The Columbia spy. and literary register. (Columbia, Pa.) 1848-1848, June 17, 1848, Image 1
ONE. DOLLAR A -- Y-EAR IN .A_DATANCE.] AND LITERARY REGISTER. my-oERIES; GEC. W. SCHEME, Editor and PulAsher. .o,lft - eta-front . Street, three doors itbo 4"o"Loeitst: Tenser. —The Counsels Set , Publisheirovery linturday morning nt the low price of ONE DOLLAR A YEAR IN ADVANCE, or one dollar and fifty rents, I pot paid within one month of the time or subscribing. single copies, THREE CENTS. .Tenses or Ai:tyranny ea—Advertisement's histiiexceed:ii log a square three times for $l. ancl.os cents foristach additional Insertion. 'I hose of a greater lengthin'pro ;nation. - sSA liberil discount mdde to„yeartyadyer sleets. Joe Paisnilso—tt •ir Cords, LabeilL,..Pamphlets, Blanks of- every,descriptiop Ore ut are, etc: ote..e 'nay te d with ncatness and despatch and on reasonable towns. trEe.'I I ,6I7I7I4ISEND'S QIESAPARILLAS :Wonder 'and blessing et the , a g e—The most oittrotortliiiiiymedieineitiMie world: This Extract is put up in quart bottles. _ Itrie six times cheaper. pleasanter. and warranted superior To stik'sold. It cures diseases without - vomiting, purging,. sicken ing, or debilitst ing tits patient. The arrat beauty and sups:Wily of this Sarsaparilla over a ileth'er rehredai In. while it eradice ter d tsetse; It iuytgorates the body, It In Mtn of t he eery best_. • SPRING AND SUMMER MEDICINES Ever known; it not only purifies tliti'whole4yitem and strengthens the person; hat it creates new, pure, and rich blood; a power possessed , by no other mediein And in tills lies the great secret of Its wonderful success. Townsend'* Sarsaparilla Invigorates the whole system permanently,To those who have lost their mus tufarenergy by the Effects of medicine or indiscretions committed in youth, or the excessive indulgence of the passions, and brought ort_a_eeneral prnstration of the nervous system, lassitude, want of ambition. fainting sensations, premature decay and decline, hastening towards that fataildrsease, Consumption. can be entirely restored by this pleasant roinedy. The geeuine only sold by It. WIMUAIRS, Front. st. Colurnble„ Pa. _ Ap29'o3-tf BIIIVIONTILL REMOVAL U . IL W SPANGLER, baying become Proprietor of the Book & Stationary Store, late of the firm of Westbrook & Spangler, has removed Isis establishment to the house lately occupied by Mr. Raub on Front Street, a few doors north from the Corner of Locust, and next door to Wm. A Leader's Drug store,—where he will continue the former business in all its branches. Having enlarged his ittocks he is prepared to furnish every article in the .Boals,and stationary line, at the very lowest rates; School Books of everykind, Blank Books, Fools Cup and Letter Paper by the wholesale or retail. Pocket Knives, Razors, GOLD Pctss. Pocket Books, Combs, Hair. Tooth. and Cloth Brushes—Razor Strops, Soap, Brushes, Sc. Ink Stands, Ink by the Bottle—Dominoes, Chess Men. Dice. A splen did Icit'of Silk, Steel Bends. Clasps and Tassels, for purses, Gold and Silver Bullion—for Working Slippers, &e. And n Most superior lot of fancy stationery for the Ladies.— Bouts forget the CheariDepot. at 'W. li. SPANGLER'S, Next Door to W. A. Leader's Drug Store. • BMICOVILIa. THE UNDERSIGNED takes this medium to in farms his friends and the public thathe has removed *his TAILORING ESTABLISHMENT, to within one O6llllt OF THE CORVSR of LOCUST STREET. and having reco• vered his healtsao as to be able to attend to IntidlieS3 tvonid respectiolly invite his customers to give him a call, feeling well assured from the liberal patronage that he has heretofore received, that he will be aide to give sans. faction to all who - may feel disposed to give hint their work. He would not bay that lie is the only one in the place who can make good work, not wishing thus to puff himself itO notice but would assure the public that work entrusted to him shall be executed in a neat fubhionable mid substantial Manner. He keeps constantly on hand a fine assortment of Cloths, Cassirneres Vestings, which will'be sold at very small advances. - J. W. FISHER. N. D. I have %large stock of ready made CLOTHING winch I will bell at prime coat. .1. W. F. April et?, 1549. IEL EIVZOVELL. rfliE Tutoring Establishment of B. Yon& has in been moved up stairs the Barbershop, opposite the Itshington lintel. et which place he may be found at all times. ready to do work in the neatest and best style for all-114W may give him a call, as he neendtrto devote his whole :mention to dressing the community in the most perfect style of the tiny. Having received a lithe different reports, he Clatters himself he is the only one in the place able to do so. B. YOUNG. P. S. He will at all times be prepared to give instrue flail+ in cutting gaimems to any of the trade. so much in rear that may disable them to come up to the age, and stands open agamst:al I publishers of systems for investiga tion. No more, but hope to cet n spat. It. YOUNG. of Columbia,. . _ 8. lwrilvo:v, of Nlttiittll3 Columbia. April S, 10,ARGAINS. The subscribers have, during the _Li past week, made a large addition to their former stock or —FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC DRY GOODS, ' -- which, for elegance and cheapness, cannot he surpassed. Among which is a very large nss.ortment of PRINTS. nt 4 eta. Of cts. 8 cis, 10 et& and 12k cts per yard. DRESS GINGHAMS as low us 0.4 cts, 19 cts, and 25 cts. Al pacas and Linens. Lustre.. A general assortment of FURNISHING GOODS, Such as 4-4, 64. 6-4, and 10.4 Blenched and Brown Sheet ing& Ticking, Checks, Crash, Latest and Cotton, Brown and Bleached, Table Diapers, &c. • - - GENTLEMEN'S DRESS GOODS. Sup. Blue and Black French Cloths; sup. Blue, Rival, Brown, and 011ie English Cloths; Plain and Fancy Cas sitneres, Satinets, Vasungs, &c. CHINA. Class, and Queensware ; Fresh Family Gro ceries, selected with very great care, among which arc Wow Croyir Sugars—Loaf, Pulverised and Crushed Sugars. Coffees, Spices, the Superior Teas of Me New York Ccnnton Tea Company, Oils, Fish, &c. All of which they are determined lovelies LOW as the kwas Lowarr, for cash or country produce. Thankful for past favors, they respectfully solicit a eonduttance - ot the patronage heretofore bestowed upon them. J. I). &J. WRIGHT, Locust St., 2 doors below Second St. Columbia, March 25, 1242—tf NEW STAND AND NEW GOODS. The subscriber takes this method of informing his friends and costomers that he has rented the Now Store Room knownms lialdesnan , s New Corner, being on the South West corner of Front MI Locust Street, where he intends to keep constantly on hand a good supply of READY-MADE CLOTHING, SHOES AND BOOTS. and a general assortment of Family Groceries.. together with Flour and other Meal ; Oats. Corn, and' Chop for horses. Also, Liquors of all kinds, including Wines and Cordials. All of which I pledge myself to sell as cheap for cash asp:nimbly can be afforded. Please call and ex amine both the goods and prices. N. D.—A. dwelling and front shop adjoining, to Tent on accommodating terms. Myself and Sott would like to Board with the family. ELIJAH SARRATT. Columbia, March 25, 184S.—tf 'LMILEIGIS.A.PIE•--XLEMOVAL. THE Telepoph Office at Columbia has been REMovEn to the Spy Printing (Mice, Front street, opposite Barr's Hotel. where, for the present, messages will be received and promptly transmitted to any of the GArroring Stations: York, iVhceling. Lancaster. Cincinnati, Philadelphia, St. Loins, • Wilmington, Reading, Baltimore, Ponsville. Washington, New York, Harrisburg, Albany, Carlisle, Buffalo, Chambersburg, Rochester, Bedford, Anburn, • , . .• Pittsburg, Ithaca, lee„ he. The following are the rates of charges to— York, 10 - cents for 10 words. Lancaster. 10 cents for 10 words. Philadelphia, 30 cents for 10 words. - Harrisburg.= rents for 10 words. Chambersburg, 30 cents for 10 words: . Pittsburg' 40 cents for 10 words. • Baltimore, via Phila., 55 cents for 10 words. All additional words over 10 charged pro rate. Ad dress and vigtleillta not counted. Huy All messages must be prepaid.. C. WESTBROOK, Operate, Columbia, Feb, 5, 1.545. Celebrated Lowden PM' Malts, Tra ens, long and &on, double and single Link, breast ing anti halter Chains. all cif which Nbe offer at man uthetures Tines. ap7.--tf REstrza & .... , -..,.. a . _ ~......... ~,,,.! :::.,...„ .::::,•,:,...,....,• ..- _ ..1"!7.10 ~..:::: :. : I'Dj.: '., ":: r "'-:: ":"‘ : ~.:•• •-, : t.' r.: f•: , . -...' r.. : .•• l'. -• : : ... ''.. " r , • "t^ - : "..,-- .. .•• ^:. :7: _ .- _ !. •-. : 4. :7.:: D . ,•'• - ::.7::.: . ' . l ' .. ' . : C- ! Z . .. - . :1 7 . .. , # Iffi Jio):.b.l 12.0.ttrV• Writttra for the Columbia Spy SUMMER. NOW Summer comes, with 7043 , With gentle winds and bright blue skies; She cools UM Isis With showers of rain; And makes this earth a paradise. , The gusting torrentifrorn the hills, 'Make music as the'S , glide along; The echo of.the murinuring rills, Combines toform sweet nature's song. She' rams her robe bl" bright heath-hello, • Amidst the mountain's solitudes.; She decks with flowers the lonely dells, . The tow'ring hills, end silent woods. The babbling of the silver streams, The laughing sound of noisy brooks ; - The moon-light o'er the still lake gleams, Whilst nature deok* L tite silent-nooks. she comes with music in the breeze, With fragrance of the hosts of flowers ; She gently waves the gay-clad trees, Which noon-tide sun oft times o'er powers The valleys bright, the waveless sea, Where soft .2rolian breeies steal; All speak with joy in eestacy, And all her kindness seem to feel. She casts her robes . o'er many isles, Of soft-tongued leaves where winds can play ; She She the earth with countless smiles. And endless rapture cheers the day. When eve creeps on with balmy air, With glimmering stars and silv , ry moon; Whilst nature's foot-steps everywhere, Bespeak the light orflow'rY June. A rustling -sound where wild flowers hide, Of gentle winds with breezy wings Is heard ; and near the clear cool tide, The pleasant voice o f whisperings. O'er mountain, ocean, earth, and glen, Mild summer flings her garb of peace ; Unlike the cruel hearts or men, She bids the troubled tempest cease. Wrightsville, June 8,1843. A. n. n =l= FAN, NY FORESTER'S BIRD. We mentioned the other day that a paragraph in the Maulmein Free Press announced that edaugh. ter had been born to Mrs. Judson of the mission at Moulmein, formerly well known under her nom de plume for Fanny Forester. We are glad to have more decided confirmation of "the fact from the lady's own testimony, which is not so metaphorical that there will be any question of its signification. The lines which follow, and which bear date, Maul main, January, 1848, (Fanny is at the antipodes, you must remember,) are from the June number of the Columbian Magazine, where they appear under the title of " My Btrd."—Boston Trans. Ere last year's moon had left the eky, A hirdling sought my Indian nett, And folded, oh so lovingly ! Her tiny wings upon my breast. From morn till evenings , purple tinge, In winsome helplessness she lies, Two rose leaves, with a silken fringe, , Shut softly on her starry eyes. There's not in Ind a lovelier bird; Broad earth owns not a happier nest ; Oh God. Thou bast a fountain stirred, Whose waters never more shall rest! This bettiniful mysterious thing, This seeming visitant (coin heaven, This lard with the immortal wing, To me—to me, Thy hand has given The pulse first caught its tiny stroke, The blood its crimson hue, from mine This life which I have dared invoke, Henceforth is parallel with Thine A silent awe is M my room— I tremble with delicious fear; The future, with its Itght and gloom, Time and eternity are here. Doubts—hopes, in eager tumult rise ; Hear, oh my God! one earnest prayer! Room for my bird in Paradise, A.rid give her angel plumage there ! THE SIN OF SUFFERING. I= What call you that creature, dark crouched in its lair?" once was called woman:" "Why lurketh she there? I hear a low moaning, the hove/ within. An infant one crying—sure here must be sin:" A dying voice murmur—" The worst of all sine, Which, from sisters and brothers, small sympathy wins :" "Thou wretched hut-dweller, now give it a name, This sin, without solace,must wed thee to shame?" To shame and to sorrow I'm wedded—a curse Lies on the poor baby, as well as its nurse l" "But name me the sin which to sorrow bath wedded And shame, the pale pair in the straw heap embedded V, "The sin and the curse we are bound to endure, Ton view it—we feel it—we're poor—we are poor; The will of the stronger has fashioned the law, Which leaves us these rugs and this heap of old straw ! The scowl of the stronger upraids us, for being The work of that wiU, the sad wreck you are seeing !" They have passed from the hovel, she ceases to mourn-- A motherless babe's in the wide world alone. Ott tooau. IARRRIAGE• "What a beautiful women Mrs. Howard is!" I agree with you. Mrs. Howard's face is beau tiful in form and outline, and sweet and gentle in its expression; but I must say it dues not fulfil my ideal (to use a modern phrase) of the spiritual beauty expressible in the human face. There is none of that ever-varying eloquence of expression which is the very life and divinity in the countenance of man or women, in the still life of Mrs. IL's lea. tures. There is neither thought, nor aterngili, nor savor in her everlastingly sweet smile. Beauty s he may possess; but it is the beauty of marble, animated by one feeling—amiability.' Nell: and what more beautiful feeling sould speak from her soul, through a womati'a eyes, than that you have assigned to Mrs. H.? Moreover, I believe the personification you speak of is real; and I account it a moat fortunate thing for H. to have such a: wile: A stronger and more actively intellectual and spiritual nature would have been unsuited to his mind and circumstances, and might have diverted his attention from his public duties, COLUMBIA, SATURDAY, JUNE 17, 1848. excited his faculties iu a different direction, and it may be, have unwittingly hindered his high course of usefulness." I cannot agree with you there. it 'fs a mis. taken idea that strength may oppose strength. I believe, rather, that when properly suited, the strong mind assimilates more closely, and in a far higher and nobler manner, with another' strong, thouglf, perhaps different nature, thanis . peasible in such unions as that you are' rejoicing •at the sight of. Such a marked inequality must involve a n imper fect unity, and I think, abatis bat a poor apprecia. lion of what marriage is in the man who chooses or admires it. What would you think of an eagle wedded to a dove? White, and beautiful, gentle, and loveful, though she be, softly though she down the eyrie, and neatly though she arrange it for his reception, she is still but a dove; and when• her _kingly mate returns from his flight beyond the clouds, and folding those wings that have swept along the surface of the sea, and borne him to the untrodden lands near the rising of the sun; when those eyes that have essayed their ut. most visionpewer to pierce the very .soul of light —turn to the shade of home to be refreshed and reaiverf—when there, in the repose hours of life, ho would again, in thought, unfold those wings, and review the vast and wondrous regions they have tra. versed—to whom must lie depict the glory, and beauty, and mystery, that have enriched his soul Surely not to the gentle dove by his side; for grate. ful though lie feet for her warmth and love, he knows too well that in her mind is neither scope nor power to reflect his thoughts. He is, therefore, silent ; tchtlie deepest tones of his soul's voice he feels there can be no response; he must not utter them, except, perchance, to the stars, with whom he may feel kindred, but from whom he cannot re. ceive that breath of sympathy which so refreshes and nourishes the soul. Think you the kingly bird's nature can be fully developed under such circumstances? By my belief in marriage, as the highest fulfilment of our being, the strengthener of our strength, the ennobler of our powers, the el evator of our desires, the inspirer of our highest impulses—l deny the perfection of such unions. And yet how frequently they take place; and we find them not only 'defended, but admired as models. " Such admiration is as reasonable as the rejaic. ing of the blind man that he had never been troubled with sight Poor dark one he could not kndiv that the effort of vision, if we may use the expression, which he imagined applicable to that exquisite sense,i a amply rewarded by the beauty of earth, and air, and sky which it reveals. Such reward, in a spiritual form, the earnest seeker after unity in union may find; for sympathy is the sight sense of she soul, reflecting on the inward re fine of mutually loving and kindred spirits the whole nature of each." "Your ideal of marriage, is a noble one, and, I doubt not, true; but how seldom it is attained. And, after all, what are more dear then love and gentleness. How beautiful is it to see the world. toiling man finding the solace of reciprocal affcc. lion, even though he be denied intellectual sympa. thy, in his wife:" "Yes, beautiful, as arc the few treasure 2 flowers in the prison of. the captive, whose right is to see and enjoy the whole beauty of earth. Love and gentleness are, indeed, beyond price; but in iiiy ideal of the queen eagle, they are as perfect as. in the dove. Quickness and clearness of intellect, vividness of imagination, warm love and truth, and pure earnestness of purpose, are as native to the fe male as sympathy and tenderness. I own I am somewhat of an aristocrat in regard to marriage, and would not mingle serf with knightly blood. But the heraldic blazonry must be of heaven's stamping ; the Gules, and the Azure, and the Or, must be colored in the soul l Nothing can be more grievous to contemplate than the loss and suffering from ill-assorted unions. When, as sometimes happens, the woman is superior to her husband, the C4BO is still worse, for woman's whole file and soul are involved iu marriage, and liar social position is less favorable to finding the substitute men generally obtain in outward resources. "It is a difficult question, this of marriage; youth is most naturally its season; every unfolding sentiment and budding hope, and branching desire, bends at that period toward the sun of love. 314 r. rige,without love in highest enthusiaatmis not worth the name; but the firm basis of reason is not the less needful. And how liable is youth to :nista ko—to decide on uncertain premises—or, more correctly speaking, to act unreasoningly! True, passion lights its beautiful flame, and pours forth its gene. rous warmth in the heart of youth; but the fire does not there die! In the pure and earnest soul, love, highest and most intense, lives ever; preserv. ing the freshness of spring through the maturer seasons of life, and insures to him who gmirde it with vestal care, a perpetual youth of the heart. 'Manhood is the season for marriage,' says the phi losopher of life; a certain virility of mind, es well as body, is necessary in order to judge and ea pad ate for so important a relation. It is from our ide. al what marriage ought to be, not from our cautery once of the unions, called marriages, around us, that we must reason and decide in the question be fore us." "Is it safe to argue thus on imaginary ide - sls 7" "I think it is: all perfection, in this world, is ideal; but not the less to be aimed at on that ac count; else, where were the artist's aim, the be. liever's faith, the philosopher's calmness 1 The as piration after perfection is the soul of progress; progress is the law of being; every pure arid high desire of the soul is a promise of its future nature, a promise of its everlasting development, a linking of time with eternity! "Our estimate of the worth and noes of mar riage will greatly depend on the appreciation we have formed of the meaning of life, and on the un derstanding we have of our own nature. If that estimate be noble and true, and if we correctly comprehend ourselves, we may conceive somewhat of the responsibility we ought to feel to act in the light of highest reason, when seeking to secure to ourselves the unspeakable benefits of this' benign. est ordinance of God to man, as Milton nobly des ignates it. Oar ideas of marriage are generally derived from the circumstances and examples around ns, and these are rarely the most favorable to a correct judgment. In designing the structure of life, we must be guided by truth and nature, rather than by custom and example; thus only can we insure beauty and harmony in the building. Each of us is the architect or his own existence; we are given life and materials to make it great and real; if we neglect to do so, it becomes mean and tasteless. tWliat is life,' asks the wise Milton, " Without the vigor and spiritual exercise of life I" To establish this vigor, and to inspire this spiritual ity, is marriage chiefly valuable, and •only when it thus rouses into highest life the full maturity of ex. istenco is It worthy of that moat hialyoffice which the Creator has assigned it, of perpetuating his lin age on the earth. This highest appointment is alone sufficient to denote the intense importance of right and real marriages ;, it is impossible to esti. mate the increased wealth or Mind - and 'soul that would accrue to the world If the sanction of nature and truth were sought ill renewing, tltis- ranks of life." " .Marriage ls a solemn 'thing, and mast be a ecemonnien or spirituel and temporal - comforts, a covenant of unfeigned love and peace, whereof both the general and the particularend is the peace and contentment of man's mind.' Such is Milton% definition, and taking the full meaning of every word, a just one. To Insure contentment and cam. munion, marriage must be an entire friendship, as Well as a perfect love. - "And yet, I doubt whether, even with these e:e. menu, marriage can produce perfect happiness." "I agree with you: imperfection is stamped up. on our present state of being; our vision is finite, our goodness fragmentary, our temper inconsistent, and the'natnral result is—imperfection of life; but •we can imagine perfection, and the ideal is ever a presage of the future, given us by an , incentive to endeavor. I have no doubt that if we use life to our utmost ability, and in accordance with our esti. mate of its Intl capacity, we shall he rewarded ac cordingly; full satisfaction we must not expect to find—it is hidden from us in the far ether of eter nity." "Do you not observe that, even in its present im. perfect state, marriage affords more happiness than there are grounds to expect The laws of- :teem. naodation and acclimation act continually, and pro. duce assimilation and a measure of content, where the natures seemed most unsuited." Yes, but observe, that, in order to effect this es. similation, the minds must deteriorate; the law of. acclimation, like all the laws of nature, is ore bene. hcial tendency,but when its use degenerates into an abuse, it is no longer a blessing; when, in its action on the mental nature, it transforms higher into lower feelings, and lulls the restless aspirations of the soul into apathy and quiescence, it must be guarded against as a snare, rather than sheltered ur.der as an excuse for error. In many other cases beside the one before us, does this law of accommo dation spread its pacifying influence over the wa. tent of life, calming and silencing where agitation and change kayo not yet effected their work of pu. rification. While we take advantage of its healing virtues, as in the adversity of circumstances we are forced to do, let us ho. careful not to stave over wounds that require a probing cure." "But the marriage question. What are the rules by which we may guide man's . steps over this Rubi. con of lifh 1" "Rules era impossible in the ease; man must learn the lesson of self-rule; aeration' must be in deed an educing or leading uut,of the whole power of the mind into use and action; and when ,the youth has learned the value and the aim of exist ence, the man will sot more in accordance with the beautilul ideal thnt lives in the soul of every think ing being." , "Amen .!" li~ccl(ant~us. THE NEW ZEALANDER AND THE MISSIONARY. Amongst the earlier missionaries who visited New Zealand, ono gentleman, a Mr. —, was din. tinguished alike for his zeal in the good cause, and the success with which his efforts were attended. Ilia mast promising proselyte was ono of the no.. five chiefs; this man was constant in his attend• mice whenever Mr. -- performed divine service, listened to his sermons with the deepest interest, and was altogether considered a satisfactory Con vert. All at once his behavior underwent a com plete change ; he absented himself from the prayer meetings, appeared morose and dejected, end gave a sullen answer to any question as to his altered conduct. At length-Mr. sent for him, and after some trouble, elicited that he was very un. happy. "Unhappy:" exclaimed the good mission ary, "and witerefore!" "Me come to hear you preach, you make me Christian, you tell me say prayers—all very good." " Well why should this make you unhappy?" " %Veit bit—you say Chris tian man only have one wife. Now me got two: You say, that very wicked; what me do with 'em, r —This was what is commonly termed a poser; and the worthy missionary was at first somewhat at a lose What advice to bestow. After a few mo. mental consideration, he replied :—" It appears to me, that in the situation in which you are unfortn. nattily placed, the only thing to be done is for you to determine to which of your wives yotiare most deeply attached, and then put the other away." "Put her away ?"—" Yes, put her away ; of course taking care shot she shall nut want for anything ; it is your duty to provide for her properly. Do you understand me? The chief signified that he did so, and took his leave with many expressions of gratitude. A short time elapsed, when he again sought Mr. —, a nd greeting him with a collate. mince beaming with contentment and intense self. approval, began, "me verry happy now." " I am very glad to hear it," was the reply; " have you acted upon my advice, then ?^ "Yea, I got one wife now." "Quite right; and the other, how have you provided for her ?" There was a pause ere the chief, a ith the air of a man who had done something decidedly clever, and feltsure of applause, replied, with a chuckle of self approbation, "Me eat her:" A CAUTION TO MERCOANTS.—We heard a good story of a sagacious country gentleman, who came to our city some days ago with a bill on a highly respectable firm of this city, The bill was duly presented for acceptance,and a young member of the firm, a fashionable, showily dressed gentleman, who had cultivated a very dainty moustache, wrote with a gold pen his endorsment on the bill, giving his middle name in full, thus: J. Templeton Tornp. kin.. The countryman looked at the signature, read it slowly, glanced at the fashionable merchant, who was very fascinatingly twirling his whiskers, and handing the bill over to him remarked; "Here stranger, cash that document." " What l"indig nantly replied the merchant, " discount my own paper is a positive insult." " Wall, can't help it," said the countryman ;"Ifyou don't, I moat get some body else to do it." To prevent his paper from getting an 'Change, the merchant concluded to cash the bill, and paying over the money to the countryman, asked him quietly, " Why, my friend, offer me the gratuitous insult of requiring me to discount my own paper V' "I dont mean any harm, stranger; but I have jest got this idear into my skull, that when you see a merchant with that bar oh his upper lip, and who writes his middle name out in full, and endorses bills with a gold pen, you may .sat it down as putty certain he's gwine to bust up in a week.—N. 0. Deka. A Taus MAN.—Who is he? One who will not move from the path of duty to gain a mina of wealth, or it world of honors. Ile respects the feelings of all the rich and the poor,tho hismbleand the hen. eatable. Ibis as careful nut to speak an unkind or a harsh word to his servant as to his lord. Ho -is as attentive to the wants of a slave as to a prince., Wherever you meet him, he is the same kind, sc. comma:iting, untibuusivei humble individual. In him are embodied , the adamants of, pure religion. No step is taken which the law of God condemns ; no word is spukan that polite tfie ear of man.' ' Be you like him. - Thenjqin'tvill te prepared (alive or die : to serve God on earth or in heaven. MA, PAYABLE AT SIX MONTHS. BEAUTIFUL, Erntacr.—The Boston Melcantile Journal selects the following from the Foreign Re. view for April, 1839, as one of the finest passage. in the whole range of English literattire. The subject treated of is the benefit of printing: "When Tamerlane had finished building his pyr. amids of seventy thousand human skulls, and ivai seen standing at the gate of Damascus, glittering with steel, with his battle axe on his shoulder, till fierce hosts filed to new victories and carnage, that pale on-looker might have fancied that nature was in her death throes'—for havoc and despair bad taken possession of the earth and the sun of man. hood seemed setting in seas of blood. Yet it might be on that very gala day of Tamerlane, a little boy WEI playing nmc.pins in the streets of Mentz, whose history was more important to them than twenty Tamerlanes ! The Tartar Khan, with his shaggy demons of the wildernes, passed away like the whirlwind, to ho forgotten forever—and the German artist has wrought s benefit, which is yet immeasurably expanding itself, and will continue to expand through all countries and all time.— What are the conquests and expedition. of the whole corporations of captains from Walter Penni. less to Napoleon_ Bonaparte, compared with the moveable types of Johannes Faust." A BEAUTIFUL F . :Qom—Life is beautifully com pared to a fountain fed by a thousand streams, that perishes if one be dried. If a silver cord twisted with a thousand airings, that part asunder if one be broken. Wo,nre emcompassed with acci dents every day, to crush the mouldering tenements which we ihh4lit., TliC seeds of disease are im planted in our constitution by nature. The food that nourishes the body contains the elements of its decay; the soul that animates it by a vivifying fire, tends to wear it out by its own action; death lurks in ambush long in our paths. Notwithstand ing this is the truth, so palpably confirmed by the daily examples before our eyes, huw little do we lay it to heart. We see. our friends and neighbors perishing among us; but how seldom does Roccar to our thoughts, that our knell shall, perhaps give the next fruitless warning to the world I Aortas—When a man has done an injury to an other—when he has deceived and lied about him— how natural it is for him to persist in hi■ wicked course. Unless the wreatch continues his abuses and slanders he fears that his unprincipled source will be detected, and Le held up for public detesta tion. We never hear of a man loudly and earnestly abusing another behind his back, without feeling that we urc in the presence of a wretch, of ono who has abused kindness and betrayed virtue—rind as soon as possible we pass away. A man who has really suffered an injury, and borne it like a Owls. tien,seldoin opens his mouth; except it twin answer to the inquiries of interested friends. lie feels safe in his innocence, and knows' that all which man can say, does not in the least injure his real character, although for a time his reputation may suffer. Are you slandered. villified, or traduced 7 Beer it mecktv, and the right will be made known. You have a Friend who will never leave you. nor sutler your enemies finally to triumph. I= A TERRIBLE TINE.—" Well, ElMee , a row over there to our house." "What on nrth's the matter, you'littie earpint "Why, dad's drunk, rnother'a dead, the old cow has got e calf; Sal's got married and run away with the spoons, Pete has swallowed a, pin, and Lui's looked at the Aurora Borax till he's got the delirium triangles. That ain't all nuttier." " %Vhat else upon airth 7' oßtree spilt the batter pot and broke the pancakes, and one of the Maltese kittens has got ite head in to the molasses cup and couldn't get it out, and oh, how hungry I am!" Tacitos speaks of •the early ages, when. man lived in innocence and simplicity:. Whereupon a surly and cynical critic exclaims—" When was that? The first woman went astray. The first born killed the second.—When did this time of simplicity begin?" If you are courting a young lady, and wish be fore you take her, to ascertain her temper, tear her ball dress, as if by accident. If she keeps her equanimity, lose not a moment in popping the "mo mcntous question." She will do, and you may ac count yourself a happy man. V4/SE. CIUNOND INTO w►rss.—itlix a little Bola. tion of subsetate of lead with port wine; filter the mixture through blotting paper, and a colorless li quid will pass through ; to this add a small quantity of dry salt of tartar, when a spirit will rise, which may be inflamed on the surface of the water. During the English rebellion, a gentleman who lay on his deathbed was asked how be would be buried ; and calmly answered: " With my face downwards; for within a while England will be turned upside down, and then I shall lio right." ''One word more and I have done." How we dread to hear this expression from the lips of a speaker at public meetings. It's always a sure sign that he is bracing up for a fresh start Yankee Blade. As GOOD as Pus:cm—The Pekin Visitor as" "Coming home a few mornings since, we met a man attempting to walk on both aides of the street. By a skillful mamma we passed between him." I have seen a mother cheerfully lavish money to purchase her daughter expensive and superfluous dresses ; and I have heard the same mother grumble that abe had to pay is such enormous wages. An honest Hibernian recently invented e teapot with two spout., tho one exactly oppopito the other, for the convenience of pouring out two cups et the came time. Men marry, at twenty for passion; at thirty for love ; at forty, for money; at fifty, for the sake of being fondled and nursed.—Family Herald. Adt ice, like snow, the softer it falls, the lenget it dwells upon, and the deeper it sinks into the mind. —Coleridge. • Dr. Beecher'e advice is, " Never chase e he—let it alone, and it will ran itself to death." That which is beat in oar hoarts.'nevey nam e s forth from them.—Latnortine: - - Why is a snow kink in spring like •thrifty tree Because it hisses. [WHOLE _NUMBER, 941; GREELEY AT HOME. A SKETCH FROM LIFE DY ROOGB . Speaking of New York, I was there the other day, and of course I called on the editor ; of time Tribune, " the noblest Roman of them a11,".0t the " Tribune office." I found hint as usull,berei at work among hie papers, though in ritther 7 6ettee condition, es to room ; he having found, boapyise, that pure air is, to say the least, rather convenient to the lungs, end as good for editors as for other folks. It want Bredburn's sanctum, with its car pets, sofa-chairs, ohogany" table and deska, amt.. teur tool-chests, wardrobes, pigeon-holes, pelmet curtains, closets, etc., etc.—it was simply a good sized back-room, with "an old arm chair" or two, a pine table, sad instead ore tool.cheat, he had only a box to put wood in, poor fellow. After convers ing awhile upon matters and things in general, "Greeley declared that I would not have any ade quate ides of New York in its glory, if I didn't see .the hopeful heir of all his honors, the infant "Tribune," the unsophisticated Greeley. I accord ingly promised to meet him at his residence, imam three miles hum Lis offace, in the "hubbubs" of th e city, the morning fonowne is , -. Wane. About eight o'clock of the following mornin g, - in 'company with a kindred spirit kind and true,' who piloted me thither, I went up to the rural retreat of the mightest of New York editors, and where do you think I found him ?" Why nowhere else but out in the field, busy as a bee, with his baldness glistening in the sun, and his s hirt sleeves and col lar flying to time breeze—having turned his editorial quill into that interesting besom of destruction, called a " caterpillar brush, ' which hohad fastened to the end of a very long cane-pole, and which be kept dipping into u pailful ofvery strong soap- acids. and then to the best of his abilities, "puttintitrits the caterpillars. I told him I was not surprisedlo see him " soap" Henry Clay,'cause I knew be loved and worshipped him, but I didn't expect to see brris putting it on to such as these. I asked him it he didn't think some such opera tion as this would be good for the government lie remarked, "Take away all the 'caterpillars', and the government would be left terribly bare." After viewing the beautiful grounds of his vene rable mansion, once owned by a rich nabob, we went into the house, and called for the wonderful baby. It was soon brought in. I say it, because I could not surmise to which, sex it belonged, as it was dressed in " long shorts," gown and petti.e. excuse me—and wore its hair full length half way down its back. I called it a girl, to venture, but the father resented that, and gave mu to understand that there war nothing short of a boy about it—a future Henry Clay at least—his present name forget. He was indeed a singular looking child, dressed as he was, being over four years old, and wearing his golden hair of a reddish cast, which was entirely guiltless of curling, lying flat on his back, kept out of his eyes by a yellow ribbon round his head. lie wan indeed quite a chilu, considering his mother's being BO constituted as to be in tor ments if the childia out of her eight. It being the only remaining child of four, she has become terri bly nervous, and the poor little fellow has to be de prived of a good deal of open air exercise. I have seen a beautiful picture of him, which tells much of his father. It was taken while sittingnstrider his father's shoulders, leaning his head on his father's pate; the tout ensemble being, as you may suppose, rather striking. This is the favorite attitude; It delights both father and child, and they "gait" to gether in this way for hours, when (ether has "got nothing better to du." After looking over the grounds, and examining the stock on his llam— a cow, a dog, cat, and seven puppies—and talking awhile about 4.)Cidlion,ete., we Waterier departure from the home of the great American editor, who Is doing so much to elevate a man to the Presidency that is not half so worthy of the office as he him self is, left the wonderful child, the greatest speci men of live clay, Greeley thinks, ever moulded in. to human form, except the Clay—Harry of the ‘Vest—and returned to the busy /VIM of the city again. TALL OAKS FROM LITTLE ACORNS GROW Abuut eighty years ago there lived in England a. man whose name was George Guelph, better known in history as George the Third, King of Great Britain. Ile was a tolerable kind of a marl in point of abilities—not, in fact, a bad meaning person. He would hare made a better farmer, gro cer or tradesman, than a King. But he was burn in the divine rights of hinge." He was u descendent of William, the ennquerer of England—William, Duke of Normandy, a bastard son—his mother being a tanner's daughter of Nor mandy, who surrendered her charms to the favors of William's father, outside the bins of the church. William the liret was a brave man. He crossed the channel with his retainers, and on the field of Hastings defeated the Saxons, killed Harold their King, and took possession of England. There was a little town called Kew, in Surrey, England, and Giorge the Third, after he had been but a few years on the throne, bethought he would like to build a pa lacein this town of Kew. Perlis ment had berm liberal to him in salary, and he could baldly ask an additional appropriation -for the purpose of building a palace. lie suggested the thing to his Prime Minister, who told him the thing might be done by a stamp tax, and, a duly laid on tea of two pence per pound in his colonise of America. These duties the toady ilionght would more than be enough to build a hundred pal aces. The king recommended the matter to Par. Kemeny and Parliament passed a law to that effect. The colonies refused to be thus taxed, unless they were allowed to send members to the body that passed the law, for the purpose of defending thetas• salvos. . - Revolution followed—seven years of Vond,y wax was the consequence; but the colonic, Came out free. In their efforts they were aided •by Francti. This war cost the English government. some one hundred and fifty millions pounds sterling, or Mx hundred millions of dollars--a pretty good price for the palace of George the Third at Kew. When the French officers returned to their native land, they began to feel a love of, republicanism themselves, and they planted'the send in their nit. tire land.' A few years after, a 'revolution brOke out in France.—They all took part in it; bet through the wildness .of.thit, people, the republic which they hid formed ended in the military—met. so far av victories went, glorious—despotism of Na poleon. To drive him from the throne cost Eng. land six hundred millions pouods sterling. The was paying rather dear for, the palace at Weer. Within a few brief wees a monarch of one of the most powerfol nations of Europe has been dri: von from his throne like a vagabond. Half the world is to agitation ' and republics are the generalery of the people. - But for the paleoe-et-gew our own country might this day have boon a part, of go British Empire. France a monarchy stilt, and Eng, land out tit - debt, eomparatirely spanking. ' as the eJownvaye, am 'lotting to be low eireopany.• 2l Hallock wrote truly and propbstioally menu year* ago— " The monarch r hf L a vi rs ; the printer's fro . Gil;evemsehilearperggij:!'''''