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The star of the north. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1849-1866, August 24, 1859, Image 1

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W. 11. JA€OB¥, I'roprietcr.]
tt'M. 11. JICOBV,
Office on Main St., 3rd Square below Market,
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less at the option of the editor.
The leims if ailveilisiug will be n> follows :
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Every subsequent insertion, 25
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One year 8 no
£I)o i£ e jJoe tr n.
There's b entity everywhere I go,
There's beauty everywhere—
Atnid the country wood, and lanes,
And the city thoroughfare.
The rising sun is beautiful,
And radiant in its light;
The moon shines out in splendor,
Midst the stillness of the night.
The city domes rise bold antid
Surrounding scenery,
Like conquerors with glory crowned,
Returned from victory.
The ocean waves dance merrily,
Like diamonds sparkling bright:
The mountain tops are lipped with gold,
Bathed in a'flood of light.
The birds sing sweetly as they fly
Amid the greenwood trees;
The busy ants are toiling on,
And merrily hum the bees
There's music to the soul in this,
There's bean y everywhere,
In summer or in autumn,
Or the spring time of the year.
There's beauty in the' Winter,
When the snow is on the ground,
When north winds whistle shrilly,
And icicles are found.
When Christmas comes again once more,
And absent Iriends return,
And gather round the social hearth
To see the yule log turn :
When mistletoe and holly deck
Our walls in robes ol green :
Oh, Christmas is as happy u time
As SHV 1 have seen.
But there's something far more beautiful
Than aught that's mentioned here,
Than city, cout.lry, wood, or grove,
Or seasons of the year—
More beautiful than ocean,
Tho mountains, or the vale,
The sun in all its glory,
Or the moonbeams sinning pale.
Oh, the brightest beauty in the world
Is a kind and gentle smile
Which from a loving heart proceeds,
Am! gladdens earth awhile.
It cheerivlhe and desolate,
'Tis sunshine to the souL
It sheds a ray of kindly lu^py,
A wounded heart makes whole
Oh, could I choose a boon Irom Heaven,
1 know what it would be ;
Not honor, riches, glory—
But a loving heart for me.
has been for the lust lour years employed in
the counting-house of I'aris, a merchant, in
the Spanish trade. This latter has a niece
brought up in Spain, and an orphan. She
is not beautiful, but refined and intelligent.
At balls which she attended here, the past
winter, escorted by Iter uncle, she danced
but little , the truth being that she was sel
dom invited, except when the young clerk
chanced to be present and offered the civilly
of requesting her to be his partner in a qua
drille. It was thus that their acquaintance
was made and ripened.
A fortnight ago the clerk obtained per
mission from Mademoiselle Fabricia to de
mand her hand in marriage from her guar
dian, his employer. The latter seemed
surprised, and received the proposal with
coolness. However, after a long consulta
tion with his niece, he gave his consent, and
the marriage look place as soon as the ne
cessary formalities could be accomplished.
Two days subsequently, at breaklas", the
young bride, observing the discontent of her
husband at being obliged to return to his
business so early in the honeymoon, said,
"Well, don't go to-day. Don't go any more!"
"Not go to the counting-house, my love !
That is easy enough to say, but "
"It is easy enough to do, also."
"Indeed! how so ?"
"Nothing more simple in the world. I
have a million and a half of fortune ! In
my apparently modest position I determined
to choose a husband with a good heart. Do
you blame me?" The gentleman's reply
is not recorded.
A BAD BRIDCK. —The Cincinnati Nonpareil
tells this:—On the upward trip to Dayton,
on Saturday, we noticed in the cars a gen
tleman and lady seated in close juxta-posi
tion, and judging from their conduct, one
would imagine that they were exceedingly
intimate. In front of the comfortable pair,
eat two gentlemen, editors of two German
papers in this city. When near Dayton, the
the train passed through a long, dark bridge.
Amid the thundering and rattling of the
cart could be heard a noise, that sounded
|itt *ll the world like the concussion of lips.
Bach hearty smacks startled all the parly.—
jffi We emerged into daylight, one of the
jttaman editors slowly drew his spectacles
jjUPB over hit nose, and exclaimed :— "Veil
sH&S dat ish a tam bad bridge. I hears
liHUt one, two, threo, four times."—
'l iMji drew down her veil, and fot the
the trip the pair looked mute
attended a ball out West,
in short dress and pants.
The other ladieSwre shocked. She quiet
ly remarked lhatWtt|y would pull up their
drescos about the they ought to be,
their skirts would be here !
In a grave old German essay upon duel
ling, thero is a 6tory somewhat pointless,
yet, inasmuch as it is true, worth noting as
a picture of chivalry at romps in the year
sixteen hundred and nineteen.
In Valentia a noble lord whom the dis
creet chronicler calls, as he calls all the
persons in the tale, by a fictitious name,
held a feast at the wedding of his daughter.
Being tho eldest knight of his order, he in
vited ail his brother knights from far and
near to assist at his festival, and there were
among the guests many young nobles who
were only candidates for investiture. Among
these was ono the number of whose ances
tors was not greater than the number of
the apostels. He was snubbed; and a
young braggart, Fracasio who had but two
ancestors missing out of a pedigree that
went back all the way to bis distinguished
father Adam, was epecially merry at the
expense of the youth who had only twelve
grandfathers to mention. At dinner, Fra- j
casio sat near his victim, and in sport threw :
into his face a cup of Spanish wine, that
drenched the curl out of his hair and spoilt
the beauty of his pointed collar. Next to
the young man sat a knight who was about
to be his brother in-law, being already
plighted to bis sister. By this knight the
insult was at once repaid in kind. Another
cup of wine was thrown at the aggressor.—
A friend of Fracasio's who happened to sit
at the other table, hurled then his cup of
wine at the new combatant, but this in its
passage sprinkled no less than six people,
who immediately filled their six cups and
threw them all at the new champion. The
six cups of wine, travelling down tho table,
sprinkled many guests, and in a short time
there was a general discharge of lull wine
from both sides of the table. The lights
were quenched. The table was thrown
down, the guests struggled with one another
in the dark. But all this riot was maintain
ed in jest; no knight dishonored himself by
the drawing oi a deadly weapon. When
the lights were rekindled a general amnesty
was declared, the tables were restored, and
everybody returned quietly to the celebra
tion of the wedding feast except one knight,
who had the mouth of a lion and a chick
en's fcqart.
This knight, Roderick, mingled big
threats with the laughter of his comrades
He was not to be changed so easily. He
never left unpunished a curl who by day
light rubbed against his i'lolhes ( in passing,
and was htf to forgive ttfose who Crougftt
their hands too near him in the dark I It
was true that he had not been taken by the
throat. But somebody had lain with his
nose against the boot-solo. Who was that
man ? For he must have his blood. The
other knights sought to appease their friend
with reasonable and good-natured words.—
When these failed they returned to their
cups ami paid no further heed to him
Roderick stood apart still fulminating a neg
lected wrath until at last he also returned to
the table and growled as he drank until he
had drunk himself into a stupid silence.—
Somebody then advised that lie should be
carried up to bed. and ho wtis put to bed
by his companions.
In the morning Roderick awoke some
what uncertain as to his position. He slept
in the same room with twelve or fourteen
other knights of his own rank. They were
talking in their beds to one another. He
feigned sleep that ho might DO guided in
his conduct by their manner of disscussion.
They were very charitable to their comrade,
as knights ought to be. Their poor friend
Roderick was an honest fellow, but he had
been troubled in his cups last night. There
was no sword and gunpowder whatever in
their mention of him. This caused him to
take heart. He had humbled himself by
looking like a tipsy braggart, he would
give them to understand that if he had used
bold words overnight, lie was a doughty
man also when he was sober in the morn
ing His courage must not at all be set
down to the wine cup. Suddenly, therefore
he jumped out of bed in visible wrath,threw
open the window, ami called to his servant
in the courtyard for his sword and pistols.
He had been put to bed last night; he
would fight the man who degraded him by
putting him to bed. His expectation was,
.that his friends would as they have done
before, entreat him to be reasonable, and
that he would according be reasonable after
having shone his pluck.
But that which had been pitied in Roder
ick drunk was despised in Roderick sober.
The knights only shrugged their shoulders,
and their braggart friend, bound to aci out
his part, left them with a terrible air of dis
"What is this?" they said when he was
gone. "Is this endurable? Which of us
sent the man to bed ? Who is it that has to
fight him ?"
"The friend who first suggested sending
him to bed was I," said Gaston Cibo. "It
was 1 too who lighted him to bed with the
leg ol a chair. Fetch me some paper!"
So Gaston had pen and paper brought and
sat up in his bed to write a challenge of tre
mendous length which he was required to
read to the whole chamber. It was declar
ed to be improperly abusive. It would
drive Roderick mad with rage and compel
a mortal issue to what ought to be a fight
and cool duel ending perhaps with a flesh
"1 shall not wet my pen twice for tlm
hero," Gasloc said.
The challenge therefore was sent, bnt
was not opened by Roderick, in the pres
ence of the squire who delivered it.
I "Greet my Lord Gaston Cibo with all
I friendship, and say I will promptly answer,"
were the words that came back by the mas
; senger. They were followed by a note
beginning My dear Brother, wondering at
I the offence taken by one to whom no prov
j ocation had been given, confessing that the
i writer had been on the previous night a
beast, accepting Gaston's powerful abuse
j as brotherly admonition that he would have
j taken from no other man on earth, and
i apologizing to the whole compauy of the
! bedroom for his violence that morning,when
! he had not perfectly returned to his sober
j senses.
! Gaston would have dismissed the writer
| with contempt; while, like a generous old
i knight, he wished to suppress the letter.—
; But he had read aloud his challenge, and
] he was compelled also to read aloud the
answer to it. Then ho was urged to go to
i Roderick and teil him that at least, for ap
pearance sake, a little friendly duel was re
quired Roderick thought that it might suf-
I fice if they both rode out into the woods
j without seconds, to fight, and there, instead
| of killing one another, killed the time for
I half an hour. It was enough to say that
, they had fought. Treaty was, however, at
| last madejfor a fight with pistols loaded only
| with their wadding of roe's hair.
Under this compact Roderick went out to
battle. All the ladies of the castle were at
the window to see the duelists depart. The
j coward's secret had not been betrayed to
them; and, for the honor of the order, never
I was. He was allowed to edify them by
, trying his two pistols, by making his horse
I rear furiously, and by carrying two spare
! horses, one, as he loudly proclaimed, to
| use in the fight if his own steed was shot
j under him, one to carry him to 'Andalusia
| whet, he had killed his man Ga-tuu, as
| challenger, had already ridden forth and
i taken his position in the meadow.
The knights of the bedchamber, who
would not have crossed the threshold to
look on at anything so common as an ordi
nary duel, kept their distance, andjsuppres
sed their laughter as they galloped out with
) their heroic friend, who .little thought that
| they were in the secret of his courage.—
They formed two sides, but Roderick claim
ed buttle without seconds. He was in a
fierce mood, he said. A second might do
I something to anger him, easily compel him
j to a second duel, but lie had ail oath in
| heaven against fighting two men in a day.
I So the antagonists met, .and, alter a short
1 parjey. in the vouqit coward assure.l
himsell that his old friend had notlnr.g har
der than roe's hair in his pistols, and that
it was they should have beeu
changed by auyjaccident, the duel on horse
back with , primeval pistols was fought
much after the manner of the duel oi Gaffer
Jobslen, who fired half a nigh'-cap at ins
enemy and covered him with buff, but re
ceived in return a bladder of pigs blood
that made a murdered man of him before
the eyes of all beholders.
There is nothing very clever in the story
as a story, but, as a record of lite good old
time, it shows pleasantly how the rough
behavior of a brotherhood of knights was
seasoned with a restricted sense of courtesy
and of the duty of forbearance towards one
another. Judged by that modern standaru
which we are so often warned against ap
plying to the measure of our forefathers,
the knight of old was an odd mixture of the
ruffian and the gentleman.
Our Changing Climate.
Washington Irving speaks of our climate
in the following terms:
Here let ns say a word in favor of those
vicissitudes of our climate which are too
often made subject of excessive repining.
If they annoy us, they give us one of the
most beautilul climates in the world. They
give us the brilliant sunshine of the south
of Europe, with the fresh verdure of tho
North. They float over summer sky with
gorgeous tints of fleecy whiteness, and
send down cooling showers to relresh the
panting earth and keep it green. Our sea
sons are full of sublimity and beauty. Whi
ter with us hath none of its proverbial gloom.
It may have its howling winds and chilling
frosts and whirling sr.o'v storms, but it has
also its long intervals of cloudless sunshine,
when the snow-clad earth gives redoubled
brightness to the day, when at night the
stars beam with misuse lustre, or the moon
floods and landscape with her mosl limpid
radiance. Aud the joyous outbreak ol our
spring, bursting at once into leaf and blos
som, redundant with vegitution, and vocifer
ous life; and the splendor of summer, its
morning voluptousness and. evening glory,
its airy palaces of sun-lit clouds piled up
in a deep azure sky : and its gusts ot tem
pests of nlmost tropical grandeur, when the
forked lightning and bellowing thunder-vol
ley from the battlements of heaven shnke
the sultry atmosphere; and the sublime
melancholy of our autumn, magnificent for
its decay, withering down the pomp of a
woodland country, yet reflecting back from
its yellow forests the golden serenity of the
sky. Truly we may well say that in our
climate. "The heavens declare the glory
of God, and the firmament showeth his
handiwork. Day unto day uttereth speech,
and night unto night showeth knowledge."
ET At a hotel table the other day, a boar
der remarked to his neighbor:
"This must be a very healthy place for
"Why?" asked the other.
"Because I never see any dead ones
Truth and Riffht God ard our Country.
Fighting the Tiger at Chieago -$28,000 Won
at ; aro
A lew evenings since, while tiie honest
and peaceful citizens of this great metropo
lis were dozing upon their pillows, and
those only waked whom vice or crime kept
irom slumber, a curious scene was 'runspir
ing in the inner apartment ol one of the
mflst fashionable and well known faro banks
in this city. The parties present were not
numerous. At one side ol the table, and at
the right of the dealer, sat a certain well
known Kentucky gentleman, now a resident
of this city, and very popular as an auction
eer Opposite to him were two clerks from
dry good stores on Lake street. At the loot
of the table were three young gentlemen
connected with certain of our city banks,
and four professional Uncymeu. The game
commenced at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. It
was now past 3 o'clock iu the morning, and
the contest was kept up with undiminished
vigor. Fortune early in the evening had
declared for the gentleman on the right of
the dealer; and although luck occasionally
deserted him, it agair. and again returned,
until his winnings were enormous.
He had up to this time won 818,000. The
perspiration stood in beaded drops upon the
brows of the young men, and as they ner
vously laid down their counter on the
squares, their hands shook with an emotion
they could not conceal. Even the practised
coolness of the professional gamblers des
erted them, and they gnawed their lips in
in undisguised anxiety. The Kentucky
gentleman suddenly laid down checks to
the amount'of 86,C00, and as the dealer be
gan to draw out the caJjpiUk >ni the silver
box in which they lie, left the table, and
walked to the sideboard The cards are
dealt, and the 86,000 are lost ! This reduces
the winning of the Colonel to $12,000. A
temporary cessation ol the gametakesplace.
A hasty supper is taken : the Colonel pro
poses to play no more The others object:
they are firm in the belief that luck has
changed, and that they will win their losses
which have been fearfully heavy, back
again. The Colonel consents, and the game
is resumed. It is now five o'clock Day
has began to break, but the thick curtains
of the apartment keep out tiie strengthening
The young men consult among them- I
! selves. The Colonel won $2,000 again '
He is now winner to the tune of $14.000.'
| They have $lO,OOO between iheni. They :
J put their funds together, place it in the
ifbaicKat-oUP of v-kvi difect $
; him to play until he loses it all, or until he 1
j wins back what they have already lost j
j Ihe game goes on. The Colonel wins
sl,ooo—then loses $3,000. Hope springs
again in the breasts of the young man
Their representative makes a bet of $5 000.
I The company gather round with desperate
I interest. The cards fall from the box—they
j lose I Their funds are reduced to $6,000
j for they have lost some to the bank, beside
that paid to the Colonel. And now their
i agent bets more cautiously—first sl,ooo—
then $5OO. He loses steadily. His last is
j reached. He is pale as death—his pallor is
I reflected in the faces of his comrades. He
I places their last stake on the cloth. The
j Colonel doubles it upon the opposite color.
I the dealer hesitates—Cut onlyßor a moment j
; The oards are dealt—the Colonel wins the
1 $5OO is shoved over to him. anil $5OO more
from the bank—and thejjAiyjs over. The
Colonel rises with $28,000 winnings in his
pocket. The others leave the table, having
lost nearly all that sum—the bank itself
coming out nearly even.
The next day the fortunate Colonel set-'
tied $23,000 upon his wile, and swore off
I from the gambling hells. Whether he will
j keep his word remains to be seen
What the young gentlemen did, who in
one night lost $28,000, remains to be seen.
but can $28,000 be lost at a single sitting,
at such work as this; by such men us these,
without serious consequences ? The scene
we have related actually did occur. There
are plenty ol men who will read those lines,
who know how true it is. Is a community
in a healthy condition when such things
There are nearly a dozen gambling rooms
in this city, kept in first We style, and do
ing a business like this every night. Their
location is well known—they are easily to
be louod. The police hate orders not to
disturb them, arid they flourish liko a greett
bay-tree — Chicago Democrat, July 26'/t
t&~ A clergyman wbi>e engaged in cate
chismg a nunioor ol boys in a class, asked
one ol thetn tor a definition ol matiimony.
The reply was:—
"A place of punishment where some
folks sutler lor a lime before they can go to
heaven *'
"Good boy," said the clergyman, "take
your seat."
If "Neighbor, what is the most Chris
tain news this morning?" said a gentleman
to his friend.
"I have just bought a barrel of flour for a
poor woman." -• ■vt
"Just like you. Who is it that you have
made happy by your charify this time ?"
"My wile 1"
t*' "1 do wish 1 conld be cured of lying
in bed so late in the morning," said a lazy
husband, turning round upon his pillow.—
"Well 1 will try the water-cure," said his
wife, pouring a tumbler full over him
MT* Why is a married man like a can
dle? Because he sometimes goes out at
night when he ooghn't to.
How sweet the rest that labor yields
The humble and tho poor,
Where sits the patriarch of the fields
Before his cottage door!
The lark is singing in the sky,
The swallows on the eaves,
Arid love is beaming in each eye
Beneath the summer leaves I
The air amid his fragrant bowers
Supplies unpurchased health,
And hearts are bounding 'mid the flowers,
More dear to liirn than wealth
Peace like the blessed sunlight plays
Around his humble cot.
And happy nights and cheerful days
Divide his lowly lot.
And whan the village sabbath bell
Rings out upon the gale,
. The father bows his head to tell
The music of its tale—
A fresher verdure seems to fill '
The fair and dewy sod,
And every infant tongue is still
To hear the word of God.
O, happy hearts? to Him who stills
The ravens when they cry,
And makes the lilly 'nea'.h the hills
So glorious to the eye—
The trusting patriarch prays to bless
His labors with increase ;
Such ways are "ways of pleasantness,"
And all such ''paths are peace."
French Gaiety in Florence.
It is understood that tho French camp
here will be broken up before long. Regi
ments are leaving and others continue to
arrive. The French soldiers appear to be
happy and content, and so fnr, very well
satisfied with this part of Italy. They are
much more lively than the Italians. To
wards eveniug the camp is a picturesque
and beautiful sight. Dances are improvised,
and a variety of games are played. The
soldiers sing and smoke, and drink with a
relish the red wine of the country, interior
to that of their own France. Going over
the field one sees, not unlrequently common
soldiers sitting in the openings of their
tents, reading French journals which have
been lent them by the officers, or sent to
them by Iriends at home. The lalians ask
the soldiers the same question which they
put first to all strangers, knowing well
enough what the reply will be—"How do
you like Italy 1"
It ie said that the French soldiers express
their admiration ol the beauties of the conu
try with so much warmth that it immedi
ately sets the natives thinking whether they
may not natural y wish to prolong their slay.
From the camp the prospect is one of the
rnesl ihst is vp in >t>i
region ol uncommonly beautilul views.—
On one hand, only a few miles distant, is a
long range of low mountains, their bases
dotted with villas, and their summits swel
ling into the sky, until the soft tints of green
and gray of the one blend in agreeable bar
motiy with the deep and mellow blue of
the other. Opposite the mountains are the
cool green groves of the Gaseine, and over
the trees, at a little distance, are seen the
picturesque old towers of Florence. In the
evening the great number of little fires kin
dled for the very uuromantic purpose of
making the pot boil help to increase the
interest of the scene. The thin blue smoke
floats slowly away, or hangs like a veil over
the field.
On the whole the soldiers in camp are
comfortably placed The French soldier
seems determined to be happy in spile of
the many drawbacks connected with the
slavish life which ail soldiers must lead
Poor fellows, they have all our sympathy.
They are generous and brave. They love
their country, and only too much for mere
military glory. They serve faithfully the
masters which they find over them. They
fight and full like heroes, and our admira
tion is won for their noble and unselfish
sacrifice, although at first they might have
preferred to be left to cultivate their peace
ful fields in their much loved France, rather
than .moisten with their blood the land of
strangers. And then, how many mothers
and sisters and brothers are left to weep
and wait without seeing their, again.
should-be the object of every tiller of tho
soil to leave his land in good condition after
lite removal of a crop, and, at the same
time, obtain as much remunerating returns
as possible This can be done only by hus
banding all the sources of fertility on the
farm, aud adding ihereto in every available
manner This is the Alpha ami Omega of
progressive agriculture. Never boast of a
"bank accoutii," if it is obtained at lite ex
pense of your farm.
THE HAMMER —The hammer is the uni
versal emblem ol mechanics. With it are
alike forged the sword ot contention and the
plowshare or peaceful agriculture In an
cient warfare the hammer was a powerful
weapon independent of the place which it
formed. The hammer is the wealth ot na
tions. By it are forged the ponderous en
gine anil the tinny needle It is an instru
ment of the savage and'the civilized. Its
merry cling points out the abode of indus
try: is a domestic deity, presiding over the
grandeur of the wealthy aiid ambitious.
Not a stick is shaped, not a house is rais
ed, a ship floats, or a carriage rolls, a wheel
spins, an engine moves, a press speaks, a
viol sings, a spade delves, or a flag waves
without the hammer.
BP A German in Cincinnati made abet
of SSO that he could drink half a barrel of
lager in twenty four hours. Seeing bow he
was going on, the other party paid htm SlO
to stop and throw up the bet.
A Rich Sketch.
Take wo now our readers to the romaV
tic slopes ol the Alleghanies.
The time at which our story opens, is a
bright evening in tho month of December.
All is peace and happiness! Tho snow
; banks lav piled in fantastic shapes, while
I the husbandman gathers the rich ripe grain,
i The rattlesnake glides all over the plain
: in one place, and the deep solemn notes of
the bull-trog are heard in the distance. In
the midst ot all this rural happiness stands
, the fine old mansion ot Hans Von Snizzle.
It is very ancient —indeed, we might say,
an extremely antiquated—mansion, built
■ in the most modern and approved style.
| It was erected in the year 1340, by Chris
j topher Columbus, lor an illustrious auces
, tcr 01. Yun Snizzle, said ancesler having
narrowly escaped hanging in Faderland
i This house was now a model ol archi-
I teclural beauty—one side being construc.-
ed of mud m the shape of the letter Z, and
the other side of pine togs shaped to repre
sent something so entirely original that no
i one could tell what it was intended for.
But the jewel ol this noble mansion was
the beautilul Cinderilla Caterine Eugenia
Von Snizzle or, as the zealous youths of
that fair region of country delighted to call
her, "The Trembling fawn of the Alleghan
Hers was, indeed, a rare and wonderous
beauty I And it was no marvel that she
should be beautiful, for she had been deli
cately nurtured on sourkrout, pork and
slate pencils She had also enjoyed plenty
of the best exercise, such as washing dish
es, driving the cows to pasture and milking
Let us now give a brief description of the
beauteous maid, our heroine.
She had long silk,coloredcuris.about an inch
in length, eyes like a bnll-dog's in fly lime,
and a nose like a compressed pomegranate.
Her complexion was a cross between brick
dust and green paint, which, with consid
erable dust, made her look extremely sweet,
but, at the present moment, she looked utt
usuahv beautiful.
She was sitting behind the barn playing
with a young pig, her bright eyes beaming
with pleasure. But look ! Her attention
was suddenly drawn from tho gambols of
her pet, by the resounding footsteps of an
approaching horse. She looks up, and
sees, at a little distance, the Skew-eyed
Ranger of the Mountains. She trembles
with joy as she beholds him ; and truly he
well calculated <p e v cile plesysura
b!e emotions in the head of any maiden.—
He was tall, slim, and well-formed five feet
three inches in height, six feet in circunfer
ence, and weighed two hundred arid twen
ty pound-. He was mounted on a fiery
young charger twenty years of age, which
could on an emergency go three miles an
hour. The youth was armed with a light
serviceable ritte, which would discharge
one out of ten times, two pistols without
triggers or locks, and a case knife of the
best cast steel. He was dressed in a fash
ionable hunting suit, consisting of calf,
brindled colored homespun unmentionables,
lorn in both knees, a sheep skin coat, and
calico shirt As he espied the blooming
maiden, he threw a fat skunk, the produce
oi a chase, at her feet, with the exclama
"I am luckier than ttsual to-day."
In a gentle voico. which sounded as a
cracked cow-bell, she reproved him for in
curring imminet danger, and at the same
time thanked tlim tor the luscious game.
The youth was visibly affectd : aud ex
clamied, in a strong Dutch accent :
•'Neow, Cindy Eugeny Catrina, do you
like me so that you should care a snap
whether that darned skunk should spoil my
clothes and make me sick? Come I'm
waitiu' for an answer; tell me, do you lake
a shine to mo ?"
With frantic eagerness he waited, and
finally he was considerably relieved by
hearing her affirmative answer of—
"1 sholdn't wonder."
It was good enough. He gave a cry of
joy, and clasped her to his heart.
The remainder of this thrilling tale may
be found in the " Coal Skuttle of Dia
monds," a moral and religions paper pub
lished by Rory O Flanigan. Thp date upon
which it commences is the 33d of Novem
ber, A. D. 1147.
In that and following numbers, the event
ful life ol our heroine is traced, who, be
cause she broke plate while washing dish
es. was driven. Irom home by our cruel fa
ther ; how her lover subsequently discov
ered and married her ; how the day ot re
tribution followed for her father, old skin
flint Von Snizzle; and how he died, leav
ing all his enormous wealth, consisting of
an acre of swamp lands, and a counterfeit
cent piece, to his daughter.
Oilier things 10 numerous to mention, are
also related, and we advise all to read it.
\YHKW ! —A fly trap, invented by a Yan
kee, which costs one dollar, caught in a
dining room in a hotel in Manchester, N. H ,
seventeen hundred Hies in one minute.
Cy The latest case of usury is that of the
loan of a shirt collar. The borrower was
forced to return a shirt!
ty ''This world is all a fleeting show,'"'
said a priest to a culprit on the gallows.—
"Yes," was the prompt reply, "but if you
have no objection I'd rather see the show a
little longer !"
ty Getting aristocratic —The mercury—
won't circulate anywhere but among the
" upper tens."
[Two Dollars per Ainmn
Industry andjEconumy Unfuslilonnblc.
Prudence, economy, care,J and industry
are universal labor-saving machines ; they
lead\> happiness, wealth, and comfort—
Tho practice of these essential virtues, these
indispensible habits, ought to bo universally
considered as ouejjof the essential objects
of a good education. No eduoation can
justly be considered n good one that isjnot
a useful one; and this result can be accom
plished with the greatest and certainty by
uniting physical with mental exercise ; by
occupying the you'll of both sexes and all
ages with some employment suited to their
strength, that may bo most useful aud pro
ductive to themselves and others, conjointly
I with their moral and scholastic instruction ;
as the one alleviates by its change and vari
ety the fatigue incident to the constant ap
plication of the other.
It only requires a small portion of atten
tion and observation in examining the way
by which those who are healthy, wealthy,
and wise have reached that enviable posi
tion, in order to be convinced cf the vast
benefits to be derived Irom the practice of
economy and industry, both morally and
physically. All mankind must have some
occupation, and whether it lends to good or
evil, must very greatly depend upon early
habits acquired in youth by education,
which is thej foundation all
our future operations in life.
It would afford a useful lesson toTthe ris
ing generation in this free country, to recur
to the primitive history ofmercantile mat
ters in the United States,*Jand see by what
policy so large a portion of the commerce
ot the civilized world was securedj by our
merchants for many years. Where now is
the vast wealth that was gained by them ?
Ask this "fast" generation which has so to
tally and so universally ignored their hardy
virtues, their rigid economy, their untiring
industry, their pains-taking prudence—and
what answer would they give? A few rare
instances, striking exceptions to the general
rule, may bo found of persons who have
saved their profits by care and economy,
but the vast majority have wasted what they
got, and some of them are reduced to pov
erty and suffering. Most of those who are
still really rich, owe their wealth and inde
pendence to habits of care, industry and
economy, which was principally acquired
by education ; and a majority of those who
have fallen into poverty, owe their unhappy
condition to luxury, recklessness, negligence
and extraviganco, originating in a vicious,
misdirec\etl, and defective education. Lux
ury and extravagance force aud thoughtless
to borrow money from some one or more of
the well.nigh innumerable banks in this
country ; the facility with which loans and
discounts have been obtained has tempted
multitudes to go far beyond their income in
their tnode of living, as to rush into ruinous
speculations in order to keep up appearan
ces to make an show, far beyond
what they could afford. This love of show
and parade springing from false pride, ori
ginated some of the most gigantic schemes
of swindling upon record, which ended in
the utter ruin of contrivers of them, as well
as multitudes of others. The South Sea
bubble, Law's swindling banking scheme,
&c., &c., originated in this wild spirit of
speculation, and though the first inventors
of them managed to creep out of those con
cerns before the overwhelming crash came,
yet they deserved to have suffered in com
mon with their credulous dupes, to whom
they had sold an empty cheat many a hun
dred per cent, above par.
"Take care of tl\e ppnnies, the pounds
will take care of themselves." The pro
verb is old, but it contains volumes of good
advice. Old proverbs are said to be tho
condensed wisdom of ages, and they ought
to be far more valued than the antiquarion
rubbish handed down to us from the an
cients, about whom a great deal of valuablo
time has been wasted to no good purpose.
No ojie need to be told that the first hundred
dollars are far more difficult to accumulate
than the next ten thousand, aud so on. With
out being careful of the cents, the first hun
dred dollars cannot be save, neither the
thousand, nor the ten thousand, can be pos-'
sessed; that is, without attention to the
cents, pecuniary independence cannot be
obtained, and without pecuniary independ
ence, in the present state of society, all
other independence, indeed freedom itself,
is but an empty name to the millions unless
it facilitates the acquisition of pecuniary
iudepeuder.ee—if not it is a dead letter, a
sound without meaning or substance, so far
as the interest of the millions is concerned.
Few parents are careful enough to teach
their children habits of industry and econo
my. They are not taught to be useful.—
They are careless even as to their clothes ;
their habi's of order ore unregulated. They
are suffered to grow up heedless and inat
tentive to iritlcs, which make up the aggre
gate of human happiness. They are allow
ed to be indolent, extravagant, good for
nothing ; the pernicious error that it is re
spectable to be a lazy drone and vulgar to
be industrious and useful, parent teach both
by theory and practice. In nothing is the
tyrant fashion so oppressive in its pernici
ous decrees that it is more respectful to live
the life of a pauper or robber, than it is to
earn the bread by honest toil.
IT* It is said that Lord Brougham lately,
in a playful mood, wrote the following epi
taph on himself:
Here, readers, turnd your weeping eyea,
My fate a useful moral teaches :
The hole in which my body lies
Would not contain one-half my speeches'

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