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ONE DOLLAR A YEAR IN ADVANCE.] AND LITERARY REGISTER.
"S • S, 0 .2, 1 11. 4.
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YOU'RE Getting Bald, are You q Well, that
is a misfortune and not a crime, but to remain bald,
when so fine an opportunity offers to restore your hair, by
a faithful and liberal use of Jayne's Hair Tonic, is but lit
tle short of crime. This valuable preparation excites the
scalp to a new and healthy action, cleanses it from.Tscurf
and dandruff, prevents the hair from falling off, cures
those eruptive diseases which often appear upon the head,
and in a majority of cases produces a fine growth of new
hair. It also gives the hair a rich and beautiful appear
ance. For sale at W. A. LEADER'S
July 1, 1148-tf Golden Mortar Drug Store.
COMPLAINT. This disease now prevails to an
alarming extent, and thousands of helpless children
will be carried off by it unless tamely relief be afforded
them. This relief may always he had by applying to that
most certain and pleasant remedy, Jayne's Carminative
Balsam, which never fails. It has frequently made cures
of Sumner Complaint after physicians of the highest
standing have pronounced the child Its actually in the
strugglesof death. Try it—try if you have any love or
compassion, or even mercy, for your helpless children—
Why will you let them die ? when a certain remedy may
be had by calling at W. A. LEADER'S Golden Mortar
Drug Store, Front street
Columbia, July 1, IS4S-tf
HERB DOCTOR, Front Street, Columbia, to the
SICK AND AFFLICTED EVERY WHERE.-
Every one of you arc now called upon to visit the
Herb Doctor—lie has a medicine called the Indian Speci
fic. It is of the utmost importance that you should all
take a supply with you to the different section of country
to which you belong. You well know what scourges
the Dysentery, Bloody Flux, Summer Complaint, Cholera
Morbus, Cholera Infantum, or other disorders of the
bowels are. If you desire that none should die of these
complaints; if you wish to be a blessnig to your neigh
bors, to keep death out of your own family and thousands
of families around you—if you are a philanthropist,
come, I charge you, come, get the Herb Doctor's Indian
Specific. Do you ask the question, will this Medicine
cure these diseases? I tell you candidly,—it has never
failed! Never! Never! In the most hopeless, despair
ing eases, after physicians have exhausted every means
known to them, after patients have laid weeks, when
there was no prospect of is cure, and the disease had taken
that fearful turn, consumption of the bowels • then, at
this critical period, this wonderful medicine. t h is s gill of
God, was used, and health again was obtained. The Herb
Doctor feels constrained to urge it upon you, if you wish
to have an easy conscience to rest upon your bed at
night. feeling you have done good. not to neglect when
ever you visit Columbia, to call before you leave and get
this medicine. If you neglect it, and you see this disease.
again making its ravages amongstyou, how will you feel!
It will come to your mind thus. NVell, I could have pre
vented this, I could have saved my child, I could have
saved my wife. You will think of this many of you,
when you are dying..
The Herb Doctor is determined to leave no stone un
turned—to use every exertion to cure, if possible, all that
is curable, and that too by the simple Herh Medicines.—
He believes the day is not far distant, when the gifts of
God. the blessed healing herbs, will be more prized—
when they will be all that are looked to as medicine—
when the giver of poisons will be ashamed to show his
worse than guillotine head—when man will be inure ex
empt from disease—when his days will number ut least
iourscore, and he will stand erect, of manly size, full of
nerve, a being of health ; when pail faces and palsied
limbs are nowhere to be found.
It should be had in every faintly ; every house far and
near, should have it, and it any person, young or old, has
any derangement in the bowels, immediately use it. It
is only prepared for diseases of the bowels, and for them
it is an absolute specific. It was among the lialtans the
remedy was first discovered; from them the recipe was
obtained. It is my wish that the bills of mortality should
be considerably lessened this summer; and to aid me in
this good work I call upon every well-wisher We have
large quantities prepared, and are ready to fill all orders
front every section. As soon as you read this notice,
come, or if it be impossible to do so immediately, then
make a note of it in your memorandum book, and as soon
as convenient call at MARTIN & BELLING'S
Medical dispensary, Front street.
Columbia, July 1, ISIS.-Im
MAGAZINE FOR NOTHING !!! Start not, gen
tle reader, at the announcement, nor set it down as
the last humbug of the day. It is a fact, however aston
ishing, that the publisher will be happy to prove to those
who are skeptical on the subject. Any person wishing
that MAGNIFICENT NATIONAL ENGRAVING of the
SIGNERS OF THE DECLARATION OF INDEPEN
DENCE, engraved on steel by ORAISBY, and considered
fully equal to the one formerly sold at 820, may obtain a
yearly subscription to the Parlor Magazine, free of charge,
by remitting 83, the lowest price of the Engraving, to the
office, 135, Nassau et.
To those unacquainted with the Magazine, we would
say, it is a monthly devoted to morals, literature, and the
best interests of society, containing 3= pages of original
matter, from the best writers, with two beautiful illustra
tions, second to none, in each number, one steel, and the
other expressly adapted to the Ladies and colored in the
best style of the art, with other occasional illustrations
and music. Price $5 per year. It is designed, not simply
to charm away an idle hour. It is chaste and elegant in
all respects, free from all injurious trash—pure and ele
vated in the highest degree, and worthy a place on the
tables of the most virtuous and refined. The better por
tions of the public, and the press, have bestowed upon it
the most unqualified commendation. The volume com
mences with May, and makes over 400 pages, with at
least 24 illustrations. The Nos. may be exchanged at the
end of the year for bound volumes, at the office and else
where, and, with the engraving, will readily sell for an
advance upon the cost—the subscriber thus obtaining the
Fending of one of the best magazines for nothing, and /cav
ing a profit besides.
The Engraving is taken from TRUMBULL'S great
painting in the Rotunda at Washington, and contains the
Portraits of all the distinguished signers. Its size is 21. by
31 inches ; engraved in Ormahy's best style, and consid
ered by good Judges equal to any thing of the kind in
the country. No American family should be destitute of
ibis work. Persons wishing to save TWO DOLLARS,
or obtain this splendid Magazine fur nothing, will please
forward three dollars post paid at once, and thus secure
an early:impression from the plate.
The engraving can lie sent to any part of the United
States, at a postage of 16 cents.
N. D. Agents wanted to obtain subscribers for this
Magazine, and to sell the Parlor Book by J. T. Headley.
.E. E. MILES, 135, Nassau street
ITALIAN Chemical Soap cures Pimples, Blotches,
Salt Rheum, Scurvy, Erysipelas, Sore Heads, Old
Sores, Sore Beard and Barber's Itch, Chapped and tender
Flesh, Freckles, Tnn, Sunburn, and changing Dark,
burnt or Yellow Skin to a purr clear wliite as smooth
and soft as all infant's. Anil, In fact, every kind 2 of ow..
fion and disfigurement. Read these certificates :
From the N. 0. Sentinel, Oct., 1844.
One of our subscriber, Mr. 11. Leonard, informs us that
he has been cured of old, scaly Salt Rheum, of eighteen
year's standing, on his bead, fingers and hands, by a cukc
of an article much advertised lately—we speak of Jones's
Italian Chemical Soup. He also informs us that he has
tried its erects on Ids female slave Rose, much marked
with sun spots, and he found in two weeks her skin much
clearer and whiter.
James Eltham, a planter in Jersey City, was cured of
carbuncles and pimples, which he was of with for
manyyears, by a part of a cake of Jones's Italian Chemi-
Persons in purchasing this must always ask for Jones's
ITALIAN CHEMICAL. SOAP,—and perhaps, as many
who have been cheated, with the counterfeits, will be too
much discouraged to try the genuine, we say to such, try
this once—you will not regret it; but always see that the
name of T. Jones is on the Wrapper.
Sold at 82 Chatham at., New - York, and by Ft- 'WILL
IAMB, Agent for Columbia. je24'4B-6m
TEABERRY Tooth Wash, an immediate and et
factual core for ell di.lease of the um ln Teeth
For sale by Wht. A EAD
THE COLUMBIA SPY
Written for the Columbia Spy
Romantic stream, T love to trace
Thy graceful winding shore ;
To sit and muse upon that race,
Whose voice is heard no more.
Alas! thou'rt now forsaken, lone—
The light canoe is gone;
Thy shady banks are left to mourn,
The light, gay-hearted fawn.
'Twos here the Indian claimed a home,
Ile sought no other land;
lie loved to chase the deer, and roam
Amidst his happy hold
The dashing spray was his delight,
TO break with sdt.ory oar ;
For he alone could claim the right
Of Pequea's pleasant shore.
But 110 w he's gone, no trace is left,
No mark of memory;
Thy winding paths are all bereft,
And none can speak of thee.
His spirit guards with watchful eye,
Some simple mound of clay;
To warn the steps of passe rti•by ,
That here his fathers lay.
Pequea! I love thee for that name,
'Tin now my happy home;
But soon, alas! no more comm claim;
My fate's decreed to roam.
Of thee I'll often think and dream,
Oft' sigh for thy green shades;
Where oft' by moon-light's peaceful gleam,
I've hied thy pleasant glades.
And now ye wild rocks tow'rmg high,
With mossy crag and cleft;
Adieu' I leave but with a sigh,
And mourn for scenes rve left.
Adieu! Adieu! ye flow'ry bank.,
With colors bright and guy;
11l mourn thee lone, when far away ;
A Mug farewell, Pequca.
Wrightsville, July 17, 1848. A. R. Is
THE COUNT AND COUSIN.
"Who is that beautiful girl to whom you bowed
so familiarly?" said Charles Winstanley to Hor.
ace Grenville, as they proceeded down the steps of
the City Hotel.
"That was Adelaide Walsingliam, your cousin
and mine, Charles," said Horace: " really, you
must have left your memories among the beauties
of Paris, if you cannot recognize your nearest of
"You forget, llorace, that when I last saw Ad.
chide also woo a livoly littlo hoydon acorn° ton
years old : the lapse of seven years makes a won.
drous difference in a lady, whatever it may do with
" Nay, if you begin to discuss Time's changes,
Charles, I must confess you cannot ccngratulate
upon having escaped a. touch of his finger. Who,
in that bronzed complexion and hirsute visage,
could discover any traces of the smooth-cheeked
boy whom I last saw on the deck of a French
packet-ship some seven years ago. But tell me,
why did you not write that you were coming
" Because I did not knew my own inind, Horace;
I really was nut quite certain about it until I had,
been a week at sea. The odd pronunciation of my
German valet having caused my name to be placed
on the list of passengers as Mr. Stanley, it occurred
to me that the mistake would enable me to return
incognito, and I thought I would humor the joke,
if but to see how many of my old friends would
recognize me. I arrived last evening, and should
now be a perfect stranger in my native city had
not accidentally met you this morning; and even
you, Horace, did nut at first know me.
" Know you, Charles! who the deuce could even
see you behind that immense growth of brushwood
upon your lip and cheek 7 Do you really mean to
wear those enormoes whiskers and moustaches 7"
" Certainly not longer than suits my present pur
poses, Horace. When I was in Germany, I learn.
ed to wear moustaches fur the same reason that I
learned to smoke the meerschaum—because every.
body else did it. In Paris I reduced them a little,
but did not entirely banish them, because there al
so I found them the fashion. A lively little French
lady, a passenger in our ship, wagered a pair of
Paris gloves that I would not wear them a week
in America; I accepted the bet, and for one week
you will sec me 'bearded like the pard:"
" Nay, if you like thorn," said Horace laughing,
"you need not seek an excuse for wearing them;
they are quite the fashion, and ladies now estimate
a. man, not as they once did, by his altitude, but by
the length of his whiskers."
" I have no desire to win ladies' favor by wear
ing an unshaven face," answered Charles. " But
pray, Horace, tell me something more about our
" SI3O is as lovely in character, Charles, as she is
in person, but she has one great fault; like most
of our fashionable belles, she has a mania for every.
thing foreign. Her manners, her dress,
vants, all come from abroad, and she has declared
to me repeatedly her resolution never to marry an
What is it that my fair countrywomen so
much admire in their foreign lovers?" asked
" Oh, they say there are a polish and elegance
of manner belonging to foreigners which Ameri.
cans never possess. Two of Adelaide's intimate
friends have recently married scions of some ante
diluvian German family, and our lovely cousin is
ambitious of forming an equally splendid alli
"If she were to marry a western farmer," said
Charles, with a smile, "she would reign over a
principality quite as large and perhaps more
flourishing, than usually belongs to these emigrant
`Adelaide is a noble-hearted girl," replied
Horace, " and I wish she could be cured of her
" If she is really a sensible girl, Horace, and
that is her only fault, I think she might be cured."
Horace shook his head.
" Come and dine with me Horace—be careful to
tell no one of my arrival—and we'll discuss the
matter over a bottle of fine old Mai:kris, if you are
not too fashionable to drink it."
• • a • • • • •
The windows oq Mr. Walsingham's house pour
ed a flood of light through the crimson silk cur
tains upon the wet and dreary-looking street, while
the music heard at intervals told to the gaping
crowd collected around the door, that the rich were
making merry. The decorated rooms were brilliant
with an array of youth and beauty, but fairest
among them all stood the mistress of the festival.
Attired in a robe of white crape, with no other
Z elect .ale.
COLUMBIA, SATURDAY, JULY 29, 1848.
ornament than a pearl bandeau confining her dark
tresses, she looked the personification of joy.
"Cousin Horace," else exclaimed, as she saw her
favorite cousin enter the room, "you have not been
here these three days." And then in a lower tone
she added, "Who was that splendid Don Wills
kemmio with whom I saw you walking yester
Horace laid his finger on his lip as a tall figure
emerged from the crowd at the entrance of the
room—" Miss Walsingham, allow me to present
you to the most noble Count Pfeiffenharnmer.
The blood mounted into Adelaide's check as the
Count bowed low over the hand which he hastened
to secure for the next quadrille. There was a
mischievous sparkle in Horace's eye, and a deep
and earnest devotedness in the stranger's manner,
which made her feel uncomfortable, though she
knew not why. A single glance sufficed to show
her that the Count was attired in a magnificent
court suit, with diamond buckles at the knee, and a
diamond band looping up the elegant chapeau.trus
which encumbered his arm. After some minutes
she ventured to look more courageously at him.
He was tall and exceedingly well-shaped ; his eyes
were very bright; but the chief attraction was a
beautiful mouth garnished with the must splendid
moustache that ever graced an American ball-room.
Adelaide was delighted. Ile danced elegantly ;
not with the stiff, awkward manner of an Ameri
can, who always seems half-ashamed of the undig
nified part he is playing, but with a buoyancy of
step and gracefulness of motion perfectly unrivalled.
Adelaide was enchanted. He spoke English very
well; a slight German accent alone betrayed his
foreign birth, and Adelaide did not like him the
less for that. It is true she felt a little queer when
she found herself whirling through the waltz
in the arms of an entire stranger, and her brow
flushed with something very like anger when she
felt his bearded lip upon her hand as he placed her
in a seat, but this was only the freedom of for
The evening passed away like a dream, and Ad.
elaide retired to her room with a burning cheek,
and a frame exhausted by what she deemed plea
sure. She was too much excited for sleep, and
when she appeared at her father's breakfast-table, (a
duty she never neglected,) it was with such a pale
cheek and heavy eye that he was seriously alarmed.
"These late hours will kill you my child," said
ho, as he kissed her forehead; " I shalt return at
noon, and if I find you still so languid, I shall send
ter Dr. -."
So saying, he stepped into his carriage and drove
to his counting room, where, immersed in business,
he quite forgot Adelaide's cheek, until the dinner
hoar summoned him from his dingy office to his
stately mansion. As he entered the door, he rccol.
lectcd Adelaide's exhausted look.
" Poor child," murmured lie, . I wonder how
A low musical laugh struck on his ear as the
servant threw open the Ma wing.room, and the sight
of her radiant countenance, looking more brilliant
than ever, as she sat between Cousin Horace and
the Count, soon quieted his fears.
Mr. Walsingham, in common with roost Ameri.
cans of the olden time, had a great prejudice
. g oinot foreigners, "If they are real lords," he
used to say, "they don't want my daughter;
and if they arc not real lords, my daughter don't
want them." His notions of the Teutonic charac
ter were founded upon the wonderful stories which
his mother used to tell him about the Hessians, and
vague ideas of ruffians and child-eaters were asso
ciated in his mind with everything German. The
coldness with which lie saluted the noble Count,
formed a striking contrast to the cordial warmth
with which ho grasped the hand of his nephew.
"Glad to see you, Horace—couldn't speak a.
word to you last night, you were so surrounded
with pretty girls. By the way boy"—drawing
him aside—" who is that hairy.faced fellow 7"
" That is Count Pfeiffenhammer, uncle."
"Count Pipehammer ! Well, the Germans have
certainly an odd fancy in names. Pray, what, is
. _ .. _..
"Business!" said Horace, laughing; " why, his
chief business at present is to receive the revenues
of his principality."
"Principality t—tudget— a few barren acres
with half a dozen mud.hovels on it, 1 suppose. It
won't do; Horace—lt won't do! Adelaide deserves
something better than a mouthful of moonshine.
What the deuce did you bring him here for 7 I
don't think I could treat him with common civility
if it were not for your suite."
" Then for my sake, dear uncle, treat him civilly,
and I give my word you shall not repent your
Every day saw the Count paying his devoirs to
the lovely Adelaide, and always framing some very
winning excuse for his visit. A boquet of rare ex
otics, or an exquisite print, or a scarce book, or a
beautiful specimen of foreign mechanism, were
sure to be his apology. Could any girl of seven.
teen be insensible to such gallant wooing, especial.
ly when proffered by a rich young nobleman, who
wore such splendid w !tinkers, a nd whose moustache
and imperial were the envy of all the aspirants
after ladies' smiles. Adelaide soon began to dis
cover that, when the Count was present, time flew
on eagles' wings ; and when, after spending the
morning in her company, ho ventured to make ono
of the gay circle usually assembled in her drawing.
room at evening, she was conscious of a degree of
pleasure for which she was unwilling to account.
His intimacy with her cousin Horace afforded him
the opportunity of being her companion abroad as
well as at home; and in the gay evening party,
the morning promenade, or in the afternoon ride,
the handsome Count was her attendant.
A feeling of gratified vanity probably aided the
natural goodness of Adelaide's temper, and enabled
her to endure with exemplary equanimity the rail.
leries of her young friends; but she was not so
tranquil when her father began seriously to remon
strate against this imprudent intimacy.
"You have bad all your whims gratified, Ade
laide," said he ; " now you must indulge one of
mine. Adopt as many foreign fashions as you
please, but remember that you never, with my eon.
[ sent, marry any other than an American. 11Iy
fortune has been made by my own industry—my
name transmitted to me unsullied by my father,
who earned his patent of nobility when he signed
the Declaration of Independence, and no cmpty.ti
tied foreigner shall ever reap the fruit of my toil,
or teach my daughter to be ashamed of her repub
The earnestness of these admonitions from a pa.
rent who had never before spoken except I" !f. , "
words of unbounded tenderness, tirst led Adelaide
to look into the depths of her own heart. She was•
almost terrified at her own researches, when she
found that she had allowed the image of the Count
to occupy its most hidden recesses. Bitterly did
she repent her folly.
" I wish ho were an American," sighed sbe ;
"yet, if he were he would not be half so pleasing.
How devoted his manners are—how much feeling
in all he says and does:"
Poor Adelaide ! she was like the fascinated bird
—she dreaded his power, yet she could not with
draw herself from his influence. She could not
conceal from herself that the manners of the Count,
too, were greatly changed. From the courtly gal.
lant, he had gradually become the impassioned
lover. He treasured her every look and word, and
she keenly felt that in exposing her own peace of
mind she had also risked the loss of his.
This state of things could not long exist without
an explanation. Six months had scarcely passed
since Adelaide first beheld the noble stranger, and
already her young cheek had lost its glow and her
step its buoyant lightness. She was sitting alone
one morning, brooding over her melancholy fore
bodings, when the door opened, and the object of
her thoughts entered. Seating himself beside her,
he commenced a conversation full of those grace
ful nothings which women always love to hear, but
Adelaide was in no mood for gayety. The Count
intently watched the play of her eloquent fea
tures, and then, as if he divined the tumult of her
feelings, suddenly changed the topic to one of
deeper interest. He spoke of himself—of his vari.
ous adventures—ofhis personal feelings, and, final
ly, of his approaching departure for Europe. Ad
elaide*. cheek grew paler as he spoke, but she
suppressed the cry which rose to her lips. The
Count gazed earnestly upon her, then seizing her
hand and clasping it between his own, lie poured
forth the moat passionate expressions of enaction.
Half fainting with the excess of her emotions, Ad
elaide sat motionless as a statute, until aroused by
the Count's entreaties for a reply. With bitter
self.reproach, she attempted to answer him.
Falteringly but frankly, she stated her father's ob
jections to her union with a foreigner, and blamed
herself for having permitted an intimacy which
could only end in suffering for both.
" Only tell me, Adelaide, that your father's pre
judices are the sole obstacle," said the Count pas.
sionately ; say but that you could have loved me,
and 1 shall be content."
Adelaide blushed and trembled.
"For the love of Heaven, answer me but by a
Timidly that downcast eye was raised to his,
and he was answered.
" Adelaide," he resumed, after a moment's pause,
"we may yet be happy. Could you love the hum
ble citizen as well as the noble Count ?"
A slight pressure of the little hand which lay in
his, and a flitting smile on the tremulous lips, was
" Then hear me, Adelaide," said her lover ; " I
will return to my country—l will return my hon.
ors to him who bestowed them, and then I may
hope to merit —"
My utter contempt!"—cried Adelaide, vehe
mently. "What resign your country—forfeit the
name of your fathers—desert your inheritance of
duties ! No, Count Pfeiffenliammer. If a lovo of
freedom led you to become a citizen of our happy
land, none would so gladly welcome you as Ade
laide Walsingliam ; but never would I receive
the sacrafice as a tribute to transitory passion."
" A transitory passion, Adelaide !"
"Could I expect stability of feeling in him who
can so easily abandon his native land, and forget
the claims of his country? You have taught me
a bitter lesson, Count. No American would have
shown such weakness of character as I have wit
nessed in him whom I fondly beleivcd to be all that
his lips professed. Would we had never met," ad.
dal she, bursting into tears.
"Adelaide," said the Count, "you love me—
those precious tears assure me that you love me.
Be mine, sweet one ;—your father will not be in
exorable—he adores you."
" And therefore," said she, " you would have me
make him miserable for lite. Because he looks
upon me with idolatry, you would have me dese.
crate the image he has worshipped. Count Pfeif.
fenhanimer, we must part ! You do not under
stand my naturc—l have been deceived in you 'l O
"You hove! you have been deceived, my own
sweet cousin !" cried the Count, as he covered her
hand with passionate kisses. " You have reject
ed Count Pfeiffenhammer—will you also refuse the
hand of your madcap cousin, Charles Winstauley,
whose little wife you were seven years ago."
Adelaide started from her seat in wild surprise.
"What means all this?—Charles Winstanley ! the
Count!" The sudden revulsion of feeling over
powered her, and cousin Horace entered the room
just in time to see her sink fainting into Charles
Now the anger of the lady, when ahe recovered
and learned the trick which had been practiced
upon her—the merriment of Cousin Horace—the
entisfaction of the father, and the final reconcilli
alio!: of all differences—may they not be far bet
ter imagined than described ?
A few weeks after, a splendid party was again
assembled in Mr. Walsingliam's drawing.roorna ;
but Adelaide was no longor the life of the party.
Attired in bridal array, and decked with tho rich
jewels which once sparkled on the person of
the false Count, she sat in blushing beau
ty beside her cousin Charles, who, now that he
had shaven off his moustache and reduced his
whiskers, looked like what he really was, a true
" But why, Charles, did you woo me in such out
landish guise ?" whispered she, smiling.
" Because, sweet, you vowed to marry none but
an outlandish wooer. Plain Charles Winstanicy
would never have been allowed the opportunity of
winning the heart which Count Pfeiffenhamtner so
"Ay, ay, Charles," said the happy father, "if
American women would only value a man for the
weight of his brains rather than the lightness of
his heels, and the strength of his principles rather
than the elegance of his manners, we should have
less of foreign foppery and more of homely virtue
in our country."
From the New York Spirit of the Times.
DUCKS IN SUMMER.
, TENNESSE, May 15.1848
Dear "Spirit"—There is no doubt about its being
true; and it's a good one, if I can hit on the right
way of telling it.
Aaron was a tall, strapping fellow, near seven
teen. You never saw a more susceptible youth.—
Being good looking, the girls were as easily emit.
ten with him. They used to flock out to the coun
try on Friday evenings and stay till Monday morn
ings. Talk of a colt: There's no such romp as a
town girl turned loose in the country. She races,
she jumps, she climbs the trees, shaking the wild
cherries down upon the timorous beau beneath her.
Oh, she is the most beautiful, winning, delightful
stature in the world.
Moses was much younger than his cousin. He
knew Aaron was taking on about that naughty lass,
May Stclton. And May was in love with Aaron.
May and Troup, and Sue, and Pay, all came out
one Friday evening, with Mose's sister, Angeline.
Mose goes off early, Saturday, to let Aaron know.
Aaron was for running over to his aunt's.
"No," says Mose ; " bring the gun ; the woods
are all full of squirrels; wetnight kill a dozen walk
ing the two miles."
The road led along the creek bank. Aaron was
in a brown study, thinking of May. Mose was look
ing up in the tree tops and among the bushes, am.
ions for a pop at something. It was the shadiest
and quietest of places. So far no game.
" Let's leave the road a hit, and go to the bend
of the creek," said Mose: " it's so out of the way,
[81,50, PAYABLE AT SIX MONTHS.
nobody ever disturbs it. We 'II see something
And they did. Let it be dated July 25.
"Sh !" hissed Mose, through his teeth.
" What is it?" asks Aaron, roused a little.
Most put his hand to his car.
" Ducks—the biggest kind!"
"This time o' year ?"
"I ace 'cm I"
"Give me the gun!"
"No—couldn't think of it!"
" Well, blaze away I—they 'ii fly if you go
"The bushes are in the way," says Mose, bring
ing the piece down from his shoulder.
"Shoot anyhow!" insisted Aaron, impatiently.
"Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!" says Mose, turning palo
as death, and dropping the gun on the ground.
" What 's matter ?" said Aaron, running up.
"It's the girls in a-swimming."
They sat down still as snow-flakes. They were
white as the petticoates strewn on the pebbly beach.
Their teeth chattered. A long silence. At last
Aaron looked slowly round at Mose, with the
meanest sort of countenance. Move's face, as he
returned the glance, was a regular sheep-killing
They crept along like snakes. They reached
the tree. Mose, being the lightest, gave the gun
to Aaron, and climbed far out on a branch over the
creek and got into a squirrel's nest. Aaron wasn't
quite so high.
It was a pretty sight in course. You've read
about nymphs, syrens, and so forth? They couldn't
compare. flair loose, and floating on the waves ;
arms, &c., &c., glistening in the water. Polly was
white as snow. Sue was plump as a patridge in
pea time, and sat in the waves like a bird in its
nest. Troup was slim all over, excep the upper
works. Aaron promised not to look at Angeline it
Mose wouldn't wink at May. Impossiblq! Ange•
line sported gracefully like a native of the clement,
and May was a black-eyed houri, couleur de rose,
from toe to brow. They splashed and paddled, and
chatted like mad.
Sir, the tree began to shake. Aaron had a ter.
rible buck-ague, and little Mose began to smoke
and burn, commencing at the ears.
There was a louder noise than usual among the
unconscious bathing beauties. Aaron stretched his
already elongated nook, at the same lime hitching
the gun forward. Unfortunately, the trigger
caught in a vine, and it went off with a more deaf.
ening report, it seemed to the parties, than ever
echoed from a cannon's mouth. It was the climax
of the adventure. Mose tumbled, from the excite
ment, plump into the creek, between Sue and Polly.
The gals! they DOVE madly, stranged, and put up
the bank, their white backs gazed at by the watery
eyes of the fish hawk that had pounced among
them. They are robed in a twinkling, but not one
with her right dress on. Aaron dashed into the
woods.' There was a terrible scream as he ran
right into their midst. All spilt in different di
rections, and came dropping in one after another,
at Mose's mother's.
The boys took a long turn into the woods, and
did nut get back before night. They said they had
boon deer hunting, and hadn't seen the creek. Ti,E
GIRLS ABFEARED TO BELIEVF. THEM!
A printer is the most curious being living. Ile
May have a HANK and COINS and not be worth a
penny—have SMALL CAPS, and neither wife nor
children. Others may run fast, but he gets along
the swiftest by comma fast. He may be making
IMPRESSIO?iS without eloquence; may use the LYE
without offending, and be telling truth; while oth.
cm cannot stand when they set, he can err stand
ing, and even do both at the same time—may make
use of rURNI TORE, and yet have no dwelling—may
make and put away ri, and " never see cr pie," much
less cat it during his life—be a human being and a
star at the same time—may mess a great deal and
not ask a favor—may handle a SHOOT/NO IRON, and
know nothing about a cdnnon, gun, or pistol—he
may move the LEVER that moves the world, and be
as liar from moving the globe as a hog with his
nose under a mole hill—spread MEETS without be.
ing a housewife—he may lay his FORM on hia RED
and yet be obliged taideep on the floor—he may
use the t without shedding blood, and from the
earth may handle the • s ''—ho may be of a. nett.-
ING disposition, and yet never desire to travel—he
may have a sitter's row•, and nut be deformed—
never be without a case, and know nothing of law
or physic—be always CORRECTING hie Eanoas and
yet growing worse every day—bave
without ever having the arm of a lass around him
—have his Eons: locked up, and at the same time
he free from jail, watch.house, or any other confine.
They arc as fond of titles In the East, as we are
in the great West. Among his other high sound.
ing titles, the King of Ave has that of " Lord of
Twenty-four umbrellas:* This looks as if he had
prepared himself for a lung reign
"My brethren," said Swift, " there ere three
kinds of pride—the pride of birth, the pride of
riches, and the pride of talents—but I shall not
now speak of the latter, none of you being liable
to that vice."
An absent minded gentleman, retiring at night,
put his dog to bed and kicked himself down stairs
He did not discover his mistake till he went to pip,
and the dog tried to snore.
" %Vibe is the master of this house:" said a gen.
tleman, as Le rode up to a public house. "I am,
sir," said the inkeeper, " my wile has been dead
those three weeks."
Horn says-- A juvenile friend of ours would
argue with us that he was a supporter of royalty,
since he had the prints of Wales on his back."
Mrs. Partingtoa says she never received but one
synominous letter in her life, and that spoke para.
gorically of all her acquaintances.
"The distracted state of -public tranquility," is
mentioned in the newspapers. What on earth can
that he ?
A cannon in China is a great many miles away;
but the man who fires it is a cannoneer.
Russ Borrr.E.—The devil's crucible, in which he
ma lts a ll the fine geld of a man's nature.
A spoon is a thing that ie often near a youngla
dy's lips without kissing them.
e.l love thee gin." as the husband said bib
When is a man not a man 1 When a is a
[WHOLE NUMBER, 947
AY REV WALTIOt COLTON, C. S. :lA.vr.
"They that go down to the sea, in ships, and do bus
iness on the great waters—these sea the works of the
Lord, and fits wonders to the deep:,
The moat fearful and impressive exhibitions of
power, known to our globe, belong to the Ocean.
The Volcano, with its ascending cloud of flame,
and falling torrent of liquid fire ; The Earthquake
whose footstep is on the ruin of cities, are circum-
scribed in the desolating range of their visitation.
But the Ocean when roused in its chainless
strength, shakes a thousand shores with storm and
Navies or oak and iron are tossed in mockery
from its crest, and whole armaments, manned by
the strength and courage of millions, perish among
The tempest on land is impeded by forests, and
broken by mountains ; but on the plain of the deep
it rushes unresisted : and when its strength is at
lust spent, ten thousand giant waves which" it has
called up, still roll its terrors onward.
The avalanche shaken from its glittering steep,
if it rolls to the bosom of the earth, melts away
and is lost in vapor; but if it plunge into the em
brace of Ocean, this mountain-mass of ice and
bail is borne about for ages, in tumult and terror—
the drifting monument of the Ocean's dead.
The mountain lake, and the meadow stream, are
inhabited only by the timid prey of the angler;
but the Ocean is the home of the Leviathan, his
ways are in the mighty deep. The glittering peb
ble, and the rainbow-tinted shell, which the retir
ing tide has left upon the shore are scarce worthy
its care—and the watery gem which the pearl di.
ver reaches at the risk of his life, arc all that men
can filch from the treasures of the sea. The
groves of coral which wave o'er its pavements, and
the halls of amber, which glow in its depths, are
beyond his approach save when he goes down amid
their silent magnificence, to seek his burial monu
The island—the continent—the capitols of kings
—are worn by time, washed away by the wale,
consumed by tbarime, or sunk by the earthquake.
But the Ocean still remains, and still rolls on, in
the greatness of its unabated strength; and over
the majesty of its form, and the marvels of its
might, time and disaster have no power.
Even the vast clouds of vapor, which rise up
from its bosom, roll away to encircle the globe :
and on distant mountains and plains pour out. their
watery treasures, which gather themselves again,
in streams and torrents, and return with exulting
bounds to their parent Ocean. These are the mes
sengers which proclaim, in every land, the exhaust
less resources of the sea. But it is reserved for
"those who go down to the sea in ships, to see the
works of the Lord, and Ilis wonders in the deep."
Man, also, has made the Ocean, the theatre of
his power. The ship in which he rides the element
is ono of the highest triumphs of his skill. At
first, this floating fabric was only a frail bark,
slowly urged by the laboring oar. The sail at
length arose and spread its wings to the wind.
Still when the lofty promontory had sunk from
sight, and the orbs above hint were lost in the
clouds, he had no power to direct his course. But
the secret of the magnet is at length revealed to
him, and now his needle settles to the polar star
with a fixedness which love lies stolen as the em
blem of its constancy. Now, however, he can die.
perm with sail and oar and flowing wave. lie
constructs his engine of flame and vapor, and o'er
the vast solitude of the sea, as o'er the solid earth,
goes thundering on. his track.
On the Ocean, too, thrones have been lost and
won. On the fate of Actium was suspended the
empire of the world. On the gulf of Sabitnis the
pride of Persia found a grave, and the crescent set
forever in the waters of the Navarino. While at
Trafalgar, and the Nile nations held their breath,
as each gun, from its.adamantine lips, spread a
death shade around the ships, like the hurricane
eclipse of the sun.
OP THE TELEGRAPH-
Call in Dr. Chtiste ! Ask him for a Galvanic
dose! A man must have the power inbim to write
of such an invention as the Magnetic Telegraph.
Lightning reduced to a medicinal agent! And the
cloud in an apothecary shop! So that chemistry
has fairly risen to the region of astronomy and
claimed Companionship with Heaven. Wonder
o'crtopping wonder I Men often turn prophets un
awares. Orators have long been talking about the
lightning-like mind," and lo! truth was envelop.
ed an the words. It is all reality. Depend upon it,
the age of type and printing.presses is terminating.
The type was only typical. The press has pressed
intellect beyond itself. Steam is too slow. Two
hundred and thirty-two degrees are too high in
the scale. Lightning can be promptly manufac
tured. And then, its sympathies are so quick, as
to reach its object at once, asking but a wire for tho
announcement of its revelationi. And then, its
language is so pointed ! Think of that and stare
at it! The human tongue is gracefully roundt , cl off,
and it must speak - in rounded periods. Fire-flames
arc sharp. Lightning loves points. If it ever
take a ball-form woe to you. See the token in
tall rods for house-defence. —moue,
agent a point and mark the submissiveness. So
much for that point and now for another. We
used to fear that materialism would engross all the
great inventions, and physical man be only profited.
Things are otherwise ordered. Give to matter, the
railroad. Corporiety may rejoice at it. So may
merchandize. So may soldiers. See now the of
fect. Thought has its wire-path. Make the con
nexion and apply the power. Letters, words, sen.
tenceo, fly, fly, fly ! One transmission and a city
moves with the diffused excitement. New York
shouts back to Washingson borne Washington's
echoes have died away beyond the Potomac.
And mark the triumph of mind over matter. The
news is made known while your Locomotive puffs
off steam. Talk no more about steam. It is but
a step beyond horse-feet. Hush about the wind.
It's most blustering pretensions are gone. Mag.
nctism absorbs the stock of glory. What more, 0
man! You have the sunshine to do your painting
and the lightning your talking! Say, what morel
Your path is now in the firmament. Go higher.
Faith waits to perfect science. A fervent prayer
.-.n reach the Throne sooner than the Telegraph
can communicate words to your heart. Religion
needs no inventions. Rejoice for thecae complete!
Joe Kelly's ghost visited his wife. "Molly," says
he." Pm in purgatory at this present," says be.
"And what sort of a place is it 7" says she. .Faix„"
says he, "it's a sort of half-way house between
you and heaven," says Joe," and I stand it mighty
aimy after laving you," says he.
"My son." said an affectionate mother to her
hopeful heir, who was ins short time to get mar
ried, "you are getting thin." " Yes, mother." he
replied, " I am, and I expect shortly that you will
wee my rib."