etk t I - triantutli r; . • • • A WILLIAM BREWSTER, t EDITORS. SAM. G. WHITTAKER, ,stiert Vottrg. ONE HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW. Where, where will be the birds that sing. A hundred years from now ? The flowers that now in beauty spring, A hundred years from now! The rosy lip, The lofty brow. The heart that bents So gaily now I oh where where will be love's beaming eye .1 uy's pleasant smile and sorrow's sigh; A hundred years from now'? Who'll press for gold this crowded street, A hundred years from now'? Who'll tread your Church with willing feet, A hundred years from now.? Pale trembling age, And fiery youth, And childhood with It's brows of truth -- lhe rich, the poor: on land and sea ; Where will the many millions be A hut.dred years front now? We all within our graves shall sleep, A hundred years from now ; No living soul for us will weep; A hundred years from now; But other men Our lands will till, And others then Our streets will till While other bit•ds will sing as gay, As bright the sunshine as today, A hundred years front now. Saab *torg. !MART ClOOlll2. A PLEASANT LOVE STORY All my life long Pd known Mary Moore. All my life I loved her. Our mothers were old playmates and first cousins. My first recollection is of a boy in a red frock I ntl morocco shoes, rock ing a cradle in which - reposed a sunny haired, blue-eyed baby, not quite a year old —that boy was myself—Harry Church ; that blue eyed baby was Mary Moore. Later still, I see myself at the littlesold schoolhouse, drawing my little chaise up to the door, that Mary might ride home. Many a beating have I gained on such oc casions, for other boys besides me liked her and she, I fear, sets something of a flirt, even in her pianfores. How elegantly she came tripping down the steps when I call ed her name ! how sweetly her blue eyes looked up at me? how gayly rang out her merry laugh ! That fairy laugh ! No one but Mary could ever bring her heart so soon to her lips. I followed that laugh from my days of childhood till I grew an awkward, blushing youth ; I followed it.througl the heated noon of manhood; and now, when the frosts of age are silvering my hair, and many children climb my knee and call me gather," I find that the memories of youth are strong, and that, even in gray hairs, I am following its music still. When I was fifteen the first great sorrow of„my heart came upon me. I was sent to school, and was obliged to part with Maly. We were not to see each other for three long years ! This, to me, was like a sen tence of death, for Mary was like life it self to But hearts ore tough things after all. I left college in all the flush and vigor of my nineteenth year. I was no longer awk ward and embarrassed. I had grown into a tall, slender stripling, with a very good opinion of myself, both in general and par ticular. If I thought of Mare Moore, it was to imagine how I would dazzle and bewilder her, with my good looks and won derful attainments—never thinking that she might dazzle and bewilder me yet still more. I was a coxcomb, I know; but as good looks have fled, I trust I may be be. lieved when I say that self-conceit has left me also. An advantageous proposal was made to me at this time, and, accepting it, I gave up all idea of a profession, and I prepared to go to the Indies. In a hurried visit home of two days, I saw nothing of Mary. She had gone to a boarding sahool at some dis tance, and was not expected home till the following May. I uttered one sigh to the memory of my little blue•eyed playmate, and then called myself "a man again." "In a year," I thought, as the vehicle whirled away from our door—"tn a year, or three years at the very most, I will re turn, and, if Mary is as pretty as she used to be, why then, perhapli I may marry her. And thus I settled the future of a young lady whom I had not seen for four years. I never thought of the possibility of her refusing me—never dreamed that she wo'd not condescend to acnept my oiler. But now I know that, had Mary met me then, the would have devised me. I'ei• haps, in the scented and affected student, I was not yet lost, and though another bad she might have found plenty of sport ; but secured life's choicest blessing, many a joy as for loving me or feeling the slightest remained for me in this dear sanctuary of interest in me, I should have perhaps found 1 a home. I was mistaken, 1 There were four other inmates of the India was my salvation, not merely be- room who had risen on my sudaen entry. cause of my success, but because my Ia- One was the blue eyed child whom I had borions industry had counteracted the evil already seen, and who now stood beside in my nature, and made me a better man. Frank Cheater, clinging to his hand.-- When at the end of three years I prepared Near by stood Lizzie Moore, Mary's eldest to return, I said nothing of the reform-I sister, and in a distant corner, to which she Lion in myself which I knew had taken had hurriedly retreated when my name place. • ; was spoken, stood a tall and slender figure "They loved me as I was," I murmured ! half hidden by the heavy window curtain to myself, "and they shall find out them• that fell to the floor. selves whether lam better worth loving When the first rapturous greeting was than formerly." over, Lizzie led me forward with n timid I packed tip many a token from that' grace, and Frank Chester grasped my land of romance and gold, tor the friends I hand. . . hoped to meet. The gift for Mnry Moore "Welcome home, my boy!" he said with ! I selected with a beating heart; it was a loud, cheerful tones I remember so well. ring of rough, virgin gold, with my name "You have changed so that I should never and hers engraved inside—that was all, have known you. Hut no matter for that; and yet the sight of the little toy strangely your heart is in the right place, I know." thrilled me as I balanced it upon the top of ~ H ow can you say he is changed?" said Imy finger. my mother. gently. "To be sure, he looks To the eye of others it was but a small older and graver, and more like a man, plain circlet, suggesting thoughts, perhaps than when he went away, but his eyes and by its elegance, of that beautiful white smiles are the same es ever. It is that hand that was to weer it. But tome—how heavy beard that changes him. He is my much was embodied there ! A loving boy still!" smile on a beautiful face—low words of "Ay, mother," I answered sadly, "I am welcome—a future home, and a sweet smi- I , your boy still." ling face—a group of merry children to climb my knee—all these delights lie hid den within that little ring of gold. CIIAPTEkt 11. Tall, bearded and sun-bronzed, I knock ed at the door of my father's house. The lights in the parlor windows and the hum of conversation and cheerful laughter, told me that company were assembled there. I hoped my sister Lizzie would crime to the door, and that I might greet my family when no strange eye was looking curious ly on. But no ; a servant answered my sum mons. They were too merry in the par lor to heed the long absent one when he asked tot admittance. A bitter tho't like this was passing through my mind, as I heard the sounds from the parlor : and saw the half suppressed smile upon the serv ant's face. I hesitated for a moment before I made myself known, or asked after the family, "Hullo!" cried Frank, with a sudden- But while I stood silent, a strange appart- , ness that made me start violently, I have Lion grew up before me. From behind the forgotten to introduce you to my wife. I servant peered out a small golden head— believe you and s he used to be playmates a tiny, delicate torm followed, and a swef -i , in your 3 oung days—eh, Harry ?" and childish face, with blue eyes, was lifted tip he slapped me on the back. "For the to mine—so like to those of one who had sako of old times, and because you were brightened my boyhood, that I started back i not here at the wedding, I'll give you leave with a sudden feeling of pain, to kiss ber once ; but mind, old fellow you ' , What is your name, my little one?" I are never to repeat the ceremony. Come, asked, while the wondering servant held here she is, and I for once want to see how the door. _ you will manage those ferocious mustaches She lifted up her hand as if to shade her eyes (I have seen that very attitude in an other, in my boyhood, many and many a time,) and answered to a sweet, hird•like voice : "Mnry Moore." "And what elsel" I asked quickly. "Mary Moore Chester," lisped the child. My heart sank down tike lead. Here was an end to all the bright dreams and hopes of my youth and manhood. Frank Chester, my boyish rival, who hod often tried, and tried in vain, to usurp my place beside the girl, had succeeded at last, and had won her away from me ! This was his child—his child and Mary's. I sank, body and soul, beneath this blow. And, hiding my face in my hands, 1 lean ed against the door, while my heart wept tears of blood. The little one gazed at me grieved and amazed, and put up her pret ty lip as if about to cry, while the perplex ed servant stepped to the parlor door, and called my sister out, to see who it could be that conducted himself co strangely. I heard a light step, and a pleasant voice saying : 'Did you wish to see my father, sir?" I looked up. There stood a very pretty, sweet•faced maiden of twenty, not mu".h changed from the dear little sister I had lo ved so well. I looked at her for a moment and then, stilling the tumult of my heart by a mighty effort, I opened my arms and said : "Lizzie, don't you know me ?" "Harry ! Oh, my brother Harry!" she cried, and threw herself upon my breast. She wept as though her heart would break. I could not weep. I drew her gently into the lighted parlor, and stood with her before them all. There was a rush aid cry of jog, and than my father and mother sprang toward me, and welcomed me home with heartfelt tears. Oh, strange and passing sweet is such a greeting to the wayworn wanderer. And as I held my dear old miller to my heart, and grayed my father's hand, while Lizzie still clung beside me, l felt that all " LIBNETY AND UNION, NOW AND rovivsa, ONN AND INBNPARABLN. " HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, MAY 20, 1857. Heaven help me ! At that moment I felt like a boy, and it would have been a blessed relief to wept upon her bosom, as I had d"ne in infancy. Hut I kept down the beating of my heart and the tremor of my lip, nod answered quietly, as I looked in his full handsotne face : • "Yod have changed, too, Frank, but I think for the better." .$ "Oh, yes ! thank yow for that compli ment," he answered, with a I.ear•y laugh. "My wife tells me I grow handsomer ev ery day!" • • His'wife ! Could 1 hear that name and keep silence still ? ! "And have you seen my little girl?" he added, lifting . the infant in his arms and kissing her crimson cheek. "I tell you, Harry, there is not such another in the ! world. Don't you think she looks very much as her mother used 1" "Very much," I faltered. of yours in the operation. fie pushed Lizzie, laughing and blush ing towards, me ! A gleam of light and hope, almost too dazzling to bear, came ov• er me, and 1 cried out before 1 thought : 'lsiot Mary !" I must have betrayed my secret to eve ry ono in the r Jom. But nothing was said, Even Frank, in general so obtuse, was this time silent. I kissed the fair cheek of the young wife, and hurried to the silent fig• ure looking out from the window. "Mary—Mary Moore," I said, in a low, eager voice, "have you no welcome to give the wanderer ?" She turned and laid her hand in mine, and murmured hurriedly : am glad to see you here, Harry," Simple words : and yet how blessed they made me ! I would not have yielded up that moment for an emperor's crown ! For there was the happy home group, and the dear home fireside, and there sweet Mary Moore ! The eyes I had dreamed of by day and night worn fulling before the ardent gaze of mine ; and the sweet face I had so longed and prayed to see was there before me! I never knew the mean , ing of happiness till that moment came ! Many years have passed since that tap py night, and the hair that was dark and glossy then is fast turning gray. I sin growing to be an old man, and can look back to a long and happy, and I hope a well-spent life. And yet. sweet as it has been, I would not recall a single day, for the love that made my manhood so bright, shines also upon my white hairs. An old man ! Can this be so ? At heart I am as young as ever. And Mary, with her bright hair parted smoothly from a brow thrt has a slight furrow upon it, is still the Mary of my early days. To me, she can never grow old, nor change. The heart that held her in infancy, and shelter ed her in the flush and beauty of woman hood, can never cast her out till life shall cease to warm it. or even then, for love still lives above. Outer Nits. Legislative Mathematios. During the last winter the upper branch of the Legislature of Minnesota got into a "dead lock" from, a very odd cause, and the territorial Solons had a very funny time while it lasted. The event grew out of a sharp and pertinacious controver sy in regard to the location of the capital. A call of the Council occurred, when all were reported present save the Pembina member. It was moved that further pro ceedings under the call be dispensed with, which was lost by a vote of 9 to 5, requi ring a two-third vote to dispense with fur ther proceedings. The Sergeant-at-Arms was required to report the Hon. Joseph Rolutte in his seat. He accordingly star-I ted for Pembina on foot, a distance six hun- , dred miles. From some real or imagina ry rule of the Council, in such case made and provided, so long as the vote stood in stunt quo, that august body was tied up— bound hand and foot—absolutely incapable of doing any business whatever, or even of an adjournment. This was a - funny as well as an awkward predicament; but nei ther side would yield. Various expedients were resorted to by the members to "kill tiipe." Refreshments were ordered, and laugh and joke went round, and a right jolly time was had. The worthy President —says the St. Anthony Express, from which we derive this account—when other amusements failed, having observed that some of the members has quite a mathe matical turn, proposed the following prob lem for solution : "A certain Legislative hody, consisting of 15 members is composed of a certain number of mules, a certain number of don keys, and 1 colt. If I be added to the number of mules, they will equal two-thirds of the donkeys ; if I be added to the num ber of donkeys, they will be double the number of mules. Required, the number of mules and donkeys." Six members worked assiduously on this problem from goetday noon to Wed nesday night, when one of the number, al ter some extra refreshments, suddenly ex claimed "Eureka !" The President gave him a piece of red chalk, and ordered him up to demonstrate the proposition on the i wall, which he did successfully as follows; Let x=uumbrr of mules. " y==iiiiiiiher of donkeys. Then, by the terms of the proposition, x x 1 (colt)=-2y And y . 4 1 (Cult)=2x Let us eliminate)/ and No hare 3x Again, transposing 1 (colt) wo have • But, things that are equal to the same thing are equal to each other; therefore 3.r a 3=2x-1 Clear of fractions and we have 3.vw 3=4x-2 Transpose, and we have • dx•-3x=x=3 2=5 Therefore x=s the number of mules, And 15-s=lo the number of donkeys, minus 1 colt =9 the number of donkeys. Quoit erat dernonetrandum. 'Correct, sir, take your seat. _ Gentlemen let us now adjourn.' And the Council did thereupon adjourn. -44 - .11,11.641. Preparing for a Daguerreotype. A brace ol•lovyers,' anxious to secure each other's 'shadows ere the substance fa ded, stepped into a Daguerreotype estab lishment recently, to sit for their 'picture.' The lady gave precedence to her swain, who, she said, 'had got to be tuck first, and raal natral.' He brushed up his tow head of hair, gave a twist or two at his necker chief, asked hie gal if his shirt collar stood about X, and planted himself in the opera tor's chair; he soon assumed the phystog nomical characteristics of a poor mortal in in a dentist's hands about to part with one pf his eye-teeth. 'Neow, dew look party oegged the lady, casting at him one of her most lan guishing glances. The picture. was taken, and when pro duced it reminded the girl, as she expres sed it, 'jilt how Josh looked when he got over the measles I' and as this was not an era in her suitor's history particularly wor thy of her oomtnemoration, she insisted that 'he should stand it again.' Ho obey ed, and she attended him to the chair. 'Josh,' said she, list look again', and then kinder don't.' The poor fellow tried to follow tho ind nite injunction. she cried, 'you lonic all puckered up' One direction followed another, but with as little success. At last growing impa tient, and becoming desperate ; she resolved to try an expedient, whioh she considered infallible, and exclaimed, 'I don't keer if there is folks around.' She enjoined the operator to stuud at his camera ; ahe thou leaped into her feller's lop and placed her arms about his neck ; and managed to cast a shower of flaxen ringlets as a scree!' be tween the operator and her proceedings, which, however, were betrayed by a sun cession of amorous sounds, which revealed her. expedient. When this 'billing and cooing' had lasted a few minutes, the cun ning girl jumped trom Josh's lap, and, clapping her hands, cried to the astonished artist, 'Now you've got him ! put him through I' A Stump Anecdote. A Tennessee paper, we believe, is cul pable in the following A distinguished Old Line Whig of Mein phis, who never joined to the American order, but who canvassed Tennesse for "Fillmore and Donelson and the Union." used to account, on the stump for his rela tion to the American party, by telling the Widow Neppins Anecdote." Widow Neppins was "a pillar" of the Methodist Church in the neighborhood where she lived ; but with many of the qualities so becoming in a Christian, she possessed far more of the yortiter in re" than of the "stazeiter in modo"—in fact, nut ti put too fine a point upon it, she was as 'crab. bed" as she well could be. Well :—once upon a time, a great revival broke out a mong the Methodist in the Widow's neigh borhood. 01 course the widow attended; and, though participating after her un bending fashion—that is as if fed on ram rod soup—she never failed to occupy her place on the "amen" benches. One eve ning, after a moat copious outpouring of grace, and when the new converts and zealous members were running over with enthusiasm, one of the preachers struck tip a jubilant song and started round to shake hands with the brethern and sis'ers, as is usual on such occasions. Finally he came to the Widow Neppins, whom, while shaking hands, he accosted with 'O, sister Neppins don't you love the Lord?' The widow withdrew her hand, quickly, and pursing upkr mouth replied in her usual curt manner—"/ aint got vothin' again Him ." isctlianß. A Romance Story. The following story from the Paris cor• respondent of the New York Times, will serve to show the rapid manner in which the Russian Government does nn act of justice. Some eighteen months ago a Miss Ward, of one of our Southern States was married at Florence to Polish Count, with n very unpronounceable name. * Af ter residing with her three weeks lie took French leave one fine morning, taking with him his wife's jewels. He left a let ter behind him stating that the marriage was invalid, from the fact that no Russian subject could be legally married except by the Gre.-ic service. Of course the lady was in great consternation, and at the time of the coronation of the Czar, she, with her mother, went to St. Petersburg. Mr. Sala, the principal writer for Dieken's House hold Words, drew up a petition for her to the Russian Government, and it was pres ented by Mr. Seymour, our minister.— The case was laid before the Emperor and an order was issued to the Russian Min ister at Naples, where the Count was liv ing, for his arrest. He was seized by the Neapolitan police, at the expense of Rus sia carrried to Warsaw. whore the lady and her friends were waiting, marched in to a church by a posse of policeman and was there compelled to stand up before the altar and be married in due form.— His wife, then the Countess, turned to him as soon as the oeremony was over, made a formal bow, and bade him adieu for ever. The Count was sent to Siberia, his property confiscated, his wife retain ing one-third by law. Tho faintly imme diately left for Italy where they are now spending the winter. Young Lady in a Serape—Hoops and High Heels in Church. The Richmond Whig says : A few Sundays ago, a modest young gentleman of our acquaintance attended morning ser vice, in one of our fashionable churches. He was kindly shown into a lUxuriously cushioned pew,.and had- hardly settled himself, and taken an observation of his neighbors, before a young lady entered, and with a graceful wave of the hand pre venting our friend from rising to give her place, quietly sunk into a seat near the end. When a hymn was given out she skillfully found the page, and, with a sweet smile that set his heart a thumping, hand ed her neighbor the book. The minister raised his hands in prayer, and the fair girl knelt; and this posture most perplexed her friend to know which tuo