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THE STAR OP THE NORTH.
E. W. Weaver Proprietor.] VOLUME 7. THE STAR OF THE NORTH IS PUBLISHEI> EVERY TIIUBSDAY MORNING BY R. W. WEAVER, OFFICE— Up stairs, in the new brick build - j ing, on the south side of Main Steert, third square belmo Market. TERMS: —Two Dollars per annum, if paid within six months from the time of sub scribing ; two dollars ami fifty cents if not paid within the year. No subscription re ceived for a less period than six months ; no discontinuance permitted until all arrearages •re paid, unless at the option of the editor. ADVERTISEMENTS not exceeding one square will be inserted three limes for One Dollar and twenty-five cents for each additional in sertion. A liberal discount will be made to those who advertise by the year. From the ( London) Anthenaum. LOSSES. BV FRANCIS BROWNE. Upon the white sea sand There sat a pilgrim baud, Telling the losses that their lives had known, While evening waned away From btriezy ciiu ud bay, [moan. And the strong tide went C!d With a weary- One with spake, quivering lip, Of a fair freighted ship, With all his household to'.lie deep gone down; But one had wilder woe, For a fair face, long ago Lost in the darker depths of a greater town. There were who mourneth their youth i With a most loving ruth, For its brave hopes and memories evergreen; And one upon the West Turned an eye that would not rest ' For far off hills whereon its joy had been, j Borne talked of vanished gold, Some of proud honors told. [more; Some spake of friends that were their tiußt no ! And one of a green grave, Beside a foreign wave, That made him sit so lonely on the shore. j But when their tales were done, There spake among them otto, A stranger, seeming from all sorrow free— "Sad losses have ye met, But mine is heavier jet, For a believing heart hath gone from me." "Alas !" these pilgrimy said, "For the living and the dead, For fortune's cruelty, for love's sure cross, For the wrecks of land and sea! But, however it came to thee, Thine, stranger,is life's last and heaviest loss." A Uu.y Pay Day. A profligate young fellow, a son of a law yer of some eminence in Rhode Island, on a certain muster or inspection day, purchased a horse of an ignorant farmer, and engaged to pay for it on the next inspection day. When the inspection day had come, and the farmer, unsuspicious of the trick, suppo sed the note to be due, he called on the young man for payment. The latter expres sed great astonishment that he should call on him before the note was out. "But it is ou'," said the farmer; "you promised to pay me the next inspection day; the time has come and I want the mon ey." " if you will look at that note again," said the young man coolly, "you will find that it has a long while to run yet." The farmer was sure the note was due, or ought to be; but on spelling over carefully he found to his astonishment that it was not due till the resurrection day. Ha remonstra ted with the young scapegrace but all to no purpose, and he finally laid the case before his father, the lawyer. The latter took his son aside, and told him he had better settle the thing at once. "For," said he, "though the pay day is lar 1 distant, j-ou are in a fair way to have busi ness enough on your hands that day to with out having your notes to settle." The advice was taken. Clear tbe I rack. It is announced officially that three splen did prizes, the least of which is 525 in cold, will be offered to the ladies of Seneca Coun ty, Ohio, at the next annual Fair, October, 1895 for the swiftest running in a fool-race— the fastest lady on foot to take the highest prize. That is, the Ohioians are seeking to im prove the human race by introducing the feminine element. As a matter of course, such exercise must have its effect, and la titat gradually become so fleet in conse quence of it, that they will doubly deserve the title, American deer, if this Style of thing gnes on, however, the Hoosiers may ere long expect to be qualified to stay at home to wash dishes and apank the baby, while the women folks will go out and do all the chewing, aweartng and horse-racing.— N. T. Picayune. ANECDOTE OF Gov. Wits.—Before his elec tion tbe Know Nothing papers were fond of publishing aoeodotes to show how Wise was" •put down' upon the stump, by interruptions from 'Sam,' and the vast assemblages which were wont to gather around the hustings of the Orator of Accomac. At one of these meeting* in Western Virginia, two of 'Sam's' fastest young men had been more than usu ally noisy and insolent towards the speaker, and their interruptions were plainly intended to annoy and insult htm. Wise paused in his speeob, and laming to these "bloods" pointed hie long skinny finger, a la Randolph, at tbe offenders, and said: " Young men! I am to ba your next Governor -' yon will prob ably be in tbe penitentiary; and may depend upon it you will have lp sprvt out your time I" He was not interrupted again in that quar ter- < • iy Why did Adam bite the apple," ask. Ed a country school-master of his pupil.*- "Because be had no knife," aaid the bey. BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY. SEPTEMBER 20, 1855. j Translated from the Fr. for the Home Journal | THE MAIDEN WITH GOLDEN HAIR BV OLIVER 8. LKLAND. _____ Many, many years ago, near by ibe old Abbey of Cbelles, there was a fountain, a little fountain, which went rippling, rippling along laughingly, through the flowers and the fresh, green grass. In the fountain, a large willow bathed its long green hair and under this willow came Jacqueline every evening, at the hour when the night flower opens its chalice. But Jac- I queline came not under the tree to drink of the fountain ; for here, at the hour when the night flower opens its choice, came her lov er, Pierre. Pierre was a blacksmith of the country, the handsome smith with the proud yet tender glance. And every evening they culled with the same hand, the little blue flowers which enamelled the borders of the fountain. And when the flowers were cul led, Pierre would kiss them and conceal them in the bosom of iba beautiful Jacque line with the golden htu'. One evening when Jacqueline came with Pierre under the great willow tree, he grew pale ar death. "Dearest," said she, -'vow to md to love thy Jacqueline as long as the fountain shall glide on." And Pierre an swered. "As long as the fountain shall glide on, so long, and longer, will I love my beau tiful Jacqueline with the golden hair. He vowed : but one day Jacqueline stood all alone beneath the great willow tree. She gathered the little blue flowers while wait ing for him, but he came not to place them in the little red bodice. She threw the flow ers into the lountain, and she thought that the fountain wept with her. The next day she caine a little sooner and wen! away a little later. She waited; the nightingales were tinging in the woods, the cattle were lowing in the meadow. She wailed ; the old abbey clock sounded the hour of the Angelus; the miller of Nogent chanted his joyous song. Eight days after, Jacqueline came once more to the fountain. She was still alone.— "It is over," said she ; "tt is over 1" The soldiers of the king just then passed by the brookside. "Ah P' said she, "he has gone to the war." She went and knocked at the door of the Abbey. "It is a poor girl," said she, "who wishes to love God alone." Thev cut off her beautifol golden hair— they seut back It) her mother her little red bodice and her ring of silver. lel ho came back—he, the blacksmith with the proud eye, yet tender glance. — 1 Jacqueline, Jacqueline, where art thou?"— The fountain still runs on: it is the hour when the white pigeons seek the dovecot, the hour when the night flower opens its chalice. "Where art lltou, Jacqueline?— Where art thou V' And even as he spoke, Pierre was Jacqueline pass by, robed in the black gatb of the nuns. Poor Jacqueline ! she has lost her golden hair. He approached hbr. "Jacqueline, Jacque line, what hast thou done with out happi ness ? While 1 was a prisoner of war, be hold thou hast descended into a living tomb. Jacqueline, darling, what shall Idoat my forge without thee? Thou, who shouldst have given to me thy smile to cheer my heart, thy brow to embalm my lips,thy neck on which to restmy arms. Thou who shouldst have given to me children, beautiful as an gels, to enliven the corner of my fireside.— Already I have seen them in my dreams, with their little rosy leet, playing on their father's knees, smiling in their mother's arms. Adieu, Jacqueline; adieu ! I will go to night and bid farewell to the fountain, and to the great willow tree, and to the little blue flowers. And when i have said fare well to all that 1 have loved, I will cut me a stall in the old forest, and I will journey into far off-lands." That evening when Pierre came to the fountain, the sun was gilding with his last pale ray the branches of the great willow tree. It was a hunting day, and the baying of the dogs and the shouts of the huntsmen resounded gayly over the Maine. When Pierre had come under the great willow tree, he shuddered and pressed hie hand closely 1 j to his heart; for lying on the grass, her head leaning against thp stone baße of the foun tain. he had seen the figure of a nun. "Jacquffine ! Jacqueline !" falling on his knees; and the echo from the woods an swered, sadly, "Jacqueline ! Jacqueline !" With fright and love he raised her in his a,*.ms. "Farewell, dear Pierre," she said, softly; "since I have prayed to God within those gloomy coitvent walla, I have felt that 1 was dying from hour to hour. Already am 1 dead ; if my heart still beali, it is lhat it is so near to thine. Grant me one favor, will you not, dearest? When 1 am dead bury me here. Ido not wish to return to the con vent, where my heart was irozen; but bury me here, dear Pierre, where I may still hear the tippling of the fountain and the waving of the branches of the great willow tree.— And in the soft, sweet evenings of the month of May, when the nightingale sings his ten dereat lay down in the woods, I will remem ber that you have loved nee well." She ceased, and pressing her death-cold lipa for the last time upon his brow, she breathed her soul away in lhat last kiss of love. Thus died Jacqueline, the beautiful maiden witb (be golden bair. The moon, jual rising above the mountain (op, abed down a sweet, sad light upon the scene. Pierre took her in bia arms, saying 40 her a thousand tender words, thinking ■till that the would answer him. But she heard him not. How beautiful abe seemed jn death, raiting hat pale face upon the shoulder of tier torer, Pierre j All the night long Pierre prayed to God for the soul of his dear Jacqueline, some times on his knees before the body, some times pressing her wildly to his heart- At daybreak, all sobbing, he dug her grave, and lined it witb the fresh, groen grass, glisten ing with the morning dew, all studded with flowers and pearls. On this funeral bed he placed Jacqueline for eternity. For the last j time he pressed her hand, for the last lime he kissed her pure while brow. Over the body he scattered all the wild flowers he could gather in the meadow, or at the bor ders ol the wood. Upon the wild flowers he threw the earth—earth blessed by holy tears. Slowly he went away. The nuns, on their awaking, heard the sobs of the lover, Pierre. Since that sad day, the smith has never beaten the iron at his forge. Since that sad day, Jacqueline has slept to the rippling of the fouutain—music sweet to her heart.— And in the soft, sweet evenings of the month of May, when the nightingale sings his ten derest lay down there in the woods, she re members that Pierre has loved her well.— And to this duy, you can see the little blue flowers growing from her tomb, which is ev er green. Ilow Dir. Sparrowgrass went down Stairs- One evening Mrs. S, had retired, and 1 was busy writing when it struck me a glass of ice water would be palatable. So I took a caqdle and pitcher and went down to the pump. Our pump is in the kitchen. A coun try pump, in the kitchen, is more conveni ent; but a well with buckets is certainly more picturesque. Unfortunately, our well water has not been sweet since it was clean ed out. First 1 had to open a bolted door lhat lets you into the basement hall, and then I went to the kitchen door which prov ed to be locked. Then I remembered that our girl Always carried the key to bed witb her, and slept with it under her pillow.— Then 1 retraced my steps ; bolted the base ment door, and went up into the diningroom. As is always the case, 1 found when I could not get any water I was thirstier than I sup posed I was. Then I thought I would wake up our girl. Then I concluded not to do it. Then I thought of the well, but gave'that up on account of its flavor. Then I opened the closet doors—there was no water there ; and then I thought of the dumb waiter! The novelty of the idea made me smile; I took out two of the movable shelves, stood the pitcher on the bottom of the dumb waiter, got in myseli with the lamp ; let myself down, until I supposed I was within a foot of the floor below, and then lei gc). We came down so suddenly, that I was shot out of the apparatus as if it had been a catapult; it broke the pitcher, extinguished the lamp, and landed roe in the middle of the kitchen at midnight with no fire, and the air not much above the zero point. The truth is I had miscalculated the distance of the descent—instead of falling one foot, 1 had fallen five. My first impulse was to as cend by the way I came down, but I found lhat impracticable. Then I tried the kitchen door, it was locked; I tried to force it open; it was made of two inch stuff, and held its own. Then 1 hoisted the window, and there were the rigid iron bars. If 1 ever felt an gry at anybody, it was at myself for putting up those bars to please Mrs. Sparrowgrass.— I put them up, not to keep people in but to keep people out. 1 laid rny cheek against the ice-cold bar riers and looked out at the sky; not a star was visible; it was as black as ink overhead. Then 1 thought of Baron Trenck and the pris oner of Chillon. Then I made a noisb ! 1 shouted until I was hoarse, and ruined our preserving kettle with the poker. That brought our doge out in full bark, and be tween us we made night hideous. Then 1 thought I beard a voice, and listened—it was Mrs. Sparrowgrass calling to me Irom the top of the staircase. I tried to make her hear me, but the dogs uniteJ with howl, and growl and bark, so as to drown my voice wbich is naturally plaintive and tender.— Besides there wero two bolted doors and double deafened floors between us; how could she recognize my voice even if she did hear it ? Mrs. Sparrowgrass called me once or twice, and (hen got frightened; the next thing [ heard was a sound as if the roof had fallen in, by which I understood that Mrs. Sparrowgrass was springing the rattle. That called out our neighbor, already wide awake. He came to the rescue with a bull-terrier, a Newfoundland pup, a lantern and a revol ver. The moment he saw me at the win dow, be shot at me, but fortunatelyjust miss ed me. I threw myself under the kichen ta ble and began to expostulate with him, but he would not listen to reason. In the excite ment I had forgotten his name, and that made matters worse. It was not until he had rous ed up everybody around, broken in the base ment door with an axe, gotten into the kitch en with his savage dogs and shooting iron, and siezed me by the collar, that he recog nized me—and then wanted me to explain it! But what kind of an explanation could I make to him ? I told him he would have to wail until my mind was composed, and then I would let him understand the whole matter fully. But be never would have had the particulara from me, for I do no not ap prove of neighbors lhat shoot at you, break in your door and treat you in your own house, as if you were a jail bird. He knows all about it, however—somebody has (old him; somebody tells everybody everything in our village.— Putnam for June. Or Why is a poor horse greater lhau Na poleon? Because in bi there 1a many-6o ny-partt. Truth and Bight God aud our Country. THE PLAGUE. The most terrible scourge of the Middle Ages was the "Black Death." It is compu ted lhat this mighty reaper gathered in his "harvest home" twenty-five millions of peo ple one fonrth of the then population of Eu rope. The disease first appeared in the king dom of Cathay to the north ot China in the year 1333. In 1334 it visited France and England, and subsequently Scotland, Nor way, Russia and Poland. It dashed in a mong the Poles with a wolfish appetite and seemed disposed to anticipate the Russians in making a morsel of ils nationality. Three fourths of the entire population were de voured by tbe hungy monsu*. Of the Rus sians and Norwegians two-thirds were de stroyed. The disease is described by Hecker as a specie of Oriental plague, exhibiting it self in inflammatory boils and tumors of the glands, accompanied with burning thirst; sometimes, also, with inflammation of the lungs an expectoration of blood ; in other cases with vomitings of blood and fluxes of the bowels, terminating like malignant chol era, with a discoloration of the skin, and black spots indicating putrid decomposition, from which it was called in the north of F.arope, the 'Black Death.' The attacks were usually fatal within two or three days of the first symptoms appearing, but in many cases were even more sudden, some fall SB if struck by ligtituing. In some countries, dogs, cats, fowls, and other animals were affected by the disease and died in gieat numbers. In England it was followed by a fatal murrain among cattle, occasioning a gieat advance in tbe price of food. Upon the heels of this black night of Mor tality, there came polking into Europe the Dancing Mania or Tarantism, as it was call ed in Italy, where it was attributed to the bile of the ground spider—the tarantula.— The disease, it is said, showing itself in vio lent involuntary movements in the muscles of the legs, the physicians of the times con cieved the idea that if the patients were en couraged to dance until they fell exhausted, a reaction would commence and a cure re sult. This singular prescription was so much relied on, that music was every whero pro vided, and airs composed to harmonise with the peculiarities of the dance; but these pub lic exhibitions seem to have had the effect of propagating the epidemic. In a short time—naturally enough, to be sure—all Germany was in motion. The na tion en masse took to dancing until the fath erland became a vast ball toom, and the anti-chamber to the "valley of death."— There circles were formed in the churches, public buildings and in the streets. Joined hand in hand and appearing to hare lost all control over themselves, they continued dancing regardless ot the by-standers, for hours together in wild delirium until they fell to the ground exhausted. The dancing mania, however appeared to run ils course more readily in Germany than in other places. It prevailed in Italy as late as the seventeenth century. We have historical accounts of two other singular epidemics, tbe biting mania and the mewing mania, the former begun, it is said, with a nun, in a German nunnery, who show ed a great propensity to bite her companions, which spread to many other nunneries. The mewing mania was also a nunnery disease— the victims of this disease would spend sev eral hours of the day in imitating the mew ing of a cat. Both of these epidemics occur red in the fifteenth century, when nervous diseases appear to have been unusually prev alent in Europe. The "sweating sickness" another terrible epidemic, made its appearance in England in 1544 ; it produced a fatality nearly as great as that of the Black Death. The disease de vastated England five times within six years, and then entirely disappeared. The disease was a violent inflamatory fever, thai suffused j the whole body with a foetid prespiralion.— i Its attacks was followed immediately by complete prostration, and arriving at a crisis in a few hours. It seldom spared its victims —scarcely one in a hundred escaped with life. It was remarkable, that robust aud vig orous men were generally singled out as the favorite target for the arrows of this deadly archer, whilst children and the aged almost universally escaped. Plagues have existed in nearly all ages, and can hardly be said to be extinct—even at this day. The great plague of London in 1665, carried off nearly 70.000 inhabitants of that oily. It commenced with shivering, nausea and headache, followed by total pros tration or delirium, and sometimes parox ysms of frenzy. If the patient survivod these till the third day, buboes commonly appear ed, and when th*se could be made to suppu rate, there was hope of recover)*. The 'plague of the guts,' which is monl'oned in a table of London casualties of 1659 and 1660. and which proved awfully fatal in 1670 and 1699 is supposed to have been the cholera in its malignant form. The minute description given of this disease by Dr. Hecker, identify it with the epidemic cholera of this period, and seem to explode '.he theory that before the year 1817, tbe cholera was altogether uuknowu either in India or Europe. • ARRIVAL OF GOV. SHANNON IN KANSAS. —We learn from Westport, Kansas lhat Governor Shannon arrived there on tbe 31st ult. He was serenaded, and being called out made a speech, in which he said be regarded the Leg islature as legal, and ita acts binding, and would exert his authority to enforce them.— Ha deolared himself in favor of slavery in Kansas.— ledger. Senator I'ugh—An Eloquent Extract. The Cincinnati Enquirer has brought out the following extract of a speech of the Hon. Geo. E. Pugh, made in that city, April 6lh, 1854. Is there an Ohioan, who loves bis country, and desires the perpetuity of this gloriou* Union, but will respond an hearty amen to the patriotic and eloquent sentiment) of this extract. It is worthy the reputation of our ablest statesman, aud we rejoice that it finds a place in the hearts of our young, ri sing politicians.— Stark Co. (O.) Dcm. Said Mr. Pugh : "The continuance of the Union is a mat ter of vital importance to the people of Ohio. Tha' is the term of all our greatness and all our hopes. Wo came into being, as a Stale, under the auspices of a Federal Government, and as it may stand or fall, so must our fate be. If any Abolitionist will calculate the value of the Union to us, or even to those who may fill our places hereafter, let him be hold the prosperity and happiness which have fallen to our choice. Let him depart from Sandusky with Monday's train—first having renewed his patriotism at tbe sight of those islands near which the immortal victory of > Lake Erie was achieved, and let him jour ney hitherward until the sun declines. What a vision will greet his eyes! The noble State of Ohio, but fifty years old, and yet contain ing two millions of inhabitants, great, rich, and enviable, will have passed before him— a State which is not merely indebted to the Union for peace and protection, for means of access to the Bea, but even for its political existence. Arrivbd at this capital of western trade and power, this queen of cities, which glasses herself in a river proverbial foi beau ty, let him contemplate here a triumph of industry and enterprise as superb in design as it is magnificent in proportions, which, but for the Union's continual care, would quick ly fade into despair and aihes. Let him go hence by the agency of that subtile minister which enlivens so many wondrous forms of mechanism, until he has reached the States which lie upon our southern border—those fertile and sunny lands through whose allu vion the Mississippi cleaves a hundred out lets to the gulf. That, also, Uhis country. — There, amid the fields of verdant cane or in j the groves of citron and olive, or where the fig tree casts its clustering shade, will be found men and women to whom VVhshing ton is likewise a guiding star —whose hopes are bound up wilh (lis own hopes—whose fortunes depend on his fortunes—over whose homes, as ovet hit home, the Government which Washington established—tiie Govern ment which Washington besought us to maintain—stretches forth its protecting and victorious arm. If there be an American who would dissever those whom kindred as pirations, a common liberty, and tbe joint in heritance of so great a name conspire thus closely to unite; ii there be an American who could ever wish those tilings otherwise, I pity bis head—l pity the lather and mother who arc compelled to own him—l pity tbe soil which bis very footsteps contaminate —I pity even the day whose healthful sunlight was dimmed and eclipsed by such a birth of un dying shame." How they lead Newspapers- It is*a proof of the great variety of human developement to notice persons reading a newspaper. Mr. General intelligence first glances at the telegraph, then at the editorial, then he goes into the correspondence. Mr. Sharper opens with stocks and mar kets, and ends with the advertisements for watits, hoping to find a victim. Aunt Suckey first reads the stories, then looks to see who is married. Miss I'rim looks at the marriages first, and then looks at the stories. Mr. Marvellous is curious to see the list of accidents, murders and the like. Uncle Ned hunts up a funny thing, and laughs with a will. Madame Gossip turns to the local depart ment for her thunder, and having obtained that, throws the paper aside. Mrs. Friendly drops the first tear of sym pathy over the deaths, and then over the marriages . for, says she, one is about as bad as the other. * Mr. f'olilioian dishes into the leleg-aph, and from that into the editorial, ending with the speeches alluded to. Our literary friend is eager for a nice com position from the editor, or some kind cor respondent. After analyzing the rhetoric, grammar and logie of the production, he turns a careless glance at the news depart ment, and then takes to his Greek, perfectly satisfied. The pleasure seeker examines tbe pro grammes of lite public entertainments, and decides which will afford him the greatest amount ol entertainment. The laborer searches among the wants for abetter opening in his business, and—but enough ; an extension of the list is useless.— There is just as much difference in readers as in anything. But the worst is yet to eorae. If each does not find a column or more of his pecu lar liking, the editor ha 9 of course been la zy, and is unworthy of patronage. Oh ! who wouldn't be an editor! RACHEL has given #IOOO to the sufferers at Norfolk and Portsmouth, and the New York merchants sent off on Sunday a ship load of provisions. This is the*proper kind of generosity, and those who are its objects are likely to need all the relief that will be extended to them before the pestilenae ces eea ita ravage* and allow* burnt*** to be re lumed. lolly of Religious Persecution. We invite every unprejudiced mind to the serious consideration of the following great fundamental truth as penned by Epos Sar gent, Esq. ft is possible for any man to ponder these fair and logical deductions from history, and then to continue to wage war upon any sect or denomination for mere opin ion's sake? "The very worst mischief that can be done to religion, is to pervert it to the purposes of faction. Heaven and hell are not more dis tant than the benevolent spirit of the Gospel ind the malignant spirit of party. The most impious wars ever made were those called holy wars. He who hates another man for \ not being a Christian, is himself not a Chris tian. Toleration is tbe basis of all public qui et. It is a chart of freedom given to the mind, , tnore valuable, I think, than that which se cures our persons and estates. Indeed they are inseparably connected; for where the ; mind is not free, where the conscience is en thralled, there is no freedom. I repeat it, ' persecution is us impious as it is cruel and unwise. It not only opposdi every precept j of the New Testament., but it invades the | prerogative of GoJ Himself. It is a usurps pation of lite attribute which belongs exclu sively to the Most High. It is a vain endeav or to ascend into His Throne, to wield His ceptre, aud hurl His thunderbolts. " And then its own history proves how use less it is. Tiuth is immortal; the sword can not pierce it, fires cannot consume it, poisons cannot incarcerate it, famir.e cannot starve it; all the violence of men stirred up by the power and subtlety of bell, cannot put it to death. In the person of its martyrs it bids defiance to the will ol the tyrant who perse cutes it, and with the martvr's last breath, predicts its own full aud final triumph. The I'agait persecuted the Christian, but yet Chris tianity lives. The Roman Catholic persecu ted the Protestant, but Protestantism yet lives. The Protestant persecuted the Roman Cath olic, but yet Catholicism lives. The Church of England persecuted Nonconformists, and yet Nonconformity lives. Nonconformists persecuted Episcopalians, yet Episcopacy lives. When persecution is carried to its extreme length of extirpating heretics, Truth may be extinguished in one place, but it will break out in another. If opinions cannot be put down by argument, they cannot by pow er. Truth gains the victory in the end, not only by its own evidences, but by the suffer ings of its confessors. Therefore if we have a mind to establish peace among the people, we must allow men to judge freely in mat ters of religion, and to embrace that opinion they think right, without any hope of tempo ral reuurd, without any fear of temporal pun ishment." THREE THINGS. —Three things that never become rusty : The money of the benevo lent, the shoes on a butcher's horse, an I a fretful tongue. Three things not easily done: To allay thirst with fire, to drj the wet with water, to please all in everything that is done. Three things that are as good as the best: Brown bread in a famine, well water in thirst, and a great coat in winter. Three things as good as their better: Dir ty water to extinguish fire, an ngly wife to a blind man, anJ a wooden sword to a cow ard. Three things lhat seldom agfee: Two cats over one mouse, two scolding wives in one bouse, and two lovers of the same maiden. Three things of a short continuance : A boy's love, a chip fire, and a brook's flood. Three things that ought never to be from home: Thecal, the chimney, and'thehouse wife. Three essentials to a false story teller: A good memory, a bold face, aud fools for an audience. Three things seen in the peacock : The garb of an angel, the walk ol a thief, and the voice ot the devil. Three things that are unwise lo boast of: The flavor of thy ale, the beauty of thy wife, and the contents of thy purse. Three miseries of a man's house: A smo ky chimney, a dripping roof, and scolding wife. Smull Mouth, Due Ilii-bund -Laige, Two. Old Gov. I. , of Vermont was one of the most inveterate jokers of the early times in which he figured. An anecdote is told of him, which has never been related in print, and never can be, perhaps, wilh much ef fect; but we will fry It. One fall as he was returning from the Legislature on horseback, 1 as usual at that Hay, he was hailed from a honse by a garrulous old maid, who had of ten annoyed him with questions respecting public affairs. " Well, Governor," said she, coming oul towards the road, '• what new laws have you passed at Montpelier, this time *" "Well, one rather singular law, among the rest," he replied. " Dew tell'. Now, what is it, Governor J' asked the excited querist. *' Why, that the woman in each town, who has the smallest mouth, shall be warranted a husband." " Whoy, whot!" said the other, drawing up her mouth, to the smallest oompass; what a queer curious lor lhat is ?" " Yes, but we bare passed aaotber that beats that—the woman who has the largest mouth is to have two husbands." " Wbv, whart I" exclaimed the old maid, instantly relaxing bar mouth and stretching it wider and wider at every syllable—"what a remarkable lor that iv; when does it come in force, Governor t" At thie the Governor pot epure lo hie home and vanished- [Two Dollars per Annofa NUMBER 35. Anecdote, of Kef. Sydney Smith. I A PRIVATE GALLOWS.—Young delinquent* I he could never bear to commit; he read them a severe lecture, and in extreme cases cull od oni, "John bring me my private gallows J" ■ which infallibly bronghl the little urohir.s weeping on their knees, and "Ob ! for God's sake, your honor, pray forgive us !" and his j honor used graoiously to pardon them for , this tune, and delay the arrival of the private gallows, and seldom had reason to repeat the | threat. SMALLMEN—An argument arose, in which j my father observed how man) of the most ■ eminent men ol the world have been dimiu- J utive in person ; and after naming several among the ancients, he added, " Why look | there at Jeffrey; and there is my little friend ,who has not body enough io cover , his mind decently with; his intellect is expo j sed." SORROW FOR A GREAT MAN DEPARTED —At a large dinner party tr.y lather, or some one else, announced the death of Mr. Dugald Stewart—one whose name ever brings with it feelings of respect, for his talents and high character. The news was received with so much levity by a lady of rank who sat by bim, that he turned round and said, " Slad am, wheu we are told of the death of so great a man as Mr. Dugald Stewart, it is usual, in civilized society, to look grave for at least the space of five seconds." PARENTAL ADVICE.—"Lucy, Lucy, my dear child, don't tear your frock ; tearing frocks is not of itself a proof of genius; bnt write as your mother writes, act as your mother acts; be frank, loyalaffectior.ate, simple, honest / and then integrity or laceration of frocks is of little import. And Lucy, dear child, mind your arithmetic. You know, in the first sum of yours I ever saw, there was a mistake— You had carried two (as a cab is licensed to do), and you ought, dear Lucy, to have car ried but one. fs this a trifle What would life be without arithmetic, but ascene rors? You are going to Boulogne, the city ol debts, peopled by mer. who never under stood arithmetic,' by the time you return shall probably have received my first para lytic stroke, and I shall have lost all recollec tion of you; therefore, I now give you my parting advice. Don't marry anybody who has not a tolerable understanding and a thousand a year, and God bless you dear child!" A BABY ESTABLISHMENT—'The usual estab lishment for an eldest landed baby is, two wet 11 u rses, I wo ditto dry, two aunts, two phy sicians, two apothecaries, three lemale friends ol the family, unmarried, advanced in life ; and often, in the nursery, one clergyman;eix flatterers, and a grand-papa! Less than this would not be decent. A lilut ou Household Management. Have you ever observed what a dislike servants have to anything cheap? They hate saving their master's money. I tried the experiment with great success the other day. Finding we consumed a vast deal of soap, I eat down in my thinking chair, and took the soap question into consideration, and I found reason to suspect we were nsing a very expensive article where a cheaper one would serve the purpose better. I or* dered half a dozen pounds of both aorta, but took the precaution of changing Ike papers on which the prices were marked, before giving them into the hands of Betty. 'Well, Betty, which soap do you find washes best?' 'Oh, please, sir, the dearest in the blue pa per; it makes lather as well again aa the olb ! er.' 'Well, Betty, you shall always bsve it then;' and thus the unsuspecting Betty saved me some pounds a year, and washed the clothes baiter.— Rev. Snyder Smith. \ l* He was an accurate observer and a sound reasoner, who said: "Mankind are always happier for having been happy; so that, if you make them happy now, you make them hßppy twenty years hence by the memory o! it. A childhood passeJ with a mixture oi rational indulgence, under fond and wise parents, diffuses over the whole of life a feeling of calm pleasure; and in ex treme old age, is the very last remembrance which time can erase from (he mind of man. No enjoyment, however inconsiderable, is confined to the present moment. A man in the happier for life for having made once an agreeable tour, or lived for any length of time with pleasant people, or enjoyed any consid erable internal of innocent pleasure, which contributes to render okl men so inattentive to the scenes before them, and carries them back to a world that is past, and to scenes never to be renewed again." GOOD.—A man who ia very rioh now, waa very poor when he was a boy. When ask ed how hegothia tiches, he replied, "My father taught me never to play till my work was finished, and uever to spend my money till 1 had earned iu If I had but an hour's working a day, I must do tbat the very first thing, in an bour. After it was done I was allowed to play with much more pleasure than if the thought of an unfinished task obtruded upon my mind. I early form ed the habit oi doing everything in turn, and it aoun became perfectly easy to. do ao. It it to this 1 owe my prosperity." Leteteryboy who reads this go and do likewise. ty Roosters have sometimes been called preachers, owing to the fact that they pro claim viva voce the approach of day. What then shall w# style the hens T— Why toy mem ben, to be sure.