THE STAR OF THE NORTH.
W. U. JACODV, rr>prieur.]
VOLUME 11.
STAR OF THE NORTH.
rvßLrmnro KYEHY WEDNESDAY BY
MM, JL JACOBY,
Office oil Main St, tnl Agjinie below Market,
TERMS:—TwoDollaTsperannum if pakl
■within aix months from tire lime-of subscrib
ing: two dollars ami tilty-cls-iif not paid with
in the year. No subscription taken for a less
period than six months; tro discontinuance
permitted until all arrearages are paid, un
fess at the option of tire editor.
The If i vis if adveitising will he as fallows :
One square, twelve lines, three litrreß, St OO
Every subsequent insertion, 25
One square, three months, 3 00
One year, '. . . 8 (H)
Choice IJoetrn.
IJIE 01# SCHOOL lIOISE.
BV MARY I.OBBIXS.
t'lose by the wide unshaded street,
A step beyond the wood,
Just yonder where the two roads meet,
Our old brown school-house stood. j
No beauty decked its lowly roof,
Its rough unpadded side,,
As old and grey, it stood aloof
From lashtou's restless tides.
But close beside it was the wood,
Our boundless playhouse stored
With every p easaut thing, and good,
That childish hands could hoard.
There, summer, noon, and brie! recess, j
Beneath the oaks, we played,
Or pluck the pale-wood Hewers to press, j
Or rustic arbors made.
And something in the life we led,
Some nameless subtle spell,
Even on our books its sunshine shed j
We loved them all so well.
What dreaois of all we'd be and do,
Each thumbworn page unrolled !
What glorious futures beckoned through
Those walls smoke stained and old !
We saw not that a spectre stood
Among those phantoms bright,
And pointed where beside the wood,
The grave stone glimmered white.
That old brown school house —I can still ■
Its homely face recall ;
The broken | ar.es. notched window sill, >
The noon-marked desk, and all;
Remembering what a happy throng
Of boys and girls once met
Together there with rtiirth and song,
Untouched by care as yet.
The graves that just behind it lay,
The quiet, grass grown graves, .
I low often at the close of day,
'We walked among their waves.
Ah ! some who walked t! ere with us then
And loved the quiet spot,
In grass grown graves for years have lain,
Their bright dreams all forgot. i
And sometimes, when I sadly gaze
Upon the altered spot,
And dream of those past sunny days,
Those dear ones who are not. !
I think it meet that shadowy wood,
And school house old and grey,
And even the graves that near it stood, !
Should all have passed away.
Still on the wide unshaded street,
The wagons come and go;
But yonder where the two roails meet, j
Stands no brown school house low ;
And they who met there day by day, i
A happy childish brood, * j
No more together will they play,
In field or mossy wood.
Yet pleasant memories are ours—
They cannot change nor fade—
Of summers when we gathered flowers,
Beneath that vanished shade.
BIBMCAI. AUTHORITY —Mr. Justice Wood-'
wood, of the Supreme Court of Petinsylva- 1
sua, in a recent address before the Pltiladel- !
phia Law Academy, stated that he found it j
impossible, on one occasion when he was j
practicing law. by any reasoning of his own \
to dissuade an old man client from convey
ing his estate to his sons and sons-in-law in
consideration ol their bond to support him
nnd his wife for life ; bui remembering that
he was a reverential reader of the Bible j
the Judge turned to the 33d chapter of Ec- {
clesias'icus, and read to the old man as
follows :
"Give not thy son and his wife thy bro-
ther and friend, power over thee, whilst thou
-4ivest, and give not thy goods to another,
lest it repent thee and thou entreat for the
same again.
"As long as thou livest and hast breath
in thee give not thyself over to any. For
tetter it is that thy children Should seek to
(ftse, than thou shouldst stand to their cour
tesy. At the time when thou shall end thy
days arid finish thy life, distribute thine in
heritance. '
" Are those words in the Bible ?" asked
the Aid man. "Indeed they are," replied
the Judge : "though they occur in one of the
Apocrtphal Books." "Nor matter for that,"
he repped ; 1 I will take the advice/' And
the scqpal proved, added the Judge, that it
was weft he did.
A LUCKY PURCHASE.—A man in New York
recently bought p clock at auction for fifty
cents. About A week ago he sold the clock
to another man, who after taking it home,
discovered that ft looking-glass in the back
of the clock was brriken. He took out the
glass to have it repftteed by a new one,
when he discovereC,r.otes ol the Bank ol
England to the amoaß of ten thousand dol
lars. It is reported iftqt the heirs of the
estate to which the are go
ing to commence an action fortije recovery
of the money.
A PERSON having occasion to notify doc
tor to visit his wife, said to him as he was
stepping into his chaise, "Now, doctor,
you'll drive on to kill won't you?" "Yq#
certainly," replied the doctor."
BLOOMSBURG. COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY. NQVEMBER 2, 1859.
Rinaldo and Lucinda—A Modern Romance.
BY FHARPSTICKS.
CHAPTER f.
'Tvras night, and dark as a coal pit. The
rain poured down on terra flrma like onto a
pack of hungry wolves upon a string of
sausages, and the thunder kicked up a rum
pus similar in sound to that of an empty
, hogshead filled with pebbles about the size
of a prece of cheese, plunging and ttimb
ling down a frightful precipice of unfathom
able depth, and the bright swords of the
murky clouds plunged downward toward
, the earth as if trying to bore gimlet holes
: into some potato patch for the accornrao-
I datron of live larmer.
The wind smiled aloud almost demonia
cally, as if conscious of ita superhuman
strength to Uy prostrate the gentle holly
hock, cabbage plant and hen-coop; all na
j ture was attacked by a spasmodic convul
sion, which seemed to be beyond the pow
er ol an M. D. to allay.
CHAPTER 11.
While nature was cutting the didoes in
the preceeding chapter, there sat at the
stained glass window of a mortgaged man
sion (situated upon the summit of a lofty
eminence, and closely surrounded by the
peaks of far distant mountains, whose sides
were enshrouded by the green foliage of
innumerable dead trees and stumps, whose
fibred roots were stretched out like fisher
man's net left to dry in the sun, whose
genial warmth imparted life to the indefati
gable spider,) a lovely maiden of faultless
proportions, only five leet ten, by thunder,
with o}os lika unto two knot holes in a slab
Her hair was of the color of the glowing
embers on a Christmas hearth, and hung
over her shoulders of alabaster freckless
like unto several cows' tails thrown care
lessly over a fence.
She sat apparently musing, with a cu
cumber in Iter hand, and a torn cat on her
knee, when the silence was broken
by the monotonous sound of a Jew's
harp at the window. Her eyes started
from their sockets, and she was about to
fall prostrate upon the floor, whan, at the
moment, a flash of lightning revealed to
her the form ol tier devoted Rinaldo at the
window, and in an instant she was at his
side, when he threw his ponderous arms
around her symmetrical form and pressed
her to his stomach for the lapse of a min
ute without intermission. Overcome at
length by latigue he wilted, and his arms
dropped to his side like unto the closing of
a pair of tongs, when he belched forth in
the following strain, which can be appreci
ated by none save lovers :
"Dear Lucinda ! Beautilul Lucinda! what
have 1 not suffered for three ? How I have
waded streams, climbed mountains and
jumped fences ! How I have stubbed my
toe more than a hundred times against some
infernal stick, stone, or something of that
kind, and barked my nose against some
cussed missile, ail for thy sake, Lucinda.—
Speak ! and say you'll be mine. Fly to the
land of the rhinoceros, hy ppopotamus and
gyasticntis, where we may enjoy our love
undisturbed 'neath a '.ropicul sun. Do this
and spare me, ah !"
A bright tear stood sparkling in the right
corner of her left eye—agitation seemed to
have laken possession of her vety soul—
her frame quivered like a plate of jelly,
and she was about to collapse, when they
were startled by the sound of something of
quashy nature tailing at their feet, and in an
instant they were covered with pumpkin
seeds.
'Twas her pa throwing pumpkins.
Rinaldo attempted to escape by escaling the
pickets, but unfortunately his coat tail
caught, and he was at the mercy of the old
man's rage, who renewed the attack with
another shower of pumpkins and other veg
etables too numerous to mention, which
caused him to belch lorth in the Rgony ol
despair. Lucinda seeing all her earthly
hopes vanish—her dear Rinaldo suffering
the penalty of his rash presumption, and
fearing the frenzy and wrath of her pa,
made a lunge for the clothes line—seized a
clothes pin nnd plunged it into her buzzum.
Rinaldo, observing this, extricated himself
by a desperate effort, rushed to the wood
shed and plunged head first into the swill
barrel. The old man flew to the scene of
the first slaughter—gazed with a frightful
look upon the mutilated carcass of his be- 1
loved daughter for a moment, and then
rushed to the mansion of his former bliss—
opened the pantry, seized a bottle, and re
galed himself with a horn of old rye.
HEKOI-M OT POVERT. —Talking about the
heroism displayed upon tbe field of battle,
what is that compared to the heroism of
poverty? Think a minute over the idea.—
The hod carrier who supports himself and
a family ot eight children and two dogs on
a dollar a day, displays more true heroism
than is required to effect a conquest on a
battle field. General Sabre will lace a bat
tery of a hundred guns without flinching,
but if called upon to lace an unpaid creditor
four times a week, as Trowel the bricklayer
does, when out of work, he would grow
low-spirited and take to arsenic in a fort
night. The heroism of the battle field is
kept up by brass drums, clarionets, and
praise from the newspapers. Such heroism
may or may not be a belter principle ; but
there is no questioning the courage required
in the prosaic duties of life—the bringing
up a family by eheddir.g perspiration at the
rate of ten cents an hour. Is there?
"I'M TIIINE TILL DEATH," as the rope said
to the man about to be hanged.
What a Newspaper does for Nothilg.
The following article should be read and
pondered well by evety man who takes a
newspaper without paying for it.
The result of my observation enables mo
to state, as a fact, that the publishers of
newspapers aTe more poorly rewarded than
any class of men in the United Stales, who
invest an equal amount of labor, capital,
and thought. They are expected to do more
service for less pay, to stand more sponging,
and "dead-heading," to puff and defend
more people without fee or hope of reward,
than any other class.
They credit wider and longer; get oftoner j
cheated; suffer more pecuniary loss; are
ofieuer the victims of misplaced confidence
than any other calling in the community
People pay a printer's bill more reluctantly
than any other. It goes harder with them to
expend a dollar on a valuable newspaper
than ten on a valueless gewgaw; yet, every
body avails himself of the use of the editor's
pen and printer's ink.
How many professional and political rep
utations and fortunes have been made and
sustained by the friendly, though unrequit
ed pen of the editor ? How many embryo
towns and cities have been brought into
notice, and puffed into prosperity by the
press? How many railroads now in success
ful operation would have foundered but for
the assistance of the "lever that moves the
world ;" in short, what branch of industry
or activity has not been promoted, stimula
ted by the press?
And who has tendered it more than a mis
erable pittance for its mighty services? The
bazars of fashion and the haunts of appetite
and dissipation, are thronged with an oagor
crowd, bearing gold in their palms, and the
commodities there needed are sold at enor
mous profits, though intrinsically worthless,
and paid for with scrupulous punctuality ;
while the counting-room of the newspaper
is the seat of jewing, cheapening, trades,
orders, and pennies. It is made a point of
honor to liquidate a grog bill, but not of dis
honor to repudiate a printer's bill.
THE KNICKERBOCKER tells the following
good story of an interview of an American
with the Emperor of Brazil:
" I was suddenly aroused by a hearty
voice addressing me in French. 'You have
rather an obstinate mule there.' I looked
up. In front of me was a young man in a
cocked hat and dark undress uniform,moun
ted upon soine animal which, from my
then confused condition, I cannot now feel
sure was of the nature of some of the lan
cers had passed me ; others were endeav
oring to force the narrow passage on one
side. What I replied to this remark, or
whether I replied at all, I know not. 'Use
your Bpurs,' said the same voice, and then,
as if suddenly aware of my destitute pre
dicament, it added, 'Well, a lance.' An
order was given to one of the soldiers at
my side, who dropped his lance to the pos
ition of a charge., and obeyed at once. At
the application' of the cold steel, my mule
made a bound, the counterpart of his acro
batic performance on the way up. I re
member striking heavily against somebody;
it may have been the Emperor, or only one
of the guards. I heard loud laughs, and
shouts, and screams. I have a dim percep
tion of seeing women, baggage, and many
mules. Something was overturned, and
then all became dark before my eyes.
How long I remained unconscious I can
not tell—probably not more than a few
minutes. On opening my eyes, 1 found
myself upon the ground, my shoulders sup
ported by one of the soldiers, while a sec
ond was sopping my head with a handker
chief wet with cold water. My clothes
were muddy and torn in several places. In
the middle of the path, as unconcerned as
if nothing had happened, or as I thought,'
with a diabolical leer in his eye, stood the
wretched cause of my troubles. At my
ride, surrounded by several ladies and offi
cers in uniform, was the same person who
had addressed me just before the accident.
As I looked around and made attempts to
rise, he said, 'Ah, you feel better; it was
no; much after all.' Whatever I may have
thought, I coincided in the opinion by re- j
plying, 'A mere trifle.' 'Monsieur is Eng.
lish ?' he asked. 'Non. Monsieur, Ameri- j
can.' 'Where are you going?' 'To Rio, j
Monsieur.' 'Alone ?' 'No, Monsieur, 1 havo i
some friends somewhere about here.' 'Ah, i
yes ; I met them a few minutes ago on the :
other side of the mountain ; Baron was |
with them. Well, take care of yourself, for
there are places on the way down where a
fall will not be so pleasant as here. Adieu.'
With these parting words and a hearty
laugh the Emperor (for he it was) mounted,
and in a few seconds the cavalcade was hid
from my sight by a turn in the pathway.'
A GREEN good natrred money-making up
country fellow, who said everything dryly,
"got things fixed," and struck up a bargain
for matrimony. Having no particular re
gard for appeatances, the parties agreed to
employ a not over-wise country Justice to
put on the tackling. He commenced the
ceremonies by remarking that "it was cus
tomary on such occasions to commence
with a prayer, but he believed that he
would omit that." After tying the knot,
he said "it was customary to give the mar
ried couple some advice, but he believed
that he would omit that. It was customary,
too, to kiss the bride, but he would omit
that also." The ceremony being ended, the
bridegroom took the justice by the button
hole and clapping his finger on his nose,
said" Squire it' 6 customary to give the mag
istrate fire dollars—tut 1 believe I'll omit that."
Truth and night-—Cod aid oar Country.
OCIObER.
Season of soft sun and miid aire—of falL
ing leaves and ripened crops. Fruitition of
i the year! When gathered haTvests swell
the barns and fill the cellars so that (here
shall be no winter of want or discontent.—
! The early morning sparkles with Irosl or
' dew-drops, at noon the sun's rays reach us
delightfully tempered by the haiy atmos
| phere; and the cool evening, bringing the
family round the bright fire, closes the day
with charming contrasts. But like the
flowers, and a thousand things neat us, the
beautiful changes, and the peculiarities
they bring, are unregarded by too many
j They are gradual, and the well tempered
mind falls into unison with them, and ex
pands with the pleasing trnths they teach.
With us who are pent up by bricks and
mortar, the change of seasons has not the
fascination it has to the dweller in the coun
try. Trade and traffic engross our sordid
attention. We have the bright and beauti
ful pass by without a shade of regret in our
eager thirst for gain—the only sunshine
gleaming for our delighted eyes being the
glare of gold, and our mtiric its tinkling
sound. Many, however, who have always
lived in the country, know little country life.
They forget that
"There's a beauty all around our paths,
If but our watchful eyes
Can trace it midst familiar things,
And through their lowly guise."
The grass grows at their feet, but they
have only deemed it fit to tread upon, or
their cattle to graze; that it is the basis of
all our prosperty and sustains the world, are
facts which have never occupied their
thoughts. The tree drops its foliage on the
earth, and presents its ' naked branches to
winter storms and winds, yet they have not
reflected upon the office of the leaf in per
fecting the fruit, or in contributing to their
own comfort and health.
The voices of nature are peculiar '.o the
months, and change with the seasons; bat
they regard them not, though they are lull
of attraction and lessons of wisdom to be
observing mind. How many have passed
early life near a pine wood, the grand tem
ple of nature, and yet never sat in silent
contemplation amid the ever returning mur
murs among its branches, like the dull dis
tant sound of marching armies or mighty
ocean waves washing a trenching shore !
How many near an ancient forest of oaks
see in it excellent timber only for railroad
ties or ships, or fuel for the fire—forgetting
its effect in the landscape, its wings of shel
ter, or iu indtspensubitify as an a'.mosphcr-,
ic agent. The springs flow on in their joy
ous course, and they drink and are Ratified;
or the hills are parched, the watercourses
dry, and they famish; yet without pausing
to trace the cause of either, and live a list
less anil unobserving life. Nothing seems '
to arrest their attention or inform the mind, j
Such should not be the case. We ought to <
look at not only what is useful, but what is
beautiful, and good, and true—and the j
change of the months and the return of the '
seasons ever bring food to the reflective j
minds. These are the suggestions which
October brings to us to-day; because Octo- j
ber will faithfully discharge its offices of the
season, and be true to i'self. Such should ;
be our fidelity.— Harrisburg Telegraph. j
We're Got a Baby.
The following letter which bears internal ;
evidence of being a bona fide.epistle, was
picked up in one of the streets of Ulica,
New York, recently:
UTICA, (N. Y ) May Hlh, 1859.
Brother and Sister Stebbins, —We've got a
lire baby at our house, a little girl baby— j
that's so. How I wish this might find you j
in the same situation. But our baby is not
one of your common babies. She laughs
(and cries) so pretty you can have no idea
how handsome she is. it is decided by the '
best of Judges (her mother and me) that
she is the handsomest child that ever lived;
and every body says, "What a pretty child I
—how much she looks like her father." ;
Children will resemble their parents you j
know. I wouldn't take twenty dollars for I
her; no sir, no temptation. Perhaps you j
think I'm a fool. Who cares—guess you'd j
be a fool if you had such a baby. I wish 1
your domestic affairs would come to a |
crisis (cry-sis.) You must excuse all mis-'
takes, for I'm so delighted and transported 1
that I expect there is a right smart chauce j
that I may go crazy.
Why you cant think how I acted the day
the little stranger came along. Mrs. Broad
man anil 1 were the attending physicians,
anil what she didn't know I didn't either
Felt a little considerable scared; looked for
my hat, two, three several times, and won
dered how far it was to Texas. But after
the excitement was over wasn't 1 tickled
some. If it hadn't been for that white hat
of mine I couldn't have told which end my
head was on. I went up stairs a dozen
times or less after my hat—went and looked
at the baby anil forgot it every lime. Sold a
man some goods on "tick," and charged
him to 'One baby sixpence per ponnd.'
But I'm calmer new • think I shall en
tirely recover. Begin to think that baby
ain't such a cunning thing alter all. It's
quite a night institution. It takes one-halt
the bed, and right in the middle, and 1 have
to sleep all around on the edges. Can't roll
over and kick as I used to—might wake up
the baby. And if I just happened to roll on
the little thing in the night, then there's a
luss, for my wife would make a great ado if
I should kill that baby. She sleeps with
one eye open.
I'll tell you how I get along at nights.—
The other night I went to bed as usual, got
into a snoose, when my wife'called ' John !
John ! there's a moose in my band box, and
it will ruin my bonnet." Wall 1 rolls off the
bed-rail and mate away for the band box
Mouse takes the hint and leaves and I bal
ance myself on the bed-rail again, go to
sleep, dream of the old song which says,
"Bless me this is pleasant, riding on a rail."
Bat sooa I am awakened by my wife
(watchful creature; calling, "John! I guess
that mouse is in the lower bureau drawer,
where all the baby's things are."
Bo I got up once more, and make a
plunge for the bureau, and mouse leaves as
| usual, while f, like the Quaker, wish for
some profane person to d—n that mouse.—
j Well, I got on the rail once more and
dream of sending to Chicago for mouse
' traps. Well, f dream away awhile, till I
am once mere awakened by the old familiar
call, "John ! John ! the baby wants tending
to." Well, I sit up and hold the light, while
she ■ Well, no matter, you know
what I mean.
But I must keep>till and stand it *. ! for
the dear little baby—mother's precious
lamb.
Good bys ; yours jas much as possible.
DIOOTON.
P. S.—Our baby's namejis Fanny Louisa.
N. B.—Don't forget the baby's name.
The Boaod Daneei.
Under the head |of ' round dar.ces," the
Baltimore American includes polkas, schot
tishes, redowas, mazourkas, German waltz
es, &c., and, uses plain language in pictur
ing them asjindelicate and indecent:
We will suppose Mr. and| t Mrs. X. to be
at home. Entering the parlor of their fine
house, they discover their eldest daughter,
a hand BO we sprightlyp*irl of sixteen, stand
ing on the polished, uncarpeted floor. She
is not alone. In close proximity is seen a
miserable caricature of humanity. The crea
ture is an exact copy of a tailor's print.—
Its clothes are of the latest cut and of per
fect fit. Its hands are gloved, its feet shine
in patent leather. Its abundant hair, pro
perly greased and elaborately curled, is
parted most nicely from the center of its
low forehead along the top of its head down
to the very nape of its neck. From its jaws
hang shaggy whiskers. Its shirt bosom has
many horizontal plaits. Its expression is
conceited, its demeanor impertinent. Is it
a human being or a French poodle ?
While Mr. and Mrs. X. are asking them
selves this question, the poodle seizes their
daughter closely about the waist, and whirls
her around the room. Her arm and head
repose on the dog's shoulder, and her breast
is pressed close to his breast. In this atti
tude they move through the mazes of the
waltz. But suddenly the waltz ceases, and
a new and abominable series of movements
begin. Hugging each other more tightly
than ever, the dog backs the girl from one
er.d of the room to the other, the girt backs
the dog, then they wriggle, they twist, they I
squirm, they bob up and down, they go
through motions in the last degree object
ionable, because of their indecency. All
this time the pair do not relax their em
brace; on the contrary, it is tightened, and
so, with heated blood, with panting breath,
bosom heaving against bosom, and limb
pressing against limb, the round dance is
executed in the face of the astounded and
enraged Mr. and Mrs. X. Supposing this
performance to be the first the mortified
parents had ever witnessed, or heard of,
what would be the result? The result would
be that the French poodle would leave the
house with a very significant assurance
that he was not a fit companion for virtuous
women.
Yet Mr. and Mrs. X. will take their daugh
ters to the Virginia Springs, to Cape May,
Saratoga, or Newport, and see them night
alter night locked fast in the embrace of
; men of whose character they know little,
| perhaps nothing, and smile at the disgusting
; exhibition. Nay, it would be a source ol
j extreme mortification if no one should ask
! the Misses X. to participate in the indeli
j cate performance. And what is true of
' Planter X. and his wife, is equally true of
! Manufacturer T. and Merchant Z. and their
] wives. Wherever you find people who are
' anxious to ape the fashions, you will find
I their daughters indulging in the lascivious
i excitement of the round dances. Nay, worse
' than this. You will find people well edu
cated and well bred, who will not permit
their own daughters to indulge in these
dances, countenancing them by their pres
ence and tacit approval. And thus, year af
ter year, the round dances continue to be
practiced in all fashionable places and cir
cles, increasing more and more in freedom
and license, until now there is scarcely any
liberty a aide-whiskered puppy may not
take with a young lady, provided he does
it in public.
As a specimen of the past utility of the
Logio Class in the University of Edingurgh,
an acecdote is recorded, in which the son
of a Baronet, who resided not far from town,
acted a conspicuous part. He was called
up by the worthy Professor of the time, and
asked the question.
"Can a man see without eyes?" "Yes
sir," was the prompt answer. "How sir?"
cried the amazed Professor, "can a man,
see without eyes? Pray, sir, how do you
make that out? "He can see with one sir,"
replied the ready-witted youth; and the
whole class shouted with delight at bis tri
umph over metaphysics.
"I do not wish your assertions to pass for
truth, madam." "You can easily prevent
it, sir, by repeating them yourself."
LIOGR OH.
Why should sullen clouds of sadness
Frown upon thy yout'hlnl face ?
Why, when summer's joy and gladness,
Smiles and breaths in every place ?
Time enough for sobs and sighing,
When lite's pleasures are all gor.e,
But when these remain undying,
Nature's cry is, laugh, laugh on !
Why should timid hearts stand blushing,'
Fearing, lingering on the plain ?
While tire merry streams are gushing,
Dancing in their glee again.
Time enough to fear life's troubles,
When unfriended and alone;
But when trials are but bubbles,
Let them pasß, and s'.ili laugh on !
Why those down-cast eyes despairing,
Withering care and chilling looks ?
While the lily blooms unceasing,
Smiling by the laughing brooks ;
Time enough to fear the wringing,
Sorrow brings in dreary tone,
But wkita Hummer birds ara singing.
All their music says, laugh on !
Why despond when songs of glandness
Echo through the forest trees ?
When no moaning zephry's sadness,
Singing through the verdant leaves ;
Time enough—lor life is wnsting,
Bid it not in huste be gone,
Urge it not—'tis quickly hasting,
To retain it, laugh, laugh on !
'Look aloft,' when theughts are swelling,
Bursting every heart-felt tie;
Listening stars your fears are telling,
Wafting them beyond the sky !
Vex not then thy heart with sorrow,
Sigh not then in mournful tone ;
Think not of the coming morrow,
While 1 live, I say, laugh on !
An Exciting Scene.
Years ago when I was a youngster, I be
came an assistant of Dr. B , the superintend
ent of a public insane asylum. As in all
insane asylums some of the patients were
docile, and tractable, and had the treedom
of the high-walled garden, while others,
being violent and dangerous in their mad
ness, were confined to their rooms. Some
times one of the last named gentlemen
would get lonse, a fact which ho usually
announced by breaking things generally,
upon which announcement the doctor would
repair to the spot at which he was "elevat
ing the ancient Henry," and advancing up
on him with a steadfast gaze, would march
him off to his room. We had one lunatic
by the name of Jones, large and strong as
an ostrich. He had broken out of his room
two or three times, but had always gone
back dociley when any of us made our ap
pearance.
The asylum had a saloon in the centre
with a door at each end; and one of the
doors requiring fixing, once upon a time, a
carpenter was engaged upon it, when in
trundled Mr. Jor.es, and quietly possessed
himself of a long sharp chisel. When the
carpenter looked around, the madman gave
a grin, poked the chisel at hint; where
upon the terrified man of chips scuttled out
and locked the door—then, while the enemy
was battering away at it, he rushed around
and locked the door at the other end.
Having thus caged Jones, he gave the
alarm; and I, supposing it was an ordinary
case, which I could control, unlocked the
door and entered boldly, whereupon he
made a rush at me, I incontinently bolted.
The doctor was sent for. He came, recon
noiiering through the key-hole, and ascer
taining the enemy was at the other end of
the room he opened the door, and saw at
once that he could do nothing with the
loose maniac. Here was apparently a di
lemma. A crazy individual, as strong as a
horse, perfectly uncontrolable, and armed
with a weapon. To capture him by force
was a difficult and dangerous undertaking,
and to starve him out would be a tedious
affair. The doctor did not hesitate long.
"Alfred," said he, "go down into the sur
gery, fill the larget syringe with hartshorn,
and bring it up."
| I caught the idea,—rushed down and
brought back a quart syringe with harls
! horn diluted—for 1 don't want to kill the
man. Then the doctor, the carpenter, and
myself formed an army of invasion.
We threw open the door and entered in
the following battle array: I being the
shortest of the three, marched first, holding
a chair in front of me by the back, so that
the legs might keep off a rush if our popgun
flashed in the pan. Then came the carpeu-
I ter, with the syringe resting on my shoulder
like a flying artillery. Finally, in the rear,
in the safest place, like all great generals,
came Dr. B.
The lunatic sat at the other end of the
hall on a chair, eyeing us keenly and sav
agely. Slowly, very slowly, we advanced
towards him. The nearer we got the more
wicked that chisel looked, and the handle
seemed to increase, until it was very long.
When we got within a lew feet of him, he
jumped up, and sprang towards me. Whiz!
spatter! splash ! went the quart of harts
horn into his countenance—down he went
like a log—it would have knocked down a
battalion ; and while he was catching his
breath we caught him.— Recollections of a
Physician.
AN industrious tradesman having taken a
new apprentice, awoke him at a very early
hour on the first morning by calling out that
the family were silting down to the table.
"Thank you," said the boy, as he turned
over in bed to adjust himself for a new nap,
"thank you, I never eat anything in the
night!"
The difference between an attempted ho
micide and hog killing: One is an assault
with intent to kill, the other is a kill with
iufent to salt.
[Two Dollars per Antnft
NUMBER 43,
Broderick nnd Terry.
A correspondence of the New York 1 ri
ferine, writing from San Francisco, under the
date of September 12th, 1859, gives the fol
lowing account of the circumstances which
led to the duel, (then anticipated:)
"Terry is a Texan, and an ultra Southern
politician, and during a long residence in
the State, he has, of course, been a bitter
political enemy of Broderick, the leader of
the Northern faction ol the Democracy,—
This political hostility prepared the way for
the personal quarrel which arose about the
Ist ol July, and led to this duel. Broderick,
while at the table of the International Hotel,
said that Terry, who had formerly been
Chief Justice of our Supreme Court, was a
corrupt man. A friend of the latter, a Mr.
Perley, requested Broderick not to speak in
that style at a public table : Broderick re
peated the language. For this, Perley chal
lenged him; hut Brodariok refused to fight,
first, because Mr. Perley was a British sub
ject, not an American; secondly, because
Mr. Perley vi as not his equal in political
position; and, thirdly, because the interest
of his party demanded that he should not
fight until after the election. An account of
that aflair may be lound in thel'/tfeunsof
July 28th.
"Between the Ist of July and .he 7th of
September, the political canvass was ao
companied by the bitterest personalities,
and Broderick in his speeches did not spare
the name of Terry. The latter was ultra
Southern in his morality, as weil as in his
politics. On the morning after the Bth, the
day after election, before breakfast, while
Broderick was still in the height of his rage
and mortification over the first news of tho
overwhelming deleat of his party, he re
ceived a polite little note from Terry, to
which none ol the objects made to Parley's
challenge would apply.
"David S. Terry is a lawyer, about -10 y'ra
of age. The only public position which he
ever held here was Chief Justice of the
Supreme Court, a position for which he was
not fit lor in either learning, talent or moral
character. He was on the bench during the
Vigilance Committee time, and he was for
a lor.g time held a prisoner by that body for
having stabbed a member of the Commit
tee. He is very brave, but coarse, and his
general reputation is that of an honest man,
who, while on the bench, could never be
approached with offers of bribery.
•'Rumor says it was understood several
weeks ago between Terry, Gwin, and Den
ver, that they should all challenge Broder
ick in succession. Gwin is no shooter, and
it were better for him, if he must fight, to
be third on the list; but Denver is reputed
to be a formidable antagonist in a duel—
cool, and a good shot. He killed Edward
Gilbert, the editor of The Allr, in 1852, for
ridiculing Bigler, to whom he (Denver) was
then Secretary of State."
now the Pyramids Were Built.
A correspondent suggests that the mode
by which the 6tones used in building the
pyramids of Egypt were raised to their
places, was by piling up immense inclined
planes of sand, up which the blocks were
pushed on rollers. The statement, often
repeated, on high authority, that the pyra
mids were built before the Egyptians ac
quired the art of writing hieroglyphics,
however, which they do contain, do not
convey that full knowledge of the state of
the arts among them, at the time the pyra
mids were constructed, which is to be lear
ned from the writings and pictures in their
tombs and temples, in regard to the state of
their arts at a subsequent period. But we
have the less valuable authority of Herodo
tus, that the blocks of stones were lifted
from one course to the other, up the steps
ol the pyramid. Remains of Cheops' grand
causeway, for transporting the blocks quar
ried from the rocks on the east bank, are
still seen leading up to the great pyramid
from the plain—a shapeless ridge of ruin
ous masonry and sand. According to Her
odotus, it was 1,000 yards long, 60 feet
wide, and 48 feet high ; was adorned with
figures of animals, and was a work of ten
years. Some of the stone used for the co
ping over the passages are seven feet thick,
and more than 17 feet long. Lifting these
stones up the side of a pyramid 450 feet
high, was certainly a work of great labor;
but as a feat of engineering, it was mere
child's play compared with some of tho
trumphs of modern science and skill—for
instance, lifting the Meuai bridge on to its
piers, or raising ou end, and placing on its
pedestal, the monstrous monolith which
adorns the city of St. Petersburg.
A LOVE-SICK swain, in order more fully to
ascertain the sentiments of his lady-love,
closed the letter with the following verse:
"If you were a dog and 1 was a hog
A rootin' away in the yard ;
If the old man should say drive that hog
away
VVould you worry or bite very hard V'
An exchange says a sentiment so sublime
deserves an answer, and venturos to sup
pose the lady's reply :
"When I am a dog and you are a hog,
A wandering from the sly,
I'd not breathe a bark, but merely remark,
"Go it, porkie! root, hog, or die!"
MEN often abstain from the grosser vices
as too coarse and common for their appe
tites, while the vices that are frosted and
ornamented are served up to them as deli
| caciea.
I To get angry at nothing, and to be sur
j prised at nothing, are said to constitue two
steps towards perfection.