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VOLCANO WEEKLY LEDGER.
VOLUME I. | tljcltolcano iUccklij t'ctigcv, i rrnusnim kvert satvkhav. bv I spUl\(.i:R& D.IISGERFIEI.D. j_ sj.rimiisb. _ _ "■ BAixoßßmtr-n. Tor m s; in* Vfnr. in advance •* JJJJ ix Mentha, 5 ■hree Month*, . 2 00 lAdvrrlMni- One Square of 12 line*. Br»t Insertion, #3-each bseqiient insertion, $1 ’>o. •fir \ liberal deduction on the above rates will mode for quarterly and yearly advertioemeta. LEGAL A DVKRTISKM ENTS ill t« inserted at the followin* n\te»;—Two Dob ra per -qtiare for the liret insertion, and One Uol r per Bjnare for each subsequent Insertion. ■ JOB PRINTING. ■ We are prepared to do Job Printing of rnrry Jr- Hripfien in a style superior to any other office in Be Southern Mines, and at as fair rates. TO MY MOTHER. nr FANNY FOBBKSTER. Give mo my old sent, mother. With my hand upon thy knee; I've pawed through many n changing scene Since thus I sat by thee. U let me look into thill'- eyes Their meek, soft, loving light Falls, like a gleam of holiness, I'pou my heart to-night. I’ve not been long away, mother, Few Mia* have P»e and set Since last a tear-drop on thy cheek Mv lips in kisses met. Tis’l.ut a little time 1 know, But very long it seems. Though every night I eome to t'nv. Dear mother, la my dreams. The w orld has kindly dealt, mother. By the child thou lov’at so well; Thv nmyer* have circled round her path. And Twas (heir holy spell Which made her p-vtli so dearly bright - Which strewed the roses there -- Which give the light and cast the balm, tin every hr- util of air. 1 bear n happy heart, mother, A happier never beat; And even now. new buds of hope Are bursting at my feet, 0 mother, life may lie a breath. But if such dreams are given, While at the portals thus we stand, What arc the truths of Heaven? 1 bear a happy heart, mother, Yet. when fond eyes J see, And bearing soft tones and winning words, I ever think of thee. And then the tear my spirit weeps. Unbidden tills my eye; And, like a homele-s dove, I long Unto thy breast to fly. Then I am very sad. mother, I'm very sad and lone— -0! there's no heart whose inmost fold Opes to me like thine own! Though sunny smiles wreathe blooming lips, While love-tones meet my ear. My mother, one fond glance of thine, Were a thousand times more dear. Eloquence of the West. BV JOHN NEWI.ANtt MAEFIT*. II Habits of ami styles of oratory an doubt iullneneed by the -eetiery uml geu |«al features of the country, as we ll us by I tlie modes of edueution and the forms of nly Admitting the* truth of this usser it is no wonder that the eloquence of ilpe we.st is bold, energetic and magnificent.— tins the maturity of its vigor in forms of ■Hi beauty uml sublimity, which may be ■light for in vain in the older sections of the wntinent. Kven without the highest degrees of mental culture, and comparatively unlet dretl, the mind that is admitted to coutem plnie the scenery of the west, to range over fdriost interminable prairies or ga/.o beauti ■ly upon tin l mountain fastnesses of the Alleghaiiies, or to span the ocean-like rivers, •Jnnot hut be tilled, imbued and overpowered •jib the strange and solemn impression of ■' creation around him. ■ Hut yet it is not a fact that the western ! *nd i- in any general sense destitute of the V* of letters less than the tame lowland Idlers of the sen-washed sandy coast.— b w hile it rends the fearfully distinct im "ion on nature's open leaved volume, it is ’ not w ithout the tones of varied and use literature. Strains of masculine eloquence j hrilling as the free notes of the mountain n . ami full of the elements of passion— He native productions of the west; ns eh in keeping with the scenery of the re n as iiiiucl ever should be with matter, and j inie to nature as the tones of the wind ' 1' to the breath of the evening. I lie opinion that may have Iteen exten- 1 ly propagated in the elder states and tur the sen-board, doubt the effect of re otu bigotry; or of that jealousy which r agitates the various portions of the com "ity, in the rivalry of inliuenee and power. l! <'|iiiiinn is now dissipated like a vapor re the light of truth. The great west, b sufficient energy and ability to vindi f; a claim to nat lin'd talent and genius, has “bited and still exhibits in the profession law ami the sacred calling of pulpit ora y. the elements of uuqualified eloquence. 1 inquiry, what has produced this slate diings, lg replete with instruction ami in b. the west a superabundance of eastern, 'diem and southern talent congregates. — dull, unaspiring, the idle never think of passing (he cloud-capped harriers of the - hanks. The hold, the resolute the am ",US ' leave to the while cottages of New -'and, the sunny avenues of the south, and 'l' o,lt *heir homes from the kingly forest fresh untouched wilderness. What *reau*d their eloquence? What has ' ll its tone of thunder -its wild, soul ''■'"ng pathos? | l' l iru eliee of holding religious meetings "pen air, extensively prevailing in the 1 las K'vcn a nobility to the soul of Weistem eloquence. The dome made by tire hands of man, springing its arch towards heaven is yet the hounded concave that must confine the soul that was made to ra litre the skies, to the delightful outlet of her prison house. The camp meeting has changed the nomenclature uf pulpit eloquence. The two divisions of the ancient school are now hut one in the religious oratory of the west. Bryant's high preceptiuu of (ho sublime I and beautiful of nature, as connected with, I and originating a grandeur of emotion, is touchingly illustrated in the following extract ■ from his poetry. The proves wen- Mod's first temples. Ere man team'd To hew the shaft and lay the architrave, And spread the roof iils.ve them ere he framed The lofty vault together, and mil hack )3 he sound oI anthems, in the darkling wood i Amidst the cool and silent, he knell down And offered to the mightiest solemn thanks. And supplication. For his simple heart Might not resi-t the saered influences. That from the stilly twilight of the place. And from the gray old trunks, that high in heaven Mingled Ih-ii mossy houghs, and from the sound l ill the invisible breath, that swayed at once i All their green tops, stole over him and boned Ills spirit with the thought of boundless power, 1 And inaccessible Majesty. All, whv | Should we in the world s riper years neglect ' God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore, i Only among the crowd, and under roofs ! That our frail hands have raised! Let me. at least, 1 Here, in the shadow of this ancient wood, ' Offer one hymn, thrice happy if it find | Acceptance in his car. The eloquence of the West ns contrasted with that of the East, presents many striking peculiarities. The eloquence of the East is sober, passionless, condensed, metaphysical; that of the West is free, lofty, agitating, grand, impassioned. The east is pure, chas tened down to n defiance of critical ecttnre, shaqiened to a fineness too razor-like to cleave the mountains or curve the rocks ; the west defies and transcends criticism unbosoms mighty thoughts, applies motives to the hu man mind, ns strong ns the rush of a whirl wind, in language varied yet strong, and if ever defective yet grand. The thoughts of the west are large. In the east, a river means the brawling and foam ing .Merrimne, the mountain-fed Kennebec, or tho poetic Connecticut ; in the west the word means the proud (low of waves too wide to roar, and siucturiug liulf the globe in their course. In the east a plain means a patch of earth hedged in by circumambient mountains, defended on either side by rock and water; in tiie west a plain means an expanse of territo ry over » hit'll the sun rises and sets over a thousand successive horizons, and above whose carpet of verdure heaven spreads out half her stiirs. In the cast a wind means a blast which wrestles with the mountain beech or maple, plays fitfully with the fallen snow ; in the west the saute word means the roaring impulse which accumulates among the bend waters of the far wandering Missouri, passes a distance in which Europe and Asia might be laid out in length and breadth, and pours its vast vol ume of tornado into the Uitlf of Mexico. If the sublimity of eastern eloquence rise to a mountain height, it is a mountain of gran ite over whose indurated bosom the lightning might glance innocuously. The sublimer heights of western eloquence arc indeed moun tain too, yet they are luxuriant and woody quite np to their flowering gorgeous summits. The dash of the water is heard in the path of the avalanche, and although rude and shaggy, its gulf and cliffs may sometimes appear, it is vet the warm aud living picture of Nature’s ! self. In the pulpit oratory of the west there is a nearer coincidence to the style of the saered volume than is heard in the eastern desk. The ' grand poetic touches of inspiration are blend ed with the strong colony of nature in such proportion that the entire painting presents the appearance of nit ancient picture over which the lapse of centuries had no (tower save to brighten and purify. Utvtst; Him tub News.— On Thurday eye ing, during the play of Hamlet, at I’lxi'iiix Hall, the news of the full and destruc tion of Sabas topol arrived just as Tay lor, ns Hamlet,” was in his death scene, ex claiming— The potent poison iptile o'er comes my spirt; I cannot live to hear the new from England:" A friend of the Allies immediately cried out—“ Hie away, old fellow; Sebastopol is taken ! ” *6yl'pon the conclusion of u marriage in a village church, the bridegroom signed the renter with “ his x mark.” The pretty young bird did the game, and then turning to a lady who had known her as the best scholar in school, whispered to her, while tears of hones* lore and admiration stood in her bright eyes,” Hit’s a dear fellow, Miss, but cannot write yet. He’s going to learn of me, and 1 would not shame him for the world." Mr*All things are engaged in writing Nature’s history. The planet, the pebble goes attended by its shadow. The rolling rock leaves its scratches on the mountain, the river its channel in the soil, and the animal its lames in the stratum; the fern and leaf their modest epitaph in the coal. The fall ing drop makes its sculpture in sand or atone: not a footstep into the snow, or along the ground, Imt prints in characters more or less lasting, a map of its march; every act of the man inscribes itself on the memories of its face. The air is full of sounds, the air is full of tokens; the ground is all memoranda and signatures. French “Wku'ome.”— Punch says that “ welcome ” has been a ditlicult word for the French to spell rightly. However, they man aged to do it with due significance in the bun acciinl they gave to Lord Mayor Moon ; for over his hotel, blazed in oil lumps, the letters —“ I '(4il come !" VOLCANO, AMADOR COUNTY, CAL., SATURDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 8, 18.35. Examination- of Attorneys.—The follow ing examination of a certain candidate for admission to the Imr, taken from a western law journal, is decidedly a good one. The examiner commences with— “ Ho you smoko?” “ 1 do, sir." “ Have you a spare cigar?” 'i es, sir." (Extendinga short six,) “ Now, sir, what is the first duty of a Km “ To collect fees.” “ \\ hat is the second?" "To increase the number of his clients.” " When does your jKisltkm towards yonr client change?” “ When making a Hill of costs." " Explain.” “ When they occupy (he antagonist’s [«isi tion, I assume the character of plaintiff, and they defendant.” “ A suit decided, how do you stand with the lawyer conducting the other side?" “ Check by jowl.” " Enough, sir—you promise to become an ornament to your profession, and I wish you success. Now, you arc aware of the duty you owe me.” " I am, sir.” " Describe it." "It is to invite you to drink.” " But suppose I decline?” (Candidate scratching his head.) “ There is no instance of this kind ott record in the books! 1 can’t answer the question.” " Von arc right, and the confidence with which you make nit assertion shows that you have read the law attentively. Let's have a drink, and 1 will sign your certificate.” The Last Dollar. A SLICE OF SAX FRANCISCO LIFE (('ul crpresshf for the Tumi Talk .) 'Twas a cold damp nitrht in the winter of ’52 A young, energetic man, wtiose rough face told of I lie toils and anxieties of one long year’s life in the mines, stood at the bed side of a weak and helpless mother. •James Lander, though l>nt a hoy, in the spring of ’49, sought his fortune here on the Pacific, and in the course of a year lie was among those who were successful. Voting, ardent, healthy, and full of lore for his new home, he remitted to his mother, who with one other son and a daughter, resided near Philadelphia, a portion of Ins labor. Ho al so intimated a desire never to leave this coun try, and almost implored his mother to use his funds and join him. The mother, howev er, preferred to exercise her own judgment in the matter. It pleased her to place her chil dren uf school, come alone to spend a brief season with James, until fortune frowned, and then accompany him to their old lioiustead near Philade 11 ih ia Site reached here in the summer of ’52, and at the request of her son resided in San Fran cisco until he could settle his business in the mines. If any one wishes to know to what extent luck w ill sometimes carry a man, we will say that this young adventurer hud managed to heap together some £20,000 in hard cash, and this amount he had safely deposited in the winter referred to at the opening of our story. Hut the mines refused to yield him as usual—the labor became too great for ids young limbs, and like a sensible man he watched the first opportunity to close up his , business, tlv to his mother, and then leave for his old homo. Hut it appears that the pivot upon which all his bright hopes and charming dreams rested, was planted here in San Francisco, and upon that, for the first time since his res idence in California, everything—even his very life—seemed to turn. James Lander had drank before, but never to excess ; and among his companions in the mines he was looked upon in this respect as a model young man. He played cards with his friends as a pastime, but he was never know n to risk a 1 cent. He brought with him from his boy hood home a set of principles which had woa him not only a handsome fortune, but the love and respect of all with whom he had ! come in contact. While making preparations here for his de parture, his mother was taken suddenly sick, and remained for several weeks at a most critical point. In the meantime James hud made a number of new acquaintances, ami had been introduced in strange circles.— Among other places he had made visits to tlie gambling hells which ut that lined our streets, and hud on one or two J! - ca-kms, to gratify his new friends, ventured a few dollars. We doubt whether there is any thing so fascinating to the young mind as ga ming, and when conducted lieneath brilliant chandeliers, amid the strains of music, and in the presence of smiling females, he is more than a hero who can resist the tempation to bet. James Lander had done nobly, yet ho was hut human ; and when uu unfortunate train of circumstances brought him to the test, lie displayed a share of human weakness. To his idleness here and strange associations may I be attributed his sudden indulgence in strong drink. When intoxicated, James was wild, and it was a knowledge of this fact, more than anything else, which induced his mother j io join him here iu the midst of his prosper!- i ty. How far her presence succeeded in gui ding him we shall soon see. The night before we saw him at the bed side uf his sick mother, James Lander had lost two thousand dollars! The night in question, as we remarked, wascold and damp He was with his mother but for a few mo ments. He had during the day drawn upon his fund to the amount of two thousand dollars more, and that night interuled to get even. Again and again he lost. Hay after day he drew his money, until at the end of the week he hud but five thousand dollars in the world! In a brief sketch like (his it is impossible to comment on the scenes that open to our view. They are matters of fact, and afford food for much profitable reflection, which we arc compelled to forego. James was not a raving maniac, Hut he was desperate. Strong drink refused longer to do its office. He drank all the lime, yet he was sustained by an excitement far greater limn that sought in (he cup In the darkest hour, how- Krer—-amid all his misfortunes — he never Rieglected Itis poor old mother, and was reg f ularly at her bedside with a solicitude in which all his pecuniary troubles seemed to be lost. Site, to Itis great delight, gradually mended, and soon annonneed witli her own lips the disappearance of all her former symptoms. Well, my child,” said she one evening, " I am glad I shall soon be able to travel.— I see my situation tins given yon much pain." James spoke n<>t. but heavy tears gathered in itis eyes. He took his mother’s hand, gave her an affectionate kiss, and then disappeared in the streets. The next moment he was at (he gambling I table, and the next hour it was not in his power to give a check for more than ten dol lars. He cc itilined to bet, and finally lost all—no, not all, for with one solitary dollar he arose from the table, and sought the bed ' side of his mo*h‘ r. He was with her but a moment. 'The next found him back at tlie gaming tnbls. He threw down itis last dol lar, with the words: “This is all of my $20,- 000—-take It." He won—again he won— and again. He seemed to win as he had 10.-t, nil the time. His betting was the inter est of the night, .''till he bet—bet reckless ly. Thousands came into his baud, and thou sands still he bet. Once more did he win— and again and again! Two hours found James Lander in possession of I irrnl y-firr ' thousand dulUirs, and lie ceased betting!— With a light heart tie sought his mother told her all—swore never again to enter a irambling house; and in a few days afterwards but It departed for llteir Philadelphia home.— A true story. Good Joke. All the old settlers of Albany the first families of that Hutch and aristocratic cap ital—will remember “Jimmy Caldwell,” who made a great fortune in the tobacco business, lie was very much of a wag in his way, and was not over-particular in his choice of sule jects upon whom to play his tricks. He had an ancient maiden cousin residing in New York, whom he had often invited to come np to Albany, and visit his wife. But in those : days, when as yet no steamboats were known, and a journey between the two cities in a sloop was a voyage quite equal to crossing the Atlantic now; the cousin had never been up the river, the wife liad never been down, and so they never met. At length lie receiv ed a letter informing him that she would sail from New York at such a time, and in the course of a week or ten days she might be expected at Albany. A few days before her arrival, he said to his wife: “ I don't know us 1 ever told you this old maid of a cousin of mine is ns deaf as a post —you have to hollow so as to be heard a mile to make her understand.'* “ I'll do my best,” said the good wife, “and you know I can speak loud enough w hen I try.” When Caldwell met his cousin at the wharf, and on his way with her to his house, lie remarked: “ Yon have never heard, I suppose, that my poor wife is very hard of hearing: 1 have to scream at the top of my voice to make her hear me, and bow you will man age to get on witli her, I am sure 1 don't know.” “ Oh, I'll make her hear; my voice is good, and I ain’t afraid of using it.” Of course neither of the ladies wore afflict ed with any defect in their hearing, hut Cald well was disposed to amuse himself at the ex pense of both of them. They met. “Why, how do you do!” shouted Mrs Caldwell, as if she was speaking a ship at 1 sea. “ Very well, thank yon; hope you are loo,” screamed the cousin, in a voice that fairly rivalled .Madam Caldwell's. Mr. Caldwell, amused at the success of his scheme, listened to the two old women who were planted close to each other; and first .one would put her mouth up to the ear of the other, and rice versa they would shout away as if they would make the dead hoar, and not the deaf only. At last, sui«i Mrs, Caldwell, in her sympathy with the deaf old cousin; “ What on earth makes you talk so loud? I ain’t deaf?” “ Nor I either,” shrieked the old maid; and and both of them perceived in an instant thut they had been made dopes of by Jimmy Cald well, who had to take a thorough scolding for putting such a joke upon them. Hood, in his "Tale of a Trnrajiet,” makes a very good plav, of which we arc reminded by this story. A peddler is trying to sell ear-trumpets, ami, boasting of their wonder ful properties, he says: There was Mrs. P., go very (tear. That she might have woru a percussion-cap, .Vail Ih>ch knocked ou the head without hearing it snap; Well, 1 sold her a horn, and the very next day, She heard from her husband at Botany Bay ! ’ [ Harper’r Magazine. Taking the Cf.vsis,— The following inter esting conversation occurred between the census taker and a young lady, in a neighbor ing town: " I am taking a statistical census of man ufactures and produce; was there any produce raised hero last year?” “ Yes; I’ve got uve about six months old!” 1 The man toddled. The Shortest Wav.— Some twelve year ago, Napoleon, Ind., was celebrated for two things, one for the carousing propensities of i its citizens, and the other for the great nnm-1 ber of cross roads in its vicinity. It appears | that an Eastern collector find stopped at Day ton to spend the night and get some iufor-1 mation reqtectiiig itis future course. During! the evening he became acquainted with au old drover, who appeared well posted as to the geography of the country, and the col lector thought that he might a- well inquire in regard to the best route to different points to which he was destined. “ I wish to go to Oreenfleld,” said the col lector, " which is the shortest way?" “ Well sir,” said thedruver, “you had bet ter go to Napoleon, and take the road lead ing nearly north.” The traveler noted it down. "Well sir, if I wished to goto Edinburg?” “ Then go to Napoleon, and take the road west.” “ Well, if I wished to go to Vernon?” "Go to Napoleon, and take the road south west.” "Or to Indianapolis?” added tiie collector, eying the drover closely, and thinking that he was being imposed on. "Go to Napoleon and take the road north west.” The collector looked at his note book; every direction had Napoleon on it; he began to feel his mettle rise, and he turned once more to the drover with— “ Suppose sir, 1 wanted to go to (lie devil?" "Well, my dear sir; I don’t know of any shorter road vou could take than go to Napo leon.” Extraordinary Flying-Machine. The following curious and interesting state ment ap|iear§ in the Paris Paine.. The age of wonder is not over yet:— “ The Academy of Science is a good deal interested by the invention of a new fixing machine, by Don Diego de Saiumanica. With this machine, Don Diego’s daughter, Rosan na, rose in the air sometime ago, at Madrid, to the great astonishment of the Spaniards, who are but little accustomed to this sort of a miracle. Don Diego and his daughter are about to arrive at Paris to show the effect of his marvellous invention. The machine is very simple ; it consists of a case two feet long, and one foot wide, adapted to a baud of loath er around the waist, huekled behind. Ihu two iron rods fastened to the ease support a small piece of wood, on which the feet repose. The ease contains a simple and ingenious me chanism, similar to that employed in the au tomaton in motion. The mechanism is w ork ed by means of a handle. It sets in motion two large wings, ten feet long, made of very thin caoutchouc, covered with leather; and the wings may be so worked as to procure vertical, perpendicular, or horizontal flying. The number of turns given to the handle determine the height to which it is desired to go. “The handle has to be turned every quar ter of a league to regulate the distance ; the operations of turning lasts a minute. Hori zontal flying is the most difficult. The wings beet the air like the ours of a boat, or rather as the foot of a swan when it swims. By means of this curious machine a man can go almost as rapidly as a carrier pigeon—from the Hotel de VHie to the Arcade Triumphe de I'Kloile in eight minutes, and in half an hour to Versailles. Although greatly aston ished at this new invention, several members of the Academy have pointed out the incon venience of bringing it into general use. In point of faet there will be no security for any one, if by the aid of such machines all our usages and customs be overthrown, and if malefactors can My on the roofs of houses, and afterwards get into apartments, and commit all sorts of depredations. It will be very cu rious to see policemen in France and England pursuing thieves in the air in order to lock them up on earth. It appears that Ihafi pro mises all sorts of marvels. Aovkutisiso.- —Few people seem to lie aware of the benefit of thorough and system atic advertising. But when a man or firm does become eonxineed of its advantages and makes determined use of the knowledge, a fortune is sure to follow. The Townsends and Brandreth of New York, Sxvayne, Sharpless, and Jayne of Philadelphia, and coming nearer home, (‘rocker Bros., of this city, are eases in point. All of these men have become in dependently rich by a free use of the jioxver of the press, notwithstanding their advertising bills arc almost fabulous. Vet they do not compare with the amounts devoted to the same purjmse by energetic Englishmen. Eve rybody has heard of the immense fortunes jios sessed by Prof. Halloway ; Moses A Sous ; Rowland A Co. ; De Jongh ; Ileal k Sons, and Nichols, the famous London advertisers. But everybody has not heard of the enormous sums they annually pay to the ncwspajiers to keep and increase the business that made their riches. An article in a late number of the London Quarterly states that Prof. Ilalloxvay annually pays $150,00(1 for advertising his patent medicines, and that Moses A Sons, Rowland A Co., and Dr. De Jough each e.\- peud $50,000 per year in making their re respuotive locations and business known to the public. Meal A Sous, dealers in bedsteads and bedding, pav $30,000, and Nidiolls, the tailor, $22,500. Such expenditures to the uninitiated, appear frightful, yet those men have liecn for increasing both the amount of their advertising and of their business. They have tried the experiment and know the re sult. Every dollar, they say, which they ex pend in giving publicity to their goods and wares returns to them increased five or tenfold. Consequently they arc not niggardly in the outlay. f NI'MHER 7. Will Young Bullion ever be Rich’ It lias become very much the fashion, now adays, to say, “ Ob, young Bullion will Is* rich when his father die-, and to understand thereby, that young Bullion is sure to 1m; rich one of these days. But the proverb concerning a “slip between the cup and the lip.” holds good in this caw; as in all others, and young Bullion may die liefore old Bullion does, in which ease he would never become rich—in this world’i goods, at any rate. Nor is his chance of liv ing so much greater than the governor’s, (as he terms him ) as may he at the first glance imagined. Suppose old Bullion to I>e fifty-five years of age, young Bullion twenty-five. Old Bullion is a hank director- young Bullion is “one of the b’hoys old Bullion turns in every night at ten—young Bullion is “on a time,” til! 4 a. m. Balance of health is in favor of old Bullion. Old Bullion takes a glass of brandy and water, and don’t oat anything before going to bed—young Bullion devours oysters, wood cock, broiled chicken, at horribly indigestible hours, and drinks champagne, champagne brandy, and Scotch Ale, till he blesses the man that invented soda water, when lie wakes up next morning. Balance of health in favor of old Bullion, again. Old Bullioji goes down to the Bunk in an omnibus about 10, a. m. Almuf the same time, young Bullion is going it with a fast horse to “ the great race,” incurring the dan ger of lieing run over, of being run away with, and of running over somebody else uud getting spilt. Balance of safety in favor of old Bullion. If old Bullion should receive a challenge, lie would forthwith have the sender bound over to keep the peace ; it young Bullion re ceives one be “goes out ' and runs the cbuncc of a bullet in the thorax. You don't find old Bullion promenading very often—the gout won’t allow it ; young Bullion is ;dl the time on a tramp, over side walks under which arc steam-engines, across streets w here runnings over arc frequent. Old Bullion don't go traveling young Bullion is on the move all summer; and steamboat biowings up and railroad collisions are frequent uow-a-days. Balance of safety still in favor of old Bul lion. Old Bullion is never out after dark ; young Bullion, like eats, travels principally at night, and stands a very fair chance, in the present state of society, of having his head and a slung-shot acquainted some dark night. Old Bullion bus against him thirty years anil the gout; young Bullion has the risk of late hours, champagne suppers, fast horses, “ pistols and coffee for two,” street-crossings, boiler-bursting, railroad smash-ups, and frac tured craniuma. !so the chances, you see. arc not so very much in young Bullion’s favor after all. Mike Walsh. The Louisville Journal, in noticing the fact that the Hon. A. H. Stephens, iu a late speech at Griffin, Ga., called for three cheers for Mike Walsh, and they were given from four thousand throats, tells the following an ecdote of Mike, who. as the Journal says, has certainly been true to the south, and with all his errors, has always acted as an honest man and a patriot: We first saw him nearly twenty years ago, when he wasn’t more than twenty-one years old. lie came into our office in an old suit of clothes, muddy from head to foot, took a dollar from his pocket, which he said was ail the money he had in the world, and offered it to us to pay for advertising a scoundrel, who on his way up the river had stolen every thing belonging to him. We couldn’t take the poor fellow’s dollar, but we published his advertisement. We hod forgotten the cir cumstance until he recalled it to our mind, ia the presence of some of his congressional col leagues last winter. It seems that Mike was coming op the river with a few hard earned dollars in his fob, when a fellow, who claimed to be a sou of a clergyman in this city, got into the kind-heart ed youth’s good graces by representing him self to be sick and utterly destitute. Mike put him into Ids own state-room, gave him a purl of his money, and took care of him.— When the boat stopped at a landing, the in valid professed a terrible desire for milk, and I legged Mike to go to u house hall a mile off and obtain some lor him. Mike demurred, saying that the boat would leave him. But the fellow made such piteous appeals to him, that he went, and the boat left him sure enough ; w hereupon the invalid, recovering suddenly, took possession of Mike’s trunk aud all Ids worldly jiossessions, except what be carried upon his back in Ids excursion after the milk. Mike went to work chopping wood till he got enough to bring him to Louisville, and, on arriving here, fouud, as he exacted. Unit his customer was unknown in these purls. Without a farthing about him, he went to shoveling iu the canal, ami the first dollar he made there was the one ho brought tons, lie toiled iu the mud till he made enough to take him to Cleveland on his way home, and there he met in the street the ehap that had swin dled him. The swindler ran like a deer, but Mike pursued him like a grayhouad, caught him, and thrashed him before any one could interfere. Mike was sent to jail for the as sault and battery, aud Ids victim was sent to the Penitentiary. lx#' It wii,< a proverb among the Greeks that a llattcfvr who lifts you up to the cloud* lias the same motives as the eagle when he raises the tortoise in the air, he wishes togaiu something by your fall. 6tfr It has been discovered that where per sons arc fed for some time on sausages exclu sively, they begin to growl.