WILLIAM BREWSTER, 1 EDITORS. SAM. G. WHITTAKER, *tied Vortq ROUND TUE CORNER. ItY CIIAIMES SWAIN. Round the corner waiting— What will people say? If you wish to see me, There's a proper way. Village tongues are over Ready with remark Eyes are at the casement If a dug but bark. Round the corner waiting— What will people say? If you wish to see me, There's a proper way. %Then the Church bath bound us— Linked two hearts in one— I shall•care but little .How their tongues rail on ; Mutuntil the bridal Never let them find Aught to cause me blushes— Hurt cry peace of mind! Itound the corner waiting— What will people say? 34auly hearts should ever Take a manly way. :Fifty things are started— Things you'dlm'er suppose, If but something secret In a neighbor shows Boldly take the pathway, And their lips are stny'd ; All are quick to censure If you seem afraid Bound the corner waiting— What will people say 7 If you wish to sce me, ThMe's a proper way. fi7e Tionsetuifc. APPLE POTATO' PIIDDIELL—Take a quatter of a pound of smoothly !noshed potatoes that have been mixed with plenty of fresh butter, or with drippings of roast pork. Have ready half a pound of fine rich apple sauce that has been made with as little water as possible, sweetened well with nice brown sugar, and fla vored well with the juice and grated yellow rind of a lemon ; ot• for want of it lemon, with a teaspoonful of mixed spice, (sot airy, mace, and einnatnon.) Bent four eggs (till very thick and smooth) in a shalltm pan, and then stir in to them alternately and gradually, the mashed potatoes and stewed apples. Stu• the whole ve ry hard at the last. Transfer the mixture to a deep white dish and bake it about half no hour. Send it to the table with powdered sugar sifted thickly over it, after it cools. For a family pudding this will be found very good. For a large family, double • the propor tions of all the ingredients, or make two or three puddings, . When in season, boiled sweet potatoes may be used, mashed with nice butter. COLD HAM AND FOWLS FOR SUPPER OR BREAKFAST.—Cavery thin, sufficient cold ham to cover with two layers, a large dish. Let all of them be nicely trimmed and evenly shaped. Carve one or two cold fowls, and lay them nice. ly upon the ham; surrounded with tufts of let• tuce, or celery, or bunches of pepper grass. O mit backs and side bones. Cold turkey may be arranged in the same manner. Serve up the white meat. GATEAU nes Poars.s.—Put three-quarters of a pound of loaf sugar in a stew pan, with a pint of water, and when dissolved and ready to candy, take two pounds of apples pared and cored, the peel of a lemon, slopped very fine, and part of the juice. Boil it until quite stiff, and put in a mould ; when turned out for use, stick it with blanched almond, and put a rich custard in the dials. APPLE FLOAT.—The white of two eggs well beaten ; add to it four spoonfuls of sugar, and sis apples stewed and drained until quite dry. These ingredients must ho beaten a lorg time; add also n lemon to it. Then make either a soft or hard custard, and put at the bottom of the dish, and lay the Mixture on the top. Or. 'lament with sugar mites CRACKERS FOR TM.: SICK.—Ono pound of flour ; one egg, not beaten ; one tableipoonful of yeast ; one tablespoonful of cream ; a little salt ; mix all together with milk to stiff paste, and beat them twenty minutes with a rolling pin, to he rolled in small pieces round, sepa rately, very thin. CITARLES PUDDING —Ono cup of sugar ; one cup of sweet milk ; one egg ; one tablespoon• ful of melted butter, half a teaspoonful of so• the dissolved in the milk ; teaspoonful of cream of tartar sifted through the flour. Eat with wine sauce, and bake in a loaf. APPLE P vont NO.-0 ne pound dapples stew• ed and strained ; one pound of sugar ; six eggs; ono pint of cream ; six ounces of butter; glass of wine, and a little nutmeg. Paste on bottom of the dish and bake like a pie. FINE MUFFINS.—One quart of milk, three eggs, teaspoonful of salt; four tablespoons of yeast; flour to make it still' enough for a batter; butter the size of an egg. Tho milk must be blood warm. COOKIES.—Ton ounces of sugar, one quarter pound of butter, one egg, large teaspoon of Oa leratus, dissolved in two-thirds of a cup of milk. They should be rolled very soft. i r> Aro "44, , e 4 , 1/ )-, iir . • • I 1111 'A • A , I. : 4: /:, 11 ) 4 4' ; › , Az./ /, 4. ,AT ,1, 1 "1 , A , ;'" 6oritr *tor)). -THE LADIES , BENEVOLENT SOCI E'rli, "On charitable lists—those trumps which told I:he public car who had in secret done The Poor a benefit, and half the alms [ding, They told of, took themslves to hoop them soon- He blazed his name." 'They do say,' said Miss Pitkins to her next neighbor, at a meeting of the Ladies' Benevolent Society, a few months after Mellville Thornton's marriage, 'they do say that Mrs. Thornton is a dreadfully stuck up thing.' 'Yes,' replied the other, 'and hadn't a cent to her back neither, when she carne there. Such people always do hold their heads higher than anybody else, if they happen to get a little money. For my part, I wouldn't take no notice of her if she should come near me. I'd let her know that some folks :re as good as others; and Miss Tompkins gave her head a most sig nificant toss.' 'Hadn't a cent !' repeated Mrs. Pitkins, with surprise ; 'why what was that story about her rich legacy ?' 'Oh, la ! I know all about that,' Miss Tompkins replied, with a consequenbial air; 'twas just nothing at all.' 'Do tell us. all abut it,' cried several ladies, who had gathered round the speak. er to hear the news. 'Why you see, I got Dolly Martin her place there with the old housekeeper, a purpose so I could know something that's going on. So when Mr. Thornton brought his wife home, I says to her, 'Dolly, keep your eyes and ears,' and she did. Well, the very first day, after Mrs. Thornton had been round and seen all the fine things he bought for her, I s'pose she felt kind of shamed, so she brings a nico little bundle and gives it to him, telling him that it was her legacy. Dolly says he looked real pleased when he first opened it, and sho could see through the key-hole something shining just like gold ; but pretty soon he said something to Miss Thornton that made her cry, and then ho got up and put it on the mantel shelf. Dolly didn't care to stay any longer, for fear they would come out and catch her. 'Well, what was it ? what was it 2' cried the eager listeners, as Miss Tompkins sud denly stopped.' '1 would call the meeting to order,' said the president, whose reproving glance had silenced the I,,quacious spinster ;'we have several items of business to be disposed of, which may as well be done now. should like to hear the opinion of the ladies as to the present funds, and also the object to which we will devote our labors during the coming year. We have in the treasury about seventy.five dollars, which, rightly used, may do much to advance the cause we profess to love. The meeting is open for discussion on this point.' hear,' said Mrs. Robinson, the dee con's wife, 'that we have many families in town who, from sickness, hard times, and other causes, are suffering, in some eases, at least, for the necessaries of life. I think thrft sum, oven doubled, or trebled, would be well applied in relieving their wants.' 'This is a matter in whioh we are ull equally interested,' remarked the president blandly; 'we hope to hear frotn each of you.' 'lt is my decided opinion,' said Mrs. Wormwood, in a thriving town like this, where work is plenty, there is no excuse for poverty. like what Mrs. Robinson speaks of. For my part, Igo against en couraging idleness.' thought we were at work for the poor heathen,' suggested Miss Pitkins ; I'm sure I shouldn't have made so much effort to at tend these meetings, if I hadn't supposed so.' 'A box of clothing; for the missionaries, I should like best,' added Miss Tompkins.' 'There seems. to be such a division of opinion among you,' said the chair, 'that I will venture to make a suggestion. I see our estimable pastor coining; why not re fer the whole matter to him ? His judg ment must surely be better than ours, for his position gives him a comprehensive view of both home and foreign wants.' This happy expedient was well receiv ed, and .Rev. Mr. Flint, as he appeared, was at once chosen the arbiter. Gray hairs and wrinkled brow, so oft the type of wis dom did but render more conspicuous and revolting the hard, restless eye, the sinis ter mouth, and whole contour of selfishness which bespoke the inner nature of this professed man of God. Dollars and cents were the guage of inen's souls in his esti• nation—money the only evidence of worth! Alas ! that among the holy brotherhood of God's ministering servants, even one such should be found—one whose sheep's clo thing could net conceal the wolf beneath. " LIBERTY AND UNION, NOW AND POREvER, ONE AND INSEPARABLE.' HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 8, 1857. All honor would we render to that noble class of self-denying men, who shrink not from the call of their Master, though ear thly reward pertain not to his service. But when some ministering Judas turns the house of God into a temple of money-chan gers, sharp indeed should be the scourge which should drive him thence. Naturally enough, the people under Rev. Mr. Flint's charge, with here and there a noble exception, had partaken of his nature. External religious forms were most scrupulously observed, but the gentle, peaceable fruits of the spirit were fearfully wonting. But while we are thus digressing, eager faces are looking to their pastor for his de cision. His worthy coadjutor, the very devoted president, is "sure his extensive knowledge and sound judgment wilt ren der it easy for him to point at once the fit test object for their losnevolence.' Rolling his tongue in the peculiar man ner he was wont to do when pleased, he thanked the president for Ler compliment, and would only say, that he considered the ladies present fully competent to decide their own case. 'Do you not think,' asked Mrs. Robin son, that we should take care of the poor among us before we send our charities a broad 'Not always,' replied Mr. Flint; 'there is much danger in helping our poor neigh bors, lest we learn them to depend on us instead of trying to help themselves.' 'That's just what 1 said,' chinidd in Mrs. Wormwood ; 'folks hain't any busi ness to be poor here ; where they can get work.' 'Work is plenty, to be sure,' said Miss Priscilla Page, with a significant glance at the last speaker ; pity the pay wasn't as plenty, leo.' would beg the ladies' attention to the subject under discussion,' remarked the chair; Mr. Flint has not yet given his opinion, which I hope he will do freely.' 'As you have called upon me quite un expectedly, ladies, to advise you in this matter,' said Mr. Flint, rising very delib erately, 'it would be natural for me to locu tion the subject which, just at this time, in terests me most. Our society--and I say it without boasting—has become one of the largest, wealthiest and most influential in the State. It becomes us, therefore, to send a good Caine abroad, by the liberality with which we enter into the spirit of the day Among these reforms, none seem to me so important us a union of the two continents in one great 'Society for evan gelizing the world! Such a society, you know, exists, and in its councils are found some of the greatest men of the age. One hundred dollars would constitute your pas tor a life director in this excellent socie ty, and you a name and influence in its councils. I merely mention this subject for your consideration, as we are apt to for get the duties we owe the world and con fine ourselves to a narrow circle of benev olence.' Here Mr, Flint took his seat, with an sir of profound humility. 'You have heard the very excellent re marks of our pastor,' said the president; 'I hope it will enlarge our views of duty. Will you take any action on the subject move said Mrs. Wormwood, 'that we contribute one hundred dollars to this great object Mr. Flint has explained to us, to constitute him a life-director.' Tho motion was seconded, and carried without any opposition, save that express ed by indignant looks end motionless hands. 'Really, ladies,' said Mr. Flint, again ri sing, 'your liberality is praiseworthy. In the seine and behalf of the noble society you have honored with your generous vote I tender you my sincere thanks. Your testimony of respectfur myself will receive a more public acknowledgement.' 'Yes,' muttered Miss Priscilla, in an un der tone, •I s'pose it will be trumpeted all over creation how very ben6volent we are while these poor folks around us are dying front neglect. .oh, Miss Tompkins,' whispered a nice young lady, 'I am dying to know what that legacy of Mrs. Thornton's was ; do tell me nosy, won't you ?' 'Oh, yes, yes, toll us all now,' said ano ther, as a knot of ladies gathered around her. .oh, 'twas nothing but just a little brass frame with a verse from the Bible in it made of brass letters,' replied Miss Tamp. kips, contemptuously. 'Well, that was mean !' Who over heard anything like it 1' What impudence! I don't wonder he was angry !—these and many other similar expressions, burst from the indignant ladies, as Miss Tompkins concluded her information. One skit: of a story is good till t.other's told,' cried Miss who had heard the whole thing ; , and as thig is a benevo• lent society, got up for the benefit of our fellow•creatures, it wouldn't do no harm to tell Cother side right here, lot it hit where it 'Oh, by all moan's le,'s have your sto ry, Miss Priscilla,' was the universal ex clamation, amid cries of 'order' from the President. 'I don't want to make any disorder,' said she, turning to the President; but if they'll all listen quietly, I'll tell the sto ry as I heard it; attd may be some one of you'll find coats to fit; if you do why put 'em on, that's all.' By this time eyes and ears were all open for Miss Priscilla, en odd, quaint little body had a way of saying things, that was per fectly irresistible to all but the immediate subjects of her sarcastic tongue. 'Well,' said she, 'as you all seem to be listening, I'll begin with what I see my self. I didn't get no Dolly Martins to peak through the Ley-hole for me, 'cause you see, news that comes that way, has to be made all over after it squeezes thro' arid I don't like mine second handed, no how. So, as I was saying I'll begin with what I see; and it any on you want to know what true benevolence is, you'll find out, I guess before 1 get through. Well a couple o' months ago, I should think, as I was coming home front my sister Sally's over the fields, I took a notion to go down the lane where old Miss Fletcher lives, who's been sickly all along, you know, and I went right in, without knocking.— When I got inside the door, I stood still in perfect wonder, for there was her old room fixed up as nice as could be—real white curtains and hod-s l iread—a puree of car pet on the floor, and clean, nice dishes on her stand. And the old lady herself look ed so comfortable in her white night cap and gown, I thought some fairy must have been there and done it all. But right close beside her bed sat one of the sweet est looking ladies you ever see; they didn't neither of see me, so I kept still, and the lady rend away in the bible, and then she kneeled down and prayed— oh, so beautifully! I didn't wonder a bit that the tears trickled down the sick wo man's cheek, fur I couldn't keep from cry ing myself. 'When she'd done, I slipped out as still as I went in, for I felt like an intruder there; and on my way home who should I meet but Polly Bemis, who was bedrid for I didn't know how long. 'What on earth has set your feet again' Polly?' says I. never was so amazed in all my life.' 'Well you may be; says Polly, says she , 'for I'm amazed at myself ; but come into my house, and I'll tell you all about it.'— When we got in and set down— , There Priscilla' says site 'did you ever see a nicer room—bran new stove, and wood enough in the cellar to burn all winter—this new rocking chair, and that nice bit of carpet and what s better'n all, here am I, able to walk about and earn my own living ! Who do you think has done all this ?' guess,' said I 'may be the Benevolent Society's been helping on ye.' 'No, not a bit of it says she ; 'I might a' been lying on that bed now for all they'd a' done for me; 'tain't their kind of benevolence to help such as me.' 'Well, do tell me who it was,' said I, growing impatient- 0 Twasn't nobody more nor less than Squire Thorn ton's new wife,' says Polly, says she.— , She found out how I was, and then she went and got something to cure use ; and everyday bhe comes herself to see how I get along, and brought me all these things: and when I got better, she gave mo saw ing to do, so as I should feel independent, she said.' never was so beat in all my life, and I told Polly so. 'Oh, well,' says she, 'if you'd known half she's done among the poor folks here, you'a be astonisned; but she has such a still way with her no. body but those she helps knows anything about it'—just that minute somebody knocked at the door, and in walks the very lady I saw at Miss Fletcher's. 'Good morning, Miss Bemis,' said she, 'how do you find yourself to•day ?' 'Nicely, many thanks to you, Miss Thornton,' said Polly. 'Oll, no, not to me are your thanks due,' said the lady, with a sweet smile, 'but to Him who has restored your health.' And then she sat down and talked like a saint to us both. I'd heard this very story you've been telling about her, Miss Tern kins, and I couldn't hardly behave my eyes and ears when I saw her; but 1 meant to find out the truth about it ; so when she went away I just followed her out, and she asked me to walk home with her. I told her I should like to, if only for one thing. 'And what is that, pray ?' said she. 'To sec the curious legacy I've heard so much about,' said I : •I s'tiose you'd have no objections to show it to me. 'You mean my mother's legacy, I suppose said she ; .1 don't know what you've heard about it ; but come with me, and I shall be most happy to show it to you.'— And then as we walked along she told me what a good mother she had—how she tried to impress upon her children's minds the great object for which they shoua live —that the world might be better for their having liveed in it. She won't one mite stuck up, Miss Fitkins, 'cause when we got to her house, she axed me right into her grand parlor, and told me to sit down in the best seat there was. I felt dreadful ashamed when Mr. Thorn• ton came into the room, and she told him what I'd come for ; but he looked real pleased. 'That legacy Miss Priscilla,' said he, .is worth coming miles to see. If my wife had brought millions of gold to me, I should not have prized it as much as I do this little talisman, which hos made so many hearts leap for joy, and changed so many abodes of misery into happy homes. The world has but few such gems, Miss Priscilla,' said lie, as he took down from the mantle-shelf a small frame of solid gold and handed it to me, .and fewer still are they whose lives are guided by these words, which shall usher in the earth's milleniutn.' I didn't know what to say, he talked so beautiful, but I made up my mind that that legacy was goin' to do more for poor people round here than all our benevolent societies together." ..But you haven't told us what the lega cy was yet," said several. told you that Mr. 'l'hornton showed me a frame of solid gold:—well, in this frame were these words, all written in solid gold, too,—l wish you would ell at tend, 'cause I'm afraid our golden rules have been of lead, or something worse,— this was it : 'Whatsoever ye would that others should do unto you, do ye even so to them.' Did you ever hear of these words before, Mr. Flint asked the spins ter, with a mischievous look. 'You are very facetious, Miss Pnge.' re. plied he, presume we have them engra. yen on all our hearts." 'When you voted, just now, to let our poor folks sutler and die in their poverty, and send such a lot of money to a rich so oiety, jest to buy us a great name, I didn't see how we could reconcile it with such a rule,' said Miss Priscilla. 'Oh, 6e! for shame, Miss Priscilla!' ex claimed several voices, while the sancti monious president looked with holy hor ror upon the audacious speaktir. 'You take a very narrow view. you must allow me to say, Miss Priscilla, of a vast system of benevolence that rule en joins, said Mr. Flint, with feeling; 'but we pardon the allusion in considerati on of your ignorance of the matters. Shall we close this meeting 1' he continued, address. ing the president. What but the cold, solemn mockery, to Him whose bosom glows with sympathet ic love for the suffering child of poverty, were the words of this world-hardened, money-loving, professed disciple, as he besuught a blessing upon their benevolent operations.. Would that from imagination only this picture were drawn, but, alas tor human nature, even here truth is stranger than fiction. • licuUit. al. Ile that by the plough would thrive, Ilimself, must either hold or drive." Coal fishes as is Illantere.--Coal ashes aro valuable to a certain degree, and should not be wasted, They consist mostly of earthy materials—alumina and silica— with variable proportions of gypsum, car bonate of lime, oxide of iron, sometimes phosphate of limo, and with more or less half-burnt coal. They contain but little potash, and that is mostly derived from the wood used iu starting the fires. Different kinds of coals vary much in composition. They may be applied as a top•dressing to grass lands in autumn or Winter—and to cultivate soil are harrowed in. Or they may be mixed with the manure or compost heap. We prefer titans to all all other purposes for• daily use in privies, as they destroy nearly all the traces of bad odor if scattered daily upon the deposits, and be ing dry, they absorb the water, and render them convenient for spreading. Their effects will vary much with the ashes frein different sources, and with the application to dehlerent soils, and we must therefore leave this point to the result of experiments. Hot-Beds—Should now be stnrted if the weather is favorable, if designed for grow ing cucumbers or melons. If intended on ly to raise plants for the open ground, the middle of March will be time enough. The Way of Sharpening Edge. Tools. growing rich solely or principally to die —Tho following is a translation from a rich, is one of the most foolish debasing German scientific journal ' intensions which find lodgement in the ft has long been known that the simplest heart of man. method of sharpening a razor is to put it What can the praise, if prase it be, have for half nn hour in water, to which has to do with the dull cold air of death ? been added one-twentieth of its weight of What can it profit one, when be is lower muriatic or sulphuric acid, then lightly and more insensible than the sod, to have wipe it off, and after a few hours Set it on a it sounded above him, , llow rick he died?' hone. The acid here supplies the place Experience has fully and emphatically of a whetstone by corroding the whole sur-Otaught the lesson, that much wealth left to face smoothly, so that nothing further than heirs is, in eight times out of ten, not a a smooth polish is necessary. Tho process blessing, but rather a curse. Its expec never injures good blades, while badly bar- ration beguiles and spoils the manly pow dened ones are frequently improved by it, era; its possession leads to misjudgment, though the cause of improvement remains to exeesss, and finally to exhaustion and unexplained. Of late this process has been ruin. Wealth is dangerous to all men, .applied to many other cutting implements. but especially to those who acquire it by The workman at the beginning of his noun inheritance, ana consequently without spell or when tie leaves off in the evening : having sustained the toil or secured the moistens the blades of his tools with water maturity of character that was necessary acidified as above, the cost of which is al- to its acquisition. The time wtll yet come most nothing. This saves the cunsump- when men of wealth will be wise enough lion of time and labor in whetting, which to make a gradual distribution of their moreover speedily wears on the blades. l property while living—riot prescriptive, The mode of sharpening here indicatAl but operative—thereby having an eye to would be found especially advantageous the use that is nude of it, and a participa. for sickles and scythes. lion in the greatest enjoyment its posses sion is capable of giving, that of seeing it do gcod to others. They will dismiss the foolish aspiration—foolish, especially in this country, where there are neither laws of primogeniture or entail by which a succession of family millionaires may be kept up—of dying rich with the certain reflection that the heirs will sooner or later Settsovable Ilints.—This is the best time to prune fruit trees. For standard trees little is necessary beyond thinning out the small branches, to admit light and air free ly to all parts of the tree end removing all straggling branches, and that cross each other. In doing this, aim as far as possi ble to obtain a handsome, well-balanced head. Grapes and stone fruits should be pruned as early as the Ist of March, and we should prefer to prune grapes even earlier then this. As this is a time of leisure, the trunks of the trees in the orchard should be exam ined, and any that are mossy should be scraped ; and it would be well to give all e good scrubbing, with a brush and soft-soap. 'lf the ground is thawed, all suckers that appear around the roots of the trees can be rerrroved ; and all shoots on the trucks should be carefully cut away. Dwag Tr.'s—sig:l,l now rccolvc. thor ough pruning, It is useless to try to cul tivate fruit on dwarf trees without the most thorough pruning and manuring. Certain ly, one-half of last year's growth should be cut away, end this should be done under standingly. There should be design in every cut. We have not space to discuss this matter at present. (Original. FPar.:;fa, 'lie rough eniniinign of tv r'; Careering on the northern !last, Ile storms the polar sky ; Lo in the smith the timid spring, Allured by hope, on !loitering w•ing— The child of love and joy. Ethereal spirit, azure born, How buoyant thy elastic morn, Thy day how pure its close ; Mild breathing o'er the opening year, In smiles, yet chequered with a tear, Dried haply ere it, flows. Sweet spring, fond image of the past, Whose veer verdant scenes are cast 'Round visions most divine; The joy of youth, the duarn of age, The sweetest line or memory's page, Where love and friendship shine. Fresh vigor stirs the germs of life That lied 'math winter's furious strife, In torpid, chill repose ; Again the beauteous tribe of hues, Their fragrant influence diffuse-- Long bound by envious SUMs. In dalliance with the wanton air, The Zephyr sighs in secret care, To every listening faun ; The browsing blue, the frishing The mingled ,:ound of bleating dams In wide assemblage drawn. The brooklet's song, the echoing wood ; The grassy hill, the circling flood, The daisy mantled plain; These charm the senses, light the eye, They sore the soul to ecstasy. Creation blooms 11,fain, a* a,.. LlTistelianD. DYING RICE . An active business tuna is a rational man and a great blessing to the communi ty. Ho keeps in exercise the talents con. fid rd to him, making them a bleising to himself, and a source of good to those by whout he is doily surrounded. He fur nishes employment for tho industrious, which is far better than bestowing altars upon the employed. Herein are the legit. :mate results of active business pursuits and wealth-getting—the employment of the gratification of the active powers, and tho reward of industry. But the slavish toil of accumulation merely fur the sake of possession—the remorseless desire of 1 VOL. XXII. NO. 14 die poor. To use borrowed but energetic language on this great subject : ""After hypocrites the greatest dupes the devil has are those who exhaust anxious existences in the vexation and disappointment of bu siness, and live meanly and miserably on ly to die magnificent and rich." For, like the hypocrite, the only disin terested motive these men can accuse themselves of is that of serving the devil without receiving his wages ; for the us- I sumed morality of the one is not a more effectual bar to enjoyment than the real avarice of the other. lie who stands ev ery Jay am the ledger till he drops into the grave may negotiate many profitable bar gains ; but ho has made asingle bad one, indeed that more than counterbalances all the rest; for the empty foulery of dying rich, ho has laid down his health, his hap piness, and his integrity; since, as a very old author observes, 'ironer sttcketh be tween buying and selling.' Enterprise and activity in business and passion fur honest mowy-getting are things in the world, and he who uses his talents and capitals in this way is a benefactor to his race--but he who does all this fur the sake of dying rich, is a—not a wise man in any way.—Bail. .fltntrican. Err 'Eighty cents per Gal," exclaitn ed Airs. Partington's cousin, Mrs. Dusen bury, ns she saw the sign "Fresh Oysters, at 80 cents per gal." "Eighty cents pen Gal !" Either the men are poor, or else the gals regenerated since my day. When I was young, they used to work out at nine shillings a week, and now they only bring eighty cents, besides all the Califor ny gold that's been brought into the coun try ; it must be them hooped gowns ain't popular—else you wouldn't catch nobody offering so low a price as that—and Dame Dusenbury passed on, pondering en the "regeneracy" of the wives and the magni• tide of female dresses. (TIE 'Grandmother,' said a child, retur ning from Sunday-School one fine worn. ing, 'is the Bible true ?' 'Certainly,' replied the old lady, 'but why do you ask ?' 'Because,' replied the juvenile, 'it says that every hair of our head is numbered, and so I pulled out a handful to-day, and there wasn't a number on any of them.' 'What heresy 1' exclaimed the old lady, and fainted clean stiff stone dead on the floor. YOUNG AMERICA.—A. few days since, two little schoolboys were missing from NV iroead, Conn., and fears were entertain. t i that they had been drowned. They wet, found, however, the same evening, seven miles from home, having started to go to California, because they had ' , such hard lessons to got," and were afraid of being flogged if they did not get them. A lIINT.- I .Mother," said a little girl seven years old, "1 could not understand our tniMster today, ho said so many hard words. 1 wish he would preach so that little girls cculd understand him. Won't he, mother?" Yes, I think so, if we ask him. Soon after, her father saw her go ing, to the minister's. "Where are you going, Emma ?" said he. "I am going over to Mr. to ask him to preach small." Fle"1 , lincn• br;liiTiht, home
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