Ti t Ituntingbn °yaw L
WILLTAX BREWSTER, i EDITORS.
SAM. G. WHITTAKER,
elect iottril.
TRUE POETRY.
In reading books ec ofteu"mark" particular
paragraphs which plea io us. We hope the rea
ders of our paper trill ma the following, we
have selected from various withers, which we
toothed long ago.—En. I:NT.
Of ingratitude of man to his fellow, the &til
er of English poetry writes :
"I hate ingratitude more in a man,
Than lying, vainness, babbling drunkenness
Or other taints of vice whose strong corruption
Inhabits our frail biped."
In regard to our country's progress, one says:
"I hear the tread of pioneers
Of nations yet to be,
The first low wash of waves, where soon
Shall roll a human sea.
The rudiments of empire here
Are plastic yet and warm,
The chaos of a mighty world
Is rounding into form.
Each rude end jostling fragment soon
Its fitting place shall find,
The raw materials of a state,
Its muscles and its mind." •
Of the evils of war :
"Oh the orphans-4th the widows,
Oh. the dreary, dronry shadows,
Trailing down life's golden meadows
When the fearful war is done."
"Afar with bosom bared unto the breeze,
White lip and elnrieg eyes and shivering knec
A widow o'er Ler martyred husband moans,
I...ding the night-wind with (lelerious groans,
Iter LII:‘,-cy,l klie—tnicunscious orphan he—
s., c.,:ctly prattling in his cherub glee ;
Leers on Itii lifeless sire with infant wile,
And I.lays and plucks him for a parent's smile.'
*ticct Cis rc.CC~tit~r.
THE AWKWARD MISTAKE.
nr IC. W. DEWEES
Corm iI. was something of a flirt—there
is no denying it, though I do not like to
admit anything to her disadvantage, for
she was a great favorite, of mina.
She was a pretty, little brown thing,
with cheeks that the rich blood mantled
freely through as it came from a warm and
geucreus heart. Cherry ripe lips, often
parted to reveal two rows of pearly teeth,
as the merry laughter burst gushingly out
—figure rather petite but full and graceful
—a foot and hand of fairy•lilce symmetry,
and hair dark and glossy as satin; such
were some of her outward attractions. And
a pretty, gay, coquettish manner, and a
temper unspoilably sweet, and you will
have some idea of Cora B.
Cora was only eighteen, but her lovers
wore already so numerous, that, had site
cared to keep count of them, she must
have had n notched stick like Robinson
Crusoe, for surely her giddy head could
never have remembered thorn all without
that or some similar aid. •
Everybody petted, admired and flattered
her; and to make love to one so lovenble
seemed as easy and natural as to inhalo the
fragrance of a Slower.
Among the newest, and consequently the
Rost favoured of her admirers, was Horace
Hendorion, of P., who had recently come
to Springfield, Cora's native place.
Besides the novelty of the seam, he
was a decidedly clever and agreeable fel
low—handsome and talented ; therefore
Cora, without wishing to make a serious
conquest, would have been mortified at her
lack of skill if she had not succeeded in
adding so distinguished nn attache its her
train.
It cost her an effort greater than usual
to do so, however—and even when she
had so far conquered as to find him her
obedient servant to command, she saw that
assiduities were less the result of love than
gallantry and admiration.
She was quite content, however, and the
intimacy between them increased. Cora
flirted with no one so much. Horace car
ried her boqueta more than she did herself
—he hardly ever allowed any one else to
fan her after dancing, and when he asked
her to ride with him she consented—all
marks of high favor.
A beautiful, cool summer afternoon was
selected for the first ride ; and Cora moun
ted on a gentle but spirited animal, exhila
rated by the exercise, and excited by the
nonsense her companion was talking to
her, had never been in better spirits or
looked more lovely.
Their way lad them along the romantic
banks of the Connecticut, in the direction
of Ames' famous establishment—then, and
I suppose new, a favorite ride with the
people of Springfield on account of the
smoothness of the road and the beauty of
the scenery.
The country was looking enchantingly.
The river gleamed blue end sparklin on
their right, and on the left a full and com
plete orchestra of roadside choristers than
ted bewitchingly behind their vernal
screen. Cora'e heart as well as her ears
was filled with music, and her bright
cheeks glOweri, and her black eyes spar
kled with pleasure.
The sun was still high when they turn
ed homeward, and after a lively canter
they slackened their pace to enjoy the
quiet loveliness of nature. Coming to an
allured little side road, which led into a
wood,, they were tempted by curiosity and
the earliness of the hour to leave the main
r oad to explore it.
it was an enchanting little fairy cause
way, carpeted with turf, and canopied with
green; Cora was wild with delight. Hor;
ace seemed less pleased, or more occupied
will other thoughts, for lie was unusually
silent.
Cora observing his absent mood, laugh
ingly inquired the reason.
Horace rallied himself and replied with
gaiety, a little forced.
.Ah, Miss Cora, has not a man in love
the sanction of Shakspearo and all the
poets to be merry or sad, absent or whim
sical, at his own capricious will ? I claim
immunity under the laws enacted by the
poets in favor of distressed lover—for you
know, Miss Cora, you see before you a
man, very touch in love.
'lt is coming,' said Corn to herself.—
Well, I'm sorry—perhaps I can laugh it
off ;'and she answered aloud, , Indeed ! let
me take a good look then, for I should like
to see tho symptoms of a state come to be
regarded nowadays as problematical.'
'Pray, serious, dear Cora, for my sake,'
replied Horace in an earnest voice. can.
not jest on this subject—it is one too deep.
ly involving my happiness. We have not
known each other long, Cora, but I am not
one of those who believe that the growth
of friendship must always be counted by
days and weeks. I think I have known
y as well as if I had been acquainted
with you all my life—and lam sure you
will not think I claim too much in asking
you to listen to me. The love I feel is so
deep and earnest that it demands and must
love ex, rasolon. May I speak freely,
Cora 1'
tOh, no, no, no !' cried Cora, in a tone of
distress—fur though something of a flirt,
as I have admitted. she was incapable of
a coquettish - pleasure in witnessing her
victim's pain, or keeping him in suspense
'Hp not tell me any more—l am very,
very sorry if 1 have done wrong, but I do
not, and cannot return your affection.'
Henderson looked up in astonishment ;
he appeared for a tnoment not to under.
stand her, and for a few minutes to feel
some embarrassment, but he said at last,
with a half smile ;
'You have made a very natural mis
take, Miss Cora—and it would, perhaps,
he mere politio, or at least, polite, to leave
it uncorrected, but my policy is always a
straght forward one, and I will confess it
was not to your self I had alusion just
now, but Miss C., of Boston. The kind
friendship yon have shown ins induced
me to hope you would allow me the luxu
ry of talking to you of what constantly no
cupivs my thoughts. I trust you will per
mit me to do so still, will you now l.'
Cora's face was scarlet—she had made
the awkwardest of feminine mistakes.—
She dropped her horse's reins and hid her
face in her hands, overwhelmed with con
fusion, and unable to utter a word.
Horace caught the bridle and led the
horse for her--while he strove by saying
the kindest thing in the world, by treating
the whole thing as a trifling jest and by
skillfully presenting to Cora the only con
soling feature in the case—that her reply
had been a refusal—to banish her annoy
ance and mortification.
After a time she was induced to join
rather shyly in his laugh, and he followed
his promised confession. It consisted
simply of a lover's raptures over a fair di
vinity, whom, notwithstanding his secret
adoration, his poverty forbade him to ad•
dress.
Cora proved a very sympathizing and
interesting listener ; and though she had
no advice to offer, Mr. Henderson was
charmed with the absorbed attention sho
gave to his story, and they parted better
friends than ever, notwithstanding the
blunder she had made.
A few days after this their conversation
an opening presented itself to young lien
, demon, in another city, and ho left Spring
field to avail himself of it lie was ab
sent for two years, and having succeeded
beyond his utmost hopes in his business,
he treated hitnselt, one summer, to the
pleasure of returning to Springfield to
spend his vacation.
As a !natter of course he renewed his
acquaintance with Cora. lie found her
still unmarried and unengaged---but quite
ae pretty, and, no he thought, far more fas•
clouting than ever before.
Tho fact is, that having been entirety
cured of the youthful fancy he had enter
tained for Mina C. by the unexpected mar
riage of that lady before his eircmatanees
" Ulllllll'l, AND UNION, VW AND FOREVER, ONZ AND INSZPARADLN. "
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1855.
had so far improved as to justify him in
declaring his attachment, he met Cora with
a heart free, instead of fettered, and he
could not but see how very attractive, and
loveably sweet she was.
His attentions were renewed, but in a
very different spirit from that in which
they had been rendered of old.
Cora, however, quite unaware of this
change of circumstances and feeling, re•
ceived them quite on the former friendly
footing. Indeed she was far more friendly
and secure than then, for she fancied she
knew the state of Horace's affections, and
her intimacy with him could not therefore
possibly lead to misunderstandings either
on his part or hers.
She felt thus quite free and easy to ride
walk or talk with him without scruple.—
Sometimes, it is true, she had a feeling
there was something in his manner she
did not quite understand—e something in
more of reserve, and at the same time
of warmth, than formerly, which puzzled
her but de aided she must be mistaken, and
tried to banish such fancies.
One day it chanced that they rode out
in the very same direction they had taken
on the occasion of their first ride. Coming
to the shady lane they turned aside, as be
fore, to explore its cool recesses, and see if
two years had brought any changes to so
retired a spot.
As they slowly pursued their way, Ho
race said smilingly :
.'Do you remember, Cora—"
'My awkward mistake?' interrupted she
with a qwelc blush. "I was just thinking
of it ; but don't talk about it."
"I•was thinking," said Horace quietly,
"that was my mistake, not yours."
.1-limy so?"
"Because I have since found that the
confession of love I then mnde was but a
mistake and a falsity—in short, my proles.
sion should have been to you, Cora, and I
cannot imagine where my wits were not to
know it. Dearest Cora, lot me correct my
error by telling you dearly—better than I
can tell or you imagine—l love you."
He looked at her, perhaps for encour
agement, bnt not meeting the responsive
glance he doubtless expected, he added, in
alarm :
"Surely, surely, Cora, you will not re
peat the same cruel an.wer
"I can hardly tell." said Cora, hesita
tingly. "You take me by surprise—you
must give me time toconsider. But." she
added with a blush and a shy smile, "I
will make a confession. I was thinking
just now that if I had felt toward you then
as I do now I might posibly have made
my blunder still more awkward by saying
yes instead of no.'
t'llrEy WERE MARRIED
Colloquy Between an English Lady and
a Yankee Oftfeer.
Soon after the revolutionary war, Capt.
P., a brave Yankee officer, was at St. Pe
tersburg, in Russia, and while there ac
.cepted an invitation to dine; there was a
large number at table, and among the rest
an English lady, who wished to appear
one of the knowing ones.
This lady, on understanding that an
American was one of the guests, express.
ed to one of her friends a determination
to quiz him, She fastened on him like a
tigress ; making many inquiries respecting
our habits, customs, dress, manners, and
mode of life, education, amusements, etc.,
etc.
'l'o all her inquiries Capt. P., gave an.
ewers that satisfied all the company, ex.
cept the lady; she was determined not to
be satisfied, and the following short dia
logue took place :
Lady.—have the rich people in your
country any carriages? For I• suppose
there are some that call themselves rich.
I CnP t• P.—My residence is in a small
town upon an island where there are but
few carriages kept--but in larger towns
and cities on the main land, there are a
number kept in a style suited to our re.
' publican manners.
Lady.—l can't think where you find
drivers—..l should not think the Ameri.
cans knew how to drive a coach.
Capt. P.—We find no difficulty on that
account, madam ; we can have a plenty
of drivers by sending to England for
them.
Lady (speaking very quick).•••l think
the Americans ought to drive the English,
instead of the English driving the Ameri.
Capt. P.-:-We did, madam, in the last
war,but since peace we permit the Eng.
lish to drive us!
The lady, halt - choked with anger, stood
mute a minute, and left the room, whis
pering to her friend—the 'rankles are too
much for ua in the cabinet, as well as in
the gel
For Mother's Sake.
A lathe and son were fishing near New
York city, a few days since. The boat
was suddenly capsized, and thoy were
thrown Into the water. The father, who
was an expert swimmer, while his son
could not swim at all, at once commenced
to aid the lad. He seeing that his father
was becoming rapidly exhausted, calmly
said to him. "Never mind me ; save
yourself for Mother's sake." God bless
that boy, and God be thankful that both
his father and himself were rescued from
the peril in which they were involved.
'For Mother's sake.' There spoke a
true son and a true hero. He knows that
tender years illy fitted him to support and
sustain her who bore him—that if his fa•
they perished she might be reduced to
want as well as steeped in sorrow—that
if the oak fell the ivy would fade and die.
So he bid his soul be quiet amid the troub
led waters, amid the excitetneit and ap
prehensions that such a scene must endan
ger, and resolved to die for his mother, un
less, in need, some hand was stretched
forth for his safety and the safety of his fa
ther. It was all right because it was done
for mother's sake.'
Would we say the same thing under
circumstances? Would you, boy ? you,
young man ? you, man of years and sor
rows t While you admire the young he
ro for his intrepidity and afiection, do you
feel that you would imitate his example
if occasion requited ? Do you love, do
prize your Mother?
Ile who propounds these questions is
motherless. Years twain have passed
the wrinkled gray paired matron, who cal.
led his son, laid off the dusty vestments of
earthly travel and was clothed in the gar
menth of the saints, He tells you - and
his word is wrung from suffering experd'
ence- that if you love your Mother, do
not prize your mother now; you will here•
alter. Death opens the fountains of sur
viving hearts, and lons shows us how lit
tle we esteemed possession.
It is well to hold up an example like
the one we have quoted, to Ihe puhlia, for
by so doing, some hard heart may soften,
some vascillating heart confirmed, some
warm heart made warmer. A man is safe
who inscribes this motto upon his phylac•
tery---'For my mother's Sake—Buffalo
Express.
Character and Integrity.
We have somewhere seen a notice of a
Rotterdam thread merchant, who had ac
cumulated fifty thousand dollars by his
own industry, punctuality and integrity ;
and it With remarked of him that he never
let a yard of bad thread go out of his hands
and would never take more than a reason
able profit. By these means he acquired
such entire public confidence, that his cus
tomers would as willingly send a blind
man or a child to buy for them as to g,
themselves.
We refer to the case not to imitate that
we have no such instances among our
selves, but for the purpose of suggesting
the great value to any business man of
such a character, and the exceeding agree
ableness to dealers with him of the confi
dence he inspires. And we affirm noth
ing extravagant in saying, that the char
, acter for strict integrity acquired is of as
much real worth to its possessor as the pe
cuniary savings of his industry. Let such
a man lose by any misfortune all his
motley, he is still a man of capital, of
weight, of influence, and is the superior,
on mere business calculations, of many a
man of larger means.
Rut the beauty of the thing is this, that
any man however small his business, and
limited his capital, has just as good an op
portunity of winning confidence as a mil
lionaire. Integrity in small things is
more impressive than integrity in great
things. And after all that man may say
in favor of the enterprise, shrewdness and
tact of partioular business men, there is
one character towards which all men in
stinctly render their reverence—and that
is,the mon who had rather be honest than
wealthy, and who prefers integrity to gold .
OLD Ma. FUDDLE fell down in a pud
dle, just as a runaway horse and shay
mine dashing and splashing and tearing
that way. In henpless plight, he reared
with fright; the iterse came quick, and
galloped and kick, when the old man rais
ed his great old stick ; the horse then shi
ed a little aside, for sticks were no friends
to his well-fed hide. Within a foot of Fed
dle's toes, within and inch of his rubby
nose, the wheel comes whizzling, and on
it goes. Up rises Fuddle, from out of the
puddle, end stands on the road with a stag
gering stride, then wheeling away from
the ocono of the fray, he flourished his
,tick with a hero's pride.
(Oili tumor.
How Jed Missed It.
"I loved you. I adore you ;
But I'm talking in my sleep."
Some folks are in the habit of talking
in their sleep, and Miss Betsy Wilson was
one of that number This peculiarity she
accidentally resolved to Jediah Jenkins in
a careless, conversational way. Jediah
had just finished the recital of a matrimo
nial dream, in which the young lady and
himself figured as hero and heroine, he
having inteneed the same for the sake of
saying at the conclusion that it was 'too
good to be true,' and thus, by speaking
in parables, assuring the damsel of what
he dared not speak plainly.
'I never dream said Betsey, 'but I some
times talk half the night, and tell every
thing I know in my sleep.'
'You don't say so.'
'Yes ; I 'can never have a secret from
mother; if she wants to know anything
she pumps me after I've gone to bed, and
I answer her questions as honestly as if
my life depended on it. That was the
reason I would not go to ride the other
night, I knew she would find it out—it's
awful provoking.'
Some days after this, Jed called at the
house, and entering the parlor unannoun
ced, found that Miss Betsey, probably o
vercome by the heat of the weather, had
fallen asleep on the sofa.
Now Jed as the reader has surmised,
had long felt an overweening partially for
the young lady, and yearned to know if it
was returned; but tho' possessed of suffi
cient courage to mount 'the imminent
deadly breech'—or breeches—(commercial
ones, we mean) he could not muster spunk
enough to enquire into the state of her
heart. But he now bethought himself of
her confessed somnambulic loquacity, and
felt that the time of ascertaining his fate
had come. Approaching the sofa, he whis
pered—
.My dearest Betsey, tell me, oh! tell
me tl.e o bject of your to ndeet affections.'
The ftur deeper gave a faint sigh and
responded ; 'I love, let me think, (here
you might have heard the beating of Jed's
heart through a brick wall,) I love heay.
en, my country and baked beans, but if I
have one passion above all others, it is for
roast onions.
The indignant lover didn't wake her,
but sloped at once, a sadder, but not a wi•
ser man.' At last accounts, Jed was 'shi
ning up' to another young lady.
An Incident.
One day I saw a link fellow with his
arms about a litae witch of a girl, endeay.
oring if I interpreted the manifestations
right, to kiss bor.
Tommy,' said I, .what are you doing
hero 1"
4 7..cothin', sir, spoke the bright eyed
little witch ;'he wath tryin' to kith tne,
tho he wath, dm, and she eyed him keen
ly.
'Why. Lucy, what prompted him to
act so ungentlemanly right here in school?'
I asked, anticipating some fun.
'Oh ! he hitched up here and then he
wanted me to kith him, and I told him that
I 'wouldn't kith thuch a thumpy boy nth
he ith ; then he thaid he'd kith me, and I
told him that ho dathan't, but he thaid he
would do it, and I told him I would tell the
mather if he did, but he thaid he didn't
care a thnap for the mather, and then tried
to kith me tho hard,' and the little thing
sighed.
'Why didn't you tell me as you said
you would?' I asked in a pleasant man•
ner.
'Oh,' she replied, with a naivete I did
not often see, didn't care much if he did
kith me, tho I let 'im.'
Here the whole school, who had been
listening intently, broke out into an uproa
rious laugh, while our little hero and he
roine blushed very deoply.—Cincinnati
Times.
NATIVE DRESS IN BENGAL.—English
ladies, though they become familiarized
with the nudity of natives, as exhibited in
the streets of Calcuta, are naturally averse
from enduring an uncitous native, three
fourths naked, sitting next to them in a
railway carriage. The Europeans recent
ly ejected a native so clad from that posi
tion, and the case came before the supreme
court. The judge solemnly decided 'hat
a native's ideas of decency were the witclo
criterion, and fined the European gentle
man one hundred rupees and cost. Both
were instantly paid by the exasperated,
community, and it is understood that what
ever the law may be they will eject 01l na
tives who refuse to respect the rules all
civilized oecietr.
A NEW WAY TO DETEOT A THIEF,
The lather of the great American States.
man wns a humorous and jocose person.
age, and innumerable are the anecdotes re
lated of him. As he was journeying in
Massachusetts, not far from his native
town, he stopped rather late one night in
the village of -. In the barroom
were about twenty different persons, who
as as he entered, called out for him to dis
cDver the thief. One of the company, it
appeared, a few minutes before, had
a watch taken from his pocket, and he
knew the offender must be in the room with
them.
'Come, Mr. Almanac maker, you know
the signs of the times, the hidden things of
the season, tell who is the thief.'
'Fasten all the doors of the room and let
no one leave it ; and here landlord go and
bring your wife's great brass kettle.'
.Whe-ew want to know !my stars !my
wife's who ew !' quoth I3oniface.
.Why you wouldn't be more struck if I
told you to go to pot !
Bouiface did as commanded; the great
brass kettle was placed in the middle of the
floor, its bottom up—as black, sooty and
smoky as a chimney-back. The landlord
got into his bar, and looked on with eyes
as big as saucers.
'You don't want any hot water nor no
thin' to take oQ the bristles on a triter, do
you, Square ?' said the landlord, the prep
aration looking a little too much like hog
killing. .The old woman's gone to bed
and the well's dry.'
.Now go into the barn and bring the big.
gest cockerel you've got.'
'When ! you won't bile him, will you!
he's a tough one. I can swear, Square,'
he didn't steal tho watch. The old rooster
knows when it's time to crow, without
looking at a watch.
'Go along, or I won't detect the thief.'
&mince went to the barn and soon re
turned with a tremendous fat rooster, cac
kling all the way like mad.
'Now put him under the kettle and blow
the light out.'
3110 old roust.. %van thrust under the In
verted kettle and the lamp blown out.
'Now gentlemen, I don't spore the thief
is in the company ; but if he is, the old
rooster will crow when the offender touch
es the bottom of the kettle with his hands.
Walk round in a circle, and the cock will
make known the watch stealer. The in
nocent need not be afraid, you know.
The company then, to humor him, and
carry out the joke, walked around the km
in the dark for three or four minutes.
'All done, gentlemen.'
'All done,' was the cry ; 'where's your
crowing ? We heard no cockadoodledo.'
'Bring us a light.'
A light was brought as ordered.
'Now hold up your hands, good folks.—
They wert4,of course black, from coming
in contact with the soot of the kettle.'
'All up.'
'All up,' was the response
'All don't know ! Ilere's one fel.
low who hasn't held up his hands.'
'Alt, ha ! my old boy, let's take a peep
at your paws.'
Thoy were examined, and they were not
black like those of the rest of the compa-
'You'll find your watch about him—
search.'
And so it proved. This fellow not be
ing aware, any more than the rest, of the
trap that was set for the discovery of the
thief, had kept aloof from the kettle, lest
when he touched it the crowing of the roo
ster should proclaim him as the thief. As
the hands of all the others were blackened
the whiteness of his own showed of course
that ho had not dared to touch the old
brass kettle, and that lie was the offender.
lie jumped out of the frying pan into tire,
and was lodged in as uncomfortable a place
as either—to wit—the jail.
KENDALL ON ROYAL BEAUTY.—Kendall
of the New Orleans Picayune, writes
home that the ladies in waiting upon Vic
toria at Paris were a distressing homely
set," nor does the profane republican treat
royalty any better. Liston to his descrip
tion of the princess Royal of England:—
'She is a fat, thubby and coarse specimen
of a girl, a homely likeness of her mother
who never sei lip any pretensions of beau
ty that I eon aware of."
eurAn Irishman and a Frenchman
were to be hanged together. Tho latter
was strongly affected by his situation,
while Paddy took it very easy and told his
companion to keep up his pluck, for it was
nothing at all to be hanged. 'Ah,' replied
the Frenchman, 'ware be one grand differ
ence between you Ned me,. for re Irishman
are need to it.?
VOL. 20. NO. 48.
A Mistake all Around.
The hisarre telle the following good sto
ry : A person who wore a suit of home
spun clothes stepped into a house in this
city, on some business, where several la
diec and gentleman were assembled in an
inner room. One of the company remark
ed (in a low tone, though sufficiently loud
to be overheard by the stranger)that a coun
tryman was waiting, and agreed to make
some fnn. The following talk ensued :
"You're front the country, I suppose I"
"Yes, I'm from the country."
'Well sir, what do you think of the city?'
•It's got a darned sight of hotrses in
it."
4 1 expect there are a great many ladies
where you come from ?"
"Wail, yes, a powerful sight, jest for
all the wotld like them there," (pointing
to the ladies.)
"And you are quite a beau among them
no doubt 1"
'.Wall 'scort 'em to meetin' and about."
'•flay bo the gentleman will take a glass
of wine," said one of the company.
"Wall, don't•care if I do."
"Did you ever drink a toast?"
eats toasts what aunt Debby makes
but as to drinkin' it, I never seed the like.'
"0, you must drink their health."
"Wi' all my heart.
'Ladies and 'gentlemen permit the to
wish your health and happiness with ev
ery other blessing this earth can afford
and advise you to bear in mind that 3'nu
are often deceived by appearances. You
mistook me, by my dress, for a country
booby, I from the same cause thoui2lot
these men to be gentlemen : the deception
is mutual—l Wish you a good evening.
Mre.Partington at the Cattle Show.
'This is a very beautiful sight for a
person with a refined beastly taste,' said
Mrs. Purtington at the agricultural show
looking at the big sheep, and addressing a
tall young man by her side. He respon
ded , yeem."ls that a hydraulic ram ?'
she asked with great simplicity, provoking
a smile on the young man's face, and is
loud launh from ouisinev:, w. io were at
traded by the black bonnet. The young
man informed her that this was a long
wooled sheep, from which very long yarn
was spun. 'Ali !' said she, 'you are very
kind ; but can you tell me if the pope has
sent any of his bulls over here to this show?
No,' said he, stalling tremendously, 'but
among the swine is a descendant of tho
greet Boanerges ' Neither Mrs. Parting.
ton nor any one near knew what he meant
but be laughed loudly, and those outside
laughed louder than he, much to his satin•
faction. They laughed even louder when
he found swing ing, front his button behind
a tag bearing the inscription, 'Vermont
Boy,' with the age and weight given, but
he didn't. And Ike was looking so inno
cently all the while, trying to make the
ram sneeze by tickling his nose with a
etraw !—Boston Post.
Personal Beauty.
Just about the last inheritance which a
parent should wish a child—whether male
or female, is personal beauty. It is about
the poorest kind of capital to start in the
world with. Who ever saw a beauty
worth the first red cent? We mean what
the world calls beauty, for there is a beau
ty more than skin deep, which the world
does not fully recognize. It is not that of
which we speak. But the girl whom all
the fops and fools go into ecstasies over
and about, we would as soon a child of
ours should be not quite so beautiful. And
then your handsome young man over and
about whom all the foolish school girls are
in ecstacies, what chance has he of eve*
being anybody 1 A sad destroyer of am
bition is beauty. From being fitted for
the shallow pates of the other ser who can
appreciate nothing else, they become con
tent with a low standard of attainment,and
happy only when dancing attendance upon
those who are pleased with theirinsipidity.
Car An old gentleman who had a neigh.
borhood rather addicted to telling largo
stories, after listening one day to several
which taxed his credulity, boasted that he
himself could tell a bigger one still, and
and proceeded to r,late the following.
, One day I was quite at the other end of
my farm, more than half is mile front sty
house, when all at once I saw a dark
cloud rising in the west. Soon I saw t, r.
rents of rain decsending. in the distance,
and rapidly approaching the place where
I stood with my wagon. I started my
team towards home. fly constant applica
tion of the whip to my horses, I barely
escaped being overtaken by the rapidly
approaching torrent. But so tremendous.
ly did it pour down, thAtt my little dog.
who was close W 4114 ass. squally lied to
, swim *lithe wily.' . . •
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