BY DAVID OYER.
An Englishman in America,
HIS OPINION OF WAR BETWEEN ENGLAND
AND TU£ UNITED STATES.
The following article appears in the
London Shipping and Mercantile Gazette:
SIR : I have now made tiie tour of the
States of North America, and think it prob
able I can give your readers some useful
information. I landed at New York city
ten mouths ago, and have spent my time in
smdyuig the character and eustoms of those
people, ami must confess that if I remained
ten years the result would be the same; and
1 know very little about them. But upon
one point —national pride—men, women and
children are all alike, and the idea of au v
nation of Europe, or the whole of them put
together, conquering this country is per
fcciiy absurd to them. Every body reads
the pupers, and a good-humored urchin of
twelve years used to rate me soundly at
Philadelphia for our failures at Sebastopol.
The best version of American sympathy
was given me a few days siuce. When the
war commenced the Turks were the weaker
power, and our sympathies wore with her-
After the alliance it was three against one,
aud our sympathies went for Russia , but
should Frauce join Russia to morrow against
England, our government could not prevent
jts citizens from not only sympathizing with
England, but assisting her with material aid.
This I heard from a very intelligent man,
who I do not think suspected my nationality;
and 1 firmly believe it. In the South I spent
s .,uie time upon the plantations, aud many
times held long conversation with the slaves,
and always with the same result. They are
much better satisfied than I suspected, and
when 1 spoke of the probability of a war, 1
alas eusworcd that 'white folks wouldn't
Jet nigga fight." "But," said I, 'the black 8
frofii the West Indies wili come here and
help you to gain your freedom." "What!
black soger come here; let 'em cum, den,
luussa lej's fight de nigga, I know, and Gar
Almighty we give 'em gush!" If not ex
pressed in the saiue language the same feeling
was ever expressed.
I have visited aii their national armories,
and although the country is at peace, the
greatest activity prevails; all the oldaruisare
condemned and by next rpriug uearly 1,500,-
000 Miuie, rifles will be ready for distribu
tion, besides Colt's Clark's and others. A
Mr. Alger, at Boston is now engaged on a
new* kiud of gun for the uavy. The range,
with solid shot, is nearly five miles; with
shell, somewhat shorter, and the explosion
of the s'aei', renders conflagration certain to
a great distance. These are ealiod, by those
at work on them, the seeretgun. But what
the secret is 1 could not ascertain. Since
the war rumors I have been ob.-ervatn of all
and every thing that could give rue a clue
to the feeling of the people. This is not
pifficult to come at, for the feeling is general
aua their confidence is so great in their own
strength that the most dffiient speak only of
the consequences and the result. In com
pany with a party of merchants, most of
whom were engaged in trade with England'
1 broached the war subject, aud was aston
ished to find them so indifferent about the
circumstances. One of them, largely in
terested in the clipper ship, in answer to
a remark of mine, that he would have to
lay up his clippers—"Not a bit of it," said
he, "they will make capital privateers; the
govcrnmenr wil' furnish guns of long range
no British man-of-war catch them except
a steamer, and they cannot in a good breeze,
so we must take chances." ''But where
wiil yoa get your men?" "Where! W 0
have 84,000 enrolled fishermen who will
flood our sea-ports, and I will tell you can
didly that less than six months after war is
declared lUcie will be 500 of the fastest
vessels in the world afloat as privateers, and
ar, English meichantman will not be able
to show herself at sea. What if we lose a
iew, wa will make it up in the end. Two
steamer# were launched a few days since,
.each about 4,000 <ons, built in eight months,
and it is just as easy to build 60 in the
same time or less." "But your ooasts are
not defended. Iteweuiber you have no
jisebustoptd nor Cronataih." "Nor do wo
want any. We have a fow very pretty forts,
( lut should any nation attempt an invasion,
be will meet them with hands and hearts
equal to any, superior to most j aud wc can
concentrate 500.000 men at any point on
our coast ip a few days. Let the alarm be
sounded at this moment, and in a few hours
near 50,000 men will make their appearance
armed and equipped." This sounds like
bragging, but it is a faot. This city (Now
York) has near that number enrolled and
equipped, every man keeps bis rifio at
borne or in the private armory of the com
pany to which bo bolongs, and I find it the
aame throughout the country. I have fre
quently mot with boya 12 and 14 with guo
aud game-bags, starting at early dawn for
here they can shoot gqjue wherever found.
A Weekly Paper, Devoted to Literature, Politic?-;, the Arts, Sciences, Agriculture, &c., &c—rTerms: Two Dollars per annum.
War is argued against by every body as
something to be avoided, bet the idea of
backing out to avoid it does not appear to
enter the wind of anybody. Some of the
papers speak of the President's message
disparagingly, but the people are with him,
and 1 candidly believe he would be elected
if the election came off to day. At)d I
regret I cannot defend my country at this
time as I would wish. The Bulwer-Clayton
treaty is plain and explicit, and these peo
ple don't and won't understand doule mean
ings in treaties. They say the man with
the white hat does not refer to the individ
ual in the white cap, and iny Lord John
Russel acknowledges the American inter
pretation. There are thousands of men
hero that the Americans would bo glad to
get clear of, but that does not justify
England in breakiug their laws by enlisting
them; and my Lord Palmerston's in
structions were something like telling a
man to stab his neighbor but not to hurt
hiin.
If the treatv (Clayton and Bulwer) is ad"
bered to, we bare the States pledged never
to occupy it, (Central America,) for, say
what we will, tbey will stick to the treaty
and it will never be annexed; abrogate it>
and in less than ton years it will be one of
the States of the Uuion. The Canadians
a re a very royal set and think they could
take possession of the States at a moment's
warning. Tbey have caught the habit of
bragging from their neighbors without liar,
ing the wherewith to brag on. A trip up
the lakes is the most convincing proof we
can have of the difference in the two people.
In the American are well-finished cities and
towns, saw mills, railroads running in every
direction—in fact, you seldom lose sight of
the locomotive—and there are innumerable
steamers at every landiog. On the Cana
dian, where there arc settlements, yon see
the well-kept, comfortable dwellings, the
smooth-sheared lawn, and every thing wears
an air of comfort; but little or no business
with the exception of the great railroad.—
However they are rapidly improving; but
should there be war, the largest and best
portions of Canada are lost to us. Quebec
Halifax, and other points would bother the in.
But to sum up iny own observations after
every opportauity that one man could have
afforded him, the result would be as follows:
Mexico, Cuba, and the whole of Central
America would be annexed in the South and
I have little doubt of Canada, in the North;
millions of treasure and thousands of valua
ble lives lost to England for ever; our
commerce crippled in every sea, and some
fighting that will gladden the hearts of our
tried soldiery.
Now, what can we gain? A foot of ter
ritory? We den't want it: and if we did'
six feet for the majority of our brave fel
lows, I fear, would be the extent. Naval
or military glory wo don't want, and as fo r
the sand beech of ths Mosquito king it is a
decided humbug. What wculd be the re
sult to this country? It would put her back
in prosperity for half a century; it would
ruin tbousouds who are now in affluence, but
would enrich thousands who are now poor>
But the great advantage tbe Americans have
is that they can produce and manufacture
every thing they want,; the different climate
affords this. They would get accustomed
to their own good- and discard ours for
evt*r. But the greatest injury to all parties
and I may say to the world whould be th e
making of this nation of 25,000,000 a
warlike people, and, once instilled with tbe
love of war, the propagandists of Europe
would have a fearful ally. The last year's
crop of wheat is officially given at 170,000,-
000 of bushels, and every thing else in pro
portion, so that we cannot *tarve them out•
and, from my own observation, I would
rather see England contending with the
whole of Europe than against this country,
lam no croaker, nor have I any doubt of
l he power and wealth of my beloved coun
try, and, if need be could again handle a
musket for her honor and glory; but the
day that war is declared between these two
mighty rivals a contest will be commenced
that will bring more horrors iD its train than
the world ever yet witnessed.
There is another item which I am like to
forget. Many of tuy countrymen place
great dependance on the abolitionists, or
friends of freedom in this country; but I
assure you their greatest protection here is
their insignificance They flourish as long
as thought harmless, but the slightest sus
picion of their collusion with a forcgu foe
and they would be annhilatcd; in fact, 1
have proved to my entire satisfaction that
those terrible and exciting questions are on
ly intended for poll*seal effect; but attach
any importance to them affecting the inter
ests of the country, and they are gone. Yon
would, no doubt,be astonished to hear that
many children of foreigner*, and, in fact )
foreigner* themselves, are know-nothings,
started to prescribe them; but such is tbs
fact. I have extended my remarks further
than I intended, but they have one desira
ble feature—that is, truth. Should tbey
prove acceptable, 1 may again intrude on
you.
I remain, yours,
JAMES B. WARREN.
Buffalo, New York, Jan. 12, 1355.
From House/told Words.
Tlie Legend of Argl*.
One of the most curious and pathetic le
gends of Wallachia tells of the foundation
of the great metropolitan chureh of Argis.
In the middle of the fifteenth century,
the Prince of Niagoe, warring against the
Turks, was on the eve of fighting a great
battle, aud went to the hermitage of a Di
ons anchorite, before whom he made a vox
that if victorious, he would build on that
very spot the most splendid temple that cer
sought the rays of the sun. Consequently
it is supposed that, his victory was com
plete. The ottomans were dispersed; and
he t had nothing to do but accomplish his
promise. Princes are usually faithful in
these kiud of undertakings. Niiigoe had
much wealth at Lis command, and kuew of
an able architect named Manoli. To him
he entrusted the task of constructing the
temple—bidding Litn collect the best Greek,
Arab, and Byzantine workmen. That sol
itary region was accordingly soou peopled
with strangers. The forests began to retire,
the flanks of the mountains were torn open;
and the bears that locked in while passing
down the long glades on the ruins became
convinced that their occupation in that part
of the worid was gone forever.
j Manoli set about Lis task with enthusi
| asm. There were day gangs and night
gangs, so that the walls rose as if by magic.
Already the topmost pinnacle began to
appear to the distant traveler over the sur
! rounding trees, when suddenly the edifice
sunk into the ground, and spread upon it
in ruin. Manoli attributes this disaster to
some defect in bis plan, or to the too great
baste with which it was carried out; and
began again with more caution Hut no
soonei had the building reached its former
elevathn, than down it came again. Not
one stone remained upon auother. Manoli
had confidence in his own talent, and tvas
therefore convinced that some invisible
power was determined to cross his purposes.
He would have been inclined to give up the
work altogether; but Niagoe had become
furious. As usual in building enterprises,
the expense of the first construction ex
ceeded the estimate by at least half. To
effect the second, the prince was obliged to
sell the diamonds of his wife. His vow
was costing him dear, but be dared not break
it. The simpler course was to swear by bis
beard that Manoli should be decapitated,
and all the workmeu hanged if the church
was not fiuisbed by a giveu time.
Under these circumstances, Manoli went
to consult the aged anchorite who had wit.
nessed Prince Niagoe's vow, and asked him
what was to be done. "Build again," was
the reply, "and when the last stone is about
to be laid, come to roe, by that time 1 may
have found an expedient." Manoli accord
ingly, for the third time brought the church
near completion. Then he paused and wont
to the anchorite, who received him with a
glare of horror such as be had never seen
before, hurriedly interrupted bis pious salu
tation, and said in a strange unearthly
voice, "Watch to-morrow from the pinnacle
and the first woman thou beholdest ap
proaching from the easr, cause her to be
taken, when she reaches the place of work,
with whatever she may have in her arms,
and walled up within one of the pillars of
the churoh. Thus only will success crown
thy efforts."
Manoli was a humane man, and his heart
shrank within him on hearing this order.—
But his own life and that of many others
was at stake, and he went away from the
cell, sadly determined to obey what be con
ceived to be a divine command. Ho was
awakened next morning by the singing of
his workmen, and climbed up immediately
to the appointed piace; when, shading hta
eyea from the low sun with his hand, he
auxionsly looked forth. Some time passed
and no female form appeared. At length a
alight figure was Been approaching down the
grade, in the midst of a slight rniat kindled
into gold by tbe still slanting rays of the
sun. Manoli was about to rejoice, when
suddenly be recognized in bis devoted vic
tim, bis young wife Uca—bis wife of two
summers, only, tbe mother of tbe boy
whose smiles and even wh<ec cries gladden
ed his heart when he drew near borne. lie
knelt down and prayed with streaming eyes
that something might present itself to turn
back her steps. He had scarcely conclud
ed when a huge dog rushed out from a thick
et, overturned the basket of provisions
which Uca was bringing to ber husband,
and forced ber to go back and prepare a
new meal.
BEDFORD, PA., FRIDAY. MAY 9, 1356.
Manoli rejoiced, and continued to look
towards the silent end wotiouless east.—
Suddenly the form of a woman again ap
peared. He strained his eyes beneath bis
broad, bard haod, leaning forward so that
he nearly toppled over, aud, to bis dismay,
saw that it was Uca again The good
housewife had returned Lome, replenished
her basket, and was now not walking, but
running, lest her husband should suffer
from the delay. Manoli resorted to prayer
once more although he believed it was al
most impious thus to strive with fate.—
This time a gaunt wolf stalked forth from
beneath the trees, and Uca again fled back
toward her dwelling.
Manoli returned thanks in a passion of
joy, and remained the whole day etill look
ing anxiously out. The sun had gone
down beneath a long black horizon behind
him: the trees had melted into dim shadow;
the course of the stream could no longer
be traced; the flocks on the hill sides faded
fiorn sight, though their monotonous Heat
ing and the shouts of shepherds could still
be heard. Manoli began to believe that
the church was never destined to be finisb
ed, aud tcsolved to share tn its destruction.
Suddeulj, near at baud, quite among the
workmen, bo beheld the indomitable Uca,
with a third basket of provisions on one
arm, and her babe upon the other. She
looked around for her husband, ager to ex.
plain the cause of her delay, and justify
herself. He was soon in her presence.—
Lookiug on, by the workman's torches,
which were already lighted, she w<*idered
at the solemnity of his aspect. He did not
shed many tears, for be believed be was
obeying the thrice expressed will of heav
en. He kissed his wife tenderly, putting
aside the hands of the little child which en
deavored to clasp his neck—for how could
he have resisted that caress?—and then, in
a loud husky voice, ordered the two victims
to be enclosed in the centre pillar of the
great aisle. They wondered and marrnur
cd, but they obeyed: and the shrieks of do*
spair that thrilled at first through U® dark
ness were soon drowned in the noise of
hammers and chisels, and pick-axes. Ma
noli looked sternly on until the pale fate of
his wife had disappeared, and he then went
apart, aud throwing himself on thegroond,
spent the night in despair which no conso.
iation came to visit.
Shortly afterwards the church was finish
ed, and all the country around came to
shower praises on the architect. Bui some
sav c-nvy and some say injured affections was
on the watch. The most probable story is
that the father of Ilea, a master workman,
silently excited the workmen against Ma
noli. One day he had ascended to the
highest tower, to see that all was right;
they drew away the ladder, and cailed to
him tauntingly to come down if ho could.
The unhappy man shrieked aloud and tried
to justify himself.
He had obeyed the orders of Heaven,
given the anchorite of the cell. They re
plied that the anchorite had diedtbe day be
fore his last visit, and that he had been de
luded by a fiend in human form. Ilis de"
spair became overwhelming. But love of
life is strong. He was a great mechanician
and endeavored, they say,to fabricate a pair
of wings, by whioh he could fly dowu from
the immense height. He dared not to im
plore the succor of HeavcD, and he leaped
with mad courage. Down he came. The
wings shattered by the first shook, beat use
lessly around him during the terrible dive.
He was seen to descend like an arrow, and
they say that the earth opened like water to
receive him, and closed again over hi* head.
The legend asserts that ever since, at the
hour of midnight, a plaintive woman's voice
is always heard murmuring through the
ohurcb. imploring Manoli to release her snd
her child.
SEVEN DEADLY SINS.
1. Refusing to take a newspaper.
2. Taking a newspaper and refusing to
pay for it.
3. Not advertising.
4. Getting married without sending any
of the wedding oake.
5. Making the printing office a loafing
place.
6. Reading the manuscript in the com
positor's hand.
7. Sending abusive letters to the edi
tor.
For the first and second offences no abso
lution can be granted. The fourth is un
pardonable. The fifth is death by the la-
For the balance, dispensation can be receiv
ed by especial agreement.
A judge in New York, finding the par
ties in a suit disputing abont the trifling sum
of two dollars, paid it himself and told the
olerk to call the next case.
Let the wittiest thing be said in society,
there is sure to be some fool present, who>
for the life of him, cannot 'see it,'
The Runaway Match.
A great many years since, when bright
eyed and fair haired lasses were not so plen
ty in New England as tbey now are, there
dwelt iu the town of P ,a pretty vil
liage, distant then, some five aud twenty
miles from Mardet town, a peculiarly come
ly and graceful maideD, who had a peculiar
ugly and cross-grained but wealthy old
father.
Minnie was Dauforth's only child, and
report said truly that she would be his sole
legatee. The old man was a sturdy
and was estimated to be worth full teu thou
sand dollars; at that period a very hand
some fortune, indeed.
The sparkling eyes and winning manner
of Minnie Danforth had stirred up the finer
feelings of the whole male portion of the
village, and her suitors were numerous, but
her father was particular, and none suc
ceeded in making headway with hiin or
her.
Iu the meantime, Minnie bad a true and
loyal lover in secret! Who would have
supposed for one momeut that such a fel
low would dare to look upon beauty and
conipatative refinement ? Ilis name was
Walker, or, as he was generally called,
"Joe," —Joe Walker; and be was simply a
farmer, employed by old Danforth. who had
intrusted Joe with tho management of his
largo place two or three years.
But a very excellent farmer and a right
good manager, was this plain and unassum
iog but good looking Joe Walker. He
was young too, only twenty three; and he
actually fell in love with the beautiful,
pleasant, joyous Minnie Danforth, his em
ployer's only daughter. But the strangest
part of the occurrence was that Minnie re
turned his love earnestly, truly and frankly,
and promised to wed him at the favorable
moment.
Things want on merrily for a time, but
old Danforth discovered certain glances,
and atteniions between tlieui which excited
his"early suspicions. Very soon afterwards
Joe learned the old man's mind, indirectly,
in regard to the future disposal of Minnie's
hand, and he quickly saw that his case was
a hopeless one. unless he resorted to strata
gem, and so he put his wits at once to
work.
By agreement an apparently settled
coldnes" and distance was observed by the
lovers towards each other, and the father
saw (as he believed) with satisfaction that
his previous suspicion and fears had all been
premature. Theu by agreement also be
tween them, Joe absented himself from the
house at evening, nd night after night for
full three months longer, did Joe disappear
as soon as bis work was finished, to return
home only at late bed time. This was some
thing unusual, and old Dauforth determined
to know the cause of it.
Joe frankly confessed that be was in love
wish a mans daughter, who resided less than
three miles distant, but after a faithful at
tachment between them for several months
the old man had utterly refused to enter"
taia his application for the youDg girl's
hand.
This was capital. Just what tho old man
desired. This satisfied him that he had
made a mistake in regard to his own child;
and he would have Joe get married, and
to stop all farther trouble or suspicion at
once. So he said:
'Well, Joe, is 6he a buxom lass?'
'Yes—yes,' said Joe. 'l'm not much of
a judge myself.'
•And you like her?"
'Yes, sir, yes.'
'Then marry her?' said Danfoith.
♦But I can't, tho father objects."
'Pooh! what should you care? Bun away
with her?'
'Elope?'
•Yes, certainly: off with you at cnce. If
the gal will join, all right. Marry her,
bring her here; you shall have the little
cottage at the foot of the lane. I'll furnish
it for you; your wages shall be raised, and
the old man may like it or not.'
♦But—'
•But no bts Joe. Do as I bid you, go
about it at once, and—'
'You will stand by me?'
♦Yes, to the last. I know you, Joe;
you're a good workman, and will make au>
body a good Bon or a husband.'
'The old fellow will be so mad though.'
•Who cares, I say. Go quickly, but
quietly.'
'To morrow night, then,' said Joe.
♦Yes,' said Danforth.
•I'll hire Culver's horaes—'
'No you shan't.'
•No. 1 '
'I say no. Take ray horse, the best one,
young Morgan, he'll take you off in fine
style in the new phseton.'
♦Exactly.'
, 'And so soon as you an spliced, come
right back here, aud a jolly time we'll have
of it at the old house.*
'Her father will kill me.'
'Bah! he's an old fool, whoever he is; he
don't know your qualities, Joe, so well as 1
do, don't be afraid: faint heart, you know,
never won a fair woman.'
'The old mm will be astouished.'
•Nevermind, go on; we'll turn the laugh
on bim. I'll take care of you and your
wife at any rate.'
'l'll do it,' said Joe.
'You shall,' said Danforth, and they par
ted in the best of spirits.
An hour after dark, cn the following
eveDiDg, Joe made his appearance, decked
in a nice new black suit really looking very
comely. The old man bustled out to the
barn with bim, helping to harness young
Morgan to the new phaeton, and leading the
spunky animal himself into the road,
away went Joe Walker in search of his
bride.
A few rods distant from the house be
(ound her as per previous engagement, and
repairing to the neit village, the parson
very soon made them one iu holy wedlock.—
Joe took bis bride, and soon dashed back
to the town of P , and halted at old
Dauforth's house, who was already.looking
for him, and who received him with open
arms.
'ls it done?' cried the old man
'Yes !' answered Joe.
'Bring her in, bring her in,' continued
the old fellow, in a high glee,'never tnind
compliments, no matter about the dark en
try; here Joe. to the light in the best par
lor; we'll have a good time now, sure!' and
the anxious farmer rushed away for lights
returning almost immediately.
'Here's the certificate, sir,' said Joe.
'Yes, yes—'
'Ana this is my wife,' he added as he
passed up his beautiful bride—the bewitch
ing and loving Minnie Danforth?
4 \V hat, roared the old file; what did you
say, Joe—you villain, you scamp, you au
dacious cheat, you, you—'
'lt is the truth, sir, wo are lawfully mar
ried. You advised me to this course,you
assisted nie in this course, you planned th?
whole affair, you leut me your horse, you
thought me last night worthy of any man's
child, you encouraged rue, you promised to
stand by me, you offered me the cottage at
the foot of the hill, you—'
'I didn't. I deny it. You can't prove
it; you're a—a—a —'
'Calmly now, sir,' said Joe. And the
entreaties of the happy couple were at once
united to quell the old man's ire, and to
persuade him to acknowledge the union.
The father relented at last. It was a
job of his own manufacture, and he saw
how useles sit would bo fiuallv to attempt
spoil it.
He gave in reluctantly, and the fair
Minnie Danforth was overjoyed to be duly
acknowledged ai Mrs. Joe Walker.
The marriage proved a joyful one, and
the original assertion of Danforth proved
truthful in every respect. The cunning
lover was a good son and a faithful husband
and lived many a year to enjoy the happi
ness which followed upon his runaway
match, while the old man never cared to
hear much about the details of the elope
ment, tor he saw how completely ho had
overshot the mark.
Persoual Appearance of John
Hancock.
One who seen Hancock iu June, 1782,
relates that he had the appearance of ad
vanced age. He bad been repeatedly and
severely afflicted with gout, probably owing
iu part to the custom of drinking punch—
a common practice in high circles in those
days. As recollected at this time, Han
cock was nearly six feet in high and of thin
person, stooping a little, and apparently
enfeebled by deseace. Ilis manners were
very gracious, of the old style, a dignified
compliance. His face had been very hand
some. Dress was adapted quite as much
to the ornamental as useful. Geutle wore
wigs when abroad, and commonly caps when
at hope. At this time about noon, Han
cock was dressed in a red velvet cap: with
in which was one of fine linen. The latter
The latter was turned up over the lower
edge of the velvet one, twe or three inches,
lie wore a blue deinask gown, lined with
silk, a white satin embroidered waistcoat,
black satin small cloths, white stockings
and red morocco slippers.
It was a general practise in genteel fam
ilies to have a tankard of punch made in
the moruing and placed in a cooler when
the season required it. At this visit, Han
cock took from the cooler standing on the
hearth a full tankard, and. drank first him
self and then offered it to those present—
His equipage was splendid, and such as is
not customary at this day. His apparel
was sumptuously embroidered with £old,
silver, laoe and o?her decorations fasbiona-
VOL. -29, AO 19
ble among men of furtnne in that peiiod—
and lie rode, especially on public occasions,
with six beautiful bay horses, attended in
livery. He wore a scarlet coat, with ruf
fles on his sleeves, which soon became the
prevailing fashion; and it Is related Dr.
Nathan Iseques, the famous predestrian of
West Newbury, that be passed all the way
from that place to Boston in cne dav to
procure cloth for a coat like that of John
Hancock, and retarood with it under h
arm, on foot.
Dr. Lydia Sayer on Heary Petti
coats.
Dr. Lydia Sayer is a fine, dashing girl,
tresb as her own Orange county butter, and
as beautiful as the scenery of her own
Orange county home. But fresh and fair
though she is not a speaking ornameut to
a lecture-room. With a less masculine am
bition, she might adorn the kitchen, the
parlor, and the bedside, and enhance the
beauty and respectability of an audience of
which she formed a part; but with aspira.
tions which are uct couielv in woman, and
a boldness incompatible with refined sensi
bility, she neutralizes the good she is formed
for doing, by aiming at what she is not fit
ted to accomplish. A costrucfion of senten
ces iu accordance with the rules laid down
by Lindly Murray, and correct pronuncia
tion. absolutely necessary to the success of
any lecturer who presumes to improve and
refine the tastes of the public. Lydia, with
all her beauty is lamentably deficient in
both. Her amhitioD o'crleaps Lmdlev, and
uer affectionate nature centres with all jt s
power upon the last syllable of all the words
sbo uses. There are many words worthy
of esteem,but to place one's affections upon
a monosyllable, and that alwavs the last,
i 3 unworthy of a teinale. Lydia might
easily find an object more deserving of her
highest regard.
When speaking she seems possessed of
the idea that, however much sentences may
vary in length, they mast all be finished
within the same number of seconds. Her
endeavor to carry this strange notion into
effect offends *he eat of her audience, and
forces her to a flippancy which attains its
object en washing days cnlv. Her objec
tions to "fashion morally sod pbysiolically
considered," are precisely tLe same as have
obtained ij all ages, and as are prcaohed by
toe devotees of fashion to-day. Kvery bo-iy
knows and bekves that heuvy-quiited petti
coats, fastened as they usualiv re, and
corsets laced as is the custom, are injurious
If Lydia would have a change for the bet
ter, let her no longer waste her time in the
preparation of maudlin lecturers, but retire
from the forum to the back parlor, and
there, with scissors and needle, fashion gar
ments which shall bo becoming, convenient
and healthful.
It sne succeeds in making such garments
attractive, sue will have accomplished more
that is good than all the strong minded wo
man who exhibit themselves where men on
ly should stand, will ever attain.—.V*. V.
Ttmts.
A GOOD EXCUSE. —A Juror's name wae
called by the clerk. The man advanced to
the judge's desk and said:
'•Judge, I should like to be excused."
"It is impossible," said the judge dec'"
dediy.
"But, judge, if yon knew my reasons."
"Well sir, what are they?"
"W by, tho fact is"—and the man paus
ed.
"Well sir, prooeed," oontinued the
judge.
" Well judge, if I must say it, I've got
the itch!"
The judge, who was a Tery sober man,,
solemnly and impressively exclaimed "Clerk
saatch that man out!"
"I say, boy, whose horse is that your're
riding?"
"Why, it's daddy's."
"Who is your daddy?"
"Don't yer know? Why, Uncle Peter
Jones."
"So you're ttie son of your uncle?"
"Why, yes, calculate I am. Yon see
dad got to be a widower, and married moth
er's sister, and now he's my uncle?"
The scarcity ot'barrels is accounted for by
the fact that the ladies have monopolized
the hoops.
•Have you ever broken a horse'' inquired
a horse jockey. -No, not exactly,' replied
Simmons, but I have broken three or four
wagons.'
tt7""What'a the reason you've the wrong
side of your stocking turned out?" aaid Ja
to Pat the other day.
"The raison—tho raiaon is It?** eaidPat
it's bekase there's a bole t'othor aide uv
it."