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Port Tobacco times, and Charles County advertiser. (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1845-1898, August 04, 1853, Image 1

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For one year, if paid within six months, sl-50
“ “ if not paid within six months, 2-00
Advertisements.—per square for two inser
tions —12 lines of small type or 14 of large typo
constituting a square—and 25 cents for every sub
sequent insertion. If the number of insertions bo
not marked on the advertisement it will be pub
lished until forbid,and charged accordingly.
liberal deduction will be made to those who am
vertise by the year.
Communications addressed to this office must bo
BY virtue of an order of the Orphans’ Court of :
Charles County, the subscribers will offer at |
public sale, on the premises of (he late Elizabeth j
Jl. Hughes, deceased, on THE RSDAY the 18th |
day of AUGUST next, all the personal property
(Negroes excepted) of the said Elizabeth
Hughes, consisting of
Household and Kitchen Furniture , Farming i
Utensils, Slock , Corn , Tobacco,
and a crop of Corn now
Terms of Sale. —A credit of six months will j
be given for all sums over §lO, and for all sums j
of and under §lO the cash will he required ; the j
purchaser or purchasers giving bond with opprov-1
cd securilv, beat ing interest from the day ol sale.
jy 28. Pendente iite of Elizabeth Ji. Hughes, j
BY virtue of an order of the Orphans’ Court of |
Charles County, the subscriber, as Adminis
trator of E. P. Long, late of said county, deceas
ed, will offer at public sale, in the village of New
port, on THURSDAY the 11th day of August, if
fair, if not, the first fair day thereafter, the fol
lowing property, to wit:
Jill the Household and Kitchen Furniture;
one Horse Cart , one Mare and Colt, cue
Cow and Calf, with a variety of other
Terms.—A credit of six months will be given
for all sums over five dollars, and for all sums cf
I five dollars, and under that amount, the cash will
I be required, the purchaser or purchasers giving
ft bond with approved security bearing interest from
* the day of sale.
jy 21—ts. of E. P. Long, dec’d.
We have in store a lot of Emery Co.’s ce
ER|3. which we believe the most efficient and dm- i
, able macli iuc of the Undniannlael red.
1 * • , (l , (
8 horses, warranted to thresh and clean, ready tor ;
the mill, five to six hundred bushels per day—ifj
pushed, SOO. These machines are made of the best j i
material, strong and durable. A few of them were ; (
tried in Loudoun county last year and were highly j
approved of. All orders promptly attended to
Union Street and Potomac Strand >
iv 21 Alexandria, Va. r
> t
X scribcr bath obtained from the Orphans’Court
of Charles County, Md., letters of Administration
on the personal estate of W ii.liam C. Dyer, late ; i
of said county, deceased. All persons having claims j
against said deceased arc hereby w arned to exhibit i .
the same, with the vouchers thereof, to the sub- ;
seriber, on or before the expiration of six months. ) *
Tbev may otherwise by law be excluded Irom ail j i
benefit of said deceased’s estate. j ,
Given under my hand tins lOtb day of July, j
1553. JOHN G. SUMMERS, Adm’r
jy 21 of William C. Dyer.
scriber hath obtained from the Orphans’Court
ofCbarles County, Maryland, letters oi Administra- j
tion on the personal estate of Samuel D. Jameson, |
late of said county, deceased. All persons having |
claims against the said deceased arc hereby warned j
to exhibit the same to the subscriber, properly au- 1
thciilicated, on or before the expiration of six |
months. They may otherwise by law be excluded j
from all benefit of said deceased’s estate.
Given under my band, ibis 19th dav of July,
1853. MARY S. JAMESON, Adm’x i
jy 21 of Samuel D. Jameson. \
rriHIS IS TO GIVE NOTICE, That the sub-
JL scribcr lias obtained from the Orphans’Court
of Charles county, Md., letters of Administration on
the personal estate of Josias Hancock, late of
said count} 7 , deceased. All persons having claim's
against the said deceased arc hereby warned to j
exhibit the same, properly authenticated, to the sub
scribers, on or before the ox > alion of six months.'
They may otherwise by la >e excluded from all ,
benefit of said deceased’s osi: -e.
Given under my baud, this lOtli day of Julv,
1853. MARIA HANCOCK, Adm’x
Jy 21 of Josias Hancock.
&. James 11. Norris being dissolved, it is
necessary that all opeq, accounts, on books of
Schooner William Peters, shoulu be speedily set
tled. All persons indebted to the said schooner
are hereby respectfully notified that the soid ac
counts are placed in the hands of H. A. Neale
for settlement, which if not done by or during No
vember Court, next, trill and must then be dispos
ed of otherwise,
jy 21—4 t 11. A. NEALE.
gallons of the best Cherry Wine, Which sold
for §2 per gallon, and is worth at wholesale $1.62
we will sell from this day at §l, or even 75 cents
per gallon—according to the quantity purchased,
prevent and remove Dandruff and Em
X BELLisn THE Hair —apply every morning jus
enough of the Oriental Restorative to moisten tin
hair, and dress with a stifTbrush.
supplied on the usual terms.
For sale by HENRY PEEL, Druggist.
Alexandria, Va.,jy 28
ORSE SHOE NAILS fbrsale by
Oh ! could there in the world be found
Some little spot of happy ground,
Where village pleasures might go round,
j Without the village tattling!
How doubly blest that spot would be
’ 1 Where all might dwell in liberty,
_ i Free from the bitter misery,
,! Of gossips’ endless prattling.
If such a spot were really known,
Dame Peace might call it as her own,
And in it she might fix her throne,
For over and forever;
! There like a queen might reign and live,
While every one would soon forgive
The little slights they might receive.
And be offended never.
’Tis mischief makers that remove
- j Far from our hearts the warmths of love,
‘ | And lead us all to disapprove
What gives another pleasure ;
They seem to take one’s part—but when
They’ve heard our cares, unkindly then
They soon retail them again,
■j Mix’d up with poisonous measure.
And then they’ve such a cunning way
Of telling ill-meant tales, they say,
“Don’t mention it, 1 pray,
I would not tell another
j Straight to your neighbors they go,
j Narrating everything they know ;
j And break the peace ol high and low,
Wife, husband, friend and brother.
Oh ! (hat. the mischief making crew
Were all reduced to one or two,
I And they were painted red or blue.
That every one might know them !
j Then would our villagers forget
■j To rage and quarrel, fume and fret,
And falling into an angry pet,
With tilings so much below them.
For ’(is a sad degrading part
To make another’s bosom smart,
And plant a dagger in the heart
We ought to love and cherish!
Then let us evermore be found
In quietness with ail around,
While friendship, joy and peace abound,
And angry feelings perish.
e-wii i n i i mi
“Contentment Belter than Wealthy
Scent First.
‘•lt is vain to urge me, brother Robert. —
I Out into the world 1 must go. The Impulse
jis on me. I should die of inactirm here.”
I l, Yfin v.r'f *ii> Th f **e * c '*_crL
to d> ■ ll T. .I ■ n .Tcvn vv iuic. ' -'"“'f i,
“And such work ! Delving in *rul grov- j j
line close t he verv ground. And for what ?j *
Oh no, Robert. Mv ambition soars beyond a
your ‘quiet cottage in a sheltered vale.’ My
appetite craves something more than simple t
herbs and water from the brook I have set j
mv heart on attaining wealth ; and, where t
there is a will, there is always away.” ;
‘•Contentment is better than wealth.” j
“A proverb for drones.” (
“No. William ; it is a proverb for the (
i wise.” i
i “Re it for the w ise or simple, as common- ,
1 1y understood, it is no proverb for me.* As , (
i a poor pi ulder along the way of life, it were |
i impossible lor me t<> know content. So ‘
j urge ire no farther, Robert. I am going out 1
I into the world a w ealdi-set-kcr, and not un
til wealth is gained do 1 purpose to return.”;
“What of Ellen, Robert ?”
The young man turned quickly towards
his brother, visibly disturbed, and fixed his 1
: eyes upon him with on earnest expression.!
| *■! love her as my life,” he said, with a
j strong emphasis on his words.
! “Do you love wealth more than life,
: William ?”
| “If you love Ellen as your life, and leave
her for the sake of getting tidies, then you
'must love money more than lite.”
“Don't talk to me after this fashion. 1
cannot bear it. 1 love Ellen tenderly and.
liuly. I am going forth as well lor her sake
as my own In all the good fortune that 1
comes as the meed ol effort, she will be a
; ' “Y r ou will see her before you leave us:”
“No. 1 will neither pain her nor myselfi
by a parting interview. Send her this letter
■ and tliis ring.”
A few hours later and the brothers stood
with lightly grasped hands', gazing into each
i other’s faces,
i “Farewell, Robert.”
“Farewell, William. Think of the old
L homestead as still your home. Though it
j- is mine, in the division of our patrimony,
- let y,>ur heart come back to it as yours.—
r Think of it as home ; and, should fortune
/ cheat you with the apples of Sodom, return
,1 ito it again. Its doors will ever be open, and
its beaith-fire bright for you as of old.—
_ And they turned from each other, one go
ing out into the restless world, an eager
j’j seeker for its wealth and honors; the other
2, to linger among the pleasant places dear to
ts him by every association of childhood, there
to fill up the measure of his days— not idly.
_ for he was no drone in the social hive.
m- On the evening of that day two maidens
| st sal alone, each in the sanctuary of her own
10 chamber. There was a warm glow on the
cheeks of one, and a glad light in her eyes
• Pale was the other’s face, and wet her droop
’ ing lashes. And she that sorrowed held ar
' I open letter in her hand. It was full often
tier words; but the writer loved weald
more than the maiden, and had gone forth
to seek the mistress of bis soul. He would
“come back ;” but when ? Ah, what a veil
of uncertainty was upon the future! Poor
stricken heart! The other maiden —she of
the glowing cheeks and dancing eyes—held
also a letter in her baud. It was from the
brother of the wealth-seeker; and it was also
j full of loving words; and it said that, on
| the morrow, he would come to hear her as
a bride to his pleasant home. Happy mai
den !
Second Scene.
Ten years have passed. And what of the
wealth-seeker? Has he won the glittering
prize? What of the pale-faced maiden he*
left in tears? Has he returned to her.'' —
Does she share now his wealth and honor ?j
Not since the dav he went forth from the j
home of his childhood has a word ofintel-j
ligence from the wanderer been received;,
and, In those he left behind him, he is nowj
as one who has passed the final bourne. —,
Yet he still dwells among the living.
In a far a wav, sunny clime, stands a state
ly mansion. We will not linger to describe
the elegant exterior, to hold up before the.
reader’s imagination a picture of rural beau
ty, exquisitely heightened by art, but enter
its spacious ball, and pass up to one of its
most luxurious chambers. How hushed and
solemn the pervading atmosphere! The in
mates, few in number, are grouped around
one on whose white forehead Time’s trem
bling finger has written the word “Death.”
Over her bends a manly form. There —his
face is towards you. Ah! You recognize
the wanderer—the wealth-seeker. What
does lie here ? What to him is the dying
one? His wife! And has he, then, forgot
ten the maiden whose dark lashes lay wet
on her pale cheeks for many hours after she
read his parting words? He has not forgot
ten, but been false to her. Eagerly sought
he the prize, to contend for which he went
fort!?. Years came and departed ; yet still
hope mocked him with ever attractive and
ever fading illusions. To-day he stood with
his hand just ready to seize the object of
hts wishes, to-morrow a shadow mocked
him. At last, in an evil hour, he bowed
down his manhood prostrate even to the
dust in mammon worship, and look to him
self a bride, rich in golden attractions, but
poorer as a woman than even the beggar at
her father’s gate. What a lh>rn in tiis side
she proved! A thorn ever sharp and ever.
into his own, until, in the anguish of Ills
soul, again and again he flung her passion- i
atelv from him. '
Five vears of such a life! Oil, what is
there of earthly good to compensate there
for? Out, in tliis last desperate throw, did <
the worldling gain the wealth, station, and j <
.honor he coveted ? He had wedded the on-j
!y child of a man whose treasure might be,
counted by hundreds ot thousands; but, in >
doing so, he had failed to secure the father’s i
approval or confidence. ’I he stern old man 1
regarded him as a mercenary interloper and
ever treated him ns such. For five years
therefore he fretted md chafed in the narrow
prison whose gilded bars his own hands hail
forged. How often, during that time, had;
his heart wandered back to the dear old 1
home, and the beloved ones with whom lie!
had passed his early years! Ar.d ah! how!
many, many times came between him and,
the almost hated countenance of his wife the
gentle, loving face ol that one to whom he 1
| had been false! How often her soft blue
eyes rested on bis own! How often be
started and looked up suddenly, as if her!
sweet voice came lloatiug on the air !
And so the years moved on, the chain
galling more deeply, mid a bitter sense ol
humiliation as well us bondage robbing him
1 of all pleasure in life.
Thus it is with him when, after leu years,
I we find him waiting, in the chamber of death,
for the strike that is to break the fetters that 1
so long have bound him. It lias fallen. He
is free again. In dying, the suflerer made
‘no sign. Sullenly she plunged into the dark
profound, so impenetrable to mortal eyes,
1 and as the turbid waves closed, sighing, over
her, he who had Culled her wile turned from
: the couch on which her frail body remain
ed with an inward “Thank God! I am a man
I again !”
One more bitter drug yet remained for his
cup. Not a week had gone by, ere the fa
ther of his dead wife spoke to him these
• cutting words —
)! “You were nothing to me while my
■daughter lived —you are less than nothing
■ i now. It was my wealth, not my child that
1 you loved. She has passed away. What
1 affection would have given to her, dislike
■ I will never bestow on you. Henceforth we
are strangers.”
-j When next the sun went down on that
r. stately mansion, which the wcallh-seekei
r' had coveted, he was a wanderer again—poor
3 humiliated, broken in spirit,
ej How bitter had been the mockery of al
This early hopes! How terrible the punish-
I meat he had sullered.
9 j Scene Third.
1 One more eager, almost fierce stiuggh
g ! with alluring fortune, in which the world
ing came near steeping his soul in crime
and then fruitless ambition died in his bo
j. I som.
. | “Mv brother said well,” he murmured
i as a ray of light fell suddenly on the ilark-
I ness of his spirit, “‘Contentment is better
1 than wealth.’ Dear brother! Dear old home!
r Sweet Ellen ! Ah, why did I leave you ?
f Too late ! too late ! A cup, full of the wine
I ofLfe, was at my lips; but 1 turned my
s bead away, asking for a more fiery and ex-
citing draught. How vividly comes before
i me now that parting scene! lam looking
i into my brother’s face. I fuel the tight grasp
- 1 of Ids hand. His voice is in my cars. Dear
brother! And his parting words, 1 hear
j then, now, even more earnestly than when
■ they were first spoken. ‘Should fortune
; cheat you with the apples of Sodom, return
>,lo your home again. Its doors will ever be
■ open, and its hearth-fires bright for you as !
ol Ah, do the fires still burn ? How J
■ ; manv vears have passed since I went forth ! i
And Ellen? But I dare not think of her. It
,is too late—too late ! Even if she be living
and unchanged in her affection, I can never
I lay this false heart al her feel. Her look of
love would smite me as with a whip of scor
pions ”
The step of time had fallen so lightly on
the flowery path of those to whom content
ment was a higher boon than wealth, that
few footmarks were visible. Yet there had
been changes in the old homestead. As the
smilimg years went by, each, as it looked
in at the cottage window, saw the home
circle widening, or new beauty crowning
the angel brows of happy children. No
thorn in his side had Robert’s gentle wife
proved. As time passed on, closer and clo
ser was she drawn to his bosom ; yet never
a point had pierced him. Their home was
a type of paradise.
It is near the close of a summer day. The
evening meal is spread, and they are about
gathering around the (able, when a stranger
enters. His words are vague and brief, his
manner singular, his air slightly mysterious.
Furtive, yet eager glances go from face to
face. j
“Are these all your children ?” he asks,
surj,rise and admiration mingling in his
“All ours. And, thank God! the little
s yet unbroken.”
Tji3 stranger averts his face. He is dis
turbed by emotions that it is impossible to
cone *l.
“(Imtentment is better than wealth,” he
! murjA r cJ. * 0 'ha. I ’nad earlier compre-
They njs? &S ttSafttTeaL 'Si
instantly recognizes in the stranger his long j (
wandering, long mourned brother. 1 1
“William!’’ I
The stranger is on his feet. A moment j
or two the brothers stand gazing ot each ,
other, then tenderly embrace. ;
“William!” I
How the stranger starts and trembles ! (
lie had not seen, in the quiet maiden, mov- ,
ing among and ministering to the children
so unobtrusively, the one lie had parted i
I from years before—the one to whom he had
been so false. Rut her voice has startled
his cars with the familiar tones of yesterday.
“Ellen!” Here is an instant oblivion of,
; all the intervening years. He has leaped
back over the gloomy gulf, and stands now}
las be stood ere ambition out! lust for gold |
lured him away from the side of his first!
: and only love. It is well both for him and
the faithful maiden that he can so forget the
1 past as to lake her in his arms and clasp:
' her almost wildly to his heart. But for;
this, conscious shame would have betrayed ;
* his deeply repented perfidy.
! And here we leave them reader. “Con
tentment is belter than w ealth.” So the I
worldling proved, after a bitter experience,
which may you he spared ! It is far belter
to realize a truth perceptively, and thcncc
• make it a rule of action, than to prove its
5 verity in a life of sharp agony. But how
1 few are able to rise into such a realization !
’ 1
; | A Remarkable Man.— At a temperance
‘ meeting held in Alabama, about six years a
-1 no, Col, Lemanousky, who lias been tvven
r, ty-three years in the armies of Napoleon
1 Bonaparte, addressed the meeting, 110 a
*! rose before the audience, tall, erect and vi-
with a glow of health upon his
j cheeks, and said :
s t “You see before you a man seventy years
’] old. I have fought two hundred battles.
e have fourteen wounds on my body, have
lived thirty days on horse flesh, with baik
y i of trees for my bread, snow and ice for mv
° drink, the canopy of heaven for my covei
ing, without stockings or shoes on my
ll j feet, and only a few rags (or clothing. I i
e ; the desert of Egypt 1 have marched for days
e with a burning sun upon my naked bead ;
1 feet, blistered in the scorching sand ; and
with eyes, nostrils, and mouth tilled with
;n dust —and with a thirst so tormenting that
r ’ I have opened the veins of my own arms.
! and sucked my own blood! Do you ask
bow 1 survived all these horrors? I an
| ewer that under the providence of God, I
■ owe my preservation, my health and vigor
i to this fact, that I never drank a drop ol
le spirituous liquor in my life, and,” contin-
J- ued he,/‘Baron Larry, chief in the medica
e, : stalf of the French arms, has slated u fact
o-■ that the 0,000 survivors, who safely return
ed from Egypt were all ol those men win
d, abstained from ardent spirits,”
| Having anchored al the North and Mid
jdle Island, ot the latter of which we arc to t
|load, vve will borrow the boat, and have a i
closer look at the huge muck-heap. Bull- £
ing half round the Island, to the landing t
place, which appears to be cleared from the s
surrounding rocks for the special conveni- 1
cnce, our appearance disturbs thousands of I
the web-footed natives; these thousands
count, with the old hand?, as nothing ; for
they tell us that the shippers have driven all v
the birds away. Sailing above us is a flock c
of pelicans, hovering over the clear water c
like hawks, which they resemble in their }
imode of darling down, or sporting on their f
tprey. One of these, at this very instant, t
| drops from his flock, as though a ball had v
j whistled through his brain, but after a l
I plunge, he is seen using to the surface, v
with a fish struggling /in his capacious f
I pouch. ! y i\
Near to us, whirling round our heads, are !
gannetts, mows, rauttflfi-birds, divers, gulls, c
guano-birds, and a host of others, whose
names are unknown to the vulgar. On the \
detached rocks, and lower edge of the Is
land, numbering a pretty numerous convo- f
cation, stand the penguin—the parson bird t
of the sailor—whose good name is fairly s
owned bv its cut-away-black-coat, while lie, r
and solemn demeanor. His short legs plan- c
ted far back, and his long body, do not fit
him for a walk ashore; but he will sit for I
hours on a little rock, just washed by the
waters, apparently in such a deep absence c
of mind, that passers by arc tempted to ape
proacb in hope of catching him. Just as i
the boat nears him, anti hands arc already s
out to grasp his neck, away he goes, head
over heels, in a most irreverent end ridicu- j
lons manner, dives under the boat, ondjs
shows his head about a quarter of a mile :
out al sea, where the sailor may catch him it
who can, for he is the fastest swimmer and ji
the best diver that ever dipped. js
Stepping over the mortal remains of sev-|c
eral sea-lions, in a few strides vve are on the ' f
guano, and the next step in it up to our s
knees. The guano is regularly stratified ; c
the lower strata arc solidified by the weight
of the upper, and have acquired a dark red 1
color which becomes gradually lighter to- 1
wards the surface, 1
On the surface it has a vvhitey brown
cruet containing eggs, being completely “
honey-qombed by the eggs- seldom more 1
u0 . , i1a33J otjj joi uado ao ijiav npi an -s
errmrm lOny-gmmtwj .
ces; and this mining system is so elaborate- hi
ly carried out, that you can scarcely put a m
fool on any part of the Island, without sink- m
ing to the knee, and being tickled by the
sense of a bard beak digging into your un
protected ankle?. The egg shells, and thei™
bones and remains of fish brought up by the I C£
old birds for their young, must form a con-} 3 "'
siderable part of the substance of the guano, j 3C
which is thus, in a great measure deposited i b;
beneath the surface and then thrown out by i l '
the bird. — Dickens' Household Words. j lll
j al
“If you know anything to make a brother a jo
heart glad, run and toll it. Anything to cause aj jj
sigh, bottle it up—bottle it up.” . | p
Ye?, 1 shan't doit! said Miss Nipper;
! I’ve lived on scandal and Boliea this sixty
i year; and a change of diet at ray lime ol j 5
j life might prove fatal. It agrees with me.!.,
jii does! 1 wouldn't give two pinches of u
snufifio live vvhe r e nobody jumped over the I v
i ten commandments! h's (un alive for me , j
to ferret it out. 1 may not always hit on j \
i the riiiht names of the parties, but that’s aj s
I trifle. ~ Don’t preach tome. One half of c
j the world earn their “vittles” by living on [
' oilier folks’ vitals. If you look into a late
[tier's Bible, I guess it would puzziC you to|
j find any such text, as ••Blessed arc pcctcc- ,i
! makers." Don’t they earn the salt to their j 1
Iponulgc, I)y selling whole neighborhoods |
Jby the ears? Aim they in the seventh |,
i heavens when they can gel hold of a long
Itw is tilled snarl of a family quarrel ? Don't i
: j fliev bow, and smile, and smirk, and helpj
■ | you out of the “Slough of Despond ’ wilhj
■jone hand, while they poke you back with,
I i the other? Oh, 1 tell you Miss Nipper'
‘isn’t the only mischief maker. There’s a !
■ j large family of Paul Biys; don’t all vvear_
s ■ petticoats either. Some of them have mas- j
\culine noses, that are forever up in the air,;
j snuffing the “ill wind that blows nobody |
’’ uood”—descendants in a direct line, from j
Ananias and Sapphira. Know more about,
' la parish than the parson and his deacons ;
► | more about a woman than the father who.
‘ bc'uot her; and more of the world in general
1 ! ihan He who made it. Yes, thank good-’
'[ness, this is (as the ministers say.) “a'
s ; wicked world.” It would be almighty stu
i i,id, if it wasn’t; I suppose there’s somebo
d dy or other doing something they ought
k I not to, about every minute; at least I hope
' l !so. I only wish these male gossips would:
V dear the track and let the Nancy Nipper,
1 ! express train be the first bearer of despatch- -j
■\ es ; (1 should hke some of’em a present of:
I: a petticoat 1 .) You don’t catch me knock-j
r * ii,.r under for speed and embellishment, loi
II anything that sports a hat. Where is my
" ■ SllUll buX ? KaNNV I CRN. I
,1 j 1
, J Rook Fellow!— An exchange tells us of j
,J t |, e sad case of a niuii who was shipwreck-j
uYd, and cast upon an uninhabited island,!
without a shilling in his pod t ’
“Bridget,” said a lady in the city of Go
tham one morning, as she was reconnoiler
i ing in her kitchen, “what a quantity of soap
grease you hare got here. We can gel plenty
of soap for it, and we must exchange it for
some. Watch for the fal man, and when
he comes along, tell him 1 want to speak to
“Yes, mum,” said Bridget,
All that morning, Bridget, between each
whisk of her dish-cloth, kept a bright look
out of the kitchen window, and no moving
creature escaped her watchful gaze. At last
her industry seemed about to be rewarded,
for down thssireel came a large, portly gen
tleman, flourishing a cane, and looking the
very picture of good humor. Sure, there’s
the fal man now, thought Bridget—and
when he was in front of the house, out she
flew and informed him that her mistress
wished to speak to him.
“Speak to me, my good girl!” replied the
old gentleman.
“Yes, sir, wants to spake to you, and says
would you be good enough to walk in, sir?”
This request, so direct, was not to be re
fused; so in a stale of some wonderment,
up the steps went the gentleman, and up the
j stairs went Bridget, and knocking at the
mistress’ door, pul her head in and exclaim
ed, “Fat gentleman’s in the parlor, mum.”
So saying, she instantly withdrew to the
lower regions.
In the thought the lady. What
can it mean ? Bridget must have blunder
ed—but down to the parlor she went, and
up rose our fat friend, with bis blandest
smile and most graceful bow.
“Your servant informed me, madam, that
you would like to speak to me—at your
j service madam.”
The mortified mistress saw the slate of
jthe case immediately,and a smile wreathed
| itself about her mouth in spite of herself as
i she said,“Will you pardon the terrible blun
| Jer of a raw Irish girl, my dear sir? I told
‘ her to call in the fat man to take away the
) soap greese, when she saw him, and she has
j made a mistake you see.”
The jolly fat gentleman leaned back in
j his chair, and laughed such a hearty ha !
| ha! ha! as never comes from any of your
lean gentry.
“No apologies needed, madam,” said he*
“It is decidedly the best joke of the season
Ha ! ha| ha! so
-sjp 3Ai]tsod on si 3J3tji poj3punoj aq
heard the merry ha ! ha! ofttie oM genue-
man, as he brought down his cane, every
now and then and exclaimed, “such a joke.”
A truly liberal man employs all the
means in his power to do all the good he
can. He does not rush in with fire and
sword to abolish imperfections, which are
sometimes unavoidable. He endeavours,
by cautious progress, to remove the ills of
the body politic; but he eschews violent
measures, which crush one evil but to cre
ate another. In this imperfect world of
ours, he is content with the good, until
time and circumstances favor him in his as
pirations after the better.
A Problem. — A man was travelling, and
j stopping at a house, he said to the owner,
| k *lf yuu*wi!l give roe as much money as I
! have, 1 will spend six cents with you,
' which was done. He went to two other
! places and made the same request, which
I was complied with, and when he had spent
isix cents at the third place, he had not a
'cent left. How much money had he when
• he started ?
I The Woonsocket Patriot editor makes
: merry over the mistake of an old Shanghae
; hen of his, that has been “setting” for five
I I weeks upon livo round sloius and apiece oj
brick?—' “Her anxiety” quoth he, “is no
[ greater than ours to know what she will
i hatch. If it proves a brick-yard —that hen
)jis not far sale.”
'I A windy orator once got up and said,
r j -Sir, after much reflection, consideration,
3 iand examination, I have calmly, and deltb
r j eralely, and carefully, came to the determin
_l ed conclusion—that in those cities in which
' the population is very large, there grea
’! ier number of men, women and children,
1 1 than in cities where the population is less.
! I If the league of friendship be once broken,
> tlieu is the cabinet of secrets unlocked, and
1 ■ diey fly about like birds let loose from a
l| ca ge. And upon every rupture between
’ friends, secret enimics lie upon the watch,
* 1 blow the lire and when the war is once de
■! dared, old friends become the worst of en
’ Men never gel weaned. When they are
1 babies, they suck their mothers; when
r ! middle aged, they suck the old man; when
.j advanced in years, they suck a long-legged
f pipe. A nipple of some kind seems indis
. pensible to their happiness.
* i An eld preacher once took lor his text,
r j .‘Adam where art thou ?” and divided his
subject into three parts: Ist. All men ate
f!somewhere. 2d, some men are where
| iliey ought not to be. 3d Unless they
I juke care, they will find themselves where
1 thev would rather not be.
NO. 14.

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