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'I V , .. ■“. -■'•> /■ r. V —- V^fciL- -* .. - ♦ .■■ _ ^ J mint a I of |J ulitital anir General |lttos-^n Jpbmalc af digital ^igljts. VOL, x._. BATH, THURSDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 22, 1855. N0T23. Cjje (Eastern (Kitties IS PUBLISHED BVERY THURSDAY MORNING, BY GEO. E. NEWMAN, Ddil«r n n d Proprietor* O-flcc In north en«l of PiHncK's Block, third story, corner of front and Broad Streets. Terms. If paid strictly in /vtoanre—per annum, , If payment to delayed 6 mos., “ “ If not paid till the close of the year, “,uu O* No paper will be discontinued until ALL arrearages are paid, tfaless at the option of the publisher. TT Single copies, four cents—for sale at the office, and at Stearns’ Periodical Depot, Centre Street. O* All letters and communications to be addressed post paid, to the Publisher, Bath, Me. S. M. Pkttkvgii.l A Co., Newspaper Advertising Agents, No. 10 State Street, ami V. B. Palmer, Soot lay's Building, Court Street, Boston, are Agents for this paper, and are andtorisied • > receive Advertisements and Subscriptions for us at the same rates as required at this office. Their re ceipts are regarded as payments. piscdlang. Connection of the Spiritual with the Natural World. The following passages are extracted from a letter written by Her. Mr. ISarrett, of New York :— According to Swedenborg there is a most intimate connection between the inhabitants of the spiritual and those of the natural world, tie tells that the spiritual world is not far re moved from the natural, as to space, but is ■within it as the soul is within the body. Con sequently there is a reciprocal influence and mu Ul dependence of the two worlds upon each other, like that existing betwpen the soul and the body. The spritual world exerts an in soul exerts an influence upon the body ; and again the nat ural re-acts upon the spiritual as the body re acts upon the soul. While men are living in this woild, they are all, as their spirits, inti mately associated with spirits in the other world. It this were not the case, we should have no power to will or think. Swedenborg says ‘that man cannot think the least thing without spirits adjoined to him, and that his spirit's life depends on it.’ We are aware that the mass of professing Christians at the present day would look upon such a sentiment as this as something fanciful, visionary, or even superstitious ; for the prev alent notions respecting the spiritual world are extremely vague and ill-defined. Most persons seem to regard it as a shadowy and unreal world, and to think of the soul itself as a kind of formless, etherial, unsubstantial va jior. Indeed, we find almost everywhere throughout Christendom, a deep-rooted skep ticism in regard to the reality of a spiritual world or the existence of angels or spirits.— It has oome to be regarded by the multitude as a mark of wisdom to deny the reality ol ev erything not cognizable by the natural senses, and to treat the beliel in the existence of spir its, and of their influence upon men, as a silly superstition. Such is the gross sensualism in which the minds of men in Christendom are immersed, that they have but little tailh in the reality or existence of anything above the com- ! mon sphere of nature. As it is written,— ‘When the Son of Man comcth, shall he find faith on the"earth V But there have ever been persons in all ages of the world who have believed that there are spirits invisible to the natural world, yet inti mately present with men, and exerting an in fluence upon them for good or for evil. Thus the belief in the presence of the spiritual world, and in its intimate connection and sym pathy with the natural world, has never at any time completely died out. And it is worthy of remark that those in whom this belief has been the strongest, have usually been among the purest and best of men. Such was evi dently the belief of the great Milton, for he says:— “ Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep.” And the poet Spenser says : — “And is there care in heaven 5 And is there love la heavenly spirits to these creatures base That may compassion of their evils move ? There is j else much more wretched were the case Of men than beasts. But oh ! tho exceeding grace Of highest God ! that loves His creatures so, And all His work with mercy doth embrace, That blessed angels He sends to and fro, To serve to wicked men—to serve his wicked foe.” Sir Walter Scott also says, in his work on Demonology and Witchcraft, that there are many millions of spirits who have become in visible to mortals, but ho are not, it may be supposed, indifferent to the affairs of mortali ty, perhaps not incapable of influencing them.’ Our own Washington Irving, too, though he regards the belief as & superstition, says,— ‘It is a sublime and beautiful doctrine, incul cated by the early fathers, that there are guar dian spirits appointed to watch over cities and nations, to guide and guard the steps of help less infancy.’ And he further adds :—‘What could be more consoling than the idea that the souls of those we once loved are permitted to return and watch over our welfare ! That affectionate and guardian spirits sat by our pillow when we slept, keeping a vigil over our most helpless hours 1 That beauty and innocence, which had languished into the tomb, yet smiled .unseen around us, revealing themselves in those blest dreams wherein we live over again the hours of past endearments 1 A belief of this kind would, I think, be a new incentive to virtue, rendering us circumspect even in our most secret moments, from the idea that those we once loved and honored were invisible witnesses of all eur actions.— Place the superstition in this light, and 1 con fess I should like to be a believer in it.’ I opened a little volume of poems the other day, published about two years ago in Boston, and from the pen of a lady of more than ordi nary elevation and purity of thought, and in some consoling stanzas addressed to a ‘Wid owed Friend,’ 1 found the following lines :— " Oh ! not alone ! Oh ! not a'me ! Her spirit hovers near, With all its deep undying love, Thy darkest hour to cheer. An angel clothed in garments white, She movetli at thy side ; Y outhful and beautiful as when She first became thy bride. Angels round our daily paths Their blessed influence shed ; These angels are our dearly loved, Our ne’er forgotten dead.” I eut from a newspaper, not long ago, some lines written by a gentleman who had been called to mourn the loss of a wife and two children. They were addressed to his wife in the spirit land, were remarkable for the cheer ful and faithful faith, and pious trust, which they indicated in the writer's mind. The fal lowing was among them :— “ And how with both the children dear, ' Thou'rt dwelling in the spirit land— And oftentime I almost hear Sweet music from that happy band. And sometimes too I know I feel Thy heavenly Influence round me thrown, Such thoughts will o’er my spirit steal, And tell me then I'm not alone." An intimate friend of the late Rev. William Ellery Cbanning once said to him, ‘I do wish that some of my departed friends would come back, and tell me of that unseen state.’ Dr. Cbanning smiled and answered seriously,— ‘Well, I do not expect any one to come hack to me, but I should not be surprised if they did ; I have such implicit faith in their exis tence and nearness, that their appearance would not, I believe, astonish me.’ In an age of gloomy and almost universal skepticism with regard to the reality of a spir itual world, it is refreshing to meet occasion ally with sentiments like these. They show us that the doctrine which Swedenborg an nounces on this subject, is not altogether new, 1 but that there have ever been some, as well before as since his time, who have believed the main facts which he asserts, And are there not moments when almost every one is brought to feel the presence of the spiritual world as a grand and solemn re ality! Moments when he ceases to doubt that there is a most intimate connection of men in this word with spirits in the other world ?—when some near friend or relative has been removed by death to the land of spir its, do we not all, sometimes in our hours of retirement and meditation, realize that tho spirit of our departed friend in near us, com muning and sympathizing with otlr spirit?— And if it is a friend that we have fondly loved, and who was worthy to be loved, do we not at such moments experience the tranquilizing and elevating influence of his spirit upon our own ! I)o we not feel the warm breath of his love in the depth of our souls as sensibly as we can feel upon our cheek the summer even ing zephyr?—Dedham Gazette. The Feast of Sacrifice. Rev. C. N. Righter, in the'N. Y. Observ er, gives the following account of a Moham medan festival which occurred while he was at Constantinople, in August last :— “ As I was passing through one of the streets of Stamboul, a few days since, I saw a large number of sheep collected in the great square, also in the court and upon the steps of the mosque. I inquired of a friend, why is this? Ho said it was a day before Courban Uairam, the Feast of Sacrifice, one of the principal Mohammedan festivals, when every family who can afford it must kill a sheep, and the rich must distribute them to the poor. I also learned that it was a religious festival^ in which sheep and camels were sacrificed to Allah and the Prophet by the faithful, and special rights were observed. The next morn- i ing we were awakened before dawn by the fir ing of cannon on all sides, that nshcrcd in the first day of Bairam. I walked out and visited j one of the large mosques, and found it illumi nated with hundreds of lamps and filled with Mussulman worshippers, prostrating them- ! selves in prayer. As I came out, the stars I began to fade in the sky, and the morning ' light was breaking in the east. The Pashas in their caiques were now moving toward the old seraglio palace, and I also joined in the train, to witness the scene. As we reached the landing and walked up the hill, many bus- 1 tied past in greater or less state, according to their rank in office or dignity, and hastened to the ceremony. Vpon reaching the court of the palace, I found it filled with Arab cavalry in full suits of armor, end Turkish soldiers J drawn up in line on either side. The pashas and ulemas on horseback in their state dress and decorations, were in the center, surround- ; ed by their train of servants and retainers.— \ The plumed horses of the Sultan were now led forth, and soon came the Grand Seignor under the Sublime Porte, in the midst of his impe rial guards, bearing the plumes and brazen standards of rovality. A herald precedes him, shouting, ‘Long live the Sultan,’ and the cry is caught up by the whole lino of soldiers as he passes. His eanuchs and ministers of the divan follow in his immediate train, and the ' whole procession moves to the slate mosque of \hmed to perform the devotions of Bairam.— A the door of the mosque, the Turkish guard refused to admit a small company of English and American gentlemen, but they insisted upon their right to enter; whereupon the Sul- , tan came from his private room and beckoned to his officers to conduct them in the mosque, and to a position in front of the high altar to witness the ceremony. Thus proving that the bigoted prejudices of the Turks against Chris tians are fast passing away. The, services were conducted by the Sheik Islam, and con sisted of prayers, singing, and prostrations be fore Allah by the multitude. The Sultan and his ministers occupied a latticed apartment above, and observed the same forms as the worshippers below. As we came out into the large open court of the mosque, the ladies of the harem were driven up in their golden and silver carriages, to grace the procession. First came the chief Sultana, drawn by four black horses, and two other Sultanas, dressed in the richest silks and brilliant with diamonds 8f surpassing beauty. Then the princess, the Sultan’s daughter, tSi veiled, and wearing a head dress of many jew els ; and many others, with costly fens and gems which female taste might covet, display ing the rarest beaoty of the Orient. The Sul tan and his guard now returned to the inner court of the seraglio, where he seated himself upon his golden divan and received the hom age and obeisance of his loyal ministers and subjects. Then the firing of cannon announced the close of the ceremony and the full opening ot the Bairam. This continues four days, in feasting, revelry, and special devotions. The mosques are all lighted, and the minarets illuminated at night. The coffee-houses are crowded with Turks smoking, drinking coffee, and listening to street singers and story tellers. Every Mussulman who can afford it, and es pecially every Mussulwoman, appears in a new dress. They exchange congratulatory visits among friends, and form pleasure parties in caiques and arabas to the favorite resorts near the city. The shops are all closed and busi ness is everywhere abandoned for pleasure.— This feast is kept in remembrance of the Pil grims, and begins on the tenth month, Dhu’l hnjja, when the victims are slain at the pil grimage of Mecca. They there offer up sheep, goats and aamels, and eat a part them selves, while they distribute the rest to the poor, lienee the nature of the festival at Constantinople. The continued feast upon mutton for four days is a great luxury to the poorer classes, for they ordinarily live almost entirely upon vegetables and fruits—cucum bers and melons in summer, and figs and grapes in autumn. The grapes here are in deed delicious, the finest in clusters and fla vor in the world. The ceremony of blessing them has just been finished, and we have them now in great abundance. The priests go out intu the vineyards and pronounce a benedic tion upon them for the use of man. After this they are regarded healthful and good. Previ ously it is considered a sin to pick or cat them. The sin, however, is not often committed, for they always receive the blessing as soon as they begin to ripen. They are ‘sour grapes’ before.” Story of an Honest Man. Years ago when the proud city of Boston was but a brisk sea-port town, with its houses struggling to cover the hill-sides and barren pastures, and not very successful in the at tempt, there lived a man somewhat celebrated in his way, who rejoiced in the name of Seth Thornton. Ilis way of celebrity was and still is a peculiar one, honesty. Folks used to say that Seth was so intensely honest, that he was accustomed to set aside a certain percentage of his profits in trade, for the benefit of the poor, as an offset to any monies he might by any possibility have become unlawfully possessed of without his becoming aware of it. Whether this was so or not, he was cele brated for his sterling undeviating honesty,and without the reward that would seem to have been his due. Seth was poor, although he was indebted for his comfort rather to his economy in life than to his success in business. He was thirty years of age when the story commences, and was regular, methodical to a nicety in his transactions, and from that had obtained the sobriquet of Old Seth. So much for premises, now for our story. A dull gloomy day, it was without, cold within, and cheerless everywhere. The trade was as dull as the weather, and Seth was grubbing up old accounts with severe determi nation, when he was disturbed by the creaking of the low duor of his shop and the entrance of an old bowed down figure, who barely plac ing one foot before the other, shuffled across the floor, through piles of West India and dry goods, hard ware, groceries and notions, (for Yankee land was even then full of them,) and depositing a well filled bag upon the counter, with the ejaculation, 'use for Ben Foula and Sons,' suddenly shuffled away. Not compre hending the nature of so unbusjness like a transaction, Seth was sometime in a muse, be fore the idea of examining the bag left, oc curred to his bewildered brain. The first touch told him it was gold, and upon examination it contained the enormous sum of five hundred guineas in gold of Spain. Having satisfied himself as to the amount, he turned to his day-book and made entry. ‘Re ceived this day 500g., to be used for Benjamin Fuller &-Sons,’and opened his account ac cordingly. Years passed on, and year to year the prop erty invested in the name of Benjamin Fuller & Sons seemed cherished by fortune's self.— Their ventures were successful by sea and land, when all others were ruinous; their ships rode safely through the storms that sunk the stoutest merchantmen, and their cargoes arrived in safety when privateers had taken or driven away others. So immense was this in crease that soon Old Seth was known only as an agent for the Fullers, and his own proper ty increase was of little aefcount compared with the immense commission on their itftstmenf. His warehouse became one ot the largest in the colony, and his ships passed in and out from every port of usual trade on .the line lad en with the property of the unknown. Still was the same account on his ledger preserved and receipt and expenditures always kept wailing the coming of his principal or his sons, and their examination. So time went on. prosperity to the mysteri ous person, and misfortune to the agent. A new market was sought for on the coast of the Mediterranean, and a vessel was despatched for Algiers with rich consignments. The captain upon his arrival, waited upon the prin cipal merchants of the place, and all of the Foula's manifest was in demand, while Old Seth produced but a nominal profit. A sale was finally effected of the whole car go, and the merchant and the captain discussed the subject of the new trade together. The , merchant expressed a desire to see the new country, and by invitation of the other took passage in his sfnp for America. The day succeeding his arrival, Seth was seated in his counting-room, engaged in his usual examination of ledgers and papers, when a movement attracted bis attention, when he saw before him the same bowed down figure, and the same shuffling step approaching. * Where is the money for Ben FoulaV— Without hesitation and almost without sur prise, the account of the investment was read over and deeds ot estate and evidences of prop erty in the name of Benjamin Fuller were pro duced. Houses, ships and cargoes were plac ed over to the rightful owner, and a rigid ac count of expenses and commissions was ren dered, and with no comment or inquiry, the poor man was left alone. The day passed on, and Old Seth was again toiling in business when a captain arrived from the Mediterranean, entered and placed in his hands a package. It was a will bestowing upon him all the property of the mysterious old man, accumulated by himself as agent. The true story of the mysterious visitor was j never told, but long afterwards it was recalled to mind that a Mohammedan merchant named Ilamet Ben Foula, had been in America when the first incident occurred, and the passenger who came and returned in the Yankee ship, was called by the same name. This merchant continued his business with Old Seth long af terwards, and the latter never surmised that the tall Arab was the old decrepit man who was his benefactor, nor that he held his prop erty by will of one who still lived. Attack by Cattle. Extract from one of Col. Claiborne’s letters from the Pine Woods of Mississippi, published in the N. O. Delta. “ I set out for Augusta, bowling merrily along in a blood-red wagon. The road is beautiful—roofed over with trees and vines,— and the air fragrant with the breath of flowers. There was only one drawback—the myriads of flies of every species that swarmed around and ravenously cupped the blood from the ears, neck, and flanks of my horse. It was what is appropriately termed here ‘fly-time,’—that is j to say, the period when this numerous family of scourges have it ali their own way, and neither man nor beast can venture into the woods with impunity. Now, ‘the cattle of a thousand hills,’ and even the wild deer, seek the abodes of men, and huddle around some smoking pine, or stand in some open field, to escape their periodical tormentors. On a sud den curve of the road, I found myself in one of those ‘stamping grounds,’ and a sudden roar from five hundred infuriated animals, gave no tice of mv danger. It is well known that the Spanish maladores provoke the wounded bulls of the arena by flaunting the moleta, or blood-red flag, before them. It was the color of ray equipage that excited this bellowing herd. They snuffed the air, planted their heads near the ground, tore up the earth with their hoofs and horns, and glared at me with savage eyes. The fierce phalanx blocked the road, and the part of dis cretion was to retreat. The moment I whcaled, Ahe pursuit commenced. A cloud of dust enveloped them, and their trampling feet was like the roll of thunder. My horse dashed forward, frantic with terror, and off they plunged, on every side, crushing down everything in their course, goring and tum bling over each other, filling the woods with their dreadful cries, and gathering nearer and nearer in the fearful chase. The contest now became desperate. In five 1 minutes we should have been overturned and trampled to death ; but at this juncture, I threw out my overcoat, and with an awful clamor they paused to fight over it and tear it, into shreds. Driving at full speed, I tossed out a cushion ; the infuriated devils tore it into j atoms, and came rushing on, their horns clash ing against the boggy, and ripping up the ribs of my horse. At this fearful moment we were providentially saved. A monstrous oak, with a forked top, had fallen near the road, and into this 1 plunged my horse, breast high, and ho was safe, the back of the buggy being then the only assailable point. At this the whole column made a dash, but 1 met the fore most with six discharges from a revolver; two bottles of Sewell Taylor’s best were shivered in their faces ; next a cold turkey, and finally a bottle of Scotch snuff— the last in the locker. This did the business. Such a sneezing and bellowing wa3 never beard before ; and the one that got it put out with the whole troop at his heels, circling round, scenting the blood that had been spilled, and shaking the earth with their thundering tramp. I was now fairly in for it, and made up my mind to remain until sunset, when they would dis perse, as in ‘fly time’ cattle graze at night. I was relieved, however, by the approach of some cattle drivers, who galloped up on shag gy but muscular horses, and with whips twen ty feet long, which they managed w:,h sur prising dexterity, soon drove the herd to their ‘cow-pens,’ for the purpose of marking and branding. This is done every year in ‘fly time.’ The cattle ranging, scattered thirty miles round, are now easily found, collected in their stamping grounds, where the respective owners assemble, and put their marks and brands on the increase of the season. Thus the Egyptian plague is turned to a useful pur pose.” A Good Story. The Daily Evening Traveller tells the fol lowing good story. • Is the wag not a certain apothecary who keeps not a thousand miles from the head of Broadway? It sounds like a Williams joke: The Paper Dickies.—It is well known that within the past year a new wrinkle under the sun has made its appearance. The novel ty is none other than paper dickies, and good ones, too, made so neatly that it is really hard work to detect them. They of course are good only for one term of service, and cannot be washed, but they cost little or nothing, and to a poor old bach, who has no one to do his washing and mending, it is as cheap to have a new paper dickey every time he wishes a clean one, as to have one made of linen washed twice a week. But we have a story with regard to these dickies worth telling. A certain wag in South Boston, who wears these paper dickies sometimes, thought he would have some sport. He accordingly took a half dozen of them, which he had worn until quite dirty, and put ting them in with a parcel ot dirty clothes, sent them to his washerwoman. She, poor soul, suspecting no trick, took them and put them into her kettle, and gave them a good boiling. Of course when they came out they had all fallen to pieces. In groat alarm' she hastened to her employer and told him that she believed her kettle was haunted, for his dickies had all fallen to pieces. He ad ministered a very-severe rebuke, which fright ened her half out of her wits, and gave her another batch to wash. Back she went, and with the greatest care, lest another catastrophe should befall her dickies, she put them into the kettle again. But lo and behold, when they came oiit they were also all in fragments. This was too much for the good lady, who really began to believe that the evil one was in her pot. With far greater alarm than on the previous .occasion, she went to the man and told him that his dickies were again ruined, in spite of all her exertions, ‘and,’ added she, ‘I believe Satan himself is in my house at work.’ After quizzing her to his heart's content, our waggish paper dickey wearer told the good woman where the diffi culty arose, and she returned home quite re lieved, for she had actually made up her mind that something supernatural had got hold of her kettle. The Last of the Randolphs—A Nephew of John Randolph. A southern correspondent of tho Horae Journal, sends it the following interesting sketch :— “ During the summer of 1854 I had some business transactions which called me to the county of Charlotte,in lower Virginia. A mild and lovely Sabbath morning found me seated in one of the comfortably cushioned pews of the village church at the Court House. As it wanted a few minutes to the hour of service, my eye wandered over the large and respect ful looking audience assc'mbled, and Vas final ly attracted by a very eccentric individual^ who was just entering—a rather aged man, tall, of dark complexion, long white hair wav ing plentifully over his shoulders, and an equally venerable beard flowing on his breast. His step was active and graceful, his form erect and manly. But his peculiar actions were in striking contrast to his dignified ap pearance. At first I thought him only eccen tric, but a few moments of further observation proved to me that he was insane. Immediately on ontering the pew he knelt towards the wall, crossed himself, and, appa rently, repeated a prayer, lie then sat down, drew out a white cambric, delicately per fumed, wiped his brow, removed his gloves, stroked his hair and beard, took up his Bible, kissed it and read, examined his cane, used his handkerchief again—and all the time keeping himself in constant motion. I say all the time, but, occasionally, he was passive for a few minutes—his attention,apparently, aroused by some truths from the minister,—but these times were rare. His countenance assumed all kinds of expressions. Contempt, alarm, pleasure, earnestness, sorrow and anger, flitted across it in rapid succession. It reminded me more of what children call ‘making faces' than anything else. After the services were over, 1 ascertained that this gentleman was no other than the nephew of John Randolph, of Roanoke. He calls himself Sir John St. George Randolph ; himself remarked with bitterness, during his last days, that their blood flowed in the veins of but one single scion, and he was deaf, dumb and insane. So much for human greatness.— The subject of this sketch—although physical ly, and now mentally, defective—had a mind cultivated in the highest degree. In his youth he was sent to Paris, where, under the protec tion of a celebrated abbe, he received a thor ough education. Having the capacity to re ceive, and the wealth to command, no pains were spared in the improvement of his intel lectual faculties. But it was labor lost; for, on returning to his home in Virginia, ho met with, and loved a young lady, whom he ad dressed, but was refused on account of his phy sical defects. On becoming aware of the truth he was plunged in the most profound grief, from which he was at last aroused, but— insane. He has considerable wealth, which is man aged by his friends ; and, being harmless, he comes and goes as he pleases, and is gratified in all his whims. Wrecked as his mind is,' he still commands respect; and his peculiar manners do not attract the attention of his ac quaintances, or excite merriment, as one would suppose. * B.” What a Newspaper does without reward. The result of my observations enables mo to state as a fact, that publishers of newspa pers are more poorly rewarded than any other class of men in the United States who invest an equal amount of labor, capital, and thought. They are expected to do more service for less pay, to stand more sponging and ‘deadhead ing,’ to puff and defend more people, and sorts of people, without fee or hope of reward, than any other class. They credit wider and long er, get oftener cheated, suffer more pecuniary loss, and are oftener the victims of misplaced confidence, than any other calling in the com munity. People pay a printer’s bill more re luctantly than any other. It goes harder with them to expend a dollar on a valuable newspa per than ten on a useless gawgaw ; yet every body avails himself of the services of the ed itor’s and printer’s ink. How many profes sional and political reputations and fortunes have been created and sustained by the friend ly though unrequitted pen of the editor I How many embryo towns and cities have been brought into notice and puffed into prosperity by. the press * How many railroads now in successful operation, would have foundered but for the assistance of the ‘lever that moves the world ?” In short, wbat branch of Amci ican industry, or activity, has not been pro moted, stimulated and defended by the press? And who has tendered it more than a misera ble pittance for its mighty service * The ba zaars of fashion anti folly, the haunts of dissi pation, are thronged with an eager crowd, bearing gold in their palms, and the commod ities there vended are sold at enormous prof its, though intrinsically worthless, and paid for with scrupulous punctuality ; while the counting room of the newspaper is the seat of jewing, cheapening trade,"orders, and pennies. It is made a point of honor to liquidate a grog bill, but not of dishonor to repudiate a printer’s bill.—Cleveland Ledger. [Translated from tbe Courrier ties Etas TJiUs.J Gloves vs. Slippers. A little incident has recently enlivened Par isian society. It is of no consequence to tell whether the heroine was French or Spanish ; will it not suffice to say that she is young and pretty ? This heroine had a husband, and this hus band, being of a joyous temperament, was in different to nothing that could amuse him. It was his right, and you shall see how he exer cised that right. One day last week, it happened that his wife, in managing about her chamber, found among her effects a pair of slippers. These slipppers were of white satin. ‘Good,’ said she, ‘there is to be a ball this evening. I will wear them.’ She took them mu and tried them on. The slippers were too small, and her feel would not go into them. Meanwhile the husband made his appear ance. ‘Whoso are these slippers ?’ demanded the wife, pushing her foot into the white satin. The husband louked down and became red. The careless fellow ! £<>. ‘These slippers! they belong to you,’ he re plied at once. ‘Tu me ! don't you see I cannot get them on ?’ To find slippers and not to bo able to wear them—what a disappointment ! ‘It is because your feet have swelled so,’ con tinued the husband, ‘you dance so much.’ The wife rejoined, the husband would not relinquish the point, and the slippers went fly ing out of the window. Eight days afterwards, the husband looking for a pair of gloves, found some which he wan ted to wear ; he slipped in a finger, he slipped in two, but the glove would not go on. More over the gloves had been worn. The husband frowned. ‘Eh, madame ! what is this T he demanded of his wife on presenting himself before her with the gloves on tlie lips of his fingers. ‘ This I It is a pair of gloves,’ said she calm 17 ‘Pardint ! I see that very well—but whom do they belong to ?’ ‘To you, apparently.’ ‘Indeed ! look you ! it is impossible for me to gel into them, and besides some ono has worn them.’ • ‘All, then the gloves belong to the same per son who owned the slippers. You recollect the slippers the other day.’ The husband flew into a passion, the wife burst into a laugh. ‘I have found slippers, yon find gloves ; we are quits,’ said she. The husband pouted for twenty-four hours, after which he asked for a treaty of peace.— The negotiations were made and the wife agreed to them. A fit out of a cloak of Russian sables defrayed the expenses of the campaign. In accepting it, the wife smiled—‘See how good I am,’ said she, ‘I am willing to acknowl edge that these gloves, these famous gloves, belong to my cousin who lent them to me to assist me, in taking revenge upon yon ; give them to me, and hereafter if 1 find no more slippers, you Bhall find no more gloves. Clocks vs. Cats in China. One day, when we went to pay a visit to some families of Chinese Christian peasants, we met, near a farm, a young lad who was taking a buffalo to graze along our path. We asked him carelessly, as we passed, whether it was yet noon. The child raised his head to look at the sun hut it was hidden behind the clouds, and he could read no answer there ‘ The skv is cloudy,’ said he, ‘ but wail a mon.jnt,’ and with these words he ran towards the farm, and came back a few minutes afterwards with a cat in his arms. ‘Look here,’ said he, ‘ it is not noon vet and he showed us the cat’s eyes by pushing up the lids with his hands. We look ed at the child with surprise, but he was evi dently in earnest ; and the cat, though aston ished, and not much pleased with the experi ment made on her eyes, behaved with moat ex emplary complaisance. ‘Very well,’ said we, ‘thank you,’ and he then let go the cat, who made her escape pretty quickly, and we contin ued our route. To say the truth, we did not at all understand the proceeding ; but we did not wish to question the little pagan lest he should find out that we were Europeans by birth. As toon as ever we reached the farm how ever, we made haste to ask onr Christains whether they could tell the clock by looking into a cat’s eyes. They seemed surprised at the question ; but as there was no danger in confessing to them our ignorance of the proper ties of the cat’s eyes, we related what had just taken place. That was all that was necessary ; our complaisant neophytes immediately gave chase to all the cats in the neighborhood.— They brought us three or four, and explained in what manner they might be made use offer watches. They pointed out that the pupils of their eyes went on growing nsrrower until 12 o’clock, when they became like a fine line as thin as a bair, drawn perpendicularly across the eye, and that after 12 the dilation recoin " .. ■ .-.— 1 ■ ■ ■ ' - — 9tok mill Soli printing. Having recently made extensive addititions to o«r fome? variety of PLASH AH© PAH$¥ JOB T YF»E, The proprietor of the Eastern Tknes is now prepared to ex Job W^k* £££13^ aUd IW£i5r-lTcH» every description f Circnlnrs, Bill-heads, Cards, C'nialosnr*. Blanks, Progrnuimra, Shop Bills, Labels, A action I»u<l Ussd Bills, Ac,, Ac. O* Particular attention paid to n>zMDs?aia spisessses?©® All wort entrusted to us will h -nr**, th(, manner, and «* low no am be offer Order. s'Swtej and promptly angwereil or,t>. K. NIAVMAM. menced. When we had attentively examined the eves of the cats at our disposal, we conclu ded that it was past noon, as all the eyes per fectly agreed upon the point. We have had some hesitation in speaking of this Chinecse discovery, as it may doubtless, tend to injure the interests of the clock making trade, and in terfere with the salewjf watches ; but all con siderations must give way to the spirit of pro gress. —From Jf. Hue's Travels in China. About Boarding. 1 Don’t talk to me about keeping house,’ you will hear a young bride say ; ‘I will board and be free from care, trouble, and the annoy ance of servants.’ All very well imagined. But the reality is not always so agreeable.— Here is the other side, presented by a corre spondent of the Home Journal. He says :— * It is not living—it is only staying—to be in a house full of strangers, with whom wo have no feelings in common,—if disagreeable to you, still compelled to meet them, morning, noon, and night ; and if agreeable, to have your time encroached upon, your room en tered at all times, taking away all sense of privacy or retirement: if in trouble or joy,yea feel compelled to hide all traces from the gaze of strangers. To lack the comforts of a home, to eat whatever others choose you should, cooked as they please, whether sick or well, living under a system of surveilanee, almost equal to that described by Bayard Taylor, as existing among the Japanese; feeling only free when your door is locked for the night, to feel constantly obliged to entertain the com pany, and (worst of all,) be entertained, to bo waited upon by untidy, careless servants, obliged to keep everything under lock and key. These are a few of the pleasures of boarding out, which so many choose in prefer ence to a home.” The True Gentleman. Show me the man who can quit the brilliant society of the young to listen to the kindly voice of age—who can hold cheerful converse with one whom years hav® deprived of its charms—show me the man who is as willing to help the deformed who stand in need of help, as if the blush of Helen mantled on her cheek—show me the man who would no more look rudely at the poor girl in the village, than at the elegant and well-dressed lady in the saloon—show mo tho man who treats un protected maidenhood as he would the heiress surrounded by the powerful protection of rank, riches, and family—show mo the man who shuns as a blasphemer the traducer of his mother's sex—who scorns as he would a cow ard, the ridiculer of woman's foibles, or tho exposer of womanly reputation—show me that man who never forgets for an instant the deli cacy, the respect, that is due to woman, as woman, in any condition or class—show me such a man, and you show me a gentleman ; nay, you show me a true Christian. Sound Creed. Read it. If anybody wants to know what the Demo cratic party believes, here it is— Equal and exact justice to all men, of w hat ever state or persuasion, religious or politi cal. Peace, Commerce, and honest friendship with all nations ; entangling alliances with none. The rights of States and Territories to ad minister their own domestic affairs. Freedom and equality ; the sovereignty of the people, and the right of majority to rule, when their will is constitutionally expressed. Economy in the public expenditures, and a sacred preservation o[ public faith. Freedom of religion, freedom of the press, and general diffusion of information. Opposition to all secret political organiza tions, and to all corruptions in politics. A sacred preservation of the Federal Consti tution, and no religions tests for office. No bigotry, or pride of caste, or distinction of birth among American citizens. Kespect and protection for the rights of all. The preservation of the naturalization laws, and the rights of all to the public domain, and the prelection of the American government. The Laat. The queerest ‘ dodge’ that we have read of for a long while occurred in Philadelphia last week. It appears that a man stepped into a drugstore, opposite Logan square, and inform ed the proprietor that he was a physician.— The two entered into conversation, and while tfius engaged, ^man came into the store in a great hurry, complaining of illness. The self announced physician now came forward and prescribed a dose, which the druggist adminis tered. In a few moments the patient appeared to be partially relieved, and, during one of his easy moments, inquired of the physician how much he charged fur his advice. The doctor replied that, on such occasions, a fee of five dollars was usual. The sick man presented at ton dollar bill. The doctor had no change.— The druggist was requested to change it, when a broker, who waa standing by, pronounced tbo note a counterfeit. This decision changed sud denly the whole slate of affairs ; the physiqian had particular business to attend to in another quarter, while the sick man suddenly recovered his health, and was about running out of tha door, when the druggist seized him by the col lar, but thinking it scarcely worth his trouble to prosecute, allowed him to depart. A story is told of a clerk in a little village church in the west of England, where the ser vice is never commenced on Sunday morning until the ‘squire* has taken hisseat. OueSun day, however, this gentleman happened lo be late, and a neighboring clergyman, not acquain ted with the ways of the place was • doing duty.’ So he commenced as usual with, ‘When the wicked man—,’ up jumped (be clerk, hauling out, ‘Stop, stop, sir ! bo'* not come vet.’