Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, April 08, 1857, Image 1

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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.
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.
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.
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6oritr *tor)).
"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
'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
'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.
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
'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 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
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
'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
.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
'Oh, by all moan's le,'s have your sto
ry, Miss Priscilla,' was the universal ex
clamation, amid cries of 'order' from the
'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
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
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.
'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,..
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
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
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
Fle"1 , lincn• br;liiTiht, home