driver appertaining thereto,
rising, from the entrancing notes of the in
furiated honor dog, to the terrific cry of
the oyster vender—causing the "Supes"
to tremble in their boots, making the fid
dlers look round for some place of safety,
and moving the assembled multitude to
echo back the roar, feebly, it is true, but
still with all their puny strength. [Bull
Dogge says he got that awful voice by eat
ing pebble stone lunches, like the man is
the book.]
Several times during the piece I was
much affected—when he wound his arms
round his wife, stock his head over her
shoulder, and kissed the back of her neck,
when ho made a grand exit, with three
stamps, a hop, a run, and two long strad
dles—when he talked grand about the
thunder, and shook his list at the man in
in the flies—whoa he killed the soldiers
in the council room, shouted for them
"come one•und all," and then run away
for fear they would—where he swore at
the man who did not give hint his cue—
when he knelt down and said grace ovet
his dead boy, and then got up and stuck
his wife with a butcher knife; but in no
part of the whole piece was I so impres,
ed with his pathetic power, his transcen
dent genius, as when he laid his haud sol
emnly upon his stomach, and said, "What
a bore, 0, cannot lie." [Damphool asked
in a whisper, if Othello's occupation was
gone.] And at the death scene, when hu
was shot, I was again touched to the heart;
first he trabbled about like a top heavy li
berty pole in a high wind; then he stud:
out one leg, and wiggled it, after the man
ner of tt galvanic bull frog ; flea sat down
on the floor, opened Ins eyes and looked
around; then grappled an Indian on one
side, clutched a soldier on the other, strug
gled to his feet—staggered about like a
drunk Dutchman, made a rush forward,
then a leap sideways, stiffened out like a
frozen pig, collapsed like a wet dishcloth,
exerted himself till his face was the color
of an underdone beef steak, then sunk
back into the arms of the Indians, whis
pered to let him down easy, rolled up the
whites of his eyes, settled himself to die,
concluded to have a partint Larse at the
surrounding people, took ug swear,
laid down, and a noise ltr is throat like
castinets, n couple of vigorous kicks, and
a feeble grunt, gave up the ghost.
[Bull Dogge asserted that he would re.
suscitate, brush the dust off his legs, take
some gin and sugar, and come out and
make n speech,] all of which be did ; the
butcher boys in the gallery, [Damphool
says liellitisplit conunenced life as a res
pectable butcher boy, but has degenerated
into the mats he is,] gave three cheers.
Ifellitisplit opened his mouth four times,
shut it thrice, [he went off with it wide
open,] and backed off with a grace which
we may suppose would be exhibited by a
mud-turtle on the tightrope.
Damphool was in ecstacies --Bull Dog
ge asked me how I liked the 'treat Amer.
ican, &c." I replied that I knew not
which most to admire, his euphonious
voice or Isis tremendous straddle, but that
(notwithstanding the late appropriation of
the mune by a rival show-shop,) I was
ready to maintain with the butcher boys
that there was but one Metropolitan Thea
ter, and Hellitisplit is its profit.
Cfr A poor fellow, having got hts
skull fractured, was told by the doctor
tha the brain wan 'visible ; at which ha re•
marked, ..Do write to father, for he alwayi
declared I had none."
ser Refusng to pay your printer's
bilis and robbing a hen roost, are the
saint: anng in Put , h, onl• differen!