. o . . • . 5 ,. . ~ . • . ....-•—• ~..4 tillS ). 1 / 4 ,__ tra & ! m . .. m . • ~... „ ._ ..... ... _ , , accala a . .. . . . le ~ . ... _ - - 1 ".i4 . 1 -'PA:-.; , . .. .. r ..,. ..11 AL 0 . . . . . . . zir3.24--xpu. SQL Office of the Star & Banner COUNTY BUILDING, ABOVE THE OFFICE OF Tim. REGISTER AND RECORDER. 1. The Se.►n & RgeUULICATi B•nNnu is published at TWO DOLLARS per annum (or Volume of 52 numbers,) payable half-yearly in advance: or TWO DOLLARS & FIFTY CENTS, if not paid until after the expiration of the year. 11. No subscription will be received for a short er period than six menthe; nor will the paper be discontinued until all arrearages are paid, un less at thooption of the Editor. A failure to notify ' a discontinuance will bo considered a new en gagement and the paper forwarded' accordingly. 111. ADWERTIOSSIVITB not exceeding a square will ho inserted Timex times for sl,' and 25 cents for each subsequent insertion—the number of in sertion to be rnarked,or they willbe published till I forbid and charged accordingly; longer ones in the same proportion. A reasonable deduction will bu made to those who advertise by the year. IV. All Lettersand Communications addressed to the Editor by mail must be post-paid, or they will not be attended to. TUE GARLAND. '''' - • k.i •. ' e. 4 4 .., : ,.....-.01110 N : 3 .. .t.ii" . 3. , : , .. ' it. ...• / ~. 4 §, 55:%;.' - 'co . - 2 - . ..:., ~..- • . , • . 20 4 ''eaMilli, ~ ' ' ' —"With sweetest flowers enrich'd • From various gardens cull'd with care." 41 31 Y BICAUTIFUL i MY OWN PP My gentle girl! my loved—my awn Whate'er in life betide— To me come weal or wo, the fates I'll mock at and deride; I would not care, at me were all I Their abate of malice thrown, king as thee, - dear gitlJ tall "Mr BEAUTIFUL! YE OVV21!" There may be maidens, love,.on earth More fair than even thou; And noble dames, of loftier birth Than thine, there are, I trow;— But yet, my own dear girl ! above The queen upon the throne I prise, and thy gentle love— "Mr BiAUTIPUL !ILIC OWI There may bo those of higher state And riches than are thine; It might be thought thy wealth were great, That greater far were mine; But who could richer treasure end; More priceless gem. hi shown, Than thine the jewels of the mind ! I.Mir es•crirl?L! OWN!" There may those more deeply Than thou in musty lore; There may be heade e'en better filled With useful learning's store, Yet learned enough for ma thou art; Nor learning hest alone, But a warm and true and gushing heart, "Mr HBALITIVICL ! 111W3!" There may be, those by others deemed Mora beautiful than thou; But none to me have ever 'gamed So worthy Love's pure vow; Though many a form, with beauty warm Awl 'liveliest face I've known, Yet none to ma, but thou can'at be BEAUTIFUL ! NIT OWN !" TO DANDIES. Ye mincing, squinting,smoked face pretty things Witilecorsets laced as tight as fiddle string., Choked as a toad, and sup!. as a cat, About this wist Dsharp, this pale D flat, Ye cringing, super•serviceable slaves, Ye self complacent, brainless, heartless knaves, Ye lizard looking apes, with cat fish gills, Ye scoundrels, go and pay your Tailor's Bills. M11C30MU.+16131a17111(30 From the Philadelphia Saturday Courier. TEE ORDEAL; Oa, vas TRIUMPII Or NATURAL Arramos. . "I shall certainly never forgive him; on that •1 am determined," said Mrs. Wattling. ham, as she folded up a letter she had just received from her only son. • "Of course not, my dear friend," said her companion. (a young lady ofdemure as pect, and of that age which. Byron has pronounced to be of all ages, the most un• certain) "a due regard to your own char . eater for consistency. and your 'duty to so• ciety, alike demand that you should not suf for so flagrant an instance of disobedience to pass unpunished." • • liAnd yet 'Rebecca, he is my only child, and•it is hard to resolve never to nee him twain." may be hard, , but it is, neverthelesti, your dutg and I ant sure you will not shrink from periermiug it. Filial 'disobo diance is a crinie of the darkest die, and one which should be frowned upon by all respectable people." "But in Ilitnry's case, there are so many extenuating eircumstaires; you know this match was planned by his poor father, and 'at ahhough, I had never seen the y oung lady; I did not oppnie till I . became ac. .quainted with you, my love—and felt how much it would .tdd to roy ; pitopiness to have you become my daughter." "And to increase fief:oll(;9J wield have overcome iny:repu L than ce to mtirrinJe . ,. though heaven knows the qucrifiCe *would have been , a most painfill one." "I appreciate your rtff.ction, my. dear Rebecca; and it maims my son's - conduct, in refusingto give up a childish engage far my sake, apreur the . more inex cusable. No, lam determined I will nev er see either him or the foolish girl he has made his wile," and Mrs. Walsingham, without another glance, consigned to the flames the letter which had given rise to the above conversation. Henry Waleingbaui was the only son of a gentleman of high respectability, and of considerable talent. Mr. Walsingham had been bred to the bar, but having married a wealthy Southern heiress, he had aban doned his profesaion,•and retired to a beau. liful estate he possessed in the neighborhood of Richmond. It was, however, the first wish of his heart that his only son should become a distinguished lawyer, and accor dingly, after completiug his collegiate stu dies, Henry was placed with a professional gentleman—an early friend of his father. Mr. Longford was a widower, with an only daughter, whose beauty and amiability soon attracted the regards of her father's pupil. An uninterupted intercourse of several years, produced a strong mutual attachment, whiCh was encouraged by both fathers—and a day was already appointed i for the marriage of the young couple, when their happiness wee interrupted by the cud. den death of Mr. Walsingham. Henry arrived at hem only in time to receive his father's last blessing, and his marriage being ofcourse, postponed, he ac companied his mother on a visit 'to her relatives in Charleston. Hero he left her, and returned to his professional pursuits, and to the society of his affianced bride. When Mrs. Walsingham, after an ab. sauce of several months 'returned to her home, she was accompanied by' a young lady, a distant relative, who had contrived to render heiself so usefill and agreeable, that the lone widow found it impossible to part with her. Weak and vain, Mrs. Walsingham was an easy dupe to any one who would be at the pains to flatter' her, raid Rebecca Thornton soon acqnired an unlimited influence over her mind. This influence she endeavored to tura to the moat profitable account; and not satisfied with securing to herself a comfortable home with her, 'she uspired to be the wife of her son. With this view, she redoubled her attentions, and while she seemed to desire only the happiness of her frierfd, she led her, by imperceptible degree; to the Very point she wished. It became the earnest desire of Mrs. Walsingham to break off the projected marriage of her son, and to promote his union with her protegee. This, however, she found it imposible to accomplish. Thu idea of marrying a woman fully tun years his senior, seemed to Henry so absurd that at fiat, he could not believe his mother was in serious in proposing it. When at last convinced that she was in earnest, be firmly but respectfully refused to comply with her wishes with regard to Miss Thornton, or even to break his • engagement with Rose Longford. Aware of the weakness of his mother's ' character, and attributing her present con duct to what he trusted would be the short lived influence of her companion, Henry. did not apprise either Mr. Longford or Rose of Mrs. Walsingham's wishes, and his mar. doge with the latter took place within a year after the death of his father. Soon after this event he wrote to his mother of fering her a visit, and begged that she would not attribute his conduct to any want of respect or affection for herself. This letter would have softened his parent's heart had it not been fur the baleful influence of Miss Thornton; who, in addition to the mercenary and selfish motives which had originally prompted her conduct, was now animated by a malignant desire Jo be revenged on Him who had scorned her al. liance. By this time she had acquired sues. an ascendency over the weak mind of Mrs. Walsingham, that the latter was actually afraid to act without consulting her wishes, and obtaining her approval. Henry 'was accordingly forbidden to enter his parental mansion, and the mother and son ceased to have the slightest intercouse with each other. in a lofty bed charr.ber, surrounded by all the appliances of wealth and luxury, lay Mrs. Walsingham, attended by a female slave, and apparently suffering undor severe illness. A slight noise was heard at the door, and the physician entered the apart ment. He advanced to the bedside, felt the pulse of the patient, and after conver sing for a short time in a low voice, with the attendant, he left the room, and descend. ed to the parlor. Here he found Miss Thornton, whose pale and agitated counte nance indicated the anxiety of her mind. "Weihdoctor," said she, how' do you find my poor friend?" “Very ill, ma'am; and unless she be bet ter cared for, and my directions more strictly observed, I cannot answer for the result." "But, docter, Ind do not think her disende contagious, do youi"- - "I fear_ it is, ma'am." Miss Thornton's pale cheek assumed a still more livid bite, and her voice trem bled us she requested the physibiart to as sist her in piocuring a conveyance to the neighboring town. The doctor fixed on her a look of surprise, not unmixed with horror, es he replied, • . "Why, ma'am, yob surely would not think of leaving your friend in this mina tion, to the care olinentalsr "A h, my dear sir, sell preservation, you knoo, is our firseduty. Besides, 1 havo other friends, and I owe it to them to take care of my health." • •• " "I thought, madam, I had hoard you say to 3Jra. Walsingham, that you had no•fiiind G. WA.C.MINGTON 280W.1311, EV4TOM, & 15.7.0pnamTop,. 44 The liberty to knoso, to utter, and to argue, freely, is above all other liberties.oP—MmTom ,22 fl• tlqr a 213 tbc' aocithe WriPL662.2lQa/r 0 giaLoquweeat ea. a 04140 in the world but her. However, I have no right to interfere with yonsr , arrange• ments, except so for as I deem it my duty to tell you that the life of my patient depends on the strict observance of my directions," and the doctor quitted the room, leaving Miss Thornton to manage her departure from the infected mansion, as she best could. Dr. Bland was'sitting alone in his office on the evening of the day he had visited Mrs. Walsingham; meditating on her situ ation, and endeavoring to devise some means of procuring that attendance which he knew to be necessary for the preserva tion of her life. lie was an old friend of the Walsingham family, and his feelings wore much interested in behalf of the deso. late woman, who in the midst of affluence, was left without a friend to minister to her 'necessities. It was imoossible to procure a nurse; for the fever by which Mrs. Wal singham had been attacked, had spread throagh the neighborhood, and created universal consternation. The good physician was ruminating over all these discouraging circumstances, when the sound of carriage wheels arrested his attention. They stopped at his own door, and lie hastened to receive his visitors.— These consisted of a lady and gentleman, the latter of -whom was apparently well known to the worthy doctor, for he shook him heartily by the hand. After half an hour of private conversation, the gentleman departed, leaving his female companion under the charge of Dr. Bland. When the worthy physician paid his final visit for that day atiValsinghem grove, he was accompanied by n young female, whom he introduced to the domestics as a nurse who had come to take care of their mis tress. He found Mrs. Walsingham much worse, indeed, in a state which forbade the indulgence ot hope. Having, however, es tablished the new nurse by the bedside of his patient, and giving particular directions respecting her treatment, the doctor return led to his other patients, satisfied that let matters result as they might, his duty had been performed. The night was dark and stormy, and the little light which was admited - into the sick chamber, served only to make its gloom apparent. The patient tossed rest lessly to and fro, and it was with difficulty that the young nurse could adminiiter the restoratives which had been proscribed. Her soothing voice, however, seemed to have some infinence with the sick woman, I and towards morning her restlessness abet. ed, and she sunk into a perturbed slumber, 1 from which she did nut awake till the dec. tor came to pay , his morning' visit- He found her symptoms rather better than on the preceding evening, but she was still extremely ill, and entirely bereft of reason. I For more than a week she continued in this state, and during this time her devoted nurse hardly left her bedside, and all the sleep she'obtained, was taken in a large arm chair, which had been placed in the room for her accommodation. On the eve ning of the seventh day, the fever subsid ed, and Mrs. Walsingham awoke from a long sleep, weak and exhausted indeed, but perfectly free from "Rebecca," she said, in a feeble voice, "are you here? why, who is this?" she ad ded, as the sweet, low tone of her new at tendant replied to her question. ' I ani your nurse, and for the present you must submit to my attendance." • "But where is Rebecca? she must be ill, or she would be here." She is not ill, and you will see her when you are better; but, dear madam, I must not let you exhaust yourself by talking," and the feeble invalid, wearied even by the :!?-ht exertion she had already made, pas. sively submitted to remain iv C 72 n soon sunk again into a refreshing slumber.— When she again awoke, it was very evi. dent that a favourable change had taken place, and the doctor, who called soon ter, pronounced that a few more days of careful nursing would place her out of dan ger. Her recovery, however, though cer tain, was vety slow, and weeks elapsed be fore she was able to leave her bed. During all this time, the attention of her nurse was unremitting, and the invalid grew so accus tomed to her sweet voice, and tender min istrations, that she could not bear , her out of her sight. She still continued le inquire for Miss Thornton, but the doctor, who was desirous of sparing her any agitation, continued to evade her questions. At length she was able to sit up, and, support. Had by the arm of her xoung nurse, to reach the sofa of the dressing room, which adjoin ed her apartment. is very stranger," sbe maid, as she sat there one day, "that I do not. see Rebecca. She must be ill, and you conceal it from tire. '' "No, my dear madam." said Dr. Bland, to whom this observation was addressed, "she is not ill, but she has left the neigh. bourhood." "Left the neighbourhood, and whilst I was ill; impossible ! You .are deceiving me, doctor. My poor friend has fallen a victim to , her attachment to me." "I am not deceiving you .madam," ans wered the physician,,hluntly. Miss Thorn ton !ell the house as soon as she learned that your disease was contagious. It is to this lady alone," he added, taking`the hand of the lair young nurse, "that you are in debted, under God, for your recovery." • "To this lady!" echoed Mrs. Walsing ham, in astonishment, "and who is she, and how shall I requite her? "By loving me, my dear ma d am; by giv ing me apiece in your affections." "That you already have,my young friend; feel for you all the affection of a mother And you will stay with me and be to me a daughter." "Oh, how gladly would Ido se, but I I cannot leave my husband and my child!" "Have you a husbaild and a child, and left them both to come to me, to incur the risk oldisense and death? W hat ie the meaning of this—who are you?" exclaimed Mrs. Walsingham, looking wildly into ,the face of her attendant. "I am the wife of your son," answered Rose sinking on her knees, "will you not forgive me? will you not restore my hug band to his place in his mother's heart?" Unable to speak, Mrs. Walsingham 'could only motion her daughter•in.law to rise, and clasping her to her 'breast, she sobbed out, "My daughter, my beloved child." A burst of tears relieved her op• pressed heart, and she was soon able to listen to the explanation which the doctor, whose benevolent spirit was rejoiced at this scene, was ready to give. "But why has not Henry been here?" said Mrs. Walsingham, as th 3 doctor con eluded; "surely he has not ceased to regard his mother, little as she may have deserved his affection." LOh, no," answered Rose, "do not wrong him by such a suspicion; but our child de manded his care. We could not incur the risk of leaving him an orphan, and before I loft my husband I obtained from him a promise that he would not venture within the reach of contagion, but would remain to watch over and protect our boy. I pro. raised him," she added, "that I would win , him back his mother's 'heart." "And you shall keep your promise, my sweet child; at least you shall give him ab much of it as you choose to part with, for I have given It entirely up to you," said Mrs. Walsingham,-as she embraced her now found daughter. In a few days, Dr. Blend's permission being obtained, Mrs. %Valsingliani accom ponied her daughter on her, return home, and from that time she resided, with her children, finding in their society , and in that other lovely grandchild, as much of happi• nese as in This sublunary state it is permit ted us to enjoy. Rebecca Thornton re turned to thiobscurity from which she•had been raised by her benefactress, mortified by the failure of her ambitious schemes. and by being compelled to return to her former associates, in the state of single blessedness from which she had en ardent- ly desiire•d to ernergo. SJ i e rondo one e 1 fort to regain her place in the esteem of her former • rstroness, by writing her e Idng letter, in which she attributed her having left her during her illness, entirely to a conviction that it was her duty to pre serve her own health, though in doing so she had chine the utmost violence to her feedings, which would have impelled her to remain to watch over her beloved friend Rendered wise by suffering, Mrs. We!Bing ham was not to be imposed upon by this shallow sophistry, but in replying to Miss Thornton's letter, after complimenting her on the ease with which she sacrificed feel ings which most persons (bend it difficult to, control, inflirmed her that for the future her own views ofduty would induce her to bestow her afTection upon hPr children, and that, happily in thitcasa, her feeliegs and sense ofpropriety were not in conflict. PHILOSOPHERS STONE:—The eccentric John Randolph, in one of his erratic speech. es in the Senate of die United States, ex claimed. "Mr. President, I have discover ed the Philosopher's Stone. It consists in these four plain English monosyllables; Pay as you go!" There is much instruction contained in these few words, lied they would afford ac appropriate text too A P "Pay as you go." \I-low much individual distress might be avoided by the strict ob servance of this maxim; but tew of us alas! do observe it. It is too much the practice to pay when you can, not to "pay as you go;" noti hence the many troubles which harrass and perplex us in our pilgrimage through life. If every man was governed by the maxim 'pay as you go,' there would he no cry of hard, times—there would be no dodging of sherifis and constables, or shun. sing creditors. There would be no necessity. for banks, which, according _to the doctrines oldie loco focos, eat up the aubetanee of the poor and make them the slaves of the rich. True democratic liberty would be restored, and every man would be , tree as the air he breathes; judges, lawyers, sheriffs and sheriff's officers would have to seek other employments—they would no longer fatten upon the imprudence or misfortunes of their fellows, "Pay as you go," and many of the crimes,which disgrace humanity, and bring , affliction upon families, would be banished from our fair land- Rut above all the publishers of newspapers, who have been great sufferers by the neglect of subscribers to observe this golden rule, would be great ly benefitted. Its observance would infuse into them new life and vigor; and inspire them with new energies to enlighten the public 'mind and keep the people from following the delusions of loco focnism.— Such we are Aire would ba its infigence upon W. CONSUMPTION OF COFFRE .—Fifty years ago, coffee was hardly known as an article of commerce in South America. Now Brazil alone'produces the eocinmons quanti ty of 135,000,000 of pounds, or nearly one half of what annually finds its way into for eign markets, from all quartqrs.. of ihe globe. AnsrACTIONISTs.—TIiie is. a term that has been much used of late, and refers to a set otmen whose views upon many ques tions, which should be ,regarded only in a plain, business like way, are of a very sub limated and impracticable kind. There are men in Congress who belong to this class of persOns, and the soil of. Virginia and the South generally are Said to, he more prolific of them, than any other quarters of the country. Not only the utter useless ness of these characters, but also the dis advantage and injury they are, to whatever political party they may belong, have been strikingly shown by recent proceedings in Congress. The following admirable re marks upon the, subject of Abstractions, are taken from the Richmond Whig, and will afford some insight into the characteristics of these individuals: As to Abstractions—we like an Abstrac tion as well as any man living—but it should be in season. Take it of* leisure after noon or a holyday--and nothing can sur pass it. It is delicious. It thrills the mental sensorium—it sharpens the wit and subializee the intellect. -But thrust it forth into the rough and bustling avenues of business and every day life, and it is as much nut of place, ,ais Mr. Je ff erson said Gen. Jackson Would be in the Presidential Chair: It. has no congeniality, no adapta• tion for the work-a•day concerns of life— it shrinks from them like the sensit:ve plant from a rude touch• Its sphere is seclusion arid quiet—in the closet' of the Dreamer, or along the sequestered, velvet walks of the Poet. Some politicians, who have made them. solves ridiculous in the public eye, by over much refining—and others—selfish and un principled---'-who, under the sliield•of affect ed purism, have never scrupled to perpe. trate any political atrocit, wich en might redound to their aggran y dizen h st—have sought to confound Principles and Abstrac tions. There are no two things so nearly allied, more distinct in their nature and attributes—unless it be a horee-chesnut and a chesnikt-horse. An Abstraction is a disembodied Princi. pie. A Principle is vital, active, pro-crea• rive, and always leads to results--Utter sterility is of the very essence of an Ab straction—when it loses this distinetive tontine, it ceasee to be itself, Universal equality in an Abstraction—The greatest good to the greatest number is a Principle. If you were to put the Government into the hands ora set of pure Abstractionists, they would (es the saying. is) "run it into the ground" in less than a fortnight, or prove recreant to their professions. Each one would have his own abstraction—and all would concur, only in one thing—in repu diating every thing practical. . If , they could not ,cornpase the extremity of good, they would take nothing—deeming aught Ann of the greatest good tantamount to the greatest evil. They are a rare genera. tion—and tie there is . no procreativity about them, they must die out before king. An. other crop may arm at some distant day by spontaneous parturition, or, like the arm. ed men of Cadmus, from Dragon's teeth.— But the probability-le, that the . proaent ago will adatain but littlo more detriment from INCIDENTS CONNECTED WITH TN' Ds. STRIICTION OF THE not were, SS may be supposed, not a few Providential eqcapes from the danger which befel even the survivors of the dreadful destruetion of the Erie. A gentleman from the' East was on his way to the boat in company with three others, when he accidentally met a friend with whom he had some burliness to trans. act. His baggage had gone on, and be very reluctantly nauseated to recall it, end remain for the next boat. This cirdum stance, so ;;;;;;;;: at the time, may have saved his lite. • Another gentleman, who with his wife took the packet at Rochester, hearing, when he reached Lock Port, that the Erie was to leave in the afternoon, left the pack et, and took the cars, with the hops of reaching Buffalo in season• Ho just reach ed the city in limo to see the Erie shove out into the Lake! We learn that a gentleman and lady from this city went on board the Erie to return home; but upon learning the name of the boat, the lady refused to remain on board, as several accidents bad before hap- pened her.. Their baggage was, conga • quently, removed, and their Wes saved. Two gentlemen from Essex coucty were at the boat when she was ready kostart,but by some fortunate blunder, their baggage was not gent down from their hotel. They were obliged to stay back, much to their annoyance, at the time, but to their great joy since.—Detroit Ado. 1 . Scarcely any catastrophe, se extensively fatal as that of the Erie, can occur, without leaving for record instances of remarkable escape. One with , reference to the Lex ington now occurs to us. A friend of ours, a merchant, started from this city with a neighbor of his, upot, tame business expedi- tion to the East. The steamboat to Naw York Ina detained a- few minutes. longer than usual; and the Lexington, lying a , short distance, WB4 on _the point or dem , ture. Our friend seized his *rink, and 'urnped into a carriage, with a view ot out etrippiog his friend. The latter took it carpet bag, and ran across the whervesOind When our friend arrived, and jumped Own his carriage, the Lexington had shovel:la, His friend spoke a farewell to ,him over _the side-:-It was his last adieu. Our friend went into the hotel in a bad humor enough. v94.ztozat (hylo,a tiaso But when he ishrned the late of the'..,itaat' end of his fnrhicr 'campanile, he w it( es mach shocked as were the peosttngers the Lexington when the'firsi cry of the lire was raised.— U. S. Gni.' ' ' A RIVER o FIRR.—II can nn tenger be doubted that the Alabamirma are :soak ing up, as it will appear, by tbe fullOsVing article, that they have seccoidei io .setting their principal river on fire: Tux TONRIORER Fax, While Mr. J. - M. Cooper was' prosecuting the removal of McGrew's Sbcials,, after boring to tho depth of pa feet, his auger auddenly dropped and entirely disappeared. In the space of corns revere! momenta a deep hallow sound was heard, resembling the rumbling noise of distant thunder from the chasm beleiv, and at the stun instan t gushed forth from the shaft thus' made a clear, transparent, oleaginous substance or liquid, which boils up'very similar the effervescence of a boiling pot; which owing to the sluggishneas of the current, has gradually diffused itself over the whole sur face of the river. A quantity has been col lected, and upon imPlication . of fire, it is fbund to burn equal - to the - present sperm oil. To gratify curiosity and . mike further tests, fire has been applied to the oil on'thrt s water, and the whale surface. of the river is now binning, emitting' a flame of the most beautiful appearance, about II inches high, and has already extended about half way down to Fort Stodslart; the reflectien of which upon the horiztit steight,preseotai a most sublime spectaele„ ? ' far surpassing in grandeur and beauty efappearano• the its tors byttalts.—/Nobite .Tatirna/. .14 'HYDROPHOBIA. OR'CANINR The'Buffalo Commercial'publishes the aub• joined "notices given in the newayapere of the 29 ofJune, 1841, by the Committee of . Selobrity, in Paris:" 'lat. 'Any pervon I bitten by a mad dog or any other should immediately press with _the'.; two fiands.all around the wound, so as ttk'makst the blood run freely and extricate the'-ala ver. 2d. Wash the wound with a mixture of alkali and water, lemon.juice, lye, eoap, salt water, nrine, or even pure water. • During the time of pressing and washing the wound, warn . ) a piece ot iron in the fire and apply it deeply to the said wound Mind that the said piece of iron ,is , `only heated so as to be able to cauterize---theit ii must not be red hot.. Thieve precautions being well observed, are - auffiCient to pre. serve from the horritteffeits ,of hydrepho but. and everyone ahoutd keep them in their mind. laughter loving editor of the N. E.' Review, seye that on a trip to klebanm, he stayed All Right atone oldie hotels ` near the river.— He went to bed, but was loop awakened by an army of beg bugs, who, made a fierce and. simultaneous attack upon ,him, "front, dank and rear!" - Coward like, he fled to the middle of the'Rom., and (limited a blan ket and a pillow, andbivouacked •there for the remainder ri of the night. Here .they ihareed en him again, and routed him corn. pletely. He roared lustily for Beniface,- and begged him to send up a pint °imolai. sec This was deno—when his quillship proceeded very deliberately to draw cir cle on the floor, With the molassee, about ten feet in diameter: tiller shaking him ielfon the ciutside of the magic ring, he ventured within it, and slept quietly till morning! This is probably:the tavern at Which a traveller on'retiring to rest in the evening, discovered a bed-bug in the corner of the fireplace picking his- teeth with a poker. Ingenious, that's certain. But the bed bugs must have been "stupid.. they had half as' much gumption as some we have heard of, they would ,have climbed up the ^.^ l l and when fairly over head upon the ceiling, "let go." In such case, kee would have found it convenient to "stand: from, under," notwithstanding his molasses rampart. A ItAVICNOIIN Arwitsz.--The Baltimore Clipper states that "about dusk en Tuesday evening, a very , large sew seized upon small boy, about 8 years old, the son of Mr. Timothy Donovan, living at the corner of' Forrest and Douglass streets, who was eating a piece of water melon, and dragged the child into the street, bruising it severe. ly; a colored man rescued the child, but immediately the attack ,was- renewed by the sow, who was again and agaiit_beaten off by the bystanders, until the father °fate child was obliged to kill the saw before , tbe. child could be finally rescued. Several of the persons present laid hold of the sow,and it was with the greatest difficulty she could be held until she was stabbed with a knife and killed on the spot." • . A TEIIfrEIIAINTOR Inretne:er..—The New Bedford Register entree that, a few days since,.a dealer, in ardent -spirits.having ,re• solved on relinquishing. the business, but being poor and unable, to- bear the !moor hie stock on hand, was waited on by a de. potation, of the ifiehinginu nene.e BOriety,whe offered to take all hie hilanr• off hie halide. , they were realm& ad from bitittiop. 01 , 4 pl a ced in , the -ittreßit and it 12 'o'clock, _the .bnur aptaiipted. II iltlYnter:ot perorate essamtiled.-add the Vice Prosideni of, the r Sactelv t . " ne .! es. marks eiiiiropriiiiji to the ocipoidn. PrP°!tra nd'.Wilh &ice id,‘ rid• ' • 1 4 01- foot' Cells — containtrtir ihn li 4 /M4 7 :' ling of rum, brindy. gin. and wine, Wail tt, wae suffered to flow into the &Utter. • ,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers