1-44. C • 0 )- • - • 111. ~• • • „ • 1-476, • ' - • - -1. 4 I 1 441 T 4 -4 i • ,r,••• ••17. • --•-„ r•ro. • )•••• illifIL 4 •AO • k!). ,••••Y • 7,1:" 111 r. 4• • , . , " 0 I 4 1 . - ' P•z. • .. , 11:;:` • - IL' ••1:0C• , 4g,P. • PSI 0.174 $4" 11, 7,;;,, ; . 1 mum. • VOL. X.--NO. 26.] SHERIFF - CANDIDATES. %U..ERIEIe hLTY. GEORGE W. M'CLELLAN Returns his sincere thanks to his friends and the public in general, for placing him on the returns kith the present and fof.ner Sheriff, and again offers himseh once more as a cand.date for the (Mee of Shertitt, nt the ensuing Election. Should he ho ..,red with their confidence in placing Mal in that office., no exertion on his part shall be wanting ro a faithful discharge of the duties of that important trust. March 19, IE-39. to-51 FAILIEsiktiLF F wirx To the Free and Independent Voters of Adams County. FELLOW CITIZENS: Through kind persuasions from many of my friends, I have been induced to offer myselfas a candidate for the Office or Sheriff, at the ensuing Election, and respectfully solicit your votes. And should Ibe so for tunate as to receive your confidence, by be ing elected to that offize, I pledge myself to discharge the duties of the office with fideli ty and impartiality. FREDERICK DIEHL. Franklin township, March 19, 1539. •\ FOR PROTHONOTARY To the Freemen of /11MIS C OV/Utl • FELLOW CITIZENS : I offer myself to your consideration for the office of PROTHONOTARY, at the earning election—shcadd I be so for tunate as to receive a anjerity of your votes, I pledge myself to discharge the du ties to the best of my ability. JOEL B. DANNER.. Gettysburg, Jima 24,1639. tf-13 CARD.- IRIENDS haring announced my name to the Voters of Adams county for the Office of RegiLer and Recorder, I would take the libe rty respectfully , to offer myself a candidate for the Office of .Pro thonotary; and solicit the suffrages of the AMOS MAGINLY. Fairfield, April 2, to-1 FOR REGISTER & RECORDER To the Independent Voters of Adams County. FELLOW—CITIZENS: I offer myself to your consideration at the ensuing General Electica, as a can. didate for the offices of Regisicr 4 Record• er : And p!edge myself, if elected, to dis. charge the duties of tho- - -e cirtii:s' with fi• delity and prOnaptitude. JACOB LEFEVER. to -51 March 19, 1F.39. To the, Voters of adavas Couut. FELLOW CITIZENS: Offer myielll to your consideration as a candidate for the offices of Register and Recorder, at the ensuing eection. Having, from practical experience acqui red a perfect knowledge of the duties of those of ices, hope if elected, to be able to do the business promptly, correctly and in person. The Public's BurnMe Servant, WILLIAM KING. Gettysburg, Feb. 26, 1639. te-48 ron _;.ERK OF THE COURTS To the Voters of 3dams County FELLOW CITIZENS : I cfier myself to year consider ation as a candidate for Clerk of the Courts, at the cassia :4-, election, being well acquaint ed with the htaieess of said offices, I shall endeavor to di , 4-7.rirge the duties thereof with fidelity. S. R. RUSSELL. Gettysburg, July 23, 1639. tf-17 To the Independent raters of dams County. • FELLOW CITIZENS : I offer no If to your consideration as a candidate for the Off..ce of Clerks of thry several Courts at the next General Erection. Should Ibe so fortunate-es to be elected, I pledge -Artscif to discharge the duties of the Office farthfirilv. THOMAS M'CREARY. Straban Township, July 30. 18-to Z. 111 17 IV 0 'l' I C E . Co - Z 7.1 1 W ILL practice Law in the several Courts of Adanl3 Connty—oirice in Chambersburg, Street, or.e t:oor west of Kr. Buehter's Store. Gottystkwg, "qui! 30, l'A9. Office of the Star & Banner: Chambersburg Street, a few doors West of the Court-House. I. The STAR & REPUBLICAN BANyEn is pub ished at TWO DOLLARS per annum (or Vol. umo of 62 numbers,) payable half -yearly in od.. vance: or TWO DOLLARS & FIFTY CENTS , if not paid until rifler the expiration of the year. 11. No subscription will he received for a shorter period than six menths; nor will the paper be dis continued until all arrearages are paid, unless at the option of the Editor. A failure to notify n dii continuanoi will bo considered a new engagement and the,paper forwarded . accordingly. 111. Ain' ERTIFILM ENTH not exceeding a square will boluserted THREE times fur 1, and 25 cents for each subsequent insertion—the number of in sertion to b, marked, or they will ho published till forbid and charged accordingly; longer ones in the same proportion. A reasonablededuction will bo made to those who advertise by the year. IV. All Letters and Communications addressed to the Editor by mail must be post-paid, or they will not be attended to THE GARLAND j v t _ b.t. w,; s .,- ,_,,.,_*-..__---_ L ,,- r:t4 .--- . •, f: V 43 i f —"With sweetest tlower9enrich'd From various gurdons cul I'd with cars." ""Why don't you take the Papers. 9! I=l Why don't you take the papers, They are "the life of my delight." Except about election times, And then I read for spite. Subscribe, you cannot hose a cent, Depend upon my word ; For cash thus spent is money lent On interest to the Lord. My grandad used to make his brags Of living at a day, When papds sold as cheap as rags, And trust was took for pay. My grandma, when she had the blues, Would thank her gracious stars Tiiat - pipore filled With wholesome news Were scattered every wn•us. I knew two friends, os much uliko Ae e'er yo ii saw two stumps ; And no phrenologist could find A difference in the bumps. Each had a farm of equal worth, A pretty while to keep- 7 %, Three boys—threo horses and a cow, 'A dog and twenty sheep. One took the papers, and his life Is happier than a king's; His children all can read and write, And talk o(nten and things, Tho other took no pavers, and While strolling through the wood, A trop fell down upon his crown, And killed him as it should. Had to been reading of the "news," At home, like neighbor Jim, I'll bet a cent that accident Would not havo happened him. Go then, and take tho papory, And pay to-day, nor pray delay, And my word heard it is inferred, You lir.e till you are gray, An old nowsmonger friend of mino, WLilo dying from a cough, -besired to hear the latest news, While he was going WI. I took the paper, and I read Of eomo new pills in force ; He bought a box—and is he dead No ! hearty as a horse. I knew a printer's debtor once, Rack'd with a schorching fever, Who swore to pay her bill next day, If her disease would leave tar. Next morning sho was at her work, Divosted of her pain : But did forget to pay her debt, Till taken down again. "Hero Jesse, take these silver wheels, Go pay the printer now !" She spoke, she slept, and then awoke, With health upon her brow. Why don't you take the papers: Nor from the printer'fi e visage sneak, Because you borrow of his boy, A paper every week. For ho who takes tho capers, And pays his bill when it is due, Can live at ponce with God and man, And with the printer too. 011C30.211a1113LV1/do From the Evening. Post and Saturday News PACT. ri Brackenridge was altogether a remarka ble man ; eccentric, but of a kind and noble disposition. He possessed intellect of the ,highest order, and no man had so great an aversion to the formalities and coxcombry of fashionable life. He was remarkable for his wit and keen satire, which he delighted to play o ff on the elite of the day. Plain and unassuming in his manners h© was not very successful in the affairs of the heart.— He used to say that as soon as he became enamored with any of the fair dames of the town ofo and began to press his suit, some youthful Adonis was sure to step in between him and his Lady Love. Afar being disappointed in this way three or four times, he finally renounced all hopes dever ROBERT S. EDITOR PROPRIETOR. (cm - pi - el:cam tevaazotax azipe.eximzeat aciao. forming n matrimonial alliance suited to his wishes, and resolved to lead a life of "sin gle blessedness." Liko many other bache lors that I have in my eye, resolve to lead a bachelor's life because they can find no one to marry them, and then call a bachelor's life a 'Luxury.' Yes and I have no doubt n Luxury which they would be willing to dispense with. What, say you my fair maid of 'sweet seventeen' with the light blue eye, pouting lip, dimpled cheek and roguish smile. 110 you believe there are any bache lors not of choice 1 Or whether do you be lieve there are more out of choice or out of necessity 1 But lam digressing. Brack- enridge seriously resolved never again to give any fair dame the chance of refusing him,and steel himself to all the finer feelings of our nature, and to live a cross, morose old bachelor. For ohe or two years after ma king this resolution he enjoyed his own fire• side 'Mum cum Dignitate,' solitary and alone. But how futile are all human reso lutions, fur when returning from Franklin county where he had been holding Court, he stopped to see an old German Farmer who had formerly been a client. Not find• the 'old man' in the house he took a sent at the request of the 'old woman' and soon made himself quite easy, and entered into a spirited conversation with the old Lady, commending and complimenting, the many articles of domestic manufacture which were displayed for the admiration of visi• tors. Every thing looked neat and clean, but of the homeliest kind. The buttermilk with which he slaked his thirst was new and excellent, rind the 'Tin' out of which he drank it, was nearly as bright as his own sil ver. Tankards. But as he intended to reach his home the same day and the suit was al ready past the meridian, he determined to walk to the field whore the old Farmer was at work,and the youngest daughter,a bright, black-eyed lass of seventeen, was called to conduct him to tho field. After walking a quarter of a mile down the lane the Judge scarcely noticing or speakina t' to his young guide, till Suzette Rut her hand on a five barred fence, and nimbly sprang over, bid• ding our hero to follow, as her father was 'in the adjoining field. The Judge looked up with astonishment at the feat which his guide had just performed, and felt almost ashamed when he deliberately put his right flint on the first rail, his left on the second as if he had been mounting a pair of stairs, and acknowledged that be had not as much agility atiihe 'nut brown' Suzette. Now for the AisiAme he began to take notice of his guidg4rid become more interested in her. She had a beautiful black eye, regu : lar features, well personcd and her stature rather over than under the middle height. Before Lb* , had crossed the fresh plowed field, be infra° proposals of marriage to her which she did not hesitate in accepting.— The old people readily gave their consent, and in the course of au hour or two, Suzette was 11Ire. Breckenridge, or as much so as a country squire could make her, and three minutes after the _cejemony was performed the Judge mounted is horse, and rode to his bachelor home a married man. lie immediately wrote to a paternal aunt in Phiadelphia that he caught a Young Ptryn• . . . . . . to which he wished her to tame,and receiv ed for reply that although she had not much fancy for taming painters, but as he reques- ted it she was Willing; to do what she could, and from the known ferociousness of the an- imal she despaired of success. Suzette,the Paynter alluded to, was accordingly sent to Philadelphia, and no expense was spared to give her an accomplished education. She possessed extraordinary natural abilities which with close application, enabled her in the course of three years to return to her husband who received her with open arms, and introduced her to the fashionable and aristocratic citizens of Carlisle as the miss tress of his heart and mansion. She soon became the leader of the town and was uni vereally acknowledged to be the niost splen did and accomplished woman in the interior of Pennsylvania NOBLE bENTI NI ENT The most noble speech that man ever ut tered was made by John Adams when the Declaration of Independence was read in the Congress ot '76. It makes the heart beat to read it. 'Sir—l know the uncertainty of human affairs; hut I see, I see clearly through this days's business. You and 1 indeed may rue it. We may not live to the time when the declaration shall be made good. We may die; die colonists; die slaves; die it may bo ignominiously, and on the scaffold. Be it so. Be it so. If it be the ,pleasure of Heaven, that my country shall - require the poor ()tiering of my life, the victim shall be ready at the appointed hour of sacrifice, come whon that hour may. But while Ido live, let me have a country, or at least the hope of a country, and that a free country. But whatever may be our fate, be assured that this declaration will stand ; it - May cost treasure; it may cost blood; but it will stand; and it will richly compensate for both. 'Through the- thick gloom of the present, I see the brightness of the future. as the sun is in heaven. %Vo shall make this a glorious, an immortal day. When we are in our graves our children will honor G. They will celebrate it with thanksgiv ng, with bonfires and illuminations. On its annual return they will shed tears, copi ous tears, not of subjection and slavery, nut of agony and distress, but of exultation, of gratitude and joy. Sir, before God, 1 be- lieve the hour is come. My judgment tip. proves the measure, and my whole heart is in it. All that I have, all that I am, and all that I hope in this tile, I am re;uly now to stake upon it ; and J leave otl'as I bo,,un, 4!3- FEARLESS AND PREF" 4AI that live or die, survive or perish, I am for the declaration. It is my living sentiment, and by the blessing of God, it shall be my dying sentiment—independence now and in dependence forever.' 'l'ho above speech is one of the most ma• terly ethos on record. But it is not the speech of John Adams, although it embod ies the pa'riotie sentiments of that great man and patriot. His letter to his wife on the 3d of July, 1776, and the sentiment given by him on the day of his death are the groundwork of the beau'iful production which is attributed to the elder Adams.— But the speech itself was never uttered, un. til 1826, when Daniel Webster, before one of the greatest and most intellectual assem• blages of !people that ever met in the Old Crale of Liberty, pronounced his celebra. ted Eulogy on the character of Adams and Jefferson.: In that eulogy, Mr. Webster, in deschbing the living and burning zeal of the great patriot Adams, gives the speech here cfuoted, as the supposed appeal of John Adams to the hearts of his compatriots in the Continental Congress, when the draft of the Declaration was framed in that bodv.— No words can add to its boauty or sublim ty.--IV. Y. Wh ig . From the Philadelphia Saturday Courier TIE YOUNG GREEK GIRL. A Touching Story of the Plague. DT DIM ['ARDOR, AUTUOR TUB "CITY OS TUX young Greek girl, whose lover, smit ten with plague, was conveyed to the tem. porary hospital of the Seven Towers, had no sooner ascertained whither they had car ried him, than without saying a word to her parents, who would, as she well knew, have opposed her design, she left her home, and presented herself at the portal of the infected fortress, as the nurse of the young Greek who had been received there on the pre vious day. In vain did the Governor, int agining from her youth, and the calm and collected manner in which she offered her• self up an almost certain victim to the pes tilence, that she was oot aware of her danger elideavored to dissuade her from her pro ject. She was imtnoveable ; and was ulti mately permitted lo approach the bed-side of l the dying suffbrer. Not a tear, not a murmur escaped her, as she took her place beside his pillow, and entered upon her desperate office. In the paroxysms of his madness, as the poison was .iceding upon his strength and grap pling at his brain, he spoke of her fondly— he talked to her—ho stretched forth his hand to clasp her—and he thrust her from him as he yelled out in his agony, and his limbs writhed beneath the torture of the passing spasm. And she bore it all unshrinkingly ; and oven amid her misery, she felt a shrill of joy as she discovered that pain and (badness had alike failed to blot her image from his memory. But there were moments less cruel than these, in which reason resumed i her temporary sway, and the devoted girl was pressed to the fevered bosom of her fated lover ; and in these, brief as they wore, she felt that she was overpaid for all. But the struggle oven of youth and strength against the most baneful of all dis eases could not last long. The patient ex pired in the arms of his devoted mistress, and as he breathed his last, bequeathed to her at once his dying smile and the foul poison which was coursing through his veins. She saw him hid in his narrow grave ; and then she turned away with the conviction that she, too, was plague smitten ! She did not return to her home; but she stood a few paces from one of the compan ions of her youth, and bade her boar to her aged parents her blessing and her prayers; this done, she fled to the mountains, and sought out a solitary spot wherein to die. None knew how long she lingered, for she was never seen again in life ; but her body was found a few days afterwards beneath a :edge of earth, in a doubled up position, as though the last spasm had been a bitter one She who had sacrificed herself'to soothe the last hours of him whom she had loved, perished alone, miserably, in the wild soli tude of the Asian hills ; and her almost Roman virtue has met with no other record than the brief one in which 1 have here at- tempted to perpetuate the memory of her devotion and her fate. A DVERTISING FLOUR.-At what is called a "Protracted religious meeting," held in a neighboring city, brother W—, a staid respectable man, engaged in the flour busi ness, rose to exhort. He said—" Brethren and sisters, it is our duty to attend imme• diately to the Insuring of our salvation, and in order to do this we must believe in the Scriptures. Brethren, I fully believe in them as fully as I do that I shall receive for sale to-morrow 200 barrels Howard street flour, and very good flour it will be too." At this moment the good old parson present, rose and said, "Tut, tut, brother W. do not advertise your , flour here, if you please." "I say, Harry, were you at the battle of Bunker Hill?" "Not exactly, Tom, but then my . daddy says he knew a man that . told him that he saw an old friend of his that had an uncle who often affirmed that a grandfather, by the mother's side, belonged to a regiment of toot, in which there was a man who said that a daddy of his told him that a mercantile uncle met a man one day who said he had seen General Washington about the r e diggins one day afore breakfast! —Were you ever any closer V' "Not quite as near gunslio, as that, I thank you'" fiLLTAV. ' From the Philadelphia Saturday Courier THE DYING TEMPLAR. He lay upon the bloody field, With helmet cleft, and broken shield, And from his wounds, now gaping wide, Was flowing fast life's crimson tide. His ahiver'd lance was firmly clench'd In his right hand, his glance unquench'd, Still gsz'd where loud the trumpet's bray, Proclaim'd the raging battle fray. He saw his own brave legion stand, Surrounded, yet a gallant band, Press on its almost triple foo, And where they strike, some Moslems go, To bask in sunshine of the eyes Of Houris, in their Paradise. Now beaten back, now forru'd again, They force their way : he feels no pain While gazing on so glad a sight; Forgets his wounds, and with a might Collecting all his acatter'd strength, To this last effort, rose at length, And prop'd upon his shiver'd lance, Threw o'er the field his eager glance, Survey'd the scone, then curs'd the blow, And ho that with it laid him low. °And yet 'tis joy, though wounded hero, To ace my friends so bravely cheer, • And rally to the onset. See! (Good heavens, can such daring be !) They wheel and turn upon their foes, And hundreds fall beneath their blows. Ha! strike Beausont ! 'twas nobly done, (Thou i..rt the Temple's fav'rite eon, And thou deserv'st it,) on, once more, And vict'ry's wreath shall crown thee o'er. Now, now Beausont, charge ! charge ! on !'on Another blow, and vict'ry's won. A gallant charge, by Holy Mother, Each knight strives to outdo his brother In deeds of daring; see Beausont, He's foremost in the battle's front ; And Stanley, Beaufort, Do Clarenux, And noble Loon bear them through, ' Whoro'or the battle's thickest storms Demands the succour of their arms. Well done, knights Templar ! bravely done ! The Moslem's shrink, now charge them, On I. 'Tis done ; they turn their backs and fly, God's for the temple ! I can die Content and happy, now I see My brothers gain the victory." This said, he sank upon the ground, While faster flowed each gaping wound, And thick and shorter came hie breath, His eyes fast glazing o'er in death : But still a smile was on his face, As ono with whom life's trouble) race Had ended sweetly. Now cold death Has stop'd the gallant Templar's breath. E. Y. From Weld's New York Despatch SPEILIELLIG There is in this world a great deal of un necessary ceremony about some things, and a great want of necessary ceremony about others. There is a deal of unnecessary ceremony for instance, in i)ery politely fol lowing a man to the lower door, regretting his departure, when in truth you rejoice at it. There would, on the other hand, be a great want of necessary ceremony in follow ing the bent of your own inclination, and kicking the man down stairs. There is much unnecessary ceremony practised be tween women who hate each other, who know it, and each of whom know that the other knows it. That they should carry on a system of ceremonious and unnecessa ry small talk of which there :5 no need, while standing in such relations to each oth er, is among the inexplicable in woman's character. There is sometimes "much, too much" ceremony between lovers—and sometimes much too little; and quite as often one ex treme as the other. The most amusing part of the whole business is too see two young fools,who have been sighing a twelve month, or longer, through each other's nos trils; and who consider themselves as good as married, and fly into a passion of tears or of rago at tho mention of the name of an} other he or she in tho same connexion ;—i is the most amusing part of the whole busi• ness, wo say, to see such a couple boggling at mere words—the formal declaration, the formal acceptance, or the set proposals to Pa's and Ma's of both sides of the house.— Yet you shall see your swain afraid to broach the awful question, except by implication ; dropping blind hints, as if it were really a great sin to speak plain ; and you shall see a damsel, who has made up her mind to say yes, and who knows that it is all understood, etitating at the word as if It would burn her lips, and after all, not daring to speak tt,bu accepting a husband by pantomimic gest urea. I Thank heaven all people are not quite so foolish; if they were, there would be no va riety in the world. There are, here and there, men who are not ashamed to say honestly, and in few words,what they mean; and there are, here and there, women who can deal as honestly. When such people meet, short work is made of it; and when one of the sensensible ones of either sex is opposed to a mincing one of the other, he or she can help the trembler over the bridge. When two fools come together, as some times happens, they can only trust to acci dent, to come out of the dilemma, "some how ;" and accident always assists and fa r vors fools, wherever they are. We have been often diverted at a tale of old times in New England—short to be sure, but to the point. It so fell oat • that two young people became very much smitten with each other as young people sometimes do. The young woman's father was rich —the young man was poor but respectable. The father could stand no such union, and resolutely opposed it,& the daughter dare not disobey—that is to say, she dare not diso bey openly. She met "him by moonlight" while she pretended never to seo him—and stio.eined and wtst: . ..(l sp::c of lionsolt:--- [WHOLE NO: 494• She was really in love—a state of "sighs and tears," which women oftener reach in imagination than in reality. Still the fath er remained inexorable. Time passed on, and the rose on Mary's damask cheek passed off. She let no con cealment, like a "worm in th© bud," prey on that daMask cheek, however; but when her lather asked her why she pined she al ways told him. The old gentleman was a widower, and !z)ved his girl dearly. Had it been a widowed mother who had Mary in charge, a woman's pride would never have given way before the importunities of a daughter. Men are . not, however, so stub born in such matters, and when the lather saw that his daughter's heart was really set upon the match, he surprised her one day by breaking out--" Mary, rather than mope to death, thee had better marry as soon as thee chooses, and when thee pleases." Arid then what did Mary? Wait till the birds of the air had told her swain the change, or until her father bad time to alter his mind again? Not a bit of it. She clap ped her neat plain bonnet on her head, walk ed directly into the street, and then, as di rectly to the house of her intended, as the street would carry her. She walked into the house without knocking—for knocking was not then fashionable, and she found the family just sitting down to dinner. Some little commotion was exhibited at so unex pected an apparition as the heiress in the widow's cottage, bnt she heeded it not.-- John looked up inquiringly. She walked directly to him, and took both his hands' its hors. "John," says she, "father said I may have thee." Could she have told him the news in less words ? Was there any occasion for more nErnzsmNa. A late number of the Cincinnati Gazette has the sobjoined paragraph. The g,ener. ous trait of character which it describes— the story which it tells—is so good and so creditable to human nature, that we hope it is true. The paper say : I have read or heard an anecdote of a wealthy northern man, of this import. In visiting his largo estate, he tarried over night with his tenant, that kept a snug country tavern, on a farm of 200 acres of land. Tho tavern keeper owned a beautiful pony, which became an instant desideratum to a little eon of the pro prietor. A proposition to purchase was made, but a sale declined. Soon alter the morning departure the lad came cantering on the pony to his father's carriage, with a note from the owner, requesting the father to permit the boy to receive it, as a present, from one upon whom he had bestowed ma ny unrequited favors. The pony was ac cepted, and from the first stopping place, a complete and fully executed deed of cOnvey nnce for the farm and tavern house ho occu pied, was forwarded to the pony's late master. This was in somewhat of the old en time, when great men rightly understood the true sense of the maxim—"one good turn deserves another." CoNsomprzorb—There is a dread dilease which so•prepares its victim as it wore for death ; which so refines it of its grosser as pect and throws around familiar looks un earthly indications of the coming change-- a dread disease, in which the struggle be• tween the soul and body is so gradual, qui et, and solemn, and the result so sure that day by day, and grain by grain, the mortal part wastes and withers away, ao that the spirit grows light and sanguine with its lightening load, and feeling immortality at hand, deems it but a new term of mortal life —a disease in which death and life are so strangely blended, that death takes the glow and hue of life, and life the gaunt and grisly form of death—a disease which med. icine never cured, wealth warded oil; or poverty could boast exemption from—which sometimes moves in giant strides, and some times at a tardy sluggish pace, but, slow or quick, is over sure and certain. Nicholas Nickleby. r A GADIBLING STORY.—The Louisville Gazette states, that an amusing incident oc-. curred the other day on board a steamboat hound up from New Orleans, between a gentleman and a ruffianly blackleg, who were engaged at a gamo of poker. The betting upon the game ran op to $9,000,. when the gentleman exhibited the four aces. "You certainly hold the strongest cards, but I think here is a document that can take the money," said the blackleg, making a mo tion for the bank-bills with one band, and drawing a Bnwie knife with the other, and pointing to the inscription, 'Hark from the Tombs.' think you are mistaken in your calculations," retorted the gentleman, coolly pocketing the money and displaying a cocked pistol with the inscription, 'A dole ful sound.' The discomfitted had'nt an other word to say. A FACT.—A merchant of this city being applied to for credit by a young man who was a stranger to him, and having seen his advertisements in our paper, called on us to ascertain it he had paid his newspaper bills. We exhibited his account, upon which the credits were as punctual In advance as the• amounts were charged. The merchant went to his store and dispatched, without hesitation, the articles desired, to' the young man's place of business. No other evidence was considered necessary.—Bait. Post. "You're a good book-keeper," as the li brarian said when a person would'ot return a book ho borrowed. If you would make a sober num a drunk• ard, give him a wife that will scold Itimi evory time he comes lion:©.
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