BY DAVID OVER. AX EIOAXST MAX. ! care not if a ranu has wealth, bikeCrmsus. famed of old ; I'ii - wealth ni land, the wealth ©l'ships, (.!' !v-.or of gold ; rnongii fortune claims hirn for her own, Success attend cacti plan ; i! 's nt ihe noiilest work of God, ['ideas—i.n honest ttiau. 1 ire not if a man is wise, Like Solomon of old; (it i! for wit, or eloquence, Or learning, he's extolled '; [teach . a ugh he should know all nu-u could Shier first this world began. [it 's -lot the noblest work of God, I'nles.s—an honest tnan. 1 cape not if to suffering poor A man bis aid extends, And gives the homeless and oppressed The warmest truest friends. And though, degraded, he may strive To raise them all he can. He's not tho noblest work of (rod L"nless—an honest man. I A man may gain his worldly wealth (iainct laws of man and God; A viilriu may seek learning's store To hear mankind applaud; \ man of crime, tor pardon's sake, May do what good ho can; No one can IK* the noblest work I nless—an honest man. ' *he who gives each than his due, U'i.iitH) past claims will slight, h : .'.way acts in everything, \ conscience says is right, Who tr--,-its each one with whom he deals As fitiriy as he CA.\; (1.- ii the noblest work of God—- i- an honest uian. oi;i aitLsmaOi). in n. l). I-KK.VTICK. "f is sad—ye: • —to listen. I'o the soft wind's gentle swell, And thin!; we hear the music Our childhood knew so well ; To g .ze out < the even, Ami the boundless fields of air, And lit l again our boyhood wish a * ronlc like angola there ! There are many dreams of gladness That eliiig around the past-- And 'r "in tie: tooth of feeling Old though ■- come thronging last - The forms We ioved so dearly, lit 'he happy <1 ivs now gone. Tin- beautiful and lovely, So fair to look cpon. Those bright and lovely maidens \V ho s cm- i so (armed lor bliss, Too glorious and heavenly For such a world as this! Whose oft dark eyes see nei swim rning in as .of liquid light, A '1 rhouc locks of gold were s.ri-itnirig ON r '..rows so sunny bright. WiiL.se oniies were like the sunshine i hi rhe spiingtime of the year— -1" t: changeful (fiance of April T!io> followed ever; tear! 'fl.ey l ave passed—like hope—sway— All tl.ci. livci uss has tied — und us l> blooming but to die ! K inted n't heir jor §IOO,OOO. —The fol lowing curious advertisement appears in the New ( Means P iriyunc of a late date. W anted, by a person who has one huii ■ icj thousand dollars and no Ljeir, to adopt troin birth, a child. It must be of Ameri can parents, and from otie hour to ten days 1 ;d, sex immaterial.-—Any person having u child they wish to dispose of, can thus i cube it a good bom • and a fortune; or ••• i\ lady about to bed-ate a mother and iliug to part *i:b her child, can have a tepcctaKlo physician to attend her and no 'ffstion.* asked or answered. Applications burst be made in ten 'lays. Address 4, A,' througu the Post Office, or the Picayune Office I i". I r'.t? of Leather. —The value of boots and sh"os manufactured in Marsaebu setts daring the year 1515 is estimated at thirty -nine thousand nine hundred and twenty three dollars. r At Mobile they had ripe applet) on Una of Mav, A Aee...y Paper, Devoted to Literature, Polities, the Arts, Sciences, Agriculture, &c., ftc —Terras:' Two Dollars per annum. THE DACOTAH'S CAPTIVE. A Tale of the lowa Lead Mines. Br BEX PERLEY POOItK. W liile the Spanish colonists ravaged the southern portion of North America in quest of gold, aDtl the English planted the germs of self-government on tho eastern coast, the French were hut the agents of home mer chants, who enjoyed a monopoly of the vari ous traffics, and were sustained in the en joyment of it by the strong arm of milita ry power. To the trading association in particular, we owe the discovery of the Mis sissippi, by the sou of one of the members —the intrepid La Salle. In his day lead was first discovered within the present lim its of the State of lowa, but the noted Ju lien Dubuque was the first who taught the Indians to collect the ore, and make an ar ticle of trade of it. lie was net only a brave, but a crafty man, and after bis death the savages, in compliance with his dying wish, deposited his remains upon the sum mit of a high cliff overlooking the "Father of Waters," securing the mouth of the mausoleum with a massive leaden door of a ton weight. They then burned bis dwel lings and erased every trace of civilized life around bis settlements, except the or chards planted by his owu hands. Vandal whites afterwards cut up the door to sell, but the name of Dubuque will ever be re membered in lowa. Years passed awav. The white flag of France no longer waved over tho Mississip pi valley, and the bold frontiers man, ad vancing on the foremost wave of civiliza tion, crossed the river in quest of the lead ore, game aud fertile soil. One of the first settlements thus established, was form ed by a party from Kentucky, led by the grandsire of the younger generation—old Joe Bates, a noble specimen of a frontiers man. Seventy winters had whitened his long lock?, but he was still haie and hear ty, able to wield ao axo with any of bis sons, or !o draw a bead on a rifle with fliat fatal accuracy of aim which had enabled him to render good service at the haitlo of New Orleans. Sqjceting a good locality on the very shore of the Mississippi, old J'>e and bis sons built a log cabin, surrounded by a stockade to keep off the 'Dacotahs.— They then surrounded a clearing with a worm fence, deadened the standing trees by the fatal axe circle, and planted corn. — AY hen their corn was well above ground and free from weds, they began to pros pect for lead ore. Titus far they had seen no Indians, and began to flatter themselves that tho red skins hud left tlie country to their pea'ceful possession, but the wily savages had kept a constant watch upon their movements. — Perhaps, had they confined themselves to agricultural labors, the intruders might have gone unmolested, especially as the Dacotahs wished to conciliate the United States government into a profitable treaty, but when pick axes were wielded in search of lead ore, the destruction of the pale l'sces was resolved upon in council. The first object of savage .vengeance was the oldest sun. Frank Bates, who had built him a cabin about five hundred yards front head quarters, despite the warnings of old Joe. Frank, however, had no fear of Indi ans, and lived with his wife and their babe in great happiness, until ouc summer's niglJ when he was awakened by the loud barking of dogs. Springing frotn bis bed, he look ed through an opening in the logs, and saw to his horror, at least fifty Dacotahs, in full war costume, evidently seeking the ea siest way to force an entrance into the cab in. Arousing his wife, be raised a ee'tlar trap door, and wa3 about to send her down, when the child she had left in the bed be gan to cry. I 'I cannot leave un hale,' said she. 'Nav,' he exclaimed, 1 1 will take care of the boy,' and almost forcing her down into the small cellar, he closed the unhinged j dor, over which he drew a large chest.— ! Then seizing his rifle and hatchet, he took | the infant and ascended to the loft-of the cabin, pulling up the ladder after liitn. A ! moment more, and the door was forced from its hinges, and the iJacotahs entered, eager i for their prey. But Bates did not remain to wateh their movements, for lashing his j boy to his shouLder, he cautiously opened a i shutter iu the gable of the loft, and seeing 'that no Indians were beneath, jumped to the ground, rifle in hand. Ere he had travers n d bis little garden, the air resounded with the blood chilling tones of the war whoop, and a volley of arrows rained around the fugitive. Happily only one struck hirn, and that iu the fleshy part of the arm, so that he kept on, straining ' every nerve to reach the stockade around ; his father's cabin. But ere he had gone i many paces a gigantic Indian overtook him. 7 uruiug, like a stag at Lay, he faced his antagonist, knocked him down with the hntt of his rifle, and then sped on his way. Hut now, to his horror, he saw a large body of the Dacotahs arouud his father's dwelling as he approached, firing over on to the roofs of the cabins with arrows to which burning tow was attached. lie paused, but the cries of lis boy aroused him to a sense of bis own danger and bis wife's perilous situation. Direct ing his steps towards the river, where he found his 'dug-out' safely moored, he soon was paddling across the river to a settle ment where there vrere a large number of whites. Day had scarcely dawned on the succeed ing morning, before twentj' miners, good men and true, were ready to accompany him across the river. Tbey cared no more for Dacotahs than for prairie dogs, and act", ed upon the spur of the moment, regardless of consequences. Crossing above his resi dence, young Bates led them towards his clearing, but on arriving there, nothing re mained of his house but a mouldering pilo of ashes. His beloved wife had evidently perished in the flame, for among the ashes and charred beams in the cellar, they found some blackened bones. Just then they were joined by old Joe Bates and two of his younger sons, armed to the teeth. They were delighted to see Frank alive, for they feared that the column of smoke that had risen from his cabin was his monument, but now tbey did their best to condole Lim in their rough way. He said but little, but secretly vowed to avenge hi? wife's death, aud well did he keep his word. To have seen irut, no one would have supposed that the mild-looking, slender built Frauk Bates was an incarnate demon in a fight with the Dacotahs, yet within a year after his cabin was burnt, lie bad twenty scalps bangjng at liia girdle. Vengeance seemed his only thought, his life's desire. For some time after this ontrago, the Dacotahs kept away from the miners, but at last a party of thorn came prowling about, and the miners determined to have a brush with theui, and who was so competent to bead the party as that sworn encury of the red skins, Frank Bates? The party enga ged two Winnebagoes as guides, and then struck into the forest, following a recent trail. The third night of their journey the weary leader insisted on standing sentry, and about midnight the clear crack of his rifle awakched every sleeper. Iu an in stant, every-man was ou his feet, rifle in hand ready to repel any larking foe, but a low whistle from Frank announced there was no danger. Morning'caiue, and as the party crowded around the sedtincl to learn the cause of the alarm, he merely pointed to what appeared to be a huge bear; a near er approach to the object discovered to their astonishment the grim visage of a dead Da cotali, enveloped iu the skin of a gigantic bruin, who thus disguised, bad attempted to reconnoitre the position of the frontier? awn- Frank now felt assuied they were near their enemy, and followed the trail in si lence, on the alert for their foe. On reach ing the summit of a knoll, they saw the vil lage before thetn—a collection of high, conical tents, made of dressed bnffalo skins sewed together, and ornamented with rude representations of the battle or the chase.— On the outskirts were the squaws, engaged in the laborious occupations which fall to their lot. Their infants, tightly bound to straight strips of bark, were tied to small, over birches, which gently danced them to sleep, and the boys of the village, with bow and arrow, were firing at the rep resentation of a Kansas hunter. In the centre of the village, before the towering teDt of the chief, sat the braves, smoking their tomahawk pipes with stoical gravity. The white men looked at the priming ot their rifles, put tbeir sharp hunting knives between their teeth and with a deafening yell rushed down through the frightened squaws, ere the Dacotnhs could comprehend what caused the alarm. Dashing into the startled group of warriors with fierce war whoojis, they dealt, destruction around them. The chief was the first slain, bravely de fending himself and encouraging bis warri ors, who nobly struggled to avenge his death, but ail in vain. Frank Bates fought like a demon, but at one time was nearly a victim to a stalwart warrior. But on glaneing at his opponent, Frank recognized, in a gay red handker chief around his head, his marriage gift to his lost wife. This added renewed strength to bis body, and increased activity to his fury, as ho seized his assailant with his left arm, lifted him from the ground, and at the same time with nervous force thrust his kuife into his heart. This decided the bat tle, for the surviving Dacctah?, panic struck at the sudden attack, rushed to the spot BEDFORD. PA.. FRIDAY. JURE 13.18-56. where their horses were tethered and eg caped into the forfest. Upwards of fifty dead warriors remained on the bloody field and others grievously wounded, but not a single white man was seriously injured. The women and children fled to the woods, and tho whites found an abundance of plunder, comprising blankets, rich furs ( horses, dried meat aud tents. But Frank Bates felt sad at heart, for the sight of this 'memento of his wife made him fear she had beeu tortured before perishing in the flames. Night came on, and feeling positive that he could not sleep, he volunteered to keep watch. It was a bright moonlight night, and as he wa® pacing his solitary round planning new schemes of vengeance, he heard a light step approach frotn the thick et. Frank, at first, raided his rifle to shoot down the intruder, but a secret influence led him to call out: -who comes!' 'Are you a white man?' was the reply, in tones thai, produced an indescribable effect upon the stout hearted pioneer. 'Yes, and you?' '1 am Frank Bates' wife, who was taken prisoner over on the Mississippi,' aud as she spoke, she advanced. The rifle foil to the ground, aud Frank stood as if under the influence of a magic spell. His hands were convulsively clench ed, his hair stood erect on his head, a shiver ran through his frame, and he tottered back several paces. But uot so the female, who had recognized her husband us she drew near, and exclaimed as she threw herself into his arms: •Frank, my own Frauk, do you not know your wife." Yes, it was his long mourned bride, her features stamped with sorrow, but still re taining ber early beauty. Mutual explana tions followed, and when the delighted wife learned the safety of her boy, all her hard ship; vanished. It now appeared that when the ludians had entered Bate's bouse, they found a keg of whiskey vyhich tl ey drank freely, aud then plundered everything, re moving the chest in their researches. So'bn two of tliera quarried for the haukerchief Bates had seen the day previous, and draw ing their scalp-knives, one speedily received a mortal stab, and fell directly upon the trap door, through which his Wood ran upon the hidden wife. She believing that it came from tlic veins of her husband, shrieked aloud, thus betraying her place of conceal ment. Dragging ber forth, bet. captor® bound her, then rifling the cabin applied the torch. The body of (be slain Dacotali I was consumed, and over his bones Bates Lad mourned as for those of his wife. That day they 'packed' the plunder upon what horses the Dacotahs had left, and stai ted for their homes, which they regained in safety. The proceeds of Frank Bate'? share of the spoils enabled him to rebuild bis house, but this time close to that of his father and enclosed with a high stookadc. The Dacotahs, however, never returned, and in the course of lime were driven to the Far West, Frank Bates is now one of the wealthiest landholders ia lowa, a member of the State Serjate, Judge of the County Court, and Major General of militia. Time ha; dealt leniently with him and his wife, but neither forgets hes captivity. Their son never passes the sceue of his father's fight on that memorable night, without feeling a renewed sense of his fillial obligation and a deeper love for his boyhood's home. A HARD HlT.—One of our citizens who js well kuo vn as a uian of ability and wit, was once guilty of perpetrating the follow ing: Standing in the street one day conversing with Dr. Z., they observed another physi cian passing in his chaise, accompanied by one of his patients who was fast recovering, 'Well,' said Dr. Z., I never took a patient to ride in my life.' No,' said our friend, 'Mr. , the sexton, always saves you the trouble.' BEAI'TIFCL ANNOUNCEMENT. —The fol lowing beautiful announcement of Spring, clipped from a very old book, which cannot be too often read, is very appropriate to the season now opening upen us of tho North: "Lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on ihe earth, the time of singing of birds is come, and the turtle is beard in the land: the fig treeput tetji forth her green figs and tho tender grapes give a good smell." UCGOINO —Some lady ro gentleman has written tbe following to a newspaper oast, which applies to any locality where men wear hair: Jennie hates moustaches; "so ranch Imir Makes every man look like a bear." But Fanoy, who no thought can fetter, Burst out "The more like bears the better, Because' 5 ber pretty shoulders shrugging— "Bearr are such glorious chaps for hugging. '* Prutn the Spirit of the Times. Winning a Widow. After riding tweuty miles I reached Dou aJdsorivillc, La., just after dark. TbeNat i cbez packet sometimes arrived about ten o'- clock a? night, and as I Wis bound up the Mississippi and did not want to miss her> determined to wait in the wharf office.— Shortened the time by paying a few visits to a coffee house and billiard room in the town. During one these I noticed the ar rival of a party of French Creoles, who talked and swore over a dozeu 'mallard dueks' loud enough to have made you be lieve they'd been on the war-fail after Camanches, aud brought in as many scalps. At last walked over to the wharf offioe, set. tied down and found comfort in a cigar, and as much of a newspaper as the rather misty light of a bull-eyed lantern would give me. The fire iu the stove roared bravely and sent out plenty of warmth. I had dropped the paper and only held on to the cigar when I suddenly woke up on hearing the door open and a couple of men enter. They found chairs, and drawing up to the stove, continu ed a conversation,evidently just commenced as thev entered. "And so, Buffer is going to be married!'• "Wal be is—and good match Le's made of it- 1 tell you what, she's a roarer. If he don't have to put a kicking breech ou • her afore he's married a week' you imy call mc a fool. Sire's got eves like a panther, if lie only lets uer get ihe Lit atwecn'hcr teeth—just for once—she'll carry him fur th er nor he wants to go " "What makes h'uu want to marry her then?" "Niggers, mules, and as neat a plantation as there is on the Two huudred and fifty hogsheads clean sugar last crop', and if they <1 only cut the cane airlier, fifty more atop of it. She had a now steam engine [put up last season, and though that cussed baggage burner's a cussed humbug, yet 1 reckon it's all paid for, and all Buffer's got to do is step ia hang up his hat and set right down to lire lika n Sy!ititg eock." "Why didn't you go in there? The last time I caure down the river I heard you were buckiDg up to the widow?" "Wal now, Jim, to be honest, I did think affore that Buffer stepped in, that I just had it all my own way, and that I was goin to get her, sure ! As these here French say, 'I wade eyes at her savage! But ssaro how 'nother, she always went dead agin old Miss Lip. A iu:iu front otir State had no kind of a show, and, though I put the ten.* tions to her like an uncle, it didn't seem to be no use tryin. 'Bout time she did kind of learu my way, you see uare 'bout the end of garden season, old Farabole giv' adar.ee in Lis sugef bouse, and 'vited tue and the widder, and a raft more: and down wo went, and the widder kind a felt her oats, and we reeled it off in the airly part of tho evening fit. to kill ; but bj'm-by that Buffer came on an' just knocked me cold ! "Ye see lte'd been down to the city, (New Orleans,) aud only 'rived on the Bayou that night, an' hearing that there was goin's ou down to old Farabole's sugar house, down he cum. Wa!, sir, he was drest to death in the handsumest kind of store clothes, and the women were right up oa end as soon as he canie in. "I sec the widder a fixiu' her panther eyes on him, and I jest said to myself—'Dick Tareotit, you mout as well clcr, that 'ere Buffer's too much for you in the close line.' I felt it at oucct. Wal, sir, in about a uiiuit tip comes Buffer, smiles at the widder in a fashinatin' manner, au' ensists on dancin' with her. Sez she, 'yes, Mister Buffer, it will afford uie the greatest piesliure!' Great est plesbnre! Wal, the way he squeezed her when tbey danced, I rather think it did. I kept an eye on Buffer Now, you see, he'd been stapiu' at the Saiut Charles, an puttin' it through like forty, an' he'd larnt all the last agonies in the way of bowiu' and scrapin' and sayiu' leetle uotbin's; an' sir, he carri ed his baud all over the sugar house, down among the biiers, an' up round back of the iogine—war the lickcr was—cverywber he toted that ar* hat. "Now tbe widder didn't jest exactly know what to make of-—coz it pas a new wrinkl" —so twic't she said to biiu he'd better let Big Jake, one of the niggers, hold it for biiu; but *twant no use, he held oa to't tight as a wrench; at last, jest as they war 'a the middle of a dance, sez Buffer, with sech a smile, scz he—'Mrs. Noirveux, for your sake I'll do most enoything!' An' he actually held that ar' hat in one hand, and hit it a lick with t'other, and fetched top an' rim right into pancake—knocked it right down flat. "I tell you wot, when the widder see him do that, she was jest ready to drap, she was come over with his 'tentioos. And all to gratify her little whim' I see at once how hs was goin' an' I determined, sir, to htjad him off. So I stepped up round back of the inginc, whar the Picker war, an 1 I took a most rousiu' big born of old Faru bole's an' huutirr found my bat. It wis right new one—none of your Kossboot or wool hats> but a reg'lar beaver, as stiff as a stove pipe aud shone like a pare of uew black boots; so I lays hold of tiiat ar' hat and goes round back of the mgine an" takes an' takes anoth er swingin' big pull at the rum and then I felt jest ready for action. The dance was through, and as cheers was scarce, the wo men were all seated on a fc-w seats in front of the bileis, an' Buffer was a pilio' on the soft things and the widder was a lookin' tickeled to pieces, when 1 made my appear_ cnce on the stage ! "I works to'rd the widder, an' when I got atweer. her an' Buffer, sez I, 'A-low me the pleasure of your hand tlie uext set! ' •Ob,' sez site, with a leetle sigh, •I'm so come over that I hardly feel abul to dance agiD ?' 'Now,* sez Ito myself, : old felier spread yourself or die.' and I jest swings mv hat round for'd an' jest as I said; you'd better say 'yes!' you'll get over it dattciu' I held that ar' hat ia one hand (just as Buffer did his) an' with t'other hand I uruv the crown down with s"ch another licit, that the lining jumped right through aud bust theecnu clean out." "Haley," said she, "you skeered me!" an' 1 think 1 mout have done i;. Thar wos my ha!, ail knocked to infernal pieces, no big ger than tits, the rim all liangin' loose, the sides smashed in, the lining running out and the top off. 'Bout that time. I turned my eye, and thar stood Buffer holdiu' his hat—jest cs good as new, and all in shape sir ' I looked at it twice—uo mistake it was whole. Sez he. 'you ought to got a spring iiat— sluippok mechanic, as the French call 'cat. I've one here!' An'then be ups and shows the whole insidos of it, an' how it works, and the hull lot of women looked at Lino like if bo bad a stcve pipe chuck full i f diamonds, the widder specially patternized him, tnck him Htider her wiag, an' give me the cold shoulder— straight. Buffer's got her: I'm tired of La-Fooabo, an' am gnu' baek to the bills, whar thyr ar' no more wid ders that fellers can cotton down with spring hats.' KI??ING: — Why did Jacob weep? —■ Jacob kissed Rachel and lifted up his voire and wept — Scripture. If Rachel was a pretty girl, and kept he face clean we can't see what Jacob had to cry about.— Globe. llow do yon know but she slapped bint in the fi ce'— Dett i Weeping is not 'infrequently produced bv extreme pleasure, joy, happiness, it might have been so in Jacob's case— Whig. ( Gentlemen, bold your tongues: the cause of Jacob's weeping wa? the refusal of Ra chel to allow liiui to kiss her again— Flag. It is our opinion that Jacob wept because he had not kissed llnchcl before—.Jgc. Greet:, verdant, oil of ye. The fellow wept because the gal didn't kiss him .2- m "rican. Nonseuse, Jacob wept because Rachel told him to do it twice more, and he was afraid to.— Dc;n. cS' Freeman. Iledieulous! there is not a true yaukee among you. We guess Jacob cried because Rachel threatened to tell her tnarm. — Union. There you are wrong again, he wept be cause there was ouiy one Rachel to kiss.— Ilei aid. Ob, you git out.' lie wept for joy cause it tasted so good.— Mail. We reckon Jacob cried because Rachel had been eating onions. 0. P. Our own opinion is, that Jacob wept be cause be found after all, "it was r.ot half what it was cracked up to he."— Richmond Whig. We think Rachel tuust have thrown a bucket of water in his face as she stood watering sheep ut her father's well. It seems to us that Jacob was pretty free on short- acquaiutauce, and we do not blauie Rachel for giving him a douche.—Senti nel. Gentlemen, ye all orr "not knowing the scriptures," for know ye not that "UJcbel ran and told her father leaving Jacob to watch the sheep." As to the "freedom," hadn't he the right to kiss his own "cous in."—Cyle.y. ERRORS OF THE PRESS. —Reader did you know that every coletnn of a newspa per contained fro' ten to twenty thousand distinct pL-cs of metal the displacing of auy one of which would cause a blunder or ty pographical error! With this curious fact before you; don't you wonder at ths gener al accuracy of newspapers! Knowing this to be the fact; you will be more disposed,we hope, to excuse than msgnfy errors of the prera. VOL. 29, AO 24. AUNT LIZZIE'S COCRASHI*.— YY'bv, you see when my man came aeortin' m?, I hadn't the least thought of what he was after—not I. Jobic came to onr house crse night, after dark, and rapped at the doer. I opened it, and sure enough there ho was. 'L'omt in,' says I; 'take a cheer.' 'No, Lizzie,' says he, 'l've come on an arrant, an' I always do my arraiyts fust.' 'Bat you had better come in and take a cheer Mr. YV 'No, I can't. The fact is, Lizzie, I've come on this 'ere courtin' business. My vti'e s bepu dead tbese three weeks, an every thing's goiu' to tack an' ruin right 'long. Now, Lizzie, if you're a ramd to have mc, an' take care of niy bouse an' my children, an' my things, tell me an' I'll come in an' take a cheer, if uot I'll get some one else tu.' YV'hy, I was skeered. and said: 'lf you come on this coustin' business, couie in. I must think on't a little.' 'Nc, I can t till I know. That's ray jir tant, and I can't set down until niy arrant is dona.' 'I should like to think on it a uav or two.' 'No you needn't Lizzie.' 'YY ell, Jobie, if I ums! : so here".- at ve? theu.' Ho Mr. Y\ ——- came in. Then he went afrer the Squire, apd be married me and right off, and I went home with Jobie that very night. I tell yc what it long courtiu" 8 don't amount to ootliin* at all. Jjst as well do it in a hurry. A Poos MAX'S COMFORT. —It is a bles sed thing for a poor man to have a conten ted wife, one who will not wish to live in style beyond her husband's income, just be cause her next-door neighbor does; one who caa be happy in the love of her husband, her home, and its beautiful duties without asking fha world for its smiles and its fa vor. Exvr.—The hoy upon foot cannot bear to see a hoy who is riding. And KU ii is with envy of a larger growin. We are al ways crying out; "Whip b%iind !" in the miserable hope of seeing some fcancor-on more fortunate than ourselves, knocked off his perch.--.? philosopher in the streets. TP" There is a man in Worcester Mass-, who has lived so loug on corn bread that his hair has turned to silk like that which grows on the corn, and his toes a:e so full of ooras that he expects to sec them cover ed with busks next year. A e see it stated that travelling on the Lord's day, io the Sandwich Islands, except in the. direction of the church , is for bidden by law. Wonder what they do with people who travel home from church. AWFUL. —The flame Journal tells of a lady who has worn at one fime as many as ■ thirty skirts! We do not know what is the ; usual number, but that seems to us like J. ! few too msuy. i OXr"Among the proverbs of the Arabs is I one which hints at the case of your "lvcky ! man," as he is termed, '.fling Uiin into the | Nile" they say, "and lie will come up with j a fish in his mouth." Guxrt:\Buao.—ln dicing a well at Muntz, recently, the workmen discovered a | large fragment of a printing press, bearing i the initials of Guttenburg, and the data ! 1541, iu Roman characters. | A FITTING TBCTU. —Woman'S partiali !ty for thin shoes is to be accouutcd for by iter insuperable dislike to a thick understan ding.—Punch. "Excuse me, madam, butj would like to ask why you look at inc so very savagely?" "Oh! 1 leg pardon, sir ' I took you for my 1 husband." To DAUGHTERS. —The secret yon dare not tell your mother, is a dangerous secret and one that'will be likely to bring you sor row and suffering in the end. It is a proverb at college, that the stu dents who graduate with the highest honors are seldom heard of afterwards. Three things that are unwise to boast of; the flavor of thy r.ie, the beauty of thy daughter, and the contents of thy purse. Modesty and talents moke tTtdim capital on which to make a fortune. \ H/~Reputation is like polished steel—it aiay be tarnished by a breath. If honest men are the salt of tae enrt!:, prcttj girls may be said tote its c.-.gar.