Newspaper Page Text
TERMS OF PUBLICATION*
The EETOBTEB is published every Thursday Morn ing, by F. O. GOODRICH, at $2 per annum, in ad vance. ADVERTISEMENTS are inserted at TEN CENTS per line for tirst insertion, and FIVE CENTS per line i<.r subsequent insertions. A liberal discount Ls made to persons advertising by the quarter, halt \ ear or year. Special notices charged one-half more than regular advertisements. All resolutions (if Associations ; communications of limited or in dividual interest, and notices of Marriages and j l aths exceeding five lines, are charged TEN CENTS per line. 1 Year. 6 mo. 3 mo. One Column. Sob $35 $-20 j " 30 25 15 One Square, 10 7$ 5 Administrator's and Executor's Notices, $2 00 Auditor's Notices 2 50 business Cards, live lines, (per year) 5 00 Merchants and others, advertising their business, will be charged Sls. They will be entitled to 1 column, confined exclusively to their business, with privilege of change. , >• Advertising in all cases exclusive of sub scription to tlie paper. JOB PRINTING of every kind in Plain and Fan cy colors, done with neatness and dispatch. Hand hills. Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, Ac., of every va riety and style, printed at the shortest notice. The Rm oirrEi: < h riCE has just been re-fitted with Power Presses, and every thing in the Printing line can lie executed in the most artistic manner and at the 1 .west rates. TERMS INVARIABLY CASH. THE OPEN DOOR. Within a town of Holland, once A widow dwelt, 'tis said. So poor alas ! her children asked One night, in vain, for bread. But this poor women loved the Lord, And knew that he was good : So. with her little ones around, She prayed to him for food. When prayer was done, her eldest child, A boy of eight years old. Said, softly, "in the holy book. Dear mother, we are told How Ciod, with food by ravens brought. Supplied His prophet's need." "Yes," answered she ; "but that, my son. Was long ago, indeed." "But., mother. God may do again What he has done before : And so, to let the birds fly in, I will unclose the door." Then little Dirk, in simple faitli Threw open the door full vide. So that the radiance of their lamp Fell on the path outside. Ere long the burgomaster passed, And, noticing the light. Paused to enquire why the door Was open so at niglit. " My little Dirk has done it. sir," The widow, smiling, said, " That ravens might tly in to bring My hungry children bread." •• Indeed !" tlie burgomaster cried. "Then here's a raven, lad : Come to my home and you shall see Where bread may soon be bad." Along the street to Lis own house He quickly led the boy, And sent liim back with food that filled His humble home with joy. The supper ended, little Dirk Went to the open door. Looked up. said •• Many thanks good Lord." Then shut it fast once more. For, though no bird had entered in, He knew that God on high Had hearkened to his mother's prayer. Ami sent this full supply. TO J. Do WITT, ESQ. DF.AR SIR : —1 had no idea when replying to your address to the \\ higs, that it would load to a controversy : and still, I am not averse tu a friendly talk on politics, so long as it remains friendly. The gentle manly tone of your rejoinder induces a re ply. * <>ur surprise that i sliuuld controvert tiie position you assumed in your lirst ar ticle. that it was not whether the people had the courage, ljiit whether they had the intelligence to preserve their institutions, does not astonish me. On the contrary, it is what I would expect, as it is somewhat natural to an intelligent, and honest mind ed young - men. A quarter of a century ago, 1 thought as you do on thegeneral question ot intelligence. Now Ido not ; and there lon'. 1 meant just what 1 said in my form er epistle, viz : that it was the intelligent men of the South who rebelled, and not the inoraiit. That many ignorant men have ' "on made use of to sustain and carry out the rebellion, is not questioned ; but that they were in any way instrumental in pv ijt. ting it, can not be shown. Nor is their subsequent labor in and for the rebel lion, to fe attributed to their ignorance.— I he intelligent people of the south, women worse than men, and the learned clergy as had as the Worst, led off in this out-break, and made simultaneous eiforts to fire the southern heart against the government.— Young chivalry, the educated, the elite young men of the South, almost to a man, joined their army as officers, and cavalry men. lhcse iacts can not be successfully contro\cried. I hose people believed a lie, and laboicd under a delusion,as to the pur poses ol the general government towards thein ; but that they believed the lie*, and adopted the delusion and the less readily because they were the less intelligent, I deny. I hey believed it before, and were a< much infuriated against the North by it, as the more ignorant people. So their in tellig, •nee was no protection to them, or their institutions. The southern people know that we do not like slavery,and hence they are offended : and because of this of fencc,which blinds them,they arereadv to be hove an\' thing badjof ns. The ambit nous poli ticians among thorn,who concocted the con federacy, in order to secure to themselves perpetuity in office, took advantage of this state of the public mind, and aggravated it, by all manner of slanders of the North. our quotation from President Lincoln "on the debauching of the public mind," is cor roboration of this ; hut you appear to over look the tact, that it was the reading public and not the unlettered /leop/r, that was de bauched ; and that the former more than the latter, labored to sacrifice their liber ties in this contest." Whilst 1 readily ad mit, that we as a people cannot well guard too carefully against the encroachmentsJhif power, yet, it does appear to rno, that you are unduly exercised in regard to the ty ranny of the administration. fhe present Secretary of State has no more power over the citizen, than any of ins predecessors hud ; and you mistake me m anticipating that 1 would plead the ne cessities <>f his situation. No, 110, I plead the lolly u f those who subject themselves to iis power ; because, it is only as man makes themselves liable to the charge of '•nine, t.iat he has any power over him. So mug as they stand above this, they may de- E. O. GOODRICH, Publisher. VOLUME XXV. fy his authority. Xn man has been impris i mied against whom seditious words, or acts, I were not alleged. If they were not lawless enough to convict, they were to | raise suspicion ; and, in either case, it was the folly of the criminal, at least, as much I as it was of the man in authority, which j forced the confinement. Besides, circum | stances may augment, or .diminish, the j criminality of words and acts. If, in the midst of a molt,a man uses severe language | against the authority which arrests the | rioters, or in any way interferes with their I imprisonment, ho subjects himself to sus j picion as a party to tlie crime, and may be I legally confined. Yet, no notice need, or would be taken of his conduct, in time of j quiet. So too, a man may say with impu i nity.that lie will kill another,who is known to be far away ; but, if he says this of one 1 present, he can be bound over and impris oned. It is therefore, the imperiled condit ion of the country, which aggravates the i criminality of those, who, in our midst, raise voice and hands against it. I grant : you, that if arrests, such as you complain I of, by implication, were made in time of profound peace, that it would be alarming ; but being made at a time when rebels are j striking deadly blows at the vitals of the nation, 1 say it is right ; and the wrong is, I that more are not immersed in dungeons un til the country is free from danger. What, when we need men to defend the govern ment, allow others to run at large,who call our war a self-defence, a villainojis war,the public authorities tyrants and usurpers— thereby hindering enlistments—who give aid to the enemy by underground railroads, who organize secretly, and procure large supplies of war materials, with which to re sist the execution of the laws—what, I re peat, allow such criminals to the nation, to go at large ! This would be simply, stupid folly. A man would be pronounced a sim pleton, by common consent, who should, when a desperado was about to blow up his dwelling, with himself and family in it, I go a number of miles to take out a warrant tor his arrest, instead of giving him a dose of powder and ball at the instant. ' So with our country. There is no time to parley with criminals. And 1 contend too, that in making arrests, shooting deserters, or sup pressing newspapers that are engaged for tiie enemy, no violence is done to the con stitution, even if the habeas corpus, and trial by jury are withheld, in this time of peril. If there is, it is not such an instru ment as we need, and therefore, not worth preserving. A government whose organic law does not allow it to defend itself, is like a house built on the sand. You quote from the great Webster. I am glad of it. He is our very best constitu tional authority ; and how does he make that instrument " for times of peace, for times of war. and for all time ?" By as suming that implied powers accompany its expressed ones. Hear what he says,"When tin 1 constitution confers a general power, it imposes a general duty ; all other powers necessary for the exercise of that general power and for fulfilling that duty, are im plicil so far as there is no prohibition. We act every day upon this principle, and could not carry on the government without its aid." Truly, under this interpretation the constitution is sufficient " for times of peace, for times of war, and for all time." But the position of the present democratic party stands in strange contrast with its position in 1840 up to 1844, on the subject of arbitrary arrests. At the first named period, the notorious expunging resolutions were introduced into the I*. S. Senate ; and every democratic leader, and democratic newspaper in the country favored that measure, and justified General Jackson's conduct at New Orleans. Yet no arrests have taken place in this country of so flag rant a character. In that case, after Gen eral Jackson had received a circular from the Postmaster General announcing peace, he still continued martial law at New Or leans, although all necessity of it had ceas ed; and when a .Mr. Louallier, a member of the Legislature, animadverted on this fact, over a fictitious signature in one of the newspapers, he was arrested hv order General Jackson, and committed to prison, to he tried by a military court for his life. on a charge of mutiny. Then lie arrested Judge Hall of the U.S. District Court., and sent hint out of the city, for granting to the prisoner, Louallier, a writ of habeas corpus. The District Attorney then applied to a .-Tate Judge for a writ of habeas corpus to release Judge Hall, and he too,was impris oned ! Remember, this was done after peace was declared. And this conduct, twen ty years ago, the democratic party not only justified, but.caused. Have you not fallen into strange paths, now that you condemn so heartily acts of this description which have not a tithe of the violence that char acterised the case referred to ? Look to it, and see whether it is not partizan zeal, and not love of country, which prompts- these hursts of indignation over arbitrary arrests. This seems probable, since Gen. McClellan ordered the arrest of the Legislature of Maryland, but you make no complaint of that act ; and it is legitimate to infer there fore, that if all the arbitrary arrests of which your party complain had been made by this General, or any other partizan fa vorite, you would laud instead of condemn the acts. In your reference to other republics, par ticularly to that of Rome, you have group ed together facts and results of history, which indicate great forgetfulness or su perlicial reading. " Let me ask" you say,"if history furnishes the instance of a free people resigning their liberties under a plea of necessity,and resuming them again at pleasure." My answer is, yes, there are many instances of this kind. Home made one man dictator three different times, un der pressing necessities, and at the end of each, again assumed her liberties ; and then remained a republic over four hundred year* afterwards, in the meantime having given many others plenary powers. Pretty well for the Ediles,the Pretors,the Tribunes and Consuls of Rome. Surely, if President Lincoln is the first dictator, we will have a good long run of it yet, before we lose our liberties. If Lincoln represents Ctesar, who personifies Marias andSylla,who alternate ly ruled and butchered the citizens of Rome? }<>u will hardly allow that Pierce and Bu chanan do, and who are the triumvirate. It seems very manifest that your wild inter rogatories, based on a similitude between our condition and that of Rome, is the re sult of a distorted imagination. Your effort to make out a case of incon- TOW AN I) A, BRADFORD COUXTY, l'A., DECEMBER 22, ISG4. sistency against the administration by con trasting its acts on the subject of slavery, with an avowed doctrine of the convention which first nominated .\lr. Lincoln, is, to my mind, not successful. Had there been no re bellion,the sentiment of the resolution which you quote, would have been strictly carried out, because it conformed to the letter, and spirit, of the constitution ; but the very men whom the candidate for the Presidency proposed to protect by law, rebelled, and by this act, changed materially their status. They become criminal's ; n the eye of the law, in the place of citizens; and the crimi nal code had to be applied to their case, in stead of the civil. It is amazing that you cannot see this distinction ; nor is it the least part of this amazement that this men tal obtusity should run over the fact, that it is not the instrument, or the administra tion of the law, that changes the condition of those who commit crime, but tlie crimi nal's own act. Besides the cases which oc cur daily in the civil life,there are hundreds taking place in the army, which illustrate this. The army regulations alike impose duties, and afford protection to the soldier ; and so long as lie heeds the one, the other is his defence ; but il he deserts, or mutin ies, the aspect is changed ; and it is nut the officer in command who makes this change, but the soldier's own act. I might refer you to the six militia men of Georgia, who were shot by General Jackson's order, in 1815, after peace had been declared, and others, but will reason it in another way.— Suppose you were assailed by a ruffian who tried to take your life. In defending your self you seize a poinard and when the weap on is raised to strike, another man says to you, it is unlawful to use deadly weapons. In your paper you have contended that the laws must be obeyed,and now in defending your life, you are the tirst to break them.— You would pronounce this man both a fool and an enemy. You are not breaking the law in defending your life, no matter what kind of a weapon you use ; but lie who | threatens to take it is. tie therefore, is , amenable to law, not you. Just so with j our government and the rebels. The gov-j eminent, you say lias used unlawful weap ons ; but was it not in self-defence and therefore, justifiable ? 1 might even grant that the iminineucy of the danger was over rated, when trie weapons were used, and still be justifiable. You do notjlose your 1 right of self-defence, because you plead for an observance of law in your paper. Nor does the government, because its adminis tration, as an individual, expresses a will ingness to respect certain expressed and implied laws. You liavc u considerable to say about passion and prejudice. Is this not pot cal ling 1 kettle black-face ? A democrat talk about parti/.an prejudice and passion, just as if lie was innocent of this weakness ! Well, to my mind this is pretty bold. The most bigoted partizans this country has ever produced, who have ruled the country and the party, by means of the prejudice of its votaries, who have driven to political death almost every independent thinker who was joined to it, who have ground to pow der-beneath the weight of prejudice all rebels against its behest, talk of passion and prejudice in others ! ! Well, well. Are you not in the position of a darkie wtio undertook to prove before an alderman " dat de black man wer de wite man, and de wite man wer de black man." Doubtless Sambo believed this. And then, how un reasonable to charge the republicans with being controlled by prejudice and passion for a leader, or a cause. These are gener ally the results of years of devotion, as is the case with the democrats, but the re publicans, a young party, made up in some measure by discordant materials, and not long enough'together to become assimilated, how can they be prejudiced to the same ex tent as an older organization? Moreover, the very history of this campaign disproves the thing. One-half, at least, of the party, did not want Mr. Lincoln as the candidate for the Presidency ; and this was owing to these distinct parties within the party. The abolitionists,as such, wanted the candidate. The old democrats wanted him, and the old whigs had a choice. llowcan such a party be under the control of prejudice and pas sion. The enthusiasm of the party for the union you mistook for prejudice ; and my belief is, that were you as free from this weaknes, as are the republicanss generally, you would not serve the democratic party as you do, instead of the nation at large. For this it is—nothing more nor less—that zeal for the party,has blinded the democrats to their duty to the country. The large majority of that party love the count.iy as well as republicans, but like their southern brethorn, hale for the republicans,and partial ity for the party, led them to believe a delu sion and they follow it. You remind me of the Scottish laird, in olden time, who wanted a trap set which to catch wild boars. He, accordingly sent twelve men into the forest to locate and build a fall-trap, without giving any direc tions, or authorizing any one of the twelve to superintend the work. In the evening, the men reported that nothing had been done, for the reason, that they could not ayree. On the next day three were appoint ed, with equal power,to attend to the busi ness ; but it was spent as the one before had been. The day following, my lord, placed a menial servant over the party,with full power to enforce obedience. At noon! of tiie same day the men returned, having, in that half day located and set up a good trap. But the men complained bitterly of the tyranny and abuse of the menial,saying, that he had made them lift too heavy, and had goaded them with a sharp stick, as well when they lifted as when they did not. 1 pon inquiring however, it was found that the men, who esteemed themselves much above the servant in civil, as in social con dition, were sorely vexed, inasmuch as he had been placed over them, and had, as a sequence, combined among themselves to hinder the progress of the work. Here,the utility of a head, in any business, is aptly shown, as well as the caprice which can actuate human conduct. And does not this little parable fitly represent the demo cratic party, in its antagonism to the ad ministration ? I am, with great respect your ob't serv't, E. GUYEIt. ACCORDING to Haller, woman bear hunger longer than men; according to Plutarch they can resist the effects of wine better; accord ing to l'liny they are seldom attacked by lions: according to linger they grow older and are seldom bald. REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER. THE UESI'EIII IIKS. We seek it in our glotviug youth— That wondrous garden far away ; AVe deem its golden fruit still waits For us alone each passing day. AVe close our eyes to see them shine, AVe wake to strain our utmost speed, Forgetful of the dragon-guard, The tempting branch our sorest need ! AVe cross the changing foam of life, Nor pause to measure depths below : The sun-god's radiant cup upbears Our hot hearts o'er the wave's dark fiow. AVe scale the mountains, pass the waste, Yet linger 'mid the earnest quest, By mnrmering streams 'neath harvest-moons. Of siren nymphs the willing guest! AW free the ehaiu'd Promethean thought From tyrant Custom's gnawing beak : Yet, strong in faith, the heavens rest Upon the dreams we never speak. The years grow gray : unwitherod .still The golden apples sparkle there ; AVe know some path must reach the gates. Mount Atlas bounds our worst despair! Alas, alas, for all our hopes ! Our lieart-beats fainter throb at last : AVe drop our heads on Memory's breast, Hesperides was in the past! AA'e think again of harvest-moons, The dead we knew, the kisses sweet : The high endeavor leaves our soul : AVe only long the loved to meet : Once more the passionate old thrill Of yearning to our lives is given : God, Death and Truth alone reveal The real Hespcrirles is heaven 1 pigjcdUttwmiiSu OUR ECONOMICAL SOIREE. Economy in household expenses lias come to be the loading idea of terrcstial existence in the minds of Mrs. Dobb and myself.— We calculate closely. We never did be fore since we were married that 1 can re member. But when butter costs at the rate of five cents a dab, and everything else in proportion, housekeeping expenses heroine a serious matter. I was musing upon the announcement that there was a rise of three cents on the pound on veal, since the day before—mus ing and eating veal, at the breakfast table when Mrs. Dobb spoke : "James, did you know to-day was Sal lie's birth-day ?" "Isit ?" said I. " llow old is she now ?" " She is six years old and 1 have promised to hold a little party for her this evening." "Susan, will it cost anything?" " Why, but a trifle, James. Besides, Sal lie has never had a birth-day party, you know." "Sallie should not have her birth-day come so often, wife, in such times as- these. How long is it since 1 bought her a self operating locomotive fur a hirth-dav pres ent ?" " That was Susie, my dear. It's perfectly distressing to me the way you do mix those children up." "But what will this soiree cost us, Su san? You are forever preaching economy to me, and I'd like you to practice it a little, and let me preach. It's more fun to preach. I like to preach first-rate." "Oh! there will have to be some nuts and apples bought." " And some candy of course ?" " No—" " What ! A baby party, and no candy?" "If you won't interrupt me at every word, .Tames, I'll tell you. I have bought two quarts of molasses, and am going to make the candy myself. Now there's one of my economical shifts. 1 never get any credit for it." " But what a dauby job, Susan. Stretch ing candy sticks a body's fingers up so." " You didn't mind it when you were a young man, Mr. Dobb. Have you forgot ten the candy parties we used to have at our house when 1 was a giri, James? Such glorious times as we used to have in that old kitchen ? Why, it was at one of those candy parties that yon paid me the first compliment 1 ever received from you." "Ah! what was that?" " You said I was the sweetest girl in the room." " That was because you were daubed all over with molasses, my dear —as you'll be tonight again." " i should think, James, that it would lie a pleasure to revive, here in the city, the recollection of those old days at the farm house. Do you remember those big hooks in the ceiling of the kitchen that you threw a great twist of candy over to stretch it easier, when Mary Howard helped you ?" " Ah, those were happy days !" 1 said, musingly, sipping my coffee. " You enjoyed candy-making then, James." " Yes," said I, coming back to the pres ent and economy. " 1 enjoyed a great many foolish things when 1 was young and inno cent—courting, for instance." " Well, I haven't lost my zest for simple pleasure," said Mrs. D., with enthusiasm. I think it will be splendid to made the candy. 1 had a thousand times rather make it than buy it " " Which accounts for one of your econom ical shifts that you never get any credit for. Eli, my dear?" Mrs. Dobb looked daggers at me. " Well, Stfsan, let's see what it will cost. What's the molasses the pound now ?" " I paid sixty cents for two quarts." " And apples ?" "A peck will supply the party ; that will he sixty cents more." " And say a dollar and a half for nuts.— That will be three dollars and seventy cents. It will be very economical so far." " I should say it would, Mr. Dobb." " Can I, papa?" said Sailie, looking up at mc, with her spoon between her lips. " Can you what, darling ? Have the par ty ? Why, of course you can, you little blessing." " Won't that he bully, sis ?" cried Fred from his side of the table. " How that boy does pick up the slang of this vicious ago, is astonishing ! It's no use reproving it. ' Boys will he hovs,' as a friend of mine once remarked when lie sat down on a bent pin placed in his chair by his oldest son in a frolicsome moment." " What a good papa he is ?" whispered Sallie to her sister, next plate east. " Oh, he's gayl" slanged Fred. I gave Sallie some more gravy. "Do you like kisses,papa?" putin Nellie. " I like everything good, dear. Why do : you ask ?" " Because we're going to have all the girls : kiss you to-night." " They won't be big enough, Nell—not i half. 1 prefer big girls to little ones." "James !" said Mrs. Dobb, reprovingly. "Oh, Mary Ann Smith is a great big girl," said Nell. " Her dresses almost come i down to the ground." " Do they ? TluiFs encouraging. Is Mary j Ann coining ?" '• Yes ; and two other big girls. They | write compositions." " Compositions ! They must he getting ! very old." I Compositions arc such a proof of maturity j among those little bodies. Did you ever notice it? " Bring the nuts when you come to din -1 net - , James," was my wife's parting injunct ! ion. "All right, my dear." 1 was detained down town that afternoon later than usual, and when 1 came home in ! the evening, 1 found the four little Dobbs ! sitting in solemn state in the parlor, await j ing the coming of the guests. Shortly alter the door bell rung, and the children were in a high state of commotion. Sallie jumped down from the sofa and made a dash for the door, but suddenly recollec ting- herself, returned- to her perch and i smoothed her hands over her apron. Bridget ushered into the parlor a string of seven boys of assorted sizes, who ranged themselves along the wall without saying a word. But there was any amount of sub dued giggling among them. The next arrival was a cluster of little girls, looking as sweet as June roses. 1 went out to tea, and when I looked in again, the room was filled with the neigh i burs' progeny, including Marv Ann Smith j and two other big girls. Such a staid conclave 1 never saw before in my life. There they all sat, as bashful !as mice, never uttering a loud word, and (scarcely caring to look each other in the l face. It was vastly amusing to me to ob serve the conventional awe under which those boys, especially, labored ; the very | boys that had been saluting each other roughly in the street an hour before, per ! haps pulling each other's hair. As sedate as deacons now. The ice was broken in this way : One of the big girls, byway of opening tlie ball, said to a youngster of some eight i summers, named Joey Perry. I " It's a pleasant evening, Mr. Perry." " Oh, how are you, Mr. l'erry !" burst forth our l'red, derisively, at the top of His ■ voice. And then such a broadside ot laughter ! In less time than it takes me to write it the youngsters were in a hubbub as noisy as I the meeting had before been sedate. ! They played the " Post-office," and " Ce ilar Swamp," and " Forfeits," and all that sort of games, whose principal feature is 'an abundance of kissing. 1 went into my study and began writing. The merry bursts ;of laughter came echoing to my ears, but they did not distuyb me. lam a fond fa ! ther. I One of the big girls came into my august I presence and threw a cushion at my feet, on which she kneeled, pouting up at me a pair of ripe red lips. "Who's this?" said I, laying down my ' pen. i "That's Mary Ann !" cried Fred from the door-way, which was thronged with gig i gling little spectators. " ."-lie wants you to j kiss her." " All !*' said I, as memory suddenly re pealled the old-time game. "How many i can I have?" "Twenty !" " Thirty!" " A hundred !" j cried a dozen voices. " Well, I'll take three," said I, " and you ; may have the rest, Fred." "Can't see it !" slanged the young hope i ful. backing off. Tin young lady struggled after the or thodox manner, handed down from gener ation to generation of young ladies, and the children screamed with delight, j " Hold her, Mr. Dobb !" " Kiss lrer, Mr. Dobb !" j " Rub her nose with your whiskers, papa!" j That was from Fred, who had memories. We left them alone at last, I don't believe : in old folks intruding too much on the en joyment of the little ones. They get along j a great deal merrier by themselves. So i Mrs. Dobb shut the parlor door and left them alone, while 1 shut myself up in my j j study. About half-past nine I went out and found i the little guests had gone, i Sallie was missing, hut we presently j found her on the stairs in the hall crying , bitterly. " Why, what's the matter with 1 my little j bird ?" said 1 taking her in my arms. i Slic was loth to tell, but at last she sobbed out that she bad been kissed too mueh, and had bad her six years pounded 011 her back, j in honor <>f birth-day usage, till she was I sore all over. Added to whieb one of the | hoys had caught hold of her dress and torn j it in a shocking manner. . The child was soothed and put to bed, I and thin I went into the parlor. Oh ! spectacle for an economical parent ! IMy statuette of Senator Douglas—only a i cast, but a gift from the sculptor—had been | knocked over as it stood in the corner, and jits head broken oil short. There was a deep scratch a foot long on the piano, and ! the music was one hideous dab of molasses ! candy from first to last. A lamp bad been • tipped over 011 the Brussels carpet and left a spot in the middle of the room. And i worst of all, some ambitious youngster had been at my paintings, and had broken a bole j through the canvass of a beautiful land scape —an original Sontag, which I valued highly. j " Oh, Susan, Susan!" I cried, "behold the havoc of this economical soiree !" Mrs. Dobb stood aghast at the spectacle. " Can you compute this damage calmly," I 1 asked. But Mrs. Dobb had no answer for me. 1 got out a pencil and a piece of paper, . ! and made a reckoning : Beheaded Douglass, #'2s Mutilated Sontag, sft j Molasses canity and other damages to piano and music, 10 Burned Carpet, 100 " A total my dear, of $185." " I think you are extravagent, James," said my wife. "A little Spalding's glue will put the statue's head in place." " And then you could tie a red ribbon round his neck to hide the crack, couldn't per Annum, in Auvance. you, dear?" 1 said in a tone of intense irony. "As for the painting, seems to me you might mend it in some way, James, since you make those things yourself." " Those things ! That's a wife for an ar tist." " The piano and music I will see what I can do with ; and as for the carpet, we can get a rug for the centre of the room, and L the spot will never show." " Another expense, my dear." " James, I have wanted a rug for that room this long time. For my part, I don't know as lam very sorry. At least, it can't be he'ped now ; and there arc no more birth-days in the family this year." " Let us be thankful for that, then," said I. A CHILD'S EXPEDIENT.—A little girl about four years old trotted down to Atlantic Dock the other day, says a New York cor respondent, to buy sonic corn for her moth er's chickens. She had a pail in her hand in which to put the corn, but before she reached the spot where she was accustomed to find it, she came to a cask of honey.— This was not to be passed by without an effort to obtain some of it. The men at work within the Dock, unobserved by the child, watched her attempts to reach the sweet temptation. Her little arms were too short for the enterprise, but, after a moment's consideration, she took off her shoe uful stocking", rolled up her drawers, and climbing up on something against which the cask stood, let down her foot and ankle into the honey ; then she drew it up, and with her hand scraped off the honey into her pail. This she repeated until the pail was full, when she went to the water side and washed, and replacing her shoe and stocking, started with her spoil for home. A man followed her and heard her tell her mother that she had brought home some honey ; but to all questioning as to how she obtained it, she was mute. In a short time she returned to the dock for her chicken food, when, as I understand, there was quite an excitement over her, and a collection taken up to reward her ingenuity —not, 'tis hoped, to encourage her honesty. LIFE'S AUTUMN. —Like the leaf, life has its fading. We speak and think of it with sadness, just as we think of the autumn sea sons. But there should be no sadness at the lading of a life that has done its work well. If we rejoice at the advent of a new pilgrim to the uncertainties of this world's way, why should there be so much gloom when all these uncertainties are past, and life at its waning wears the glory of a com pleted task ? Beautiful as is childhood in its freshness and innocence, its beauty is that of untried life. It is the beauty of promise, of spring, of the bud. A holier and rarer beauty is the beauty which the waning life of faith and duty wears. It is the beauty of a thing completed ; and, as men come together to congratulate each other when some great work has been achieved, and see in its concluding nothing but gladness, so ought w.i feel when the setting sun flings back its beams upon a life that has answered well life's purpose. When the bud drops are blighted and the mildew blasts the early grain, and there goes all hope of the harvest, one may well be sad ; but when the ripened year sinks amid garniture of autumn flowers and leaves, why should we regret or murmur? And so a life that is ready and waiting for the "well done "of God, whose latest vir tues and charities are its noblest, should be given back to God in uncomplaining rever ence, we rejoice that earth is capable of so much sadness, and is permitted such vir tue. FASHIONABLE CALL —Enter MissLucy,near ly out of brcatli with the exertion of walking frnm her papa's carriage in the street to the door of her friend. Lucy.—"Oh, Marie ! how do you do ? How delighted I am to see you ! How have you been since you were at the ball last Thursday evening? Wasn't the appearance of that tall girl in pink perfectly fright ful ? Is this your shawl on the piano? Beautiful shawl ! Father says he is going to send to l'aris to get me a shawl in the spring. 1 can't bear home-made shawls ! How do you like Monsieur Esprey ? Beau tiful man, ain't he ? Now don't laugh, Marie, for 1 am sure I don't care anything about him ! Oh, my ! 1 must be going ! It's a beautiful day, isn't it? Marie, when arc you conr'ng up to see me ? Oh, dear ! what a beautiful pin ! That pin was given to you ; now I know it was, Marie ; don't deny it, Harry is coming up to see me this evening, but I hate him—l do really ; but he lias a beautiful moustache, has't lie? Marie ! Don't speak of Harry in connection with my name to any one ; for I am sure it will never amount te anything, but I hate him awfully—l'm sure I do. Adieu." I'SE 1 IST SAM. —During the last winter a "contraband" came in to the Federal lines in North Carolina, and was marching up to the ollicer of the day to give an account of himself whereupon the following soiloijuy ensued : "What's your name ?" • "My name's Sam." "Sam what ?" "No Sah ;no not Sam Watt. I'se jist Sam." "What's your other name?" " I hasn't got no other name, Sah—l'se Sam dat's all." "What's your master's name ?" "Ise got no massa now ; rnass'r rnu'd away —yah ! yah ! I'se free nigger now." "Well, what is your father's and mother's name ?" "Ise got none, Sah —neber had none. I'se jist Sam—nobody else." "Have not you any brothers and sis ters ?" "No, Sah! never had none. Nobrudder, no sister, no fader, no mudder, no massa— nothing but Sam.— When you nee Sam, you nee all dere is of us." IT is temper which makes the bliss of home or disturbs its comfort. The home is in the forbearing #mper, in the yielding spirit, in the calm pleasures of a mild disposition, anxious to give and receive happiness. "WHERE a woman," says Mrs. Partington " has been married with a congealing heart and that beats desponding to her own, she will never want to enter the marriage state again." HUNTING THE TIGEE WITH ELEPHANTS. In parts of the conn try whore good shi karis were not to be obtained, I used to find tigers by fastening a bullock near some ravine or thicket known to be frequented by| thein ; the poor animal was generally carried off in the course of the night and nothing further was necessary than to fol low up the trail of the tiger to some neigh boring'cover, where we are sure to find him gorged. Tigers are also found when returning at daybreak from their nightly prowl by men stationed upon trees, who i hem them into the first cover they enter.— . i In whatever manner a tiger is found, the i great point to insure success is to J procure I plenty of hands from the nearest villages I and effectually to surround the place so ;is to prevent his stealing away before the elephant arrives. II he becomes restless, as he is apt to do when not gorged with food, a shout is generally sufficient to pre | vent his breaking cover ; for, with ail the I ferocity, the tiger is a cowardly animal, I and much averse to showing himself by i daylight. Having found our tiger, we must, before ; proceeding to action, devote u few words 1 to that most useful "auxiliary, the elephant, j A really good sporting elephant is Luvalu ' able. He beats for the game like a poiu : ter ; and carries his rider in safety over j the most dangerous ground, and through ; the thickest covers, which he searches ; inch by inch, with a degree of patience | and sagacity that makes instinct aim >si i amount to reason. frees that oppose lies , progress are levelled by his head, or t irn ! down with his tnn.k ; his stupendous weight forces itsell through every obsta ■ cle ; and at the word of command the sa -1 gacious brute picks up stones and bauds them to his driver to throw into thicker parks of the cover. On finding the tiger, the elephant gives warning of his proximity by throwing up his trunk and trumpeting : and, if well i trained, should remain perfectly steady, ready to obey every command <>f Hi- ma hout. The worst fault an elephant can have, .is a propensity to charge the tiger. In j doing, the violence of his motion is apt t■> unseat the riders, rendering it impossible to take aim ; and what is still worse, he ; genarally throws himself upon his knees it ! the moment of attack, pitching the nun ! out of howdah by the violence of the shock. This bad habit is usually cawed by tin driver encouraging his elephant to trample j upon a tiger when killed, and thereby ren dering the animal ferocious. Nothing is i required of an elephant but to remain per i fectly steady when the tiger is found ; and the best way of training him to do so is t | make him stand quietly over the tiger after i he is killed, without allowing him to touch it ; while the driver encourages him by his voice, and rewards hint with balls • i sugar dipped in the blood of the animal.- Some elephants are so steady as to allow a tiger to rush up to their heads without 1 flinching : but these are not more or less i alarmed by a determined charge. A vete ran gains confidence, and is at length math perfect by the coolness oi his driver, and the good shooting of his owner ; but tii<>s> i which are ill entered turn round and often run away at the lirst roar ola tiger ; and I even the best and most practiced are often rendered useless, and become irrecoverably I timid by wounds received in a successful 1 charge. ' 1 have had occasion to use nervous, tim in elephants, and they are bad enough : but I would rather ride a determined run away than a savage brute who insists on killing the tiger himself. It is, no doubt, a severe trial to the nerves to find yoiir i self hurried away by a huge ungovernable monster, with the prospect of being either smashed against a tree or rolled into a ra i vine ; but this is nothing to the risk you i incur on a fighting elephant of being pitch i ed into the jaws of an enraged tiger, or pounded into jelly under an elephant's knees. On a really good elephant the sportsman is exposed t<> little danger ; less perhaps | than in most Indian field sports. He is raised from ten to twelve feet from off the i ground, on a comfortable seat, from whence jhe can fire in all directions, and he must be a bad shot indeed if he fails to stop a . tiger in his charge. But even supposing - that he does miss—which he lias no busi ness to do—and allows a savage tiger to spring upon the elephant, still the man is ! seldom the object of attack, and he ought | to be able to blow the brute's brains out before be docs much mischief. Tigers | generally spring at the elephant's head, rarely making any attempts to reach the howdah. Instances of their doing s• have occurred, but they are very rare. DIMPLES. —Dimples are the perpetual ! smiles of Nature—the very cunningesi dc i vices and lurking places <>l' Love. \\ lien eaitli is dimpled by dells and valleys, it al ways seems to laugh, when the ocean is dimpled by the breeze, it speaks with j<>\ beneath the sunshine of heaven. We can not look for frowns on a dimpled face; frowns ; and dimples will not associate together.- How soft, how roguish, how beautiful an the dimples in the elbow and shoulders, the pretty hands and feet of a rosy baby. Mothers dote upon these darling dimples, and delight to kiss them. But perfect dim pies, enchanting at least to the eyes of cn i thusiastic young men, are those which i come peeping out of the cheeks around the mouth, of the " sweet seventeen, when I sweet seventeen essays some arch provok ing sally, peeping out and flying away the moment after, coming and going with the 1 most bewitching coquetry. WHOM TO MARRY. —When a young wo \ man behaves to her parents in a manner particularly affectionate and respectful, from principle as well as nature, there is | nothing good and gentle that may not be | expected from her, in whatever condition she may be placed. W ere Ito advise a I friend as to liis choice would be, "look out far a pious girl, distinguished for her at tention and love to her parents. 1 lie ; fund of worth and affection indicated by such behavior, joined to the habits and duty of consideration thereby contracted, being transferred P> the married state, will not fail, as a rule, to render her a mild, obliging, and invaluable companion for life." LET there he plenty of sunlight in your house. Don't be afraid of it. Hud floods the world with light, and it costs you an efiort to keep it out. You want it as much as plants, which grow sickly without it. It is necessary to the health, spirits, good nature and happy influence. Let the sunlight stream freely in. A QUAINT winter says :—I have seen wo mon so delicate that they were afraid to ride for fear the horse might run away: afraid to sail for fear the boat might cap size; and afraid to walk for fear the dew ) might fall; but I never saw one afraid to j get married." (TREAT books are dead men, yet glorified ! ones ; and their pupils will ever hold them selves as their living relatives, NUMBER 30.