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WILLIAM BREWSTER, 1 SAM. G. WHITTAKER, f EDITORS,
ittett fietrp.
[By REQuEmi
A Heart's Thanksgiving.
by AMA. F. R. Al BROTREINON,
Fur the rosy light of morn,
From a honte of shadows born ;
F., the gladdening., sunny ray,
.ihining through the perfect day
For the noontide's fervid hour,
Fur the twilight's holy power,
Fur the midnight, with its tone
Foiled in mystery alone.
I thank thee Father.
Fe each little, humble flower,
Peeping Girth in spring's first hour ;
Fur the fragrance, rich and rare,
Floating on the summer air :
For the golden, gorgeous dine.
Gleaming 'neuth autumnal skies ;
For the genial winter hour,
Girded with on ire power.
I thank thee, Father.
For the wealth of unit and Hower,
.Adding joy to every hour ;
For the streamlut's silvery dower,
With its voice of long ago ;
For the ocean's power and might,
Flowing on through Time's quick flight.
Speaking with a thunder tone,
Ur breathing low and mournful moan.
I thank thee Father.
j*, , r try path are blessings shed,
iloliest mereies crown my head ;
The murmured VOWS of early youth
Still echo e'er their changeless truth;
The music tone of ',twos first hour
Still deepens with a deathless power ;
For happiness so rare and pure,
For lore that dud, through time endure.
I thank thee, Father.
Thal the prayer of infancy,
fath hoen murmured at my haw ;
1/ousellohl flower; whose deathless bluoi
Pill my heart whit rich perfume.
Clu3tering round my happy path,
No ;t;elt joy the wide world bath ;
For the hope to live above
With theße, redeemed by matchless love,
1 thank thee Father.
•hoax loving ray
day by day ;
npBesllas been lcnown
quit circled 1110
orit lIIICVII,..i(MS infancy.
near IIII• still, toy life to Ideas
4 elittit:teh,ss love and tendernea3
I thank thee, Father
Salva
For. w.s:lrous
(liven to t • ceouc 111.11C11 Will] :
an),
lunely talc
!”.! ..1;:
who oft
od pointing ton Letter 'odd,
here Love's broad banner i 3 unfitrrd,
1 thank thee, Father.
Fur the Heaven, niters robes of light
Awaits the victor through love's night ;
Where in raptur, saints bow down,
To receive It.glitiering crown ;
Whvre a glerion, min.Trelry
Blending till harmonioasly,
Thruughnut eternity's long hoar,
Proclaim Jehuvah's love and power,
I thank thee, Father.
*.cicct .;11ts
Front the 11".. , -11-y Maga4ine.
T 11 E
GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY LOST,
VARY ATWII.I, was a younglady of
an' ardiable di,position, but of little
stability of mind. In many respects she
was worthy of imitation and praise—nbt
in all. She was too apt to recede from her
engagements, and, therefore, too little reli
able as a companion or friend. Now She
was of this mind—now of that—today
one thing to•morrow another. At one
time she would accede to this or • that pro•
posal, at another• sho would fly from it.
Such was the character of Mary Atwill,
and yet she had many admirers. Some
times they admired, indeed, only to axe
crate afterwards—for whilst sho captured
with her charms, she neglected her victim
—she conquered to kill, not to save the
captive. Broken hearts were never a
source of unhappiness to her, for she con
sidered the loss of others rather tneir own
fault than hers. They admired On their
own responsibilities, and were, of course,
anowerable for the consequences. She
did indeed encourage the attention of her
suitors, still it was not with a fixed design;
or it so, with one only for a transient
ad. She was willing to be engaged, with
the tacit privilege, however, of sundering
the engagement. She didn't think that
ma timonial promises were binding, though
she was willing that others should regard
them in this light, if they thought proper.
`But why,' she said should ono adhere
to what he despises 1 why, if he has made
a rash promise, break it ? A lady, at
least, should have the privilege of being
free to act in these matters as inclination
may prompt. A gentleman, too, should
never marry if averse to the union.' So
Mary reasoned ; whether rationally or not
her future shall decide.
But such were the principles of Mary's
conduct in matrimonial anticipations, and
:these principles originated from her fickle
,
r . cso of mind. Had she duly reflected on
r relation to others, the sensibilities of
; .er edinirero, the obligations which each
individual of the same class in society sus
tains to the other, and the advantages ari
sing from a proper observance of the mu
tual claims which all persons have upon
each other, she would unquestionably have
rendered justice to all, and secured her
own ultimate good. But no, Mary was
too reckless to be under any very rigid mo
ral restraints, that is, to make reason and
conscience the arbiters of her conduct. Of
necessity, therefore, she was easily chan
ged from one intention to another, one en
' gagement.to a succeeding one.
Still Mary Atwill had so many redeem;
ing qualities that her want of stability was
overlooked. She was lively and witty in
conversation, polite and affable in her de
portment, kind in her feelings, at least fcr
the moment, and always ready to meet her
friends. and acquaintances with a smile.—
In her personal appearance, too, she was
a charm—fascination to the most phleg
matic. Not to know her was to love her,
for at first sight, rather than after a more
intimate acquaintance, the eye was great
ly pleased. The stranger even was taken
with her beauty—such an image was she
to fancy—such an idol to admire.
Accordingly Mary never felt the want
of admirers ; she al tvay had them at com
mand. Still on no one of them could she
fix her eye and retain it there. All pleas.
ed her more or less—none absolutely. To
make a selection, therefore, was quite im
possible for her, or, if for a time she made
one, she could not adhere to it, not even in
her own mind. If this one urged hissuit
she required delay ; if that one she did no
like to commit herself for a time. Many
a one hoped all were disappointed; and yet
Mary was not a coquette : she did not en
courage her suitors wantonly; she had no
desire to disappoint them ; her objections
seemed to her to be real, and for the time
insurmountable ;she longed to marry, if
she married at all, to please herself; if her
admirers did not suit her on inspection,
she set them aside. Perfection was her
inodel--fancy her guide !
en t's-Qu t4mirpOrns. kt"
tions of her suitors.
AL length, having become more mature
in julgtrient, she conclude 4 to listen with
a willing car to the solicitations of a young
gentleman living in an adjoining village.
This young man was highly esteemed by
all that knew him. As to property, too,
he was in comfortable circumstances, and
could easily maintain a family and live in
genteel style. No reasmable objection
could be made against, him' as a proper
candidate for matrimony. Many a young
lady, indeed, would have thought herself
highly honored to have received his atten
tions.
In point of education, too, he was supe
rior to many of his associates; having pro
secuted his studies, in his youthful days,
beyond his compeers. Already had be
taken a commanding position in the com
munity in which lie lived, and he bid fair
to bocome a man of superior influence.—
In person he was likewise dignified and
prepossessing.
11Hiam Randall, a young man
possessed of as much to commend him to
her favor, Mary, u short acquaintance, was
decidedly pleased. True, indeed, she
had one objection to him, he was a me
chanic, but this circumstance she resolved
to overlook. No one had ever pleased
her so much, and to every one there had
always been something objectionable.
Mere accident, it is true, had caused
him to become acquainted with Mary.—
Still these two persons seemed to have been
designed for each other, so easily and na-
turally did they take a fancy the one to
the other.
Some few month, passed away, each
congratulating the other on their happy
anticipations, and ,ch becoming more and
Still more interested in the other's future
welfaredi
The grid around, it is true, always in
credulous, and frequently a little tco much
SO, had no great coli6deace in these woo
ings. for they had ,inown Mary Atwill, be.
fore, at least, so they said Of course
they did not expect anything else than a
rupture between these two devoted ones.
Mary had not, they paid constancy of pur
pose enough to adhere to any engagement.
She looks, too, they said, a little higher
titan a mechanic.
But William Randall had no fears ; he
was sure of the result. Mary had, it is
true, disappointed others, him she would
not, she could not.
Thus hope spread he brightest bow be
fore him, and he believed her promises.
Among the skeptical on this point, Mary
had a particular friend who, to confirm
her in her resolution to adhere to William,
thus addressed her,
'Mary, do you think that you really love
William Randall ,'
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 16, 1856.
'Moat certainly I do,' Mary replied.
'Your friends imagine otherwise.'
'They do ! well, they are greatly mis ,
taken.'
.But he is a mechanic, Mary.'
I know that; but he has many redeem
ing qualities to make up for that evil.'
'Do you think it an evil ?'
'Why, 1 think it is a misfortune, at
least.'
Now, Mary, what is mechanism Is it
not the result of genius ?'
'Certainly it is, and so I regard it.'
.Well, why should any one object to a
mechanic ?'
`Why, the world, you know, are apt to
look down upon mechanics, end to say of
this or that one he is a mere mechanic.'
'But some of our greatest men were me-
chanics, Mary ?'
'That is true, but I do not imagine that
it would be my good fortune to marry a
great man.'
'Do you not think that William Randall
may one day become a great man V
'No, indeed !'
'And why not, Mary ?'
—. . _
. ~
'Oh ! I couldn't expect any such good
luck as that.'
, Others have had such good hick, Mary,
and why should you not have ?,
'Others have had the good luck, too, to
draw a prize in a lottery, but I never had.'
'You have never tried the matrimonial
lottery.'
'No, but we judge of the future from the
past; and as I never had any good luck in
any one thing, so I expect none in any
other.'
'Mary, let me tell you that William
Randall will one day he a great man !'
.11a ! my dear friend, you gutter me too
much. It may be, but it will be only as
by a miracle.'
, Why do you ray so ?'
.Because a mechanic has no one to ele
vate him in the world. Art eagle needs
'winos to soar, and a man needs friends to
rise.'
, .
'IV hat is that ?'
'By one's own genius; talent will carry
one anywhere !'
'And du you think Randall so
talented ?'
'lndeed 1 do, and his future life will
show it.'
The friends parted, but Mary was still
sorry that William was a mechanic. She
should much have preferred thnt he were
a merchant or a lawyer or even a gentle
man at largo. Still, us she was now en
gaged, and as all the world said, that she
couldn't adhere to her engagement, she
only resolved the more determinedly to do
so.
Time passed away and the wedding day
approached. William Randall was deligh
ted that the world was this time to be dis
appointed in Mary, and that she was here
after to be regarded as possessed of a less
fickle mind. She was now to re-establish
her character for stability. He, too, was
to enter upon a new scene of enjoyment.
Matrimony had been in his eye for years.
All his plans had been rendered subservi
ent to this one great end. He had accu
mulated property—he had toiled diligently
—he had been economical in his mode of
living—he had codeentrated all hie tho'ts
and wishes on this one most desirable and
~ m ost delightful result. The day had come
in which he was to realize his utmost ez •
pectations. The knot was not indeed yet
' tied, but what could intervene now at this
late hour to prevent this last act in the
scene / Mary was still of the same mind
—her wedding dress was made—the cards
of invitation were sent out—the preacher
had been notified, and all things were rea
dy. Only the approaching hour had not
yet come—it was just at hand !
William now called for his Mary to en
ter the consecrated room. Alas ! as he
stepped into the adjoining room, he over
heard the words,
'Oh ! I cannot marry a mechanic, in•
deed I cannot.'
William cried out, 'Mary.' Not anoth
er word was heard—silence reigned su
preme. He repeated, 'Mary !' all was
silent, still. He took his hat and retired.
The nett day he received a note from
Mary. that she desired a few more days for
consideration, William consented to it,
yet not without the utmost chagrin and dis
appointment. Nor did he escape the
taunts and jeers of many a one who had
before prophecied this result, nor, worst
of all, the pity of the kindhearted and sym
pathetic.
The few days passed away, and with it
William's entire anticipations of nuptial
bliss. He was like a dismastsd vessel,
cast ashore and left to the mercy of the
winds and waves !
But Mary Atwill was not forgotten.--
He did, so far as he was able, eject her
from his mind and hie memory ; but the
world kept an eye upon her. They tho't
she would at length be rewarded ; its what
way they did not dare to conjecture; still
such abuso of confidence, such trifling
with one's affections—such blighting of
his dearest hopes and anticipations, they
did not believe would escape unpunished.
After a time William Randall recovered
to some extent from the shock; he entered
again into the scenes of the world, and be=
came still more successful in his business,
and in a short time quite a wealthy man.
His early education, in connection with
other favorable circumstances, rendered
him the associate of the most elevated in
society. He was at home anywhere. As
a politician he became extremely popular
and was soon sent to the State Legislature
as a representative. This served only as
an introduction to still higher offices. By ,
regular gradations in political life, he was,
after a few years, raised to the dignity of
the United States Senate. The mechanic
was now a great man, and perhaps, if the 1
circumstances would have admitted of it,
Mary Atwill would have been extremely
happy to have received the offer of his
hand. But no, the scene was now entirely
changed; she herself was no longer Mary 1
Atwill. To her history therefore we must I
again revert.
Two or three years after her rejection
of William Randall she was again solicited
to enter into the Eden of matrimonial life.
Her suitor was a young gentleman fr..an
the city of New York ; he, of course, was
no mechanic; his fattier was no millionaire
the son of a young gentleman at large.—
He drove a fast horse—he spent money as
if directly from the mines ! In his per
sonal appearance he was more than ordi
nary fascinating ; at least, he was so in
the eye of Mary A twill. Now, to be coal..
ted :h
,y such a distinguished young gentle
man, was a great honor; what prospects
must await one who sbould 'ue his bride—
To a young lady in the country so great
a change was of course enough to confirm
a fickle mind. Mary now began to think
too, that her time had come to settle this
matter : that dubiousness would incur an
immense risk ; to live a maiden lady was
never her ambition, whatever else might
have been. She, therefore, concluded this
time to be true to her engagement. Samuel
Hoppin, too, intended to be to his. The
village was again alive at the new scene
now enacting. Another grand event was
about to transpire, and there was to be no
farce about it. Some, too, thought that
Mary had been amazingly wise to reject
all her former suitors, and take up with
this one, so grand, so rich, so handsome.
Others were of a different opinion.—
"All is not gold that glitters," they said ;
"There is some coin that is bogus !"
Things, however, moved forward—the
wedding day was hastened—the young
gentleman was urgent to get . back to the
city, for his-affeits required it (of course)
he was a young man of business, and his
business allowed no duly, even through a
short time since he was a young gentleman
at large ; "ht vaeation had expired !"
As Mary was reputed to be wealthy, and
as the transferring of her property to its
prospective owner would cause Borne little
delay, young 1-loppin suggested that this
business should be transacted prior to their
marriage, that event being now no longer
a contingency. To this she readily con
sented.
On looking into the state of her affairs,
however, the young gentlemean was in
formed, to his great surprise, that there
was a mortgage on the estate that would
swallow up the whole !
"Whew!" the fortune seeker cried—"a
mortgage, a mortgage, faith ! that gives a
different hue to the scene !"
His countenance fell—his love died
within him—his beautiful Mary lost all
her charms—the flower faded away—no
longer did it emit any fragrance. And
what was to be done? The wedding was
hourly expected—the delay was occasion
ed only by the negligence of the preach
er.
But lo ! the telegraphic wires relieve our
young hero. He receive* a despatch that
his mother is dying, and that be must has
ten home instantly if he would see her a
live.
Alas! for Mary; her beau-ideal flies—
he must go—he flies ! And who can pity
her now ? the neighbors ? no ! her friends ?
not one, save the dear friend that had advi
sed hp rto marry the mechanic. Indeed,
hs sympathy was that only of a friend
Oat ',Mitch closer than a brother. She
pitied her much, but condemned her more
—condemned her for losipg the golden op-
portunity of marrying to her own advan
tage—marrying the only one who could
have rendered her happy through life, and
perhaps prospectively so beyond the grave.
Of course young Hoppin was never
heard of again. He was disappointed in
his expectation of a fortune. Ile had
heard that Mary Atwill was very rich--
when Ite found that she was not, his love
ceased and Ite had no motive to return.
In the mean time William Randall had
become quite a distinguished man. His
sphere in life consequently was enlarged,
'and included men of influence and of tal
ent.
As a politician he was very popular,
and rose from one office to another till he
reached the United States Senate.
Nor did he remain unmarried, he sought
a partner, of intelligence and influence ;
and forgetting the history of his first love,
devoted his affections to the more recent
object of his choice, and is now passing
his life happily in her society; being fa
vored with a lovely and interesting train
of sons and daughters worthy of their pa
tsrnal name.
As to the unfortunate Mary, we have
only to add that she afterwards married—
if indeed that is marriage where the hand
is given without the heart—and that she
confesses with bitter tears of regret she
lost her golden opportunity in the rejec
tion of the only one that truely loved her
—the fortunate mechanic.
And in conclusion, we hope the render
may not think it mal-apropos that we
express the wish that he may not lose
his golden opportunity, and especial.
ly that more important one which, if lost,
involves not only his happiness in this
life, to a great extent at least, but alto his
happiness to the hle to come.
.
(Tle
From the Commercial List.
Pennsylvania Railroad Company.
We cat especial attentiou to a compara.
days's issue. ft exhibits a most gratifying
, picture of the condition and prospects of
this great Pennsylvania artery of trade
land travel, authorises a well dent belief
that in the coming decade, this main con_
tral avenue from the seaboard to the West
will monopolise a large share of the transit
trade, to all those articles which form the
real wealth of of a nation. The most no
table increase is in those products which
are essential ly local in their character.—
Take for instance the Coal and Iron. In
the former article the tonnage of 1855
shows increase of 101,878,111 pounds
over the rood in 1853, and 42,305,665
pounds above the tonage of the same arti
cle in 1854. This is a most rapid increase
but it will be entirely overtoped by that
of 1856, which from indications that can
with safety be relied upon, will be three
times as large as that of the past year.—
The Allegheny, Bread Top and and West
moreland mines are now open and in a
a few weeks will be in full operation, and
from thence a large quantity of Bitumin_
ous coal of a superior quality will be des
patched over the Pennsylvania Railroad
to this market. All the coal fields which
lie contiguous to this road have materially
increased their operations, and hence the
tonage of this Keystone staple must a
mount to a much higher figure during the
present year than previously. The mo
tive power and equipments of the road ate
in excellent working order, and every ex
ertion is being made by the Company and
its agents to accommodate the public by
forwarding products and goods at the ear_
Best possible moment after their reception.
The increase in the quantity of flour car
ried over the road is also worthy of atten
tion.
In 1853 the amount was 41,031,614
pounds, in, 1854, owing to a abort crop,
it fell to 30,205,779 pounds, but during
1855 it increased to 95,051,641 pounds I
which iq a gain of (11,848,862 pounds up
on the quantity sent over the road in 1855
over 1854. During the present year this
tonage must also increase by reason of
connections effected with other roads which
will empty their stores of trade upon the
main trunk. The 3mubenville and Pitts.
burg, Steubenville and Indiana, and a por.
Iticin of the North Western Railroad will
be auxiliaries to our central road before
next mid-summer. They will drain a
large extent of fertile soil, and after receiv
ing the varied products of the country
through which they pees, join with the
main road to the East, and thus swell its
business by their increasing trade. It
would be no exaggeration to predict that
during the present year, 1856, their will
be transported QM the Pennsylvania Bail
read 450,000,0011 pounds of Floor, and
100,000,000 pounds of Grain. Of the figures of eaoh succeeding year tustifyinl
latter product there was an increase in 18- ; to the fact of an increase of business,
55 over 1854 of 40,424,601. pounds, or is a fuir presumption that the management
nearly 700,000 bushels. And as teal- has shown both enterprise and ability, in
ties are opened up by means of which our conducting its allhirs. Such is pre-err.i•
agriculturalists can reach a market, the ce i nately the case with the l'resident and Di.
realproducts will be proportionat e ly increa- rectors of the Pennsylvania Railroad Com•
sed. If labor meets a ready, easy return pany. They have labored most arida
it will increase with a rapid ratio, but on ously and honestly for the great improve.
I the contrary where it costs half the value men: committed to their charge, and their
of a bushel of Wheat or Corn to get it to verdict's now to be render'd upon the state
market the husbandman becomes discour• ment we present.
aged, fewer bushels of seed are rown, and The aggregate of business on the road,
of course adi iiinished harvest is gather. in the three years given 'in the table, in
ed. The connection between railroad I tons are as follows
communication and the prosperity of the
State, and the consequent wealth mid hap.
Through tonnage East "
piness of its people is direct and appa- Through tonnage 14"
5 118 34,302
rent. and hence the Pennsylvania Railroad We st
Lucid tonnitgeEast,l27.6l I:;.321 10152
which is the backbone of our internal
"
chain of communication, should be viewed West, ,;,. 18,797
with pride by our citizens, and its progress Total for • • '•- 190,231 102,080
hailed with gratification and pleasure.
There is one impediment in the wey of
. t ,
the progress of this company, which should t • tutu tin it )
be removed at once. We allude to the I =
want of a direct connection with the river How Jim Wicker's Head Got Bald.
front of our city. A branch road from the Jim Wicker was a comical looking fel.
main trunk in the 24th ward, across the low, with a very young face, but by reason
Schuylkill at Grays Ferry, and along Or- of having no hair, he looked very old from
egon avenue to the Delaware, not exceed. his eyebrows all the way round to the
ing seven miles in length, would effect this back of his neck. lie was very sensitive
desired connection, from which lateral about the defect, and was somewhat cele•
roads could be constructed to touch tho prated, from a fight he had with a travel-
Delaware at any point in the First wards ling agriculturalist, who upon being asked
arid thereby assist the commercial wants of by Jim, 'what nould cause the hair to
the port immensely. At present th e same grow upon his shining poll, was advised
end could easily be attained by making to cover the top of his head with guano,
only
less than four miles of road, by using the and plant it down in crab grass.' But Jim
not
West Chester Railroad and Grays Ferry
that
I g d e ti n 't tl e em t i T a r n re , l ,:a n s •
Captain
the Wild,
host foro
Bridge, but this mode is liable to so many h
objections that it would be idle to think of the Fairy Queen, but also had the key of
making it a permanent means of reaching f all 'the refreshments' in his possession ; so
the river front. The fast increasing trade l without hesitation he enlightened his audi
of this central throughfares, makes it ab. tory alter this fashion :
solutely essential to a full development 'You see the bar always did keep rather
of its means of transportation that a con- scarce but my scalp, and I was always
nection with tho riser should be made, rubbing in sum thing and another to' fotoh
which will be solely and entirely under it out, for I was sarten the routs waxn:l
:Jeri
road may be at the mercy of any comps- was notmilniTTfrigs ter A mutton
ny which may happen to own a few miles taller ;so I thought I'd hare the genuine
of road west. of Delaware. Such a con- ' article, and I got old Dan to go out and kill
tiugency should not be allowed to hangsus- !something for my especial benefit. Dan
pended over the prospects of the l'enusyl- told me it was in the spring, and that the
vania Railroad Company, and hence the bar was in bad health and out of season ;
Legislature, at the earliest possible mo- but I believed he was trying to quiz me,
menr, should authorize the connection to and wouldn't take no for an answer. A
be made. It will be a benefit to the corn.. short hunt ftiched a critter at bay, and
pony, and also to the city and Common- . Dan, by a shot in the vitals. , cared
wealth, in the increase of business which varmint : but the bar was in bad condition,
the change will bring to our merchants and for he looked as seedy as an old Canada
shippers. I thistle, and he had hardly ile enough in
Look at another effect of the Pennsyl
vania Railroad locating its depot on the
n e lawn re. The Camden and Amboy
will extend their road on the Jersey side
of the river to a point directly opposite
the Pennsylvania Company's Work, and
make a connection by means of large boats
eonstructed especially for the freight and
passenger trade. By such arrangement
produce and goods coining from the west,
is transtu, to the port of New York, or
still further East, could be immediately
transferred to the Camden and Amboy
Company without loss of time, and with
entire safety. So, too, with goods destin
ed for the West. Purchasers in New
York, if this improved arrangement and
connection be effected will chose the Penn
sylvania Road in preference to all others,
as they can gain a full day in point of
time, while their goods will not be liable
to exposure, in transferring them from one
depot to another. Besides these advan
tages, a large saving in the item of dray
age will be effected by locating the depot
on the river, and having a direct method
of not only transacting their own local bu
siness with this city, but also of accoutinn
dating that increasing current of trade and
travel which is yearly setting in with full
title along this great thdoughfare. All
these facts should be pondered when, con
sidering the practicability of making the
direct communications from the main
trunk to the Delaware, and establishing
there, at some convenient spot, depots for
freight and passengers, commensurate with
that trade which last year's returns gives
us the warrant to look for in the next five
years.
Wo again say to every merchant and
man of business, examine the figures in .
—•.--
the statement of the tonnage of l'ensylva...! OttrA printer not long ago, being
nia Railroad, which is given in detail in !dung' by his sweet heart, went to the
our table. They ate the best comments. I office and tried to commit suicide with the
tors on the management of the Road. No tshooting stick,'but thu thing wouldn't 'go
company can thus increase the business of !off."Ehe 'devil' wishing to peaeify hint,
a road unless its affairs are managed with ! told him to peep into the sanctum where
wisdom mind prudence. Men will not trust the editor was writing duns to delin
their goods or produce in the care of a !quest subscribers. Ho did so, and the
corporation in which they do not have con- !effect was magical. He says that picture
&km,. Whet' therefore. we th e of despair reconciled him to his fate.
VOL. XXI. NO. 3,
1855. 1854. 185
bins to keep his jints from squealcing, but
what he did have I got and used ; and
jstrangers, said Jim, looking rather sur
' rowfully round on the company, in tw o
days what little hair I hail commenced fal
-1 ling off, and in a week I was us bald as a
gun barrel. Dan was right ; the varmint
j was a shedding himself, and had nothing
j to hint but liar she..ding ile, and the con
' sequence is, I can't in the dark tell my
head from a dried gourd, if I depend on
I feelin."
A TALE OF A TAIL.—A young gentle
man of Sacramento, California, some
months ago, being much solicited by a
young lady for a present, sent her a rare
bind of cactus, in a flowerpot. The lady
tended it carefully, but found it did not
grow larger, and after while the perftime
because unpleasant, when she resolved to
throw out some of the earth in the pot, and
replenish it afreslt. The earth was accor
dingly removed, when the rare cactug was
found to be the tail of a huge rat, with a
coat of green paint and a wire run through
it while the state of the corpse fully
ac
counted for the oppressive odor. It is
needless to say the gentleman got "the
initten,".
MarA gentleman residing In Albany,
as the story hoes, seeing an Irishman re.
moving an embankment, from a dwelling
inquired—
'Patrick, what are you doing ?'
'Opening the cellar window to be
sure.'
'And what are you doing that for ?'
'May it pinion your honor,' said Pat.
rick, 'to let out the dark.'