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THE SIERRA CITIZEN. PUBLLSUED AT DOWNIEVILLE EVEKY SATURDAY. c7b. McDonald & co.r EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS. Subscription, 1 year, in advance $8 00 “ 6 months, “ 500 “ 3 “ “ 3 00 Single copies 2.5 Advertisements inserted on reasonable terms, for cash, in advance. Hooks, Cards, Handbills, Legal Blanks, and every other description of Job Printing neatly and promptly executed, on very moderate terms. All letters, either on business or editorial blatters, should be addressed to c. b. McDonald &co.» Editors and Proprietors, Downieville, California. ifllegtaDy. BY CALVIN B. MCDONALD. I stood upon the mountain’s brow Where many a tall ancestral tree, With giant trunk and leafy bough Was bending to the wild wind free. There Nature's solemn voice was heard Adown the dark and lonesome glen, While many a little minstrel bird There answered to his mate again; While silvery clouds each other chase Athwart the sky's deep azure space. I gazed o’er my boyhood's home, The peaceful vale where I was born; Where erst my wayward feet did roam— Where calmly passed my life’s sweet morn : And to my heart, each hill aud dell, And bounding brook, and forest tree Had many a tale of joy to tell Sweet as the Angel’s minstrelsy And where yon weeping willows wave I’ve knelt upon my mothers grave. J 1) e d)J10 o to’3 So o. BY WASHINGTON IRVING. Di king my residence in the country. I used frequently to attend at the old village 'church, which stood in a country tilled with ancient families, and contained within its cold And silent aisles the congregated dust of many noble generations. Its shadowy aisles, its mouldering monuments, its dark oaken panneling, all reverend with the .gloom of departed years, seemed to fit it for the haunt, of solemn meditation. A Sunday, too. in the country, is so holy in its repose*; such a pensive quiet reigns over the face of nature that every restless passion is charmed down, and we feel all the natural religion of the soul gently springing up with 'US —“ ‘•Sweet day—-so pure,so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky!” I do not pretend to be what is called a devout man; but there are feelings that visit me in a country church, amid the beautiful serenity of nature, which I experience no where else; and if not a more religious, I think I am a better man on Sunday than on any other day of the seven, •hut in this church I fell myself continnally ’tbrftwn back upon the world by the frigidity and pomp of the poor worms around me.— The only being that seemed thoroughly to feel the humble and prostrate piety of a true Christian was a poor decrepit old woman, bending under the weight ot years and in firmities. She bore the traces of somthing better than abject poverty. The lingerings of decent pride were visible in her appear ance. Her dress, though humble in the •extreme, was scrupulously clean. Some trivial respect, too, had been awarded her for she did not take her seat among the village poor but sat alone on the steps of the altar. She seemed te have survived all love, all friendship, all society; and to have nothing left her but the hopes of Hea ven. When 1 saw her feebly rising and bend ing her aged form in prayer, habitually conning ber prayer book, which her and fa'ling eyes would not per mit her to read, but which she evidently knew by heart —1 felt persuaded that the faltering voice of that poor woman arose to heaven far above the responses of the clerk, the swell of the organ, or chanting of the choir. I am fond of loitering about country churches, and this was so delightfully situa ted that it frequently attracted me. I stood on a knoll, around which a stream made a beautiful bend, and then wound its way through alengreach of soft meadow scenery. “The church was surrounded by yew trees •which seemed almost coeval with itself. Its tall Gothic spire shot up lightly from among them, with rooks ami crows generally wheel ing about it. I was seated there one still, sunnv morning, watching two laborers who were digging a grave. Thej had chosen one of the most remote and neglected corners of the church yard; where, from the number of namelessgravcsaround.it aould appear that the indigent and friendless were huddled into the earth. I was told that the new made grave was for the only sou ot a pooi widow. . . ~ .. .. While I was meditating on the distinc tions of worldly rank, which extend thus down into the very dust, the toll of the bell Announced the approach ot the funeral. They were the obsequies of povetry, with which pride had nothing to do. A coffin ot the plainest materials, without pall or other -covering, was borne by some of the villagers. The sexton walked before with an air of .cool inditference. There were no mock mourners in the trappings of affected woe. hut there was one real mourner who feebly tottered after the corpse. It was the aged mother of the deceased —the poor old wo man whom I had seen seated on the steps of the altar. She was supported by an humble friend, who was endeavoring te comfort her. A few of the neighboring poor bad joined the train, and some of the chil dren of the vilage were runiug hand in hand, now shouting with unthinking mirth, and now pausing to gaze,with childish curiosity, on the grief of the mourner. As the funeral train approached the grave, the parson issued from the church porch arrayed in a surplice, with prayer book in hand, and attended by the clerk.— The service, however, was a mere act of The deceased had been destitute Fierro CitUcu and the survivor was pennyless. It was shuffled through, therefore, in form, but coldly and unfeelingly. The well-fed priest moved but a few steps from the church door —his voice could scarcely be heard at the grave; and never did I hear the funeral sevice, that sublime and touching ceremony, turned into such a frigid mummery of words. I approached the grave. The coffin was placed on the ground. On it was inscribed the name and age of the deceased —“ George Somers, aged 2(i years.” The poor mother had been assisted to kneel at the head of it. Her withered hands were clasped as if in prayer, but I Could perceive by a feeble rocking of the body, and a convlsive motion of the lips, that she was gazing on the last relics Of her sou with the yearning of a mothers heart. The service being ended, preparations were being made to deposit the coffin in the earth. There was that bustling stir which breaks so harshly on the feelings of grief and affection; directions given in the cold tones of business; the striking of spades in to sand and gravel; which, at the grave of those we love, is, of all sounds, the most withering. The bustle around seemed to waken the mother from a wretched reverie. She raised her glazed eyes, and looked about with a faint wildness. As the men approached with cords to lower the coffin into the grave, she wrung her hands and broke into an agony of grief. The poor woman who attended her took her by the arm, endeavoring to raise her from the earth, and to whisper something like con solation: “Nay, now, —nay, now—don’t take it so sorely to heart.” She could only shake her head, and wring her bands, as one not to be comforted. As they lowered the body into the earth, the creaking of the cords seemed to ago nize her; but when, on some accidental ob struction, there was a jostling of the cof fin, all the tenderness of the mother burst forth; as if aney harm could come to him who was far beyond the reach of worldly suffering. I could see no more—my heart swelled into my throat—-myeyes filled with tears— J felt as if I were acting a barbarous part standing by and gazing idly on this scene of maternal anguish. I wandered to another part of the churchyard, where I remained until the funeral train had dispersed. When I saw the mother slowly and painfully quitting the grave, leaving behind her the remains of all that was dear to her on earth, and returning to silence and destitution, my heart ached for her. What, thought I, are the distresses of the rich? they have friends to sooth, pleasures to beguile, a world to divert and dissipate their griefs. What are the sorrows of the young? Their growing minds soon close above the world—their elastic spirits soon rise beneath the pressure; their green and ductile affections soon twine around new objects. But the sorrows of the poor, who have no outward appliances to sooth—the sorrows of the aged, with whom life at best is but a wintry day, and who can look for no after-growth of joy— the sorrows of a widow, aged, solitary, destitute, mourning over an only son, the last solace of her years; these are indeed sorrows which make us feel the impotence of consolation. It was some time before I left the church yard. On my way homeward, I met with the woman who had acted as comforter; she was just returning from accompanying the mother to her lonely habitation, and I drew from her some particulars connect ed with the affecting scene 1 had witnessed. The parents of the deceased had resided in the villrge from childhood. They had inhabited one of the neatest cottages, and by various rural occupations, and the assis tance of a small gaden, had supported them selves creditably and comfortable, and led a happy and blameless life. They had one son, who had grown up to be the staff and pride of their age. “ O, sir!” said the good woman, “he was such a likely lad, so sweetly tempered, so kind to every one round him. so dutiful to his parents! It did one’s heart good to see him of a Sunday, dressed out in his best, so tall, so straight, so cheery supporting his old mother to church, for she was always fonder of leaning on George’s arm than on her goodman's; and poor soul, she might well be proud of him, for a finer lad there was not in the country round.” Unfortunately, the son was tempted, du ring a year of scarcity and agricultural hardship, to enter into one of the smal craft that plied on a neighboring river. He had not been long in this employ, when he was entrapped by a press gang and carried off to sea. His parents received tidings of seizure but beyond that they could learn nothing. It was the loss of their main prop. The father who was already infirm grew heart less and melancholy and sunk into his grave. The widow, left lonely in her age and fee bleness, could no longer support herself, and came upon the parish. Still there was a kind feeling towards her throughout the village, ami a corNillli rfsjv-ct. as Doing one of the oldest inhabitants. As no one applk d for the cottage in which she had passed so many happy days, she was permitted to remain in it, where she lived solitary and almost helpless. The few wants of nature were chiefly suplied from the scanty pro ductions of her little garden, which the neighbors would now aud then cultivate for her. It was but a few days before the time at which these circumstances were tyld mo. that she was gathering some vegetables for her repast, when she heard the cottage door which faced the garden sudde ily open. A stranger came out. and seemed to be looking eagerly and wildfy around. He was dressed in seaman's clothes,was emacia ted aud ghastly pale, and bore the air of one broken by sickness and hardships. He saw her and hastened towards her, but his steps were faint and faltering; he sank on his knee before her, and sobbed like a child. The poor woman gazed upon him with a vacant and wandering eye. “O, my dear, dear mother! don t yon know your son! your poor boy George? It was, indeed, the wreck of her oncm* noble lad, who. shattered by words, bf sickness, and foreign imprisonment, had at length dragged his wasted limbs homeward, to repose among the scenes of his childhood. I will not attempt to deail the particu lars of such a meeting, where joy and sor row were so blended ; still he was alive—he was home—he might yet live to comfort and cherish her old age! Nature, however, was exhausted in him: and if any thing hat Downieville, Sierra County, Saturday, February 11,1854. been wanting to finish the work of fate, the desolation of his native cottage would have been sufficient. He stretched himself on the pallet, on which his widowed mother had passed many a sleepless night, and never rose from it again. The villagers, when they heard that George Somers had returned, crowded to see him, ottering every comfort and assist ance that their humble means afforded. He was too weak, however, to talk; he could only look his thanks; His mother was his constant attendant ; and he seemed unwil ling to be helped by any other band. There is something in sickness that breaks down the pride of manhood, that softens the heart, aud brings it back to the feelings of infancy. Who that has languished, even in advanced life, in sickness and despond ency—who that has pined on a weary bed, in the neglect aud lonelines of a foreign land, but has though on the mother, that looked on his childhood, that smoothed his pillow and adminstered to his helplessness? O! there is an enduring tenderness in the love of a mother to a son. that transcends all other affections of the heart. It is neither to be chiled by selfishness nor daunt ed by danger, nor weakened by worthless ness, nor stifled by ingratitude. She will sacrifice every comfort to his convenience; she will surrender every pleasure to his en joyment; she will glory in his fame, and exult in his prosperty; and, if adversity overtake him, he will be the dearer to her by misfortune; and if disgrace settle upon his name, she will still love and cherish him; aud if all the world beside cast him off, she will be all the world to him. Poor George Somers had known well what it was to be in sickness and have none to sooth—lonely and in prison, aud none to visit him. He could not endure his mother from his sight; if she moved away, his eye would follow her. She would sit for hours by his side, watching him as he slept.— Sometimes he would start from a feverish dream.and look anxiously up until he saw her venerable form bending over him; when he would take her hand, lay it on his bosom and fall asleep with the tranquillity of a child. In this way he died. My first impulse, on hearing this humble of affliction, was to visit the cottage of the mourner, and administer pecuniary assistance, and if possible comfort. 1 found however on enquiry, that the good feelings of the villagers had prompted them to do every thing that the case admitted; and as the poor know best how to console each other’s sorrows, 1 did not venture to in trude. 4 The next Sunday I was at the village church; when , to my surprise, 1 saw the old woman tottering down the aisle to her accustomed seat on the steps of the altar. She had made* and effort to put on something like mourning for her son; and nothing could be more touching than this strugle between pious affection and utter poverty; a black riband or so, a faded black hand kerchief, and one or two more such humble attempts to express by outward signs that grief which passes show. When 1 looked round upon the stored monuments, the state ly hatchments; the marble pomp, with which grandeur mourned magnificently over departured pride; and turning to this poor widow bowed down by age and sorrow at the altar pf her God, and offering up tiic prayers and praises of a pious, though a broken heart, I felt that this living monu ment of real grief was worth them all. I related her story to some of the wealthy members’ of the congregation, and they were moved by it. They exerted them selves to render her situation more pom fotable, and to lighten her afflictions. It was, however, but smoothing a few steps to the grave. In the course of a Sunday or two after, she was missed from her usual seat at church, and before I left the neigh Uorhood. I heard with a feeling of satisfac tion. that she had quietly breathed her last, and gone to rejoin those she loved in that world where sorrow is never known and friends are never parted. The “Merry Times” of Charles the Second. —Sir Harry Vane, who had fur nished the evidence against Strafford, and was one of the most staunch of the Repub licans, was also tried, found guilty, and or dered for execution. When he came upon the scaffold on Tower Hill, after conducting his own defence with great power, his notes of what he had meant to say to the people were torn away from him. and the drums and trumpets were ordered to sound lusti ly'and drown his voice ; for. the people had been so much impressed by what the Regi cides had calmly said with their last breath, that it was the custom now, to have the drums and trumpets always under the scaf fold. ready to strike up. Vane said no more than this: “It is a bau cause which cannot bear the words of a dying man,” and bravely died. These merry scenes were succeeded by another, perhaps even merrier. On the an niversary of the late King’s death, the bodies of Oliver Cromwell,lretoa, and flrnd shaw. were torn out of their graves in Westminster Ablxy, dragged to Tyburn, hanged there on a gallows all day long, and then beheaded. Imagine the head of Oli ver Cromwell set upon a pole to be stared at by a brutal crowd, not one of whom would have dared to look the living Oliver in the face for half a moment! Think, af ter you have read this reign, what England was under Oliver Cromwell, who was torn out of his grave—and under this merry mon arch, who sold it. like a merry Judas, over aud over again. Of course, the remains of Oliver's wife and daughter were not to be spared either, though they had lieen most excellent wo men." The base clergy of that time gave up their bodies, which were buried in the Abbey, and, to the eternal disgrace of England, they were thrown into a pit. to gether with the mouldering bones of Pym, and of the brave and bold old Admiral Blake.— Dickens' "Child's History of Eng land:’ 1 gsW- Philadelphia is not without its curi osities. The Sun copies two signs it has discovered there. One is painted in italics, and reads thus: “Shirtt Retailed Here,' 1 This, we take it, is the benefit of bache lors. The other reads— “ Hands Wanted to work on Bosoms For whose benefit is that ?—Portland Transcript. Convention at Gibsonville. NEW COUNTY MOVEMENT. The Convention met at the Pioneer Hotel, Gibsonville, pursuant to notice, on the Ist day of Feb. 1854, and on motion of Col. Johnson, J. B. Pittman, Esq., of Gibsonville, was elected President, aud Peter A an Clief, Esq., of St. Louis, and W. S. Benham, Esq., of Gibsonville, were elected Secretaries. The President appointed C. A. Keyser, Fsq., of Gibsonville, J. 11. Marshall, Esq., of St. Louis, and J. S. Wood, Esq., of Poker Flat, a committee ou credentials, who reported the following delegates in attendance: Pine Grove —J. W. Downer, S. S. Clapp, W. W. Witherow, Win, Davidson, and Jesse Smith. St. Louis —J. H. Marshall, Peter Van Clief, D. T. Berry, A. K. Gage, R. D. Hill, J. L. Evelin. R. R. Johnson, and N. B. Edson. Poker Flat — J. S. Wood, Lloyd Frazell, Griffith Wells, B, F.Bumgarduer, Adolphus Waite, and Geo. Stark. Gibsonville —P. 0. Hundley, W. S. Ben ham, G. W. Paine, Alfred Helm, N. C. Cun ningham, J. B. Pittman, C. A. Keyser, E. Twombley, and A. E. Balicock. Chandlerville —R. M. Johnson, and Martin Beardsley. Wulskv Diggings —Win. Tolls and J. Moore. Slate Creek —Col. E. Hayden. City of ‘7(i—Dr. A. Jump. On motion, the delegates present were empowered to cast the full vote of the precincts represented. • On motion, it was resolved that a com mittee of one from each precinct be se lected to report to the evening session a petition to be presented to the Legislature, specifying the boundaries aud name of the proposed County. The following gentlemen were selected as such committee: St. Louis —R. R. Johnson; Gibsonville — W. S. Benham; Pine Grove —S. S. Clapp; Chandlerville —R. M. Johnson; Seventy Six —Dr. A. Jump; Poker Flat —Lloyd Frazell; Whisky Diggings —J. Moore ; Slate Creek —Col. E. Hayden. The Convention then adjourned till 6 o'clock P. M. evening session. The committee reported the following petition, which was received aud adopted by the Convention: To the Honorable, the Legislature of the State of California , Greeting: We, your petitioners, residents in portions ot Sierra, Butte, and Yuba counties, iusaid State, would humbly represent to your Honorable body: That under the present organization and local position of the above named counties, that we your petitioners, inhabiting portions of each, find it very inconvenient, owing to the distance to the shire towns or county seats of the above named counties, and also to the natural ruggedness and unevenness of the roads, to attend for the discharge of our civil du ties at the county scats of the above named counties: We your petitioners would fur ther represent to your Honorable body that, owing to the groat increase in population, the developments in mineral and other sources of wealth, therefore, we hum bly ask your Honorable body to grant the formation of a new county to be known and designated as Summit county, out of por tions of the above named counties, the lines to be established and run as follows: Com mencing at a point two miles south from Poker Flat in Sierra county, and running due east to the present boundary line be tween the State of California and Utah Ter ritory ; thence along said line to the inter section of the present boundary line be tween Butte aud Shasta counties; then following said line to the intersection of meridian one hundred and twenty one west longitude ; then following said meridian south to the intersection of the present boundary line of Sierra and Yuba counties; thence northward or southward (as the case may be) with the last mentioned boun dary until by running due east it will inter sect or strike the point of beginning. And as in duty bound your petitioners will ever pray «tc., Ac. P. O. Hundley Esq., then offered the following resolutions, which after some discussion were separately adopted: Resolved , That this Convention now pro ceed to ballot for two persons to whom shall be entrusted the presentation of the memo rials, and to whom shall be furnished funds sufficient to defray the expenses incurred thereby. Resolved, That if on the first ballot there shall be no choice the Convention proceed to a second ballot, first dropping all names except the four highest; if no choice on the second ballot, they proceed to a third, first dropping all names except the three highest. Resolved , That no candidate be declared elected unless he shall have received a ma jority of all the votes cast. Resolved, That each precinct shall cast their vote according as the majority of dele gates from each precinct shall determine. Chas. A. Keyser, of Gibsonville, and John H. Marshall, of St. Louis, were then duly elected as delegates to attend the ses sion of the Legislature and present the memorials. N. C. Cunningham Esq., then offered the following resolution, which was I adopted. Resolved, That a financial Committee be elected, consisting of one member from each district, whose duty it shall be to collect the funds for defraying the expenses of the delegates to attend the session of the Leg islature, and direct the disbursement of such funds in such manner as shall best, in the judgment of said committee, attain the .establishment of a new county—said com mittee to raise said funds on or before the 20th day of Feb. hist., and meet at St. Louis ou the said 20th day of February, and give final direction for the* disbursement of said funds, and any other matters con nected with this object, as shall seem to them proper or necessary. In pursuance of the foregoing resolution the following gentlemen were elected as Financial Committee; St. Louis—- L. O Preston; Onion Valley. Joe Davis; Poker Flat —Lloyd Frazell; Pine Grove —B. W. Sheppard; Gibsonvil/c- W. W. Bramard; Hop .ins ’ Creek— Judge Fillinghast; Indian Valley Trough ten; Rush Creek Singer; American Valley —H. J. Bradley; Chandlerville —C. Lee; Whisky Diggings —11. A. Pryor; Grass Valley —W. Hardy; Jtfancineia — W. S. Kellogg; Rabbit Creek Rhode haver; Port Wine —Geo. Tregaskis; Span ish Flat —H. Brown; A'e/san Creek —A. D. McDonald; American House Whi ting; Lexington House —A. Lefevre; Sev enty Six —P. Glick; Canon Creek —B. F< Bumgardner. The Secretary was instructed to inform the different members of the committee of their election and duties. The Convention directed that the pro ceedings be published in the (i Gibsonville Trumpet fy St, Louis News," “ Ihe Sierm Citizen," and “Butte Record.” 3 After giving a vote of thanks to the Proprietors of the “Pioneer,” and the offi cers, the Convention adjourned, sine die. J. B. Pittman, President. P. Yan Clief, ) c . Wr, t, > Secretaries. . b. Benham, J Under Ground. — A correspondent of the Union Democrat says, that the deepest hole in California is at Weaverville, 'Trinity county, sunk by a Mr. Sites. The shaft was commenced in 1851; the opera tions are thus described. “The shaft is about five feet in diameter, and thus far a trifle over seven hundred feet deep. At about the depth of one hundred and fifty feet they came to water, which troubled them for some time.— Finally they came below the spring, and at the distance of two hundred and twenty feet came to foul air, where Mr. Sites came near loosing his life. This difficulty, how ever, was obvdated byfbuilding a small clay furnace upon the top. ojfiihe ground, and attaching a hose or veatreuor to it, which was lowered to the bottom, hhen, by keep ing a tire burning above in the furnace, the air below' became perfectly pure and healthy. The plan has been continued to this time. “The windlass w r as worked over one year by hand, but now' the dirt and rock is raised by horse power. No blasting has been done since the commencement of the work—all having been operated on by the best ami sharpest picks—and in many in stances single boulders have been penetrated through 20 feet in thickness. The most singular of all is, that the color of the gold is to be found through the entire mass of rock and the various strata which have been perforated, from the top to the bottom thus far.” Mount Vernon. In the House of Representatives of the United States, a bill has been introduced authorizing the Secretary of the Interior to purchase Mount Vernon for the Gov ernment. Considerable discussion arose ou this proposition, and reasons were as signed by some of the representatives for voting against inch a mark of respect to the Father of his County. But the fact should be remembered, that the people of this country are constantly making pil grimages to this sacred spot, aud thousands it is said visit Mount Vernon every year, which fact would seem to afford some ground for the Government purchasing it for the present and future generations.— Perhaps the refusal of the House to lay the bill on the table is an index of their favorable disposition to pass it. Mr. Gcr rit Smith tried to get the floor on this question for the purpose, as the members suppose, of moving the exclusion of slavery from the farm on its purchase by the Government. This is quite unnecessary, as the farm alone, without the slaves, is proposed to be sold to the United States. In the House subsequently, however, the resolution authorizing the Secretary of the Interior to purchase Mount Vernon was laid upon the table. We have had occasion many times to observe, that almost every small town has its peculiar ‘characters,’ whose eccentrici ties are the ‘joint-stock’ of fun to a!I its inhabitants. Of such was ‘poor Tom B ar low,’ thus depicted by ‘lgnotcs,’ a very welcome correspondent: ‘lnnocent soul! gone from these parts to the far west, or perchance into a region still more remote, whose immigrants out-number those of California and Australia—thou hadst little wealth when here: Heaven give thee large store wherever thou art! Tom, one dismal November morning, came down the creek, and was saluted by a neighbor. The rain descending on Tom’s ancient ram-beaver, and drenching vhat -helm to storm imper meable,’ the dripping from its patient rim to the patient shoulders below had no power to disturb Tom’s good-nature. He talked of moving to the Wabash, as ‘folks said there was lots of good land out there.’ ThedPwas only one condition —‘efhe could sell his property.’ ‘Why, Tom,’ said his neighbor, ‘what on earth have you got to dispose of r' Let your millionaires read Tom’s estimate of what makes ‘property’ and blush —‘ I’ve gu-gu-got au axe, *a fu-fu-fishiu’-pole, an’ a h-h-hominy-mor tar I— Knickerbocker. How to tell a Teacher. A gentleman from Swampville, State of New York, was telling how many different occupations he had attempted. Among others he had tried school teaching. “How long did you teach ?” asked a by stander. “Wal, I didn't teach long; that is, I only went to hire out!” ‘•Did you hire out ?” “Wal, I didn't hire Out; I only ipent to hire out?” “Why did you give it up ?” “Wal, I give it up, for some reason of ’author. You see, I traveled into a dis trict and inquired for the trustees. Some body said Mr. Snickles was the man 1 want ed to see. So I found Mr. Snickles—named my objick in introducing myself, and asked him what he thought about letting me try my luck with the big boys and unruly gals in the district. He wanted to know if I raaly thought myself cap’ble, and I told him I wouldn't mind his asking me a few easy questions in ’ri thine tic and 'gography, or showing my handwriting. But he said no. never mind; he could tell a good teacher by his gait.” “Let me see you walk off a little ways,” says he, “and I can tell,” says he, “jib's well’s I’d heerd you examined,” says he. “He sot in the door as he spoke, and I thought he looked a little skittish ; but I was considerable frustrated, and didn't mind much ; so I turned about and walked off as smart as I know’d how. He said he'd tell me when to stop, so 1 kep’ on till I thought I'd gone ’bout fur enough—theil I s'pected s’thing was to pay, and looked round. Wal, the door was shet and Snickles was gone ?” “Did you go back ?” “Wal, no, I didn’t go back.” “Did you apply for another school ?” Wal, no, 1 didn't apply for another school,” said the gentleman from Swamp ville. “I rather judged my appearance was against me.” “Doctor ,” said a man to a physician, “my daughter had a tit this morning, and continued for half an hour without know ledge or understanding.” “Oh.” replied the doctor, “never mind that, many people continue so all their lives.” pS" A Boston paper thinks that stealing a minister’s coat while preaching, and the sexton’s hat while waiting upon a stranger into the church, is running rascality into the ground. fsif* There is a young lady in the upper i part of New York so modest that she will not undress until a newspaper her mother subscribes to. is removed from the room.— The name of the paper is the— Observer. The fellow who “carried out a pro ject" was obliged to bring it back again. Woman’s Rights Asserted. —The Stam ford Advocate contains the following spirit ed advertisement : To the Public —Whereas, my husband, Edward H. Jones, has falsely advertised that I have left his bed and board, and that he will pay no debts of my contracting, &c., this is to inform the public that the afore said Edward 11. Jones had neither bed nor board for me to leave, he having been living at the expense of my father; and further, under pretence of procuring money to pay his way to Birmingham, Connecticut, he borrowed a dollar of my father, and with that paid for his lying advertisement of me, and even after this dastardly act, he took all the money I had and borrowed every cent in my mother's possession, and left the town. For the past three months he has been kept from nakedness and starva tion by the exertions of myself and rela tives ; he squandered in dissipation all the money his inborn laziness would allow him to earn. The scamp need not have adver tised that he would not pay debts of my contracting, for the public well know that he would not even pay his own. He is a lazy, ungrateful, loading scoundrel ; not content with living at the expense of my relatives and borrowing their money he publishes an outrageous lie. His bed and board, indeed ! If left to himself his bed would be nothing but a board ; and I should not be much surprised if the bed he dies on were made of boards, with a strong cross beam overhead. Sarah A. Jones. It is clear from the above that Sarah can find her own way through the world with out any help-meet, and the wonder is that she should ever have embarked in the same boat with Edward. She knows what are “women’s rights,” and “knowing, dare maintain.”— J\'ew Haven Palladium. The Harper Brothers.— The New York Times gives the following account of the small beginning of what was but a few days since the greatest publishing house in the’ world : “The establishment of the Harpers was founded by James Harper, the eldest of the four brothers who now constitute the firm. He came to this city in 1810, a lad fifteen years old. and served an apprenticeship of six years.with Paul & Thomas, the leading printers of that day. His brother Johns soon followed him, and learned his trade with Mr. Seymour, a printer on John street. In 1817, with the small capital James hail saved, the brothers opened a small book and job office in Dover street. The first book they printed was “Seneca's Morals ;” the second was an edition of the “Methodist Catechism.” The first book they published on their own account was “Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding.” They toiled with unremitting industry, and maintained the highest character for enterprise ami integrity. In 1820 the third brother. Joseph Wesley, joined them, and six years later, Fletcher liecame a member of the firm. From that time until now they have carried on the publishing business with a degree of well-directed energy, which has few parallels. They removed to Cliff street about the year 1820, and have added one building after another to their establishment as the demands of their business required. The amount of books they have issued is almost incalculable.— For the last few years they have published, on an average, twenty-five thousand vol umes? a minute for ten hours a day ; and from three to four thousand persons have obtained a livelihood from their employ ment.” The duel which was to come off at Beoecia has turned out a fizzle. *O. l.