. . . : ,.. ' y ti . • _:,. :I:. .... .!: 1 ;' ? i Z , , '4'l.i , .r l 4 - .gii% ' .., ' & - A , 41E IM ID II ... -. . . . . _ , , .. I .. , .-, .• .4 A ~I E, . N , „ ~ .. . • : : ...g. 4.!. I- • • 1 , 3 .0 2,4 ar.t.7ce•.%)Fq)c. 4%14 Offloe of the Star & Banner CITINTV BUILDEVO, ABOVE THE OFFICE OF ILEOI9TER AND HECOUDEIt. 1. The STAR & R.F.PUBLICAN BANNER it published at T WO DOLLARS per annum (or Vol ims of 52 numbers,) payable half-yearly in a llanee: or TWO DOLLARS & FIFTY CE v PS, if not paid until after the expiration of the .year. IL I,lsubscription will bo received for a short er p •riod th in six rnonths; nor wit" the paper bo d I.mtinued until all arroarages are paid, un lass at the option of the Editor. A failure to notify a discontinuancm will be considered a now en gago'nont and the paper forwarded accordingly. M. Anvearissitsmrsnotexceedingasquare vr II b r inserted Tuner times for $l, and 25 cents for each subsoquent insertion—the number of in a.ntion t., ho inarkel,or they will be published till forbid mid charged accordingly ; longer ones in the same proportion. A reasonnble deduction will b.. male to those who advertise by the year. IV. All hottorsand Conomun;cation addressed to the E liter by moil moat be post-puid,or they will not bo ottended to. uLfio oamaiami,3 k,. w_..4-.....5•L1t:0, 'i-qz;. .!..... t . rA, ~ - ---....,„--, ;,.....; - J,4 0 :,,, ~- , ....,-, ~.. , - ~..... -%. -'"'-. 14. •''.4 A ..q . ... 2 -,==tir •• I , '. ; • • ' ''''''4 . t .' ' . .._. _ .. With sweetest flowersenrich'il From various gardens calla with cure." Tar. GAMBLER'S wzr.n. Bark was th.' night ! Huw dark ! No light ! No fun ! Cold nn the hearth the last faint sparks expire, Shivering ehn witched the erto!le node, For him who pledged her love—last year a bride °Hark ! 'Tis hie footetcp! No, 'tie past, 'tie gone !" Tick—tick ! "now wearily the time crawls on; Why would he Icuve me thus! liv once wan kind, And I believed 'mould laPt. How wad ! How blind ! "Rest thee, my babe—• Teat on. 'Tis hunger's cry! Sleep, fur there id no food ! The fount is dry; Famine and cold their wearying work have done, My heart must break I And thou!" The clock otrikeo ono ! t~Hu Ii !- 'tts thy , •lice box ! Y. be's there, • 1..."4 For this, fur this he loaves ins to despsir! • Lorivea love, leaves truth—, his wife! his love For whnt! The wenton'a smile, the villain and the sot ! °Yet I'll not cum, him. No, 'tie all in yam; 'Tia long to wait, but aura hell come again And I could starve and bless him hut for you My child—his child. 0 fiend!" The cluck strlkoi two "Hurk how the sign board creaks—the winds howl by, Moan! Alonii! A dirge swells through the clou tly sky ! Hs! 'tis his knock ! he come■! he ' i corncs once 'Tis but the lattice flaps. Thy hope is e'er. 44:an he (learnt mo thud lie knows I stay Night after night in loneliness to pray For his return—and, yet ho sees no tear! No, no. It cannot be. Ile will bo here! '.Nestle more dimly, deer ono to my heart ! Thou'rt cold tbou'rt freezing but %Se' will no port. Husband I die! Father it in not ho, O, Clod' protect nay child." The clock strikes . three. They're gone! they're gone! the glimmering spark bath tied ! The wife and child are numbered with the dead, On tho cold hearth, outstretched with solemn The babe lay frozen on its mother's breast, Tho gambler came at lust—but all was o'er. Dread silence reigned around—the clock struck four. ~3~:'J~i7~~L01il~rJQ(3o AFTER Tan HONEY MOON. A TALE WITII A GOOD MEAL TO ALL YOUNG WIVES AND HUSBANDS. Four months had passed away since Ed ward Somerton hid married Rose Bland One summer evening towards sunset, as they sat together at a window opening on Is garden, enjoying the welcome coolness and talking over various matters, with that interest in each other which people ger,er, illy evince lour months after Marriage, Roe, for the first time began to pout.- 11;:e%vard had,' she said, 'flirted shamefully with Mrs. Harding on the preceding even ing. Ho had spoke to her in a low tone several times, and had been hoard publicly to declare that Harding was a fortunate fellow- If this was the way he meant to go 00, she would h i wretched, and no loourerillact• any confidence tti his love.' 'My pretty said Edward, placina his arm around On. waist of his wife, and accompaoy ing this action w i t h fi a,th er Eli performance, 'don't be jealous. !Be lieve me, there is no cause. On one of tho occasions when I addressed Mrs Harlow in so law tt tone, I remarked th at the room was very warm, and on the otber if I remeintwr rightly, I observed that Last new novel ;vus rather .10, so you will perceive our cativorstitio4 w really of the most innocent description. And Rose, be come I said Harding was fortunate, it does not follow that I must endeavor to make him become unfortunate.' This mild answer failed to turn away the wrath of Rose. She consequently re• fused to be convinced, became every instant more perverse, arid finally retired precipi tately from the room, with her hanker chief applied to her eyes. Edward quietly put up his feet on the chair she had left vacant, and leaned back in meditation. . Here was the decisive moment which would most likely determine whether they were to dwell together for future happiness or misery. Rose was a dear girl, but she had black eyes and they are dangerous.— She bad been an only -daughter, too, and perhapS a little spoiled, but with feWer faults might she not have been less charm. ing? It is worth studying how to live lovingly with such a creature, especially when you know that she mars, by her ca priciousneo, the happiness of herself, as well as yours. Edward felt that the charge of hie wife was totally unfounded, and he half suspec ted that she believed so herself, but had resolved to be, or seem out of humor with. out any particular cause. One thing was evident—that she would not hear reason. Something else must therefore be tried, in order to allay any further storm; for this was probably the first of the series. Ed. ward resolved to try music. He was an amateur of some pretensions, and he sat himself immediately to call over in his memory the airs most likely to calm the passion and exert a soot:iing effect on the temper. I-In made choice at THREE, which he arranged in a gradual scale, to be used according to the urgency of the occasion, calm, calmer, and calmest, as the nutbreak was; or become violent, more violent, most violent. The scale only contained three degrees. As the heat rose his conjugal thermometer fell; but b e l ow the thi r d a nd lowest degree all was zero and undefined mystery• Patiencn ac ted the part or mercury reserved. The melodies were in the following or der:—'ln my cottage near a wood,"Sur.. margine d'un rio,' and 'Horne sweet home!' They were all of a gentle touching charac ter, and would under the circumstances, , convey a delicate satire to do good. Ile had hitherto played these popular airs on the German flute; but he propesed now to execute.them in a graceful. apparently en., premeditated whistle;—not such a whistle as may be hr-nrd in the streets proceeding from the lips of vulgar and coarse minded butcher boys, but a superior sort of thing, such as no• gentleman need be ashamed of. In fact, the original, wild production cul tivated and improved as the crab is changed into the pippin. His plan thus settled, Edward felt his mind easy, he awaited the re-appearance of Mrs. Somerton,with a pleasant conscious ness of being ready for whatever might occur. In due time came coffee. The injured lady came too, and wait a placid counten ance, betrayed no lingering evidence of its late unamiable expression. Neither bus. band nor wife made any allusion to their misunderstanding and they passed a de lightful evening, made up of conversation, the piano forte, and chess. But the next morning—the very next morning, Rose favored Edward a number or two of series. She wanted him to walk out with her, and ho declared that unfbrtu nately, he should be too busy to go out all day. This was quite sufficient raw mate riel for a girl of spirit to work upon. 'l'm sure you don't want to go, Edward,' said she, pouting in exact imitation of number one. 'At least you don't want to go with ME.' Edward plunged both hands in the poc kets of his dressing gown—threw himself indolently on a sofa—=gazed abstraotedly on a bronze bust of Shakspeare on the mantle-piece, and began whistling in a low tone a plaintive melody; it was "In my cottage near a wood.' 'lf it were any one but your wife,' con tinued Mrs. Somerton, with pointed empha. els, 'you would be ready enough to come; but the wives are always neglected.' beg, Mr. Somerton,' exclaimed , Mrs. Somerton, with a withering' look, 'that you will not whistle in that very disagreea ble manner whilst Inm speaking. If I am not worthy of your love, I trust I am worthy orcommon attention.' Edward plunged hie hands deeper into his pockets, removed his eyes from the bust of Shakespeare, and fixed .them on a bust of Milton. He paused suddenly in the air he was whistling, and commenced another; it was 'Sur margine d'un rio.' Mrs. Somerton retired hastily, with her pretty face buried in a white cambric I pocket handkerchief. For five whole days after this scene all , was.halcyon weather. Doves might have beheld and envied. Honey was still to be found in the mood, and no impolitic reter ence to eit her of the two quarrels gave any the slightest dash of bitterness. But, on the sixth day alas! there are peered clouds. Edward had been into town, and had promised to bring a pair of; new bracelets for Rose. He arrived home punctually at dinner time, but without the bracelets—he had forgotten them. I put it to you whether this was not enough to try the patience of a saint? They were eoln ;2 - the next evening to a large party, Itt)tri .. Re se had intended to inspect the im Atria ornaments this evening, and take G. W.81.013,111GT0N 33077E11, ZLIDT.TOn 8-. P7.07n1LPT07,,'. as The liberty to know, to utter, and to argue, freely. ie above all other libertiie.”—Mpuron ei.late2lrazavres. a)4a.o wvakelocair. a.rtai3lV:l3 U aa-esa Edward's opinion, so that there might bo time to exchange, them if not approved of. Now she could not do so—and all from this horrid forgetfulness ! She must eith er go in stupid, old fashioned things, or put on new ones in a hurry, good or bad, just as they happened to be. It was an noying—that it was ! Edward made many apologies. He was aincerel) sorry to have disappointod her, and even offered to return to town alter dinner end repair his neglect. Oh, no 1— she would not hear of his taking so much trouble for her. What did he care wheth er she was disappointed or not. His forgetfulness showed how much he thought of her. Edward again essayed her soothing system; for he lovedher, and was conscious that he had given her cause for sonic slight chagrin. However, she became so unreasonable that but ono course was left them to pursue. Ho left off talking and went to whistling. I tremble for the future peace of Rose while 1 relate that he considered himsel justified in descending at once to the second degree of the scale. He commenced andante ma non to oppo "Sur margine d'un rio." '"l'o leave me in such a situation!' ex claimed the ill . used wife, in a voice inter rupted by sobs, 'when 1 have so set my heart on the bracelets! It is very, very unkind, Edward !" Edward appeared wrapped in medita•. tion and music. He whistled with great taste and feeling, accenting the first note of each bar as ►t should be accented. But upon another still More cutting observation from Mrs. Somerton, he stopped short-- looked sternly at her, and began 'Sweet Homo." Heavens I what was to follow? He had reached" the last agree, and id! else was nt random. Shoqld this fad, the case wilt, indeed hopeless. Shadowy demons hover• ed around, holding forth, temritngly, deeds of separation. The bright golden wedding ring on the lady's finger grew dull and brassy. Edward Somerton stood in the centre of the room with his arms folded, gazing with a steady eye into the very soul of his wile, who under the strange fascination could not turn away her head. With a clear untremulous whistle he recited the whole of that beautiful Sicilian melody from the first note to the last. Then revolving slowly on his heel, without saying a word he la, the room, shutting t:x► ilsiOr tlliously after him. Mrs. Somerton sunk overpowered on the sofa. Rose, though pretty, was not silly.— She saw .clearly that she had made a mis take, and like a .sensible girl, she resolved not to goon with it merely because she had begun it. Bad temper it seemed would only serve . to make her, ridiculous instead of interesting; and that was not altogether the effect desired. In half an hour the hus band and wife met at the dinner table.— Mrs. Somerton sat, smilingly, at its head, and was very attentive in elping Mr. Somerton to the choicest Morsels. He was in unusually high spirits, and a more happy small party could scarcely be met with. From that day—which is ten iears ago —to the present time, Mrs. Somerton has never found fault without cause. Once or twice, indeed, she, has gone so far as to look serious about nothing; but the frown left her countenanco at once when Edward begun to whistle, in a low tone, as if un• consciously, the first low bars of 'ln my cottage near a wood.' Monet. Never attempt to quench fire by fire. • EARLY MARRIAGES.—We happened to hear a long argument the other evening upon the policy of ear:y marriages. It is unnecessary to repeat the pro and con—it is unnecessary for us to hear it; because under ordinary circumstances, and in ordinary situations, there can be but one side to the question. As soon as a man's mind is matured enough to make his choice, and at twenty.two or three it is, if ever, he should be ready to be married.— The common arguments against early matches, that the husband cannot be 'worth enough, 4 pecuniarily, is not only a fallacy in itself, but productive of false calcula- tions and hopes on the part of the bride, and of the tendency to produce the very distress it is intended to avort. When one weds now, it is presumed as a natural inference I hat he has the mcoine or the "expectation" which will warrant the couple in extravagance. He may be honest enough to tell his wife to the con trary—and she may have good sense suffi cient to indicate to her what is her proper course in relation to expenses. But the whole round of gossiping acqnaintance aro not so easily put off—and the couple are - thus reluctantly beckoned, persuaded, and driven into fashionable extravagance, upon first setting out. They strive to step at once into competition in style of living and expenses, with people of ":Irtune, and to ape the misnamed hospitalities of those who entertained them in their own state of single blessedness. . . If a couple are so weak-minded as to think they must pursue such a course as thus, it is no matter how late they marry— and better late than never. If they can make up their minds . to a sensible and mo- deride establishment—if they understand their character and have strength of mind to abide by a good rebolution, the earlier they marry the better. The co,t ofalmost any one vice or. folly into which bachelors are betrayed, by lack of employment and a home, the lollies into which they run to supply that place in their hearts and in their time, which a good wife fills so hap pily; the unnecessary bachelor expenses in which they indulge for mere ennui, would more than twice support a flimily. Marriages in the middle ranks are much more happy than those of the extreme poor or the extreme rich. By the middle ranks we mean those s ho have a trade, profession or avocations which insures them a living income,• and an opportunity to make provisions against' the day of re. verse. Such persobs from the great body of our industrious population—the great body of our intelligence, and the 194 in. dependent portion of the community.-- They enjoy the golden mean, and escape the tyrannical dictates of a senseless lash. ion on the one hand, and the pinchings of abject poverty on the other. They can contract marriages when they please, with out any reference to any thing but their own situation, wishes and happiness-, and their union is therefore the most felicitous, and made with the least parade. Bachelorship, especially in cities, is a position of more danger and exposure than men are capable of occupying with safety. The best of us need a monitor and a guide —atter the direct influence of a mother becomes lessened, or the son is removed from it. THE GREATEST MEN WERE MECHAN ICS AND FARMERS. D•VID P•LL DRONVN• Who was it that shed the brightest lustre upon the vast science of astronomy? One David _Rittenhouse, a native of Penn sylvania, who allowed the plough. Who I was it that tore the lightning from Heaven, and the sceptre from' tyrants? One Biinja min Fritnklin, a printer's boy, who protect ed ,Itirriself from the inclemency of the winter by exercise alone, and lived upon a single roll of bread a day.. Who was it when the veteran armies of Great Britain faltered and fled in the Indian war, safely conducted .the retreat, and secured the remnant of the army, though he had "never set squadron in the field, nor of the dive sion of a battle knew no more thnn a spin ster?" One George Washington, a Virgi niagphlteenstte planter. 'Who was it that shed the brightest halo the brightest reign that the world ever knew, the reign of Elizabeth; the age of the Raleiglis, the B=e44,,z,Ziiir.cyn? it was one Bee Johnson, a quondam apprentice to a brick layer, and one Will Shakspeare, a peasant, boy, shrewdly suspected of poaching upon his neighbor's deer. Or passing from astronomy and law, who was it rose from a loiv begining to be Lord Chief Just ice of England? One Charley Abbott, whose father was a barber. Who was it that rose to be Lord High Chancellor of Eng. land? One Jack Copely, whose father was an American painter. Who was it that became the brightest star in the judicial constellation of Great Britain? One Phil. Yorke, whose father no one knew. Although 1 do not mean to say that there never was a great mon among the wealthy, curled darlings of the nation, yet 1 do mean to say, and history sustains the assertion, that luxury and affluence are calculated to enfeeble the mind, and that those, therefore, who are great in despite of them, would probably be much greater if removed from their influence. It is a well known fact among the gentlemen of the turf, that blooded horses, which fo r years have been permitted to browse and cater upon broken, irregular and mountain• nue pastures, have acquired a much greater muscular strength, in sportsman's phraze, better bottom, than those that are fed upon a level surface. The application of this; although a physical illustration, is not diffi• cult. Men, whose lives (have been an uninterrupted course of difficulty, a perfect uphill work, acquire in time a self depen. dence and self sufficiency and promptitude in every emergency, which those who have been accustomed to stand for fame on their forefather's feet, or to lean for all pleasure upon another's breast, never' have known, and never can know. RELIGION.—What is Religion? Not that which, meteor-like, shines fur a brief pe riod and then fades and disappears. Not he who talks most—prays longest—sighs deepest—shims loudest—and reproves with the greatest severity. Not that which deceives in bargains—deals closely with the pour—withholds the just requital of :abor—breeds jealousies—alienates friends —embitters enemies—betrays confidenre —promotes sectarian strife and renders evil for evil. Pure religion and undefiled before God and.the father, is this; to visit the father less and the widows in their affliction, and keep ourselves always unspotted from the world. Pure religion is a vital principle —a fountain of living waters springing up in tho soul, and cleansing it from the pol lution of sin. A radiance shining into the heart, giving it new light, new life, new principles of action, and new mode of ac tion—giving higher aims, brighter hopes, and sweeter joys.. Pure religion teaches us to love our enemies, to pray ftir them, and in all things to render good for evil. It requires us to act on principles of per fect justice. All things whatsoever we would that men should do unto us, it teach es.us, to do• even so unto them. To 'deal jingly, love mercy, and walk humbly before God.--Frugments of Time. TILLAGE. Tis folly in the extreme to till Extensive fidds, and till them ill; The farmer, pleased, may boast aloud, Hie bushels sown, his acres ploughed; And pleased, indulge the cheering hope That time will bring a plenteous crop; Shrewd common sense sits laughing by For when maturing seasons smile, Thin sheaves shall disappoint his toil; Advised, this empty pride expel, Till LITTLE, and that LITTLE WELL. Of taxing, fencing, toil, no more Your ground requires when rich, than poor; And more one fertile acre yields Than the huge breadth of barren fields. NZAT nx Torn vsnms; 'tis long confessed The neatest farm sure is the best. Each bog and marsh, industrious drain, Nor let vile balks deform the plain, No bushes on your headland grow, For briers a sloven's culture show. Neat be your barns, your houses neat, Your doors be clean, your court-yards sweet; No moss the sheltering roof enshroud, Nor wooden panes the windows cloud, No filthy kennels foully flow, Nor weeds with rankling poison grow; But shades expand and fruit trees bloom, And flowering shrubs exhale perfume; With pales your garden circle round, Defend, enrich, and clean the ground; Prize high the pleasing, useful rood, And fill with vegetables good." -.me 0 0vr..... MtoutnAts am:amp:ca.—The) following appears in a Michigan paper: Gentleman of the Jury:—Can you for no instant suppose that my client here, a man who has allers sustained a high depredation in society, a man you all on 3nu suspect ard esteem for his many good qualities: yes, gentlemen. a man what never drinks more nor a quart or likker a day; can you, I say, for an instant, suppose that this ere man would bo guilty of hookin' a box 0! percushum caps? Rattlesnakes and coon skins forbid ! Pieter to yourselves, gen tlemen, a follow last nal:To in his log cabin, with his innocent wife and orphan children by his side—all nature hushed in deep repose, and nought to be heard but the muttering of the silent thunder arid hollering of the bull frogs, then imagine to yourselfa feller sneaking up to the 'door like a despicable hyena, softly entering the dwelling of the peaceable and happy fami ly, and, in the most mendacious and das tardly manner, hooking a whole box of nercushum !—Gentloinen, I will not, I esnnot, dwell upon the monstrosity crouch scene I My feelings turn from such n picter of moral turpentine, like a big wood chuck would turn &Qin my dog Rose ! cannot for an instant harbor the idea that any man in these diggings, much less this ere man, could be guilty of committing an act ofsuch rantankrous and unextrampled discretion, And now, gentlemen; after this ere brief view of the case, let me retreat of you to make up your minds candidly and unparti ally, and give us such a verdict as we might reasonably suspect from such an in. tightened and intolerent body of our feller citizens—remember that in the language of Nimrod, who fell in the battle of Bunker Hill, it is better that ten innocent men should escape, rather than that ono guilty should suffer. Judge give us a chew of tobacco. CADETS AT WEST POINT.--There aro two hundred and twonty•one cadots at West Point Military Academy, whose pa. rents' occupations and conditions in life are as follows: There are 55 cadets whose fathers are farmers; 3 planters, 22 lawyers, 4 judges, 17 merchants, 2 manufacturers, 4 boarditiff house or hutel-keepers, 13 mechanics, 2 contractors, 1 civil engineer, 1 ediior of newspaper, 3 clergymen, 12 physicians, 1 professor, 1 landed proprietor, 1 broker, 7 civil officers of general • and state gtive, mente, S officers of the army, 3 ofli,:ers of the navy, 1 mastor of a vessel, 1 clerk, 5 no particular occupation, 4 wboso occupa• lion haspot been stated, 25 both of whose parents O re dead, 20 who have lost their fathers. , Total 221. Of these two hundred and twenty-one cadets, the parents of twenty are in indi gent or reduced circumstsnces; done hurl• dred and seventy five, the parents are in moderate circumstances, alive the parents are in affluent circumstances; and the nun& tionot the parents of twenty-one is unknown. It will be perceived from the above state ment, that no-member of Congress, end no high functionary of either the general or state governments, has a son at West Point and that independently of those whose fathers reugt be supposed to be men of lit tle influence, there aro fifty one who are fatherless. Trte HINDOO GIRL. --The following interesting fact was stated in a recent lec ture by Mr. liierponi:, "At the present day, the uneducated [Endo° girl, by the use o f her hands simply, could surpass in delicacy and fineness of texture, the production of the most perfect machinery, in the manufacture of cotton and muslin cloths.' In England, cotton had been spun so fine that it would require a thread offour hundred and ninety miles in length to weigh ttiound—but :he flindoo girl had, by her' hands, constructed a thread, which would requite to be extended one thousand miles to weigh a pound; and the DaeCtile muslins, of her manufacture, when spread on the ground and eovnied with dew; were no longer visible." uPatvatal a ED N Dr.covernr.—We have a letter b !fore us in the London Anthenmurn,which descrthcs a new and extraordinary discove ry just made in Prussia, by Which printed works ninny kind can he copied with per fect accuracy, and copies multiplied with nn further expense than the cost of paper arid press work. 'she plan is kept a pro• (blind secret by the inventor; but he has de monstrated its efficacy by cop). Mg two oa. , es of the London AC.ertxum,.which so closely resemble the nrigrnnl tie.;( o be scarcely distinguishable from them. By. the procels, it would appear that old manu scripts can be accurately transferred, illnmitiated_ctopies of ancient hooks mitre tcd, books of ail kinds reprinted in numbers, with a facility and corrcetness that almost exceeds belief." A Wzer POISONED DY FIER IILABAND.--- A late lumber of the Missouri-Jeffersonian furnishes the following particulars oca most atrocious crime perpetrated in that city.-- Mrs. Burr, the wife of Mr. Desdimus B. Burr, a blacksmith, died on Tuesday even ing, after an illness of some days. Prima rations were made for her burial; but . cau ses of suspicion that she had been poisoned by her hu4band having come to light, her body was opened, and dreadful to relate, a considerable portion ,of pounded glass was found in her stomach. Burr was immedi ately arrested, and examined befor p Justi ces Kerr and Harrison, and we lbrbear remaking furthur than that evidence wag obtained for his full conviction. Tun Er.oreatexT.—We are happy to learn, from authentic vonrces, that Captain Windham Schinle►•, who was recently clandestinely married, with the. co opera tion of u on of the mistress Of a fashion able boarding school at New Brialiton, to MissCro,than, the niece of Colonel Crog hail and General Jesup of the airriy, will be defeated in his principal obj ,, cl. We are informed that for ten years to come the present Mrs. Shirley c;in have no cun:rul over the large estates devised in her by her grandfither, the lute General O'Hara, ut l'ittshurg, but isentilled by hie will to an allowance of oily one thousand dollars per annum; and further, that rho consent of her father to her marriage is necessary btfore the property vests . in the young lady at all. We shall be extremely happy if other individeals implicated by rumor in this lamentable affair clear them selves from the charge of connivance or participation in procet dings which has ex • cited so general a teeling of indignatiort in this corzonunity.—/ Y Cour. The New York Tribune has seen it sta ted that Gov. Thomas of Maryland, and his wife, have separated from each other forever. Jealousy on his penis said to be the cause. The Couiier's Correspondent says it.is entirely grouhdless. AN AccEssroN.—The M thodi•t Clair( h in Sciota Valley, below Columbus, has received en accession o(1100 naetobers in a few weeks. It 14 ewirnatPd that the first "Boz" Ball a New York, cost in all about $60,0015. CHANGE OF BEAUTY -"HMV on earth did you happen to ba eo ugly." asked a hereon of a very remarkable !milting friend of 'lig. ugly:" wils the reply. "It isn't 1 that am utify. I was born beautiful: but my nurse swapped me when 1 was a little baby, fir the child of a friend of hare, whose mother did'ut fancy litin_.over hand- some." liv is a'toper Me a bull? B 6/u9 , : he ekes his horns wherever he goes. The hest lip salve in creation, is a sweet kiss. The remedy should be used with great care, however, as it is apt to bring on an afeetioa of the heart. Did men govern thernsolvea as they ought, the world would be well dieciplined. MAtnrmomAr. LorrEitir.—At Sama rang, the e' coed town in the Island olJava, there exists a species of matrimonial lot- terry which gives rise to many singular speculations. Orphan children, rich as well as poor, are all brought up in a pub lic establishment. The most profound si lence as to the fortunes Billie children' 1.1 enjoined to every person employed ..in or aLout the institution. These fortunes are placed under the management of .persons at Batavia, on whom a iinilar injunction of secrecy is imposed. The fenisle.orph,ans eve kept in the establishment until mar riage. Every man possessing an , annual income of 730 & t ins, or two florins a .day, is at liberty to choose a wile from amnigot them, but the amount of her fortune, is not made known. to him iill several days . after the marriage. it servant of the. military hospital at Saararong lately sdeeted one of these damsels with a !whine of , 85,000 fliOlus. Since hie good hick, applica- Lion for wives trots) the asylum have become very urgent; for a: report has got abroad that there is a marriageable .girl still left, mlio mill bring with bur a prize of 200,- 000 norms. GOOD ADVICE.—Be content as lons as your mouth ip foil and your body warm; remember the poor, kw' tho .pretty don't rob emir neighboeti hen rmot, never pick an editor's pocket, or !Intik that he -11 'going trr tteat--kick thin care to the, d--I, h l, l-k sour out, b do
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