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Volcano weekly ledger. (Volcano, Amador County, Cal.) 1855-1857, December 08, 1855, Image 1

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn93051027/1855-12-08/ed-1/seq-1/

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tljcltolcano iUccklij t'ctigcv,
i rrnusnim kvert satvkhav. bv
j_ sj.rimiisb. _ _ "■ BAixoßßmtr-n.
Tor m s;
in* Vfnr. in advance •* JJJJ
ix Mentha, 5
■hree Month*, . 2 00
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.
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.
■ 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.
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.
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
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
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
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 !"
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
" 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.
(('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
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
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
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
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
“ 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
“ 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
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
“ Well, if I wished to go to Vernon?”
"Go to Napoleon, and take the road south
"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
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
"Well, my dear sir; I don’t know of any
shorter road vou could take than go to Napo
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
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
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
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
Balance of safety still in favor of old Bul
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.

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