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- U . - - , ', , ; ! J: :.qJJ Published by James Ilarper. "Troth and Justice.' . - 'a At $1 ao la Advance- Volume XV. Number 37. G lt LIPOL I S .OH I O.-vAU GUST 15 18 5 0 Whole Number 7G5. THE JOURNAL. I published every Thursday morning IIY JAMES nACPCR, In Telegraph Building, Public Square. - Tebms:. I copy one year. paid in advance, 91 60 1 " if paid within the year, 2 00 Foe Clcbs. Four copies, $5 60 Six " 8 00 Ten " 13 00 . The person getting up a club of teh will be entided to one copy gratis, so long as the club continues by his ese tions. ' The cash, in these cases, must invariably accompany the names. Advertising: One square 3 insertions, Each subsequent insertion, One square 6 months, " " l year. To those who advertise larger a libe ral reduction will be made. 1 00 25 4 00 6 00 ' Novel iE host atiojt. A late Par is letter lo the Courier and Enqui rer, has the following account of a novel balloon ascension: Yesterday I was a witness, as was all Paris, of a balloon ascension which was perhaps unique in the his tory of ssrnstalion. Margot ascen ded in 1S20, mounted upon a stag, .but both he and stag in an ordinary car. Yesterdav, M. Foitevin ascen ded on horseback, and without a car. The horse, a fine and spirited young white one, was suspended beneath the balloon, in the place usually oc cupied by the car. ' Bands passed be neath the belly and well secured, left ? the animal in an easy position, with the legs free. " M. Poitevin, clothed as a jockey, mounted the horse, which was saddled and bridled in the ordinary manner, and gave or ders to cut loose! v The horse seemed loth to quit his mother earth, and re monstrated a little when he found he was being taken off his feet, But once in the air he became as motion less as though he had been struck with paralysis. He must, in fact. have been no little astonished, and it probablv was that astonishment which struck him dumb and motion less. They moved off and up rapid ly, now hid, now seen amid the clouds in a north-east direction. We have not yet had accounts of the de scent and do not know whether it was happily and safely effected. TJC'f'Col. Myers, who was charged with having absconded from San Francisco with a considerable sum of money belonging to a Benevolent Society, took passage in the bark Drummond and went to the Sand wich Islands. Immediately there after, the Colonel left and was absent about a fortnight. Before his return, intelligence was received of the offer of a reward for his delivery,, and Myers surrendered himself to the Captain of the Drummond. On his arrival at San Francisco he was sur rendered to Gen Wilson, President of the Society, who refused to re ceive him, as he had nothing to do with him.- The reward is claimed, and there is likely to be a mu about the affair.---Missouri Republican. The Discovert op Gold tic Ore gon. We have been favored by a merchant of this city, says the Bos ton Journal, with the following ex tract of a letter, written by a gentle man formerly of this city. The let ter is dated SU Helen's, (formerly Plymouth) May 29, 1850, and says: "While the Louisiana is weighing anchor, I will scribble you a few lines, in order that you may hear of the mineral wealth of this territory.. A great excitement prevails here. Gold is found everywhere, and par ties are constantly forming for fur ther explorations. ' A party of some of our most respectable merchants, left Portland a few days since for the Waliack, a tributary of the Co lumbia. . The movement proceeded from a parcel of sand being bronght in by Indians, which yielded fifty per cent, pure gold. In consequence of this and the many other similar reports, fiour has risen from $18 to $40 per barrel in Oregon City, and other things in proportion, "Reports from Rogue's river rep resent gold as being very abundant. A large party starts in a few weeks for Mount St. Helen, which is well known to be a gold, region. I have seen a large lot of fine silver ore from tbat place.. The Indians represent it as being very abundant. . The moun tain is about thirty - miles due north from this place. ,.'".' H ' 'V. .. i ' :' .-v "" GotD-RrwABOED PHurrEa. Jes a H. Giles, who left the New York Tribune . establishment among the earliest of the California gold hun ters, has returned with plenty of the dust. Ho was publishing the Placer Times, at Sacramento, for a time. . Frank Manly. - "Hoaor ud ahaon from do condition ri ! Act well your part, then all Uw hoaor lies. ' if rank, do not be discouraged.' said Squire Rockwell to his young friend, Frank Manly, whose despon ding tones, as they stood conversing on meievee, had induced the kind old man to make inquiries about his circumstances and his prospects which he found to be anything but naueriog., . . lam discouraged, Mr. Rockwell,' answered Frank, who would not be discouraged, situated as I am! Time and money have I expended in pre paring myself for my profession,. night after night have I bent over musty tomes: and what has it availed meT. I have been deceiving myself, Air. Kockwell. 1 might have known that I could not succeed; for had I not been blind, willfully blind, I must have seen that the professions were overstocked. Had I learned a trade. I would, at least, have been able to support my poor old mother in re spectability, but now I am only a burden to her But, my young friend.' said Mr. Rockwell, you will gain nothing by indulging such desponding thoughts. You have a strong frame and stont limbs, and, while God is pleased to continue to you these blessings, you need not shrink from any difficulty. If your professional prospects are truly as you represent them, I would advise you to apply yourself to some thing else. To regret the loss of time or money will not remedy pies- ent evils; such regrets are useless, childish. You mar have been un fortunate in not having learned some mechanical art; but do not let that j - is .... uepress you. ii you are willing to employ yourself, yoa need not fear but that you ww find plenty to do. t is better to be an honest laborer. than a sneaking, pettifogging law yer. Do not be offended at me. Frank; I may speak bluntly, but I meau kindly.' But it is hard, Mr. Rockwell.' said Frank, 'after having spent years in preparing myself for a profession. 10 give up an lose, the money 1 have expended, and the precious time l nave consumed. And I must descend, too, from the position, I have h.therto occupied in society, and bear with a supercillious nod a cold recognition from those with whom I have moved on an equality.' . xes; the heartless and frivolous the devotees of fashion will per haps cut your acquaintance, but, de- pend upon if, the really worthy and sensible will admire you for vour manly independence, and respect ou more. 'But what can I ioT ' You can do many things. But your own judgment will best direct ou in choosing an employment. If you do not relish labor, you might soon get a clerkship, and that will not compromise your position in society.' " . ' No, no not that.' ' Well, then, at the factories ' Ah, the factories." Yes, Frank; vou cau get such em ployment there as will not be overly heavy, and yet be lucrative. You must conquer your pride, my young friend, and resolve to do what your judgment approves, and, my word for it, you will do 'right.' . Well, I will think of what you have said.'. 'Do so, my friend, I will see you again shortly ia the mean time adieu... , Ellen, Jane, Maria do come to the window!. It can't be possible and yet, it must b it is himself.' Who, Alice? , 'Frank Manly.'. Well, there's nothing strange in that, is therer Yes, but there is.' Where is hef . There,' ; " Why I see no one but Mr. Her bertexcept it be your cart-man. That's it.' 'What? ; Your cart-man is Frank' Manly.' ' Impossible!' : . . Mr. Rockwell, in whoseTiouse this conversation occurred, rose quickly and approached the window. It was true; there was Frank Manly, not exactly in the capacity of a cart man, as the young lady had ex pressed it, but superintending the loading of a quantity of metal, occa sionally laying a hand to himself, and directing the operations of the work men. A short smock of blue check was drawn over his person and con fined around the waist with a hempen cord, otherwise he was dressed in his usual style. Rr. Rockwell regarded him for a moment with a smile of ap probation; then turning around to r so to of on he go ly. of one of the young ladies, he said, 'And why did you say-impossible? Becacse I would not have believed that Frank would so degrade him sell 'I can see nothing degrading, Miss Templeton,'. said Mr. Rockwell, gravely, 'nothing degrading in the simple fact of wearing a cart-man's frock, and following an honest call ing.' 'But what does it all mean, dear Mr. Rockwell? said Miss Templeton. K 'It means,' said Mr. Rockwell, 'that Frank Manly has too proud a spirit to consent to be a drone in society. He found that he could not support himself by his profession, and he determined like a noble fellow, as he is, with his own two hands to earn a livelihood, rather than eat the bread of dependence. Mr. Kockwell then related the conversation he had with Mr. Manly, and the advice he had given. As hei concluded, Frank turned, and obser- ving his friends bowed in recognition. Squire Rockwell and his daughter Alice returned his salutation with a cordial smile, but the three young ladies deigned not to notice him, and urned away with a contemptuous augh. Mr. Rockwell noticed "the action and said: My dear young ladies I am sorry to see you display the spirit which you have. You have imbibed alto gether a false notion of gentility. will not argue with you, but 1 wi ten you that the time will come when the most imperious beauty in the city may be proud to win a smile from Frank Manlv.' Mr. Rockwell said no more, but soon retired leaving the young ladies to discuss the subject to themselves Frank Manly was a voung man of good abilities, tine address and I I WW. nanosome person. His lather, an extensive wholesale dealer.died when Frank was about fifteen years of age, leaving his anairs in a very embar rassed state, and after many tedious delays in the settlement of the estate the widow finally found hersell with only a small annuity, barelvsufncient with rigid economy, to support her self and son. For herself, she did not repine, but for that son's sake, and on his account alone, she was grieved. The darling wish of her heart was to see him rank high in the world's esteem, and to take his place among those gifted minds which have adorned our country's annals for, with a mother's fond partiality, she imagined him possessed of ail the highest qualifications of human nature. She sacrificed her comforts and even necessaries to obtain the means to give him an education And Frank was not unmindful of his mother's sacrifices; he applied him self dilligentlv, and mas'ered his studies with surprising ease. At the age of twenty, he graduated, and commenced the study of the law. with an eminent barrister,, with whom he continued two years, when he passed his examination with ere dit and was admitted to practice. rank looked lorward, now, to a ca rter of honor and use ulness, and hi sanguine temperament "pictured in the dim future only scenes of tri umph. But it was not long before began to find the reality was not charming as he had fancied it. His attendance at his office was un remitting, out. aiasi there came no clients. Men cared not to trust the young practitioner, when there were older and more experienced -advo cates to be had. I need not go on describe the unvarying monotony the twelve month that followed his admission to the bar. It is but a repetition of the experience of thou sands of young men of our country, who have loolishly cast themselves away upon a profession, and drag a miserable existence, vibrating between hopes and fears; wearying the weary da7S along with murmur- ings and repinings. But Frank was dinerent in one thing from this class; was not one who would always on repining, and hoping and fear- lor he had a strong spirit and no common intellect. He had brooded gloomily over his situation without coming to any definite conclusion, until the conversation with Squire Rockwell, which is recorded in the opening of our story.. The conver sation had made a deep impression upon bim, and when he was left alone he retired to his office, and sat down to consider the matter serious The result of his reflections was, that he determined to take the advice his friend. He knew he would have to forfeit the society of the fashionable in. which he had moved; tliat he would have to bear the cold sneers of many, who, until now had sought his companionship, but he had formed his resolution, and these con siderations could not deter him. His n he to my it his - the mother, too, when he informed her ; . of his resolutions, tried to porsuade him to renounce the idea; but when he clearly explained to her the hope lessness of waiting longer (or prac tice, and the misery of such a life of anxiety, she was a woman ol too much good sense not to see that he was right, and she offered no farther impediment, though it seemed to her the death blow to all her san guine bopes on his account. The same day Frank made an en gagement ' with an extensive iron manufacturer and entered at once upon his duties. The insulting laugh .and -cutting manner of the voung ladies "at Mr, Rockwell's dwelling had not escaped the observation of Frank Manlv. A bitter smile was upon Lis coun tenance as be cast one hasty look behind, before turning into another street. Frank loved Maria Temple ton, and he had every reason to be lieve that she regarded him with fa- vor. l he blow was doubly severe, inflicted by her hands. "I could not have thought," he murmered, "that she would be the first to thrust me downward. Have I been deceived in her character? I know not, 1 had pictured to my self Maria Templeton as being all heart! She pretended not to see me. Ah, well! How different was Alice Rockwell! This was but the beginning of (ri als, but the blow fell perhaps the heavier and was more severely felt, because of the hand that inflicted it. Such slights were of daily occur rence. But Frank had an indomita ble spirit, trials and difficulties, and disappointments could not arrest the purposes which, alter due delibera tion, he had formed in his soul. The coldness and neglect of his former companions only nerved him more firmly to the accomplishment ol his duties. ..Several months thus passed. He had once sought to see Miss Temple ton, but had been repulsed, and then convinced of her fickleness and sel fishness, he only sought to banish her image from his heart. There was one circumstance which probably assisted much in promoting ihat ob ject. He visited frequently at Squire Rockwell s, where a kindly welcome always awaited him, and in the so ciety of the old man's daughter, he passed many delightlul evenings. Alice was almost the only your.g la dy of his former acquaintance who received him with the same cordiali ty as formerly. Insensibly she began to usurp that place in his affections which Miss Templeton had former filled. . A year had now elapsed since Frank Manly entered upon his new occupation. His diligence and in tegrity had won for him the good opinion of bis employer, and his sal arv at the end of six months, had been doubled. He could now. sup port himself in comfortand still lay a portion of his earnings for his mother s use. If he ever regretted the change he was forced to make his habits, he had at least the sat isfaction of having a good con science. ; "I have a proposition to make to vou, said Air. Kockwell, as one day met Frank, "will you call at my house this eveningr rrank promised to do so. and ac cordingly waited upon him at an earlv hour. You may remember,'' said Mr. Rockwell, after the usual compli ments had been passed, "that when had advised you to appiy yourself some ether employment, 1 told you that it was not necessary that you should forever abandon your profession. ' "1 remember, and I did cherish a hope that it might be so; but latter- i have banished the idea from my mind, and learned to be content with lot. It was vain to indulge such hope." - "Not so,- And I imagine the time has arrived when you may return nd take up your true position. I have a suit pending which involves half of my fortune. I intend to put into vour hands." r . , . - Frank would fain have pursuaded kind friend to alter his resolution. doubting his ability to conduct so important a case; but Mr. Kockwell insisting, it was finally arranged that e should undertake it. The suit was one which had ex cited much speculation, as the inte rests involved was considerable. Eminent counsel was employed by opposing party, and all things seemed to indicate that the case would be decided against Mr. Rock well. r : - :.. The day of trial at length arrived. Frank had prepared himself thor oughly ,and did not despair of success, though he failed not to notice the air, or half contemptuous, with which the, counsel on the opposite side regir- ded him when he appeared for his client. We need not describe the minutias of the trial, which lasted two days- suffice it to say that a verdict was rendered in favor of his client. Mr. Rockwell. It was a triumph indeedl Congratulations were showered upon him. Those who had before looked upon him as beneath their notice, were now eager to make his acquain tance, and cultivate his friendship. tie once more opened an office, and business poured in upon him. He was a made man, to use a common but expressive phrase. He was again courted by the circles in which he formerly moved, and Maria Tem pleton too would fain have attached him to herself again, and she put in play all her arts to that effect, but in vain. The charm had been broken and other attractions rendered her arts harmless. A notice which appealed in th Gazette a few months subse quent may explain the nature of those attractions. . It ran somewhat after tl.i fashion: Mabriek. On the--inst., Fran Manly, Esq., to Miss Alice Rock well, daughter of the Hon. Thomas Rockwell, all of this city. For the Gallipolis Journal. My Native Home. The mind, through sympathy of feel ing and association of ideas, often at taches a particular fondness or preju dice to names, from the fact that those names represent things with which our tenderest feelings, and dearest interests are intimately connected and blended Who is there that can refer back to the scenes of his childhood and his youth ful years connected with the place where he first entered upon the stage of existence, and not feel arising in his bo som emotions of the most lively and endearing kind? He goes back, in im agination, and seeks some congenial spot where he can live over again the time that he has there spent in days past and gone. There is that familiar yard, environed with fragrant flowers, whose drooping heads kiss the morning breeze There stands that house, the abode of so many happy hours, now rolled into oblivion; -nnd there is that grove of trees beneath whose foliage so much pleasure and delight have been experienced; and that green carpeted earth, that lays with its expanse to the view, and that seemed to indicate the joyous smile of nature in her gayest mood. Then we cast the e e in another direction and there we behold tho broad bosom of that river whose limpid current rolls on ward, and finally mingles its sparkling waters in old Ocean; on whose borders, decorated in the simple attire of nature, many an interesting event rises in memory S desolate waste, as having occurred in more youthful days. Eve ry incident, often even the most trivial. passes in review before the mind, and excites a thousand livel' associations. whose peculiar effect upon the feelings none can properly realize but those who experience them. Then we recall to our remembrance those with whom we were once intimate and familiar and those on whose friendship and in whose confidence we could rely, and in whose to welfare our own seemed to be blended. But after the lanse of years we visit the same soot, in reality, and how changed, . . . the scene! We see that tho rude hand ! t i of tho destroyer has been there. Time itself has wrought out its revolutions a and its changes, in its onward march; we perceive, perchance, either evident marks of decay and ruin on the one hand, or where the hind of the artisan, or the mechanic has been at work, and in the place of some venerable building, which we held as almost sacred, some other structure now rears up its massive columns. . Ann in that place which wo considered as almost iorbidden ground. we now find something has it.truded and usurped the place; those spreading trees, upon whose pendent boughs toe feathered songster used to warble his merry notes and moke the air vocal with his melod', have been levelled with the earth; that purling stream, where the chrvstal current rolled onward in ma jestic grandeur, who.- bonks were once the play-ground of life" ' summer days. are changed so tbat we scarcely recog nize the spot. 1 hese scenes twine around the heart and seem to be almost an essential part our existence; they arise in the mind, like some oasis in Jhe desert waste, and cheer up our drooping anir- its. They are leaflets torn . from the brightest pages of life's history. We endeavor to recall to our remembrance the ' companions and friends of those blissful days, but where are they now? Some are scattered here and there, up and down the earth; some in one place, and some in another, but as to others the sad and . melancholy misgiving comes, that they are dead! And the long grass and the wild flower wave their gentle tops, and the myrtle wreath encircles the spot where they slumber so well; whilst at the midnight hour the' lone whip-po-wil sends fonb its plain tive notes, and adds to the deep melan choly; and the only privilege we now have is at ;willght earliest gleanings, of of wr w or to of can be fast and "with foot8ilentaa the starry dews," to and trr finwmr flVr lhftir lmt rmmain ' m But from all these associations and scenes we. must at last be seperated; even torn from the spot where were J passed the days and incidents of child- i hood, and the graves of oar ancestors; the recollection of them are "like the memory of joys that are passed, plea sant but mournful to the soul." We do not, nay cannot, renlize the attach ment we feel for the place of our na tivity, until we are for a season sepera ted. There are so many circumstan ces, and so many scenes connected with it, that renders it and them doubly en dearing, and our seperation from them doubly sensible. In the place of friends who seemed to manifest so much intei est in oar we'fare. nJ seemed ever willing to minister to our comfort and welfare, we meet with the cold rebuffs and indifference of the world in another land, in another ciime. We can scarce W realise whf it is so: we have been so accustomed to receive and meet with the srai'es of friends, that we scarcely,' know how to endure an other kind of. Iroalmonf - Rut I at. J mi Z T "it. ,V "'"ecT ow ,aK"d -"2 .lub.r: is to recur to the past, and. in imasina. tion, linger around and amid the scenes of the past. I'ut we will close, in the language of the poet "My Native Land of every land the pride. Beloved by heaven o'er all the world beside. My Native Home, a spot of earth su premely blest. A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest." ORION. Affaib op Ho.ior. A duel was fought yesterday, near the city, be tween Col. Bunch and Capt. Lewis, two of the Liberators. The cause of quarrel was some alleged misconduct ol Col. Dunch while the Creole was at Cardenas. Reports extremely in jurious to him have been in circula tion ever since the return of the Liberating Army, and some of them have appeared in print, s Col. Bunch was in Missnsippi, but arrived here ihis week, and Capt. Lewis, the commander of the Creole, promptly avowed himself as one of the aut hor. of the reports, and at once accepted the challenge. The parties met yesterday afternoon, and Capt. Lewis was shot through both thighs. We learn that Capt. Lewis was not so severely wounded, but he could have continued the fight, had a se cond shot been demanded. We give the above as the street rumor, with out vouching for its correctness, ex cept as to the fact of the fight. N. O. Crescent, 24th ult. rjCpChihlren should invariably be taught to read not alone for the ben- fit and enjoyment which they are derive from it in their vounirer ays, but for the inconceivable pleas ure which it never fails to impart in he decline oi life. The farmer may permit hi field 'o grow up in weeds nd thistles this vear to he reclaimed the nxt; hut the mind of the child, hat h suffered to go uncultivated un it the years of mnturitv, can never reclaimed. The loss is then ir retrievable. L. L. D This honorary degree was conferred at the Into commencement of I T- . ""rvara l mversuv upon our townsman .j n . . 1 a uage n. lane. newer intended as iriouie : to nis standing a junt, or a recognition ot tne met nat lew men in the West have atnined more varied learning, it is eminently deserved and reflects credit upon the discrimination the ancient University of C;iribridje. so to of as Sandusky Mirror. Thb Siamesb Children. The North Carolina Star has the follow ing, which . satisfactorily settles one the "vexed questions" of the day. s. . e do not exactly see how the ex pression "one lamily" is properly dp. plicabte under the circumstances of the case, though, perhajis, the use of plural number would be quite as inappropriate: . - Mt. Airy, Surry Co., July 2Ist,'50. "The rep rt concrrning the death the Siamese Twins, I am happy say, is without the shadow of a foundation. They were at my of fice on yesterday, the 20th, well and hearty, and as full of life as I ever saw them speaking of the prospect their crop, also of their wives and children. Of the latter, they have nine of as hearty children as the State produce in one family. ; I should very sorry to hear ot any mis fortune happening, to the twins, as they are honest, industrious, kind hearted and good neighbors. This report you may rely on. "lours with and all al the and A. D. rjr7"A gentleman ; who at break the other morning, broke an egg, disturbed the repose ot a senti mental little biddv, railed the waiter. insinuated that he did not want Kill nunt. fill l Ann enf. but the and ter "but Iver A. D. Two Good Anecdotes. Magazine for August, for sale by" James Cbase 55 JJaltU more street, contains the following, and many other good things. Our first extract is from sketch of Rev. T. P. Hunt famous south and west as a temperance lecturer s - A small temperance 'society had been started in a community very much under the control of a rich dis tiller commonly called "Bill Myers.' This man had several sons who hail " become drunkards on the facilities atlorded by their education at home. The whole family was arrayed againnt the movement, and threat ened to break up any meeting called to promote the object. Learning this, Mr. Hunt went toa neihbor- ing district for temDeranca vnlnn teer for that particular occasion 1 He then gave out word for a ting, and at the time found his f mee- fr iends and enemies about equal in numbers. This ract prevented any. outbreak, but could not prevent noise. Mr. Hunt mounted his platform and by a lew sharp anecdotes and witty sayings, soon silenced all noise except the sturdy "Bill Myers." The old Duchman crying out,"Mish ter Hunt, money makes the mare go." To every shot which seemed ready to demolish him, the old fel low presented the one shield, "Mish ter Hunt, money makes the mare go." At last Mr. Hunt stopped and ad dressed the- imperturbable German. "Look here, Bill Myers, you say that money makes the mare go, do youf "Yes.dat ish just what I say, filish- ter Hunt." Well, Bill Myers, you own and work a distillery, don't youT" inquir ed Mr. Hunt. "Dat ish none of your business. Mishter Hunt. But, den, I ish not ashamed of iU I has got a still, and work it too." - "And you say 'Money makes the mare go,' do vou mean by that, that I have come heie to get the money of these people." Yes, Mishter Hunt, dat ish, just what I mean." "Very well; you work a distillery to mane money, ana I lecture on temperance to make money, and as you say, 'Money make the mare go, Bill Myers bring out your mare and I'll bring out mine, and we'll show them together." ' By this time the whole assembly was in a titter of delight, and even Myer's followers' could not repress their merriment at the evident em barrassment of their oracle. In the meantime, we must premise that Mr. Hunt knew a large number of the drunkards present, and among them the sons ot Myers himself. . "Bill Mvers, who is that holding himself up by thai tree?" inquired Mr. Hunt, pointing to a young man drunk that he could not stand alone. The old man started, as if stung by an adder, but was obliged reply: "uat ish my son; but what dat, Mishter Hunir' ' . "Good deal of that, Bill Myers, for I guess that son hat been riding your mare, and got thrown, toof1 . Here thtre was a perfect uproar from all parts of the assembly, and, soon as order was restored, Mr. Hunt proceeded, as he pointed to an other soni "Bill Myers.who is that staggering about as if his legs were as weak as potatoe vines after frostt" "Well I suppose dat ish my son too," replied the old man, with a crest-fallen look. "He has been riding your mare too, and got a tumble?" At this point the old man put op both hands in a most imploring man ner, and exclaimed; "Now, Mishter Hunt, if you won't say any more, I will be still." . This announcement was received with a roar of applause and laughter. from that moment Mr. Hunt had the ground to himself. , The next is trom "i tie country ia Chunks." - Paddy", attending a "Broad brim" convention for the first time, was much astonished and puzzled with at the manner of worship. Having been told that the better "brethren spake even as they were moved by the pint," he watched proceedings with increasing dis gust for their "haythen way by wor ship," till one young Quaker rose commenced solemnly: ' "Brethren I have married" - "The devil ye hev!" interrupted Quaker sat down in confusion the spirit moving. Pat no further young man mustered courage broke ground again: "Brethren I have married a daugh ol the Lord" "The divil ye hev that!" said Pat, it'll be a long, long while before ye'll see yw athcr-in-lam,