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VOLUME XIIL-NUMBER 27.
£LL^¥OSl'f£i, Don't shed a tear for iiim ! Lay him to rest, The bright cross of honor Ablaze on his breast. The shouts of a nation Shall cheer him to God, The hope of a people Spring fresh from his blood. Don't shed a tear for him ! Heroes must die, la gladness and triumph, Like suns from the sky. Battle-red banners And war-tramp above, i"hey only breax camp up Forward to move. Don't shed a tear for him ! Mourn him in blood. Quick-dropping bullet 3 Shall work him most good Fight for him ! fall with hiin ! Die a3 he died ; Living or dying, Our hope and our pride. Don't shed a tear for him ! Better to go, Eager for battle, Facing the foe. For one life like his life A thousand shall pay, And the fury it kindles Shall carry the day ! Mr. anil Mrs. RasJscr. BY THE AUTHOR OF "MISS SLIMMCXS." CHAPTER VI. DOMESTIC. Dam vour stockings, Mr. Rasher? It' that don't, cap the climax ! It would be pretty work to occupy my mornings iu tny boudoir; or no, I'd better keep 'em for parlor "fancy work" of evenings, when I've only a few calls, and Flum mery is drumming : t the piano or making Ititnself agreeable to Fitz. I expect lte'u want to take lessons in the fashionable and elegant art of darning old sock?, he's so critical and fastidious, lie always holds my tilk for me, when lie's here of mornings aucl I've got any to wind, and i presume he'd be delighted to hold a kein of'slue yarn. If you're really not able to lay yourself new stockings when the old ones get holes in 'em, perhaps 111 provide myself with a darning needle, and stay to home and aicud 'em for you. You frequently advise me to be more econom ical, and here is a fair chataee to begin. I do believe a man, be he high <--r low, each or poor, is never satisfied with his wife, except when she is dtruing his socks or making a nuddiug. If any one should ask me niy idea of the male sex, I should describe it as a rapacious pudding-bag with a pair of worn out sosks on the eud -of it; while the female se.x would be rep resented as everlastingly busy trying to fill the bag with ceaseless pudding, and darning the socks at intervals. Growing poetical ? Husband, there's that in the treatment of the masculine race that's calculated to make us indigent, if there's :a spark of resentment in our breasts. '•They wore such nice lambs'-wool, and you thought, as I'd nothing else to do, they were worth"—Nothing else to do! nothing to do 1 Hurried, and wor ried, and flurried to death, with six ser vants setting me distracted, and company, and going out constantly ! Xothing to do but set down and darn socks ! Here I am, just home from the matinee, and hun gry for my dinner, expecting half a doz en friends in this evening thtt I asked when I was at the Academy, and engaged for aJI day te-tCftrrow going calling, and out to the ball in the evcuing, aud L've nothing to do ! You thought it would seem so old-fash ioned and pleasant to see me with my work basket, passing a quiet evening, you talking aud reading the paper, and me darning the heels and toes of your socks ? Once for ail, my dear, I don't consider anything pleasant that's old-fashioned, and as for having been in the habit, in former days, of economizing, I wish you wouldu't refer to it; it makes me nervous. You're as scutiiceuU-1 as Ceriutba, this minute, and I'm sure & person, to look at you, wouldn't think there was a particle of sentiment in you, which I heartily wish there wasn't, as it's always making you ridiculous. I've got so many other balls to keep a rolling I cao't eondesceuJ to a ban of yam ? Now add something about " spinning street-yarn," and then you'll have run through the usual lists of a man's witticisms. What's that sticking out of vour vest pocket? Dear me! I'm delighted. Why didu t you tell me when you first earnc iu ? "Artists' Receptions. Admit Mr Rasher. Dodworth's Hall. Thursday Evening, February 21, Is6l. Geo. A. Baker, WDI. Oliver Stone, Launt Thomp son, Executive Committee. Compliments of Lake Brown." La! and another one for me. Admit one Lady. Mrs. Cornell wanted to go awfully last mouth, but she couldn't find a geutleman who had an invitation to spare. You may thank me, husband, for these tickets. If 1 hadn't proved myself a patteron of the fine arts, by getting all theso pictures when the house was furnished, we shouldn't have been asked. I shouldn't care much for goiug, since there's uo sup per n-er dancing, and nothing but to look at pictures which I don't care a snap about, if it wasn't a compliment to oil; taste, and nice to have been there. You guess it was you who procured the tickets this time? Indeed! And how ? You've been ordering two or three pieces to bo painted by some of our first artists? You were introduced to some of them, and they were such good fellows you couldn't help it. Well, I expect it's all right- For my part, I admire the frames more than I do the paintings j but other people of our set seem to have got up a mania about such things, and we must follow the lead. I've a mind to give aa Artists' Recep tion myself, after theirs is over. Flum mery says that it's the duty of wealthy people without genius to encourage au thors and artists; to scatter, as he said, golden showers upon the dusty pathway trod by the aspiring foot of genius. He said that even money earned by the whole sale pork business might be hallowed and exalted by being liberally given out for a charming picture or a glowin-g book. Of course I saw through it all, but it's true as preaching, nevertheless. If I've an ambition for anything, it's for being con sidered a pntteron of the fine aHs. 31 y own particular taste runs to worsted work, 'and those cunning little dogs and things in Berlin wool, and next to that I admire mono -chromatics, but we must do as our set does. Speaking of one thing reminds me of another. I wonder where that Sigtior Fiugerari is that used to give the gir's music lessons before they went away to boarding-school. Am I thinkiug of tak ing lessons myself, at this late day ? I am not , Mr. Rasher; though wTiy you should consider uie too old to learn, if I was a mind to, I dou't see ; I am only for ty-two, come Ap ri 1. The fact is, I had hard work to coax llosiue to stay, after that tiuio you gave her warning; I had to raise her wages, and make her a present of one of my best second-best silk dress es, and now she's taken a fancy that she's a natural talent for music. She thinks she'd like teaching music better than waiting on ladies, or at least it would help her to pass away her spare time pleasant ly, if she knew how to play the piano, and I've thought some of gratifying her, for the sake of keeping her. Now, Rasher, that's just the wav you always do when you're out of patience about nothing, as you always are—flying about the room like a mad hen, making yourself ridiculous. I'm sure you needn't interfere with my management of my own servants —above all, my own lady's maid. There ! there ! there ! you needn't speak ; I if you do, you'll he sure to stutter ; con- I trol your temper, my dearest, for when a • man stutters he's sure to get the worst of ! it. You see you ean't talk half r.s fast as I, nor half as well, and you might better j not begin. Pig-headed? Look out, my i love, and dou't provoke me, or you'll get J your ears boxed soundly. Me pig-head !ed I me, indeed ! And who but a person with a uatural liking for pigs would be !eng:.ged iu the pork business? If 2 had • a married as I might have married, and as I've often regretted I uidn't, I might J have had my choice of a doctor or a law ; yer, "and been move congenially united [ than I have been, instead of being tor mented all my days with the smeil of ba con, and feeling myself bound by chains j of steel to the destiny of a pork merchant. ; Rut it' too late to mourn over early iu dcscretion. I might have been— Whuft 'that, Rasher? You haven't forgot the tailor you cut out ? Served him the same trick he served your clothes ? There's the bell for dinner. Put on your cravat, Imy dear, and hurry. Preferred pig to j goose, after all ? Come, come, the soup'll be cold, and it's your favorite kind. You flatter yourself you saved me frotn cab bage, if not fiom pork? Oh, quit your nonsense 1 iCkeor nonsense ? Well, if j you want cold soup, /dou't, and I'm go | ing. What's that he's hollering through ; the keyhole about my first suit-her? — j" Ile'd have been a fitting companion." ; Quit your silliness, for 1 'in down stairs, and I can't hear you. Did heiress his t suit ? " Oh, get out I Here you come, down three stairs at a time; and now you've gGt rid of half a dozen miserable puns, I s'pose you'll be good matured, and want to hug uie, right iu the dining-room. Why were your puns so miserable ? Be | cause tbey geuerally are, I guess. Be i cause they were only .sew-sew I Do please ! be quiet before we get in where the wai- I ter is; and, dear, do try and remember not to j>ut your knife in your mouth. I tell you what it is, if we do have an ; artist's and author's reception, as I'm bound to, I mean to have the girls to jhorae. It will be a fine opportunity for; theui to display their accomplishments, 1 and take a step upward in the social lad-! der, as Fitz calls it. You say times are a little easier; and I'm going to do what I like. I believe you've been trying to do what I like, I believe you've been SebowD io tye of Jruo jLtyoji-qju, ii)t iJlssctyiijqtioi) of JLifetyiHire qD ffotos. COUDERSFORT, POTTER COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, JUNE 20, 1861. i trying to frighten me about your business, | when there wasn't the least necessity for lit, just for the sake of seeing me going i without the comforts of life. I haven't got them white furs yet, and it's coming time to get a camel's-hair shawl fur the spring. La, Rasher! I never thought of your ordering pictures painted. Did you choose your own subject? Tcil me what you ordered, for I want to speak of it, this evening, to Flummery and Mrs. Cor nell. " You saw some excellent portraits of hogs, by Oestel, and ordered two com panion-pieces, to hang in my boudoir!" —" also a sweet little landscape, that re minded you of the old homestead, where you was brought up —which you took, only ycu ordered a group of pigs, in place of the cattle, in the field." Now, niy dear, if there's money to be wasted on pictures, t prefer picking 'em out myself, and shall insist upon doing so. As for having your pigs in the house, I sha'n't do it, no mat ter how well they're painted. " Connis urs pronouuee 'em wonderful." Well, the more they are like hogs, the less I'll like 'em. If you'd had 'em so they could have passed for sheep, I wouldn't have minded, but as it is, if they hang any where, they'll hang in the smoking-room. What? "smoked bacon"—yes, make smoked bacon cf 'em, for all I care. CHAPTER VII. IN HER ELEMENT. I'm always in my element, Mr. Flum ! tnery, when I'm suvruuuded by congenial j spirits, aa 011 this occasion. You and my dear friend Fitz Simmons have been ex tremely kind in inducing ail these cele : brated artists, and so many talented peo i pie to honor mc with their company this evening. I hope the supper will give sat isfaction and pay them for their trouble in coming, if nothing else does. Rut, of I course, I don't expect that people of such j gifts care for such things as suppers and ; liquors ; I have spared uo expense to feast their minds as well as their bodies. You observe I have added twelve new pictures to my collection, which I bought on pur pose to add brilliancy to this soiree.— Aren't they splendid? the coziest and most superb I could liud, that would go in a private house; and, to whisper the truth to you, I got them surprisingly low. Furchased all at one place, and they made a reduction in consequence of the size of the order. Those four mag nificent companion-pieces, " t'ole's Voy age of Life," the real originals, I got for tlree hundred dollars, and the frames are | 1 worth sixty apiece. Seems to mc the ! company is in unusual good spirits—don't j you thiuk so, Mr. Flummery? I knew ; you'd agree with 111 c. The artists are jsuch a pleasant, sociable kiud of people; ; they ain't as particular about their dress, | some of 'em, as they might be, but it gives 'eui an air. It makes me quite happy to see bow delighted they are with the pic i turcs. Don't you think the girls are look i ing well ? O dear, vou flatter them, Mr. ' Flummery. It's strange you seem to ad | mire Felicia most. She is a good girl, i amiable and sensible—but she hasn't the [genius of Cerintha. Cerintha's real sen j timent.il, if I am her mother that says it. ! She writes the sweetest compositions, and ! scofi an exiled prince in every Italian or ; gan grinder. Am not I afraid she'll run j away wk.li some ragged hero, some day ? Ono ! not she! she's prudent as well as I practical. She'll never marry less'u half | a million. If anybody makes a love match, i it'll be Felicia, quiet as she looks. Ry- I the bv, who's that she's so much interest ed in, now ? that -dark-eyed, handsome j young man that's talking to her about i that lit tic drawing on the table. A very promisingyoungartist? Rich? I thought | not by the looks of his coat. It's decid edly rusty, and six months out of date. Will be a liou some day? I shall allow Felicia to cultivate him, then; but I must warn her against any tender iutercst.— lie's handsome enough to turn a young lady's head, that kn't hardly through with school yet. How admiringly he looks at her; aud she's actually blushing. 1 thought Madame Fiuishchc taught her; young ladies not lo blush, it's so child ish ! I must correct Felicia for that fault, to-morrow. Don't? and why not, Mr-j Flummery ? Rut if you say so, it's all right; you've the credit of knowing eve rything. Do you know, Cerintha writes poetry; and as you are a poet, you ought to be kindred spirits. I wish you'd cel ebrate my soiree in some verses, won't you, now, that's a dear, good man ? Fitz ! Fitz! darling! come here! I'm trying to persuade our friend, Mr. Flummery, to immortalizQ this evening in some of the poetry which he priuts in the maga zines. They say you're so sarcastic, Mr. Flummery, and say such sharp things, even in your poetry, but I know you won't make fun of us. Lt would be so nice. Do you think they are enjoying them selves, Fitz 1 They seem in excellent spirits; and I'm sure I've taken trouble enough to please 'em. Why diun't I consult you before I purchased so many pictures ? Well, I was down to Stewart's, and coming back, I saw a shop full of handsome ones, and the idea struck me it would impress my new gues's favorably to find lots of pictures, and I stepped in and bought what you sec. You've told me that size wasn't the main point in buying paintings. I guess I know that! But everybody knows " Cole's Voyage of Life" is a fine thing, and all the rest are choice copies of the old masters, who ever they are. Everything seems to me lobe going off splendidly; eveu Rasher's behaving him self remarkably. He hasn't said a vulgar thing this evening, in my hearing. There he goes", off to the smoking-room, with half-a dozen gentlemen, to show 'em his pigs. He paid a hundred dollars for a little thing uo bigger than my two hands. (*SWo voce.) 1 wish Felicia would leave that fellow for awhile. lie's quite too agreeable; and she's looking so pretty, now, with her eyes full of smiles and her | cheeks glowing, he'll fall in love with her. : Artists are all very well to patronize, but when it comes to son-in-laws, it's another thing. Bless me Mr. Flummery, I did not know you were so near ! Law ? "That young gentleman, talking to my daugh ter, owns millions of acres of the loveliest and richest lands of the earth, owns dia monds and pearls, and the uncounted gold jof a thousand sunsets." Pshaw ! does he jhe really , or are you speaking in a roeta- I physical sense ? You know they don't ; fake the gold of the sunset at Stewart's | or Tiffany's—and I prefer that kind that has the stamp cf the mint on it, that's always current. " Like old mother Bums by'swine!" Rasher, remember; make no puus but good ones to-night. What's that, Mr. Flummery? a bad pan is often better than a good one, if it's etily bad enough? Well, that's queer! don't for get you've got to write me some verses, Mr. Flummery. I'll have a little game isupper and invite Fitz, and some others, when it's ready to be ready. Do you promise ? I hope you're enjoying yourself Mr. Easel by. Rut you always do admire my pictures. 1 feel proud to be surrounded by so distinguished a gathering, and you are one of the brightest stars in my axle tree cf guests. Ilow do you like this one ? The vender assured me that it was an old Italian copy of the original Raffel. I didn't know they had rattles in old times to sell off paintings. That's what we la dies do uow, when we get a lot of pin cushions and fancy articles left over from our fairs, lt'3 a very good plan. I've no doubt the old masters got rid of a good many in that way, for I often bear it mentioned. I was very much charmed with your reception, the other evening, Mr. Easelby. You artists are really get ting to have very good society about you. I saw a good many of our wealthiest peo ple present. We didn't use to think much of your class ; but we're getting over car prejudices. There's Mr. Mon eybags, talking to that young fellow with the seedy look, as if they were equals. We appreciate taleut, Mr. Easelby; it is one of our privileges. Dear me! where's the man gone ? I do believe he's going off before supper, and I haven't said any thing in the world to offend him. I've treated the whole set as well as if they could return the compliment; the costli est music, game for supper, our best wiues, and all them pictures on purpose to consult their tastes; aud of course,they will never treat us to supper and 'music. Rut I'll have it to talk about. I've got the start of Mrs. Cornell for once, and 1 can sec she is dying of envy. I've got the author of "Poems of the Century ;" and (that inau that's .celebrated for writing something,l doa't know what,but he goes to Livcrpools constantly; aud Professor Donderland, who's been kind enough to ruin the piano with playing, and every body that anybody wants to have, and I call it a perfect success. There's Felicia and that young artist getting together again, after I've warned her not to pay too much attention to our guest. I asked Flummery what made the crowd so cheerful, and he say 3 it's the new pictures; so they're successes of course. He says it would be a good idea for us to have a gallery to display them to better advantage —wan'ts to know if there isn't room in the gallery to con struct one. Rasher ! Larkins says supper is ready; go and get Mrs. Moneybags, and I'll take Mr. Lake Rrown's arm. La! La! what are you all laughing at? Mr. Rasher? he is so funny ! What has he said now? "He wauts to know why we are all like a parcel of pigs V* "because we all want to be first at the trough!" Horror! I sliali sink through the floor! That wretched man is enough to distract a wo man. It's dreadful ! his vulgarity always shows itself at the most conspicuous mo ment. If I didn't have hold of Mr. Brown's arnq I should sink through the! floor, and likely as not light in the bowl j of chicken salad. What did you say. Mr. Flummery ? "Why is Mr. Rasher like a tame bear?" I'm sure I dou't know unless its because he's so rough. "Beeaise he has given us a great faux He! be ! you're ;so witty, Mr. Flummery, I don't exactly ; know what you mean, but I'm sure it's ! funuy, if you said it.. Allow me to help yoti to some of the celery, Mr. Brotfb ; I'm sure ynu must be fond of it, I saw suoh beautiful greens ;in that picture of yours at Dodworth's, (There's Rasher at his puns again. He'll make me miserable all through supper. "Don't be slicrry of the wine, there's (plenty of it.") I should think a person I who could draw cows as natural as you ) would always be drawing them. ("D<-- claret 'a No. 1.") I'm so fond of cows in | landscapes ! I think ever}' 'andscare | ought to have cows in it. ("Why is this bottle like roy amiable wife ? Give it up? because it's my-ceary !") Especially I those dreary deserts that Mr. Gamboge is so fond of paiuticg; a cow or two would give life to them. ("Why is there no Isuch thing as a headache in the morning I after taking a little too much the night | before ? Give it up ? Because it's all sham-pain." "But that's as old as the hills." "All the better for being old ") j I've thought a good deal, Mr. Brown, of .sending my Cerintha to take lessons of some artist; I'm certain she has a talent (for it; dear girl! sho has a talent fi,r I most everything. You ought to see her j specimens that she's brought home from ;school; and she's embroidered a whole scene in worsted work—Rachel and Jo seph at the Well. It's sweet, especially 't,he well, which is done to perfection-- ; the curb, aud the bucket and pole, just as they had them in old times. (" Why are gardeners stingy to their help ? I>e ; cause they order their salary cut down." , Salary, good gracious !) Don't you think it would be advisable to have my daugh ter take lessons of some of our first art ; ists ? I should like to have an artist in :the family; it would be something to be pvcud—(Good gracious ! There it comes jat last! " Why am I like the basement .of my own warehouse? Because we're I both pork-sellers." If I don't pay Rasli j or for that after the company's gone, then I don't know what revenge i? the brute ! ) O yes ! The Masquerade Ball was the most delightful part of the opera. I went on the stage myself—charming! I (7<arkins, tell the band to strike up a per fect crash. I'm bound to choke Rasher off, if I have to drownd the whole com pany in the noise.) * * * * There! they 're gone at last, and I'm glad of it!. Rasher ! I'll never forgive you for the fool you've made of yourself, i Dear me! it's tiresome work, anyhow, j hying to be literary. I felt as uneasy as |a fish out of water. The only comfort i I've had to-night was when I was resting jon the sofa beside Mrs. Moneybags, talk ing over our new dresses—there ! Influence of Smiles. A smile is indeed a thing of beauty. Whether living on the lips of gladsome j youth, or flickering on the dging features jof worn out age, it holds its beauty still. ! Whether making loveliness yet more win some, or rendering ugliness less repulsive than its wont, a smile yet holds its na ture—yet it is beautiful. Magic lurks i therein, and sways the human heart as words never can—quickens its quiet ! pulse, or soothes and calms the hurried j throb as they may need. And beneath | the encouraging influence of one sweet, j upholding smile, the heart itself may | change its mood—may yield its mad iu i tent, if not cast out forever its evil prompt -1 ings and its dark propensities. And so ' may the smiles of derision madden be jyond what the utmost words can do, even i as the smile of praise will spur humanity |to great and noble deeds beyond the ap- I preach of all other promptings. Its si lent power sinks in the heart, and heals some new made thrust, as sweetly and gently as falls the in\*stcrious due from j heaven. And the smile of love ! It beams in the mother's eye as she sees beauty iu her lufant's face, and a silent laugh of unknown joy from her darling babe. It plays with strouger and more thrilling magic on the maiden's lovely ] countenance, as he; heart's idol meets her • far-seeing eye, and draws near to 1< t her ! look of love lose noue of its precious value jin needless distance between them. And | with deeper, purer joy, it conies to the ! wife's glad tace when her husband's fond # gaze .tells how much is gained since he ! first called her wife. Holy, beautiful in -1 deed, is the smile of fathomless and per | feet love. Too seldom, indeed, does it | live—too seldom lightens heavy cares and earthly sorrows. Too seldom does it have j birth—too often does it soon leave life's I pathway, even if fairly born and dearly ! welcomed there. Not many miles from Borton two sis ters, by the name of Pepper, arc employ ed in the same establishment. One of them has red hair, and goes by the name of " lied Pepper," while her sister with black hair, is known as ''Black Pepper." A male relative is also employed in the same place, and is called "Pepper and Salt," his hair fairly representing that mixture TSRfIB.-fl.ot PER ANNUM. CJort Save Our \o!>le Inioo. It c.irae to u* through dark-icra, It came to us through b!oo<l ; it shone oat like the "Promiso Ut' God" upon the flood. A beacon it has served us With true, unerring flame, Aud east a blase- of glory- Upou our nation's mure. * God save our noble Union ! 'Twas left us by our fathers, Whose semis of priceless worth— The uoblest types of manhood That ever walked the earth. 'Twas bought with fearful struggles, By sacrifice sublime, And stands a proud memento For all the coming time. God save our noble Union 1 Our land, a waste of nature, Where beast and savage strayed, Its wealth cf lakes and rivers, Unlocked bj- keys of trade. Then, sun-like, rose the UMON*— A terror to our foes— And lot-this "waste of nature'' Kuw "blossoms as u rose." God save our noble Union! Where earth lay hid for ages In deep, primeval gloom, Behold a boundless garden— A continent in bloom. With iron bands of railroads, EJectric tongues of wire, Anc energies within us Which time shall never tiro. • . God save our nolle Union t But now upen our Heaven Are signs of coming storim, Ar.d tierce unholy passions Unfold their hideous forms. The bravest hearts among us •' tilled with doubt and fear, While sounds of horrid discord! Arc grating on our ear. God save our noble Union i The hallowed flag that bore us So pronely through tits wars, Is there a hand would sev.r Its sisterhood of stars? Great God ! can we so blindly Cast all Thy gifts away ? Oi throbs there in this nation One heart that would not pray— God save our noble Union ! No MoTiir.u. —She had no mother ! What a volume of sorrowful truth is con tained rn that single sentence —no moth er ! We must go down the hard, rough paths of life, aud become inured to care and sorrow in their sternest forms, before wc can take heme to our own experience the dread reality—no mother—without n. struggle and a tear. But when a frail young girl, just passing from childhood toward the life of a woman, how sad is the story summed up in that ODe short sentence. Who shall uow check the wayward fancies—who shall now bear with the errors and failings of a mother less gftl ? Deal gently with the child. Let not the cup of sorrow be over-filled by the harshness of your bearing or your unsympathizing coldness. Is she heed less of her doings ? Is she careless in her movements ? Remember, oh remem ber, "she has no mother !" When her young companions are gay and joyous, does she pass with a downcast eye aud languid step, when you would faia wit ness the gushing and Overflowing glad ness cf youth? Chide her uot, for she is motherless, and the great sorrow comes down upon her like an incubus. Can you gain her confidence, can you win her love? Come, then, to the motherless with the Loon of your tendcrcst care, and by the memory of your own mother, per haps already passed away—by the full ness of your own remembered sorrow— by the possibility that your own child may be motherless —contribute, as far as you may, to relieve the loss of that fair, frail child who is written Motherless.— Exckar.'jC. The reign of terror in Virginia is ter rible. Every man not in the ranks is looked upon as a spy or a traitor. Many | Northerners as well as Uniou men have been compelled to take up arms in do fence of the rebellion. These men will Dot fight and we may rest assured that when the opportunity is offered they will desert the rebels. The Charleston Mercury calls the Van , kee troops now threatening the South ■ " tin peddlers." It is true the Yankees hhave generally, in their visits South, i peddled tin, but we guess they mean to : peddle lead this tiino. j * The Free Press, of Ilurlington, Vcr- I mont, says that JOHN Gr. SAXE, of that city, has purchased a handsome residence on Capitol 11111, in Albany, and is about to remove his family and household goods thither. A sailor who Lad been boasting of the Numerous foreign places he had seen, was 'asked if he had ever seorr Louisiana. "No" isaid Jack, " what country docs she live in?" Nearly all the bees in the south of England have died this year. A person in the New Forest who had 140 Lives has lost every bee. Tobacco-chewing men and snuff taking o o women should never be permitted \o kits anybody but each other.