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The Old House and Young Wife. t BT EACH \KL. Dr. Lawrence Bell had one grievous fault; ho would go to Boston every few months, i and be away from horn** a week. And some, how it was in In* absence old chronic diseases and rheumatic pains would clinch the tighter. But what took him 7 “Ah, there’* the roll.” Asa set-off to this public grief, however, Dr. Bell had many, very many virtues. He was kind to the poor. Tho needy had often cause to bloss the bounty of hi* hand. Where gor- 1 row and sickness were, there was he, southing the one and robbing the other of its pangs, ile was the good angel of many a heavy heart, un i I the feet of infam y grew lighter in iiis presence. Indeed, he was a very “darling of a man and it puzzled the wits of all to say, which !ov. td him most— the venerable matrons, or the j uinialilo young misses of his native town. His parents were long since dead: but the ! Doctor still lived in an ancient house ; a gloomy, dingy looking pile, both out and in. Its dormitories, with lights of seven by nine ; its massive doors of oak ; its low, broad ehim- i noys ; its flattened root scarcely Ls eon feet j from “rnothei eaith,'’ and other unmistakable I marks, evinced that it was;* house of the olden time—a puritan structure—a monument of oih- I er and more honest clays. And the doctor re ally lovud that homely, diugv house. The little village f W arose from its j breakfast table one morning and found itself in I commotion. What could it mean ! Why a ! painter was seen at work on that old building i of Dr. Lawrence Bell ; the carpets were ‘ stretched upon the garden palings, and the wai ting maid was dusting and washing and cleans ing every thing before her. Conjecture moonl - her swill winged steed, and flew from door to door ; and that most innocent o! all inuocen- ! cos, village gossip, flaunted by in her many colored robes, io ecstatic rapture. She knew all about it ; the Doctor was about to leave foi Boston, for the fortieth lime, and desired to have his cottage renovated whilst away, that he might avoid the annoyances which necessarily attend such an operation. Well, the Doctor went to Boston. A we**k i rolled by, so did a dainty little cairiage, and! reined up short at the Doctor’s house. Many j mi eye followed it until it stopped, eager to dis- | cover what it might contain. The blacksmith I poisej hi* hammer in his hand; matron and j maid crowded the windows ; the teamster hal- j ted hi* oxen ; the merchant left his counter, and ihe clerk his quill—till anxious to see what was to In* seen. The Doctor alighted, and the next thing presented was a neat little toot, in a glossy gaiter, pressing the step of that neat lit tle cairiage; then came a modest little hand, encased in a luscious little glove, of which the Doctor modestly took possession ; next a rose, colored bonnet, plumed, as gay as the bird of Paradise ; then a fashionable shawl, with as i many hues as a peacock’s tail ; and timiliy, half a web of satin, containing a woman ! True, the Doctor had thus unceremoniously taken himself a wife. And a very beauty she was, too, with roguish, big black eyes, and cherry lips, which, when parted, displayed two rows of teeth as while as Ceylon’s ivory. A shower of glossy ringlets deluged her snowy neck “And Diaii’n grace was in her step— Apollo’s music in hci voice.” Sho was in the very spiing of life, and never did the sun unfold a lovelier blossom. ‘ Our future home, my dear.’’ It was all the. Doctor s&id, as lie handed her into the little parlor of twelve by fourteen. Charlotte Bell was not thundv rstiuck, by any means; but slightlv be. wildored. She looked and probably leil like a newly caged canary bird. There weie the windows, with small ridged lights and uncouth gash. There were mirrors, but rarely long enough to reflect her pretty face, and not en cased ill gold at that. The drooping ceiling hung over her with an appalling l >wne.s, and a huge eight-day clock, as old as the •oldest in habitant,” standing alone in the corner, w ith a full moon above its face, was ticking the pulsa. lions of time as regularly as if no one w ere ex ecrating it at all. Weeks and months passed pleasantly by. The Doctor pursued the even tenor of nis way —healing the sick, and spreading the sun shine of gladness around the path of poveitv, Charlotte, who was accounted a belle in (he r hy', £ (, t along bravely in her new position. Her visitors were kindly treated, and her Ims. pita!itv was the theme of general praise. All I they could Sly about her was. that sho was a little proud— ju-t a little—and this was uttered or whispered, in strict confidence, to friends alone. The Doctor was a quiet man. If ho said lit. tie, ho thought a great deal —in the common parlance of the village—“he knew a thing or two. Charlotte was sly and cunning as a fox, the little rogue ; and heg/111 to hint to him some, thing a fine brick house, with tnarb'e front and folding doors ; crown glass windows and full length portraits; Brussels carpets and mahogany chairs; rosewood tables and yield, ing divans, et cxlcra, et crlcra. She served him with a dish of these in simple style at first, j but as the symptoms became more favrnable, increased the do>e, until tin* doctor f*!i himseif \ ready to cry pcccavi , and yield at discretion. I Weeks and months passed by, and poor Charlotte was beginning to despair of realiz- i ing her pleasant dreams. Site would look at j times a little sad at Dr. Bell. ’Tis even said tho Doctor once surprised her in a flood oft tears. But she was always kind and gentle,! and an ungenerous thought towards him were treason in her breast. She loved him with her ! voting heart’s best and purest love, and seenvd ; to live upon his smiles ; yet. when alone, she ‘ could not he'p contrasting the rough and un- [ seemly house in which she lived, with the state. ! Jy mansion of her father, in which she passed | her former yours. ‘•This won’t do,” thought Dr. Bell. “I m ist school that gentle heart ; for [ know the soil is there to grow the choice.#! flowers—(lowers! whose fragrance will cheer the dullest hours of} her life; add sweetness and adornment to her I toeing, and yield their rich perfumes wherever ; she may set her feet.” And the Doctor dtew on his second glove. There is a peculiarity in the climate of the old Bay State. A native can snuff the air, and though there be a cloudless sky, tell within an hour of the time of rain. It was a sober, gold, on afternoon in autumn. Stirred by the sultry breeze, the yellow leaf rustled in -melancholy e loqune*.” Edifjt ing gutts were sporting on I the hills, and the valleys sent up their plain tive murmurs to the ear. A thousand birds, of every hue and song, were chirping in the som bre woods. * Charlotte, slip on your bonnet, and go along with me this afternoon,” said Dr. Beli. And in thirty minutes they w ere jaunting slowly and pleasantly along the road. Now and then the clear am) silver laugh of Charlotte r-ng through the woods. The Doctor ••cracked j joke or two, and talked w ith a volubility which was rare to him. “How would you iike to live in such a house as that.” said he, pointing to a lowly hovel neti r the road. Charlotte cast a furtive glance in the diree ■ lion of the hut. and would have doubted that it , contained a human being, had she not seen the ! smoke issuing from its roof. | “Some miseral.de drunkard, or prowling ! thief. I flare say. makes that hi* home to screen him from the eyes of honest men,” said Char ! lotte in reply. “We’ll see,” thought Dr. Beli. And they travelled on. j An hour had not closed when the Doctor re : marked—“f perceive, my dear, we are to have a little rain, and mav be caught before we can ; reach home.” Charlotte looked back towards ! the west and discovered that the clouds were ; rushing’ wildly up the heavens. At this moment I a deafening peal of thunder startled her; the Doctor turned the head of the steed home wards. It was a sublime scene that presented ! itself to the trembling Charlotte. The ap ! preaching storm was in lid! view, and the i clouds, “marshaling t hern selves like bloody gi ; ants in the sky, were tossed to and fro by the storm brea'h of the Almighty.” The electric i fluid shot forth in livid flame, and tin* thunder shook the earth. The sobbing winds swept i furiously through the howling woods, and the leaves darkened the light of heaven. Then came a calm, and big drops of rain. The Doctor plied the lash; and before the stoim burst forth in its fury, he arrived at a little hut to which he had before called the attention of his wife. Here, as they alighted from the car i riage to seek shelter, the rain fell— “In sheeted flood-. That slanted not before the baffled winds— But with ;tn arrowy and unwavering rush, Dashed hissing earthwards.” j _ ° There, indeed, in that wretched hovel, were j objects of melancholy interest. Charlotte, who i was already drenched with rain and shivering j with cold, saw, instead of a bloated sot and cowering this, a care-worn mother, surroun ded by four trembling children, seated in the centre ot the loose floor, the only dry spot in that frail tenement. A little girl was repeat ing, in sweet and plaintive tones, our Lord’s j Prayer ; the heads of the others reclined upon 1 that mother’s lap. As she gazed upon their j devotions, her countenance betrayed that she | felt all of Nature’s dearest, tendered sympa thies for her little ones, and a saintly smile of Christian resignation beamed from her half tearful eyes. Charlotte stood for a moment in the door of that miserable looking sanctuary, unnoticed by the inmates, and at a single glance saw their painful destitution of the com forts of life. In one corner was a sad apology for a bed, close to which stood a plain, uncover ed stand, supporting a well thumbed Bible. Not a thread of carpet was to be seen. A half-quenched fire was struggling into life up. on the hearth ; an old and homely cupboard, without doors, exhibited a meagre account of knives, forks and dishes. Recognizing Dr. Bell, the window sprang towards him, and clasped his hand in hers with feelings akin to emotion. Char'otte was not a little astonished at such a reception ; but they were introduced —and the poor woman at once took her by the hand and led her to the chair which she had just left. “You are welcome, my dear madam, to such shelter as the God of the shelterless has provi ded for me. But you are cold —very cold.” and she laid her hand upon Charlotte’s shawl. “\e.—a little I am—but—” and it came j to Cha i lotie’s mind that the poor woman, too, j was cold ; with her plain and unseasonable j dress ; and it were cruel in her to complain in her presence. Charlotte looked her full in the face. Never had she seen such beams of ten derness. There was something heavenly in her eyes which awakened the most painful ad- ! miration. J lien, in the count nances of her ; children, there was a sweet sadness which j made her sick at heart. She asked of them ‘ their several names, and was promptly and mod. estly answered. Afier some time spent in bro- • ken conversation, the storm began to abate, j and it was not long till the clouds disappeared j from t he face of heaven. The Doctor stepped mit to prepare for leaving; and as if to seize the opportunity, the widow poured into Char lotte’s ear a strain of eloquent and enthusiastic praise of her husband, rapid and full of feeling, such as she had not expected to hear. “Good, kind creature,” she added, “he never permits me to thank him as I should. Oil !he is generous, indeed ; you know not how much j we owe him for the amount of happiness we j have in life.” ; i “By vvliat means, may I inquire, has he sc j cured so large a claim upon your gratitude.” j “Main—by his constant and untiring labors j j around the couch of my poor, dear husband ; j j by bis attention tn my most pressing wants, I ! when he breathed his last ; by his regular vis- j j its since his decease, and the consolation he j i has afforded from his words of kindness; by J the most substantial evidence of bis goodness ! of heart, in leaving me the means of suhsis j fence, from day to day, until I was able to pro- ! j vide for myself; by—” • i “No more, no more,” interrupted Charlotte— i j “how can you live in such a house as this?” ; -Oh, von know not how happy I ant here, i : with God and these dear little children*to live ! j for. lam taught in that blessed book to ‘beof j guoti cheer,’ and I know He is able to provide ! , |l,r mt * according to my wants. The very ! storms prepare my heart to enjoy the sweetness 1 of the calm that follows.” I his was a strange part of lha philosophy of ; living to Charlotte s mind. Sho became en grossed with what she had heard and seen. She felt that she was in the presence of it supe rior nature ; and that true excellence and re fined morality were not confined to marble halls. Thi Doctor's flowers were beginning to germinate. Just before leaving. Charlotte slipped half an j eagle into the widow's hand, and whispered— “von shall hear from me again.” They were soon on their way home —the Doctor studiously & § inr ca is ra sisshtdeoiil. avoiding any allusion to the scene they had just w itnessed, and Charlotte recalling to her mind everything that had occurred since they first set out. When he helped her from the carriage to her room, she was almost paralyzed with cold. The transposition was enchanting. There was a want) room, and a warm lire blazing cheerfully on the hearth. The win dows and mirror* looked larger than when she left them; the ceiling appeared higher; the carpet felt as soft and rich as any Brussels her I little foot ever pressed ; and even the (ace of 1 the old clock was transformed with pleasant , smiles. j A few days afterward, the doctor and Char i iotte were sitting together in their little parlor. I The winds were howling mournfully around the house, and a cheerful lire crackling on the j hearth. She felt she was surrounded with ev | ery conceivable comfort. “In the course ot ! the ensuing spring,” said Dr. Bell, “we will ‘ ! lay the foundation of anew house, my dear — ! what do you say to that 7” “I think, Doctor, the foundation lias been aboady laid,” nuswer i ed Charlotte, pressing her hand upon her heart, j and stniiing most bewitchingly on her delighted I husband, “our house is good enough ; and may i ! I never want a better one.” The Doctor's flowers were, in bloom, shedding an infant fresh- I ness about his heart. Maternal Courage. We have rarely, if ever, met with a more | striking example of maternal self-devotion, uni- j I ted with singular presence of mind, than is of- j I sered by the following circumstance, which oc- j | curred two or three weeks ago in the State of J New York. I hi* extracts which we give are | ’ made, as will be perceived, from a letter writ- : ten by the heroic mother herself to a friend a j ! few days alter the event narrated had occur -1 red : Mrs. , accompanied by her daughter, j j a young girl, about twelve years of age, and | ! some young children, with their nurses, went ! | to visit Cemetery. A favorite dog, natri | ed Carlo, was permitted to accompany them as j escort, and the little ones were amused with : his gambols as he ran and leaped by their side, j j On reaching the cemetery, Mrs. and her I daughter were a little in advance of the rest of: j the party. j “When suddenly we were arrested bv the j ! roost horrible yelps from Carlo, who came ‘ | plunging, writhing, foaming, furiously mad ! j : The dog took a circuit round, and as the shrieks j | went forth from and , ‘he is'! ! mad—he is mad !’ Jn the same, breath. { tore i j from my shoulders a large, heavy blanket. j | shawl, as my only defence. Carlo immediate- ! | ly ran for Mary, who was running with all the j speed possible. 1 shrieked—‘Mary, ’tis you j he pursues—turn quick as thought!’ At the ) same time, I kept nearly pace w ith the dog, j and as dear Mary turned, I enveloped him com- j pletely with my shawl, winding the corners;! (which 1 held in my hand for the purpose); closely around his neck. It was, of course, on- j | iy for one moment I could hold him, but every ‘ instant counted, and enabled Mary to change i her course, so that he was unable to pursue her in any direct line. But the. instant he escap. ed from me. he made directly for her again, a frothy foam issuing from his mouth, accompa nied by that earthly yelp. 1 lie others had made their escape from the : cemetery, and l was let! among the dead to con- i 1 tend with and protect my child against a raving ! • mad dog! Oh! who can imagine my feel- j i ings ! Calm and perfectly sell-possessed, 1 re. j ; mained, giving instructions unceasingly to Ma. I ry, who followed them quicker than given. All I the time the dog was at full speech save when \ I muffled him with the shawl. It was only by ! Mary’s making short turns and leaping upon ! palings, that I had an opportunity to wind i! j mound him at all. Several times he so nearly j reached her as to raise his paws to spring to j the spot she occupied, and each time, strength ! ! and thought was given me to cover him with ! ; the shawl and wind it around his neck. Thus ; sho escaped uutii aid was sent. Even that, I fear, would have been too late, had he not fa 11 - j on in a lit, front which he was never allowed to list*. H is head was severed front his body by the heavy blow ot an axe, given by a strong arm, while Mary stood directly over him upon | a high fence, whither he pursued her. “One week has past, and last night was the ; first time that I have been aliic to shut out from j my sight that furious dog, gnashing his jaws, : entering those liouid yelps, and foaming thick j froth from his mouth, and rushing after my j poor child. In the midst of the horrors of the scene, des cribee! with such simplicity and vividness, how ! touchingly sublime appeals a mother’s love. ! Again and again the mother offers her life in 1 sacrifice for that ol her child. Each time the ! shawl was thrown around the luriuus animal, j he might have turned upon that noble woman ; and made her his victim, yet still she perjever j ed, and God in mercy made her the instrument j oi saving the lib* ot her beloved daughier. j. One word on the remarkable presence of j mind here displayed. It is invaluable in the ! j hour of danger, and who knows when that j hour may be at hand? The timid and • irreso. j lute are in imminent peril themselves, and on j tirely useless to others—while thoso who have j learned to maintain a control over their thoughts, | and to preserve presence of mind, are often ; , made the happy- instruments of saving those j “ horn we love from danger and from death. [Christian Chronicle. Lola Monies —The indomitable spirit of this sin- 1 I gular woman is well exhibited by an incident which l took place tn Boland in 1815. It seems that she! I was fulfilling an engagement as a dancer in the then- j j tre at Warsaw, when the Russian minister of police ! j became captivated with her, and pertinaciously fob ! j lowed her with overtures, hacked by costly presents j and devoted attention ; but either from caprice or. ! principle, the charming Lola treated him with per- i j lect disdain. The nobleman, Russian-like, became exasperated,; j and set about revenging himself. For this purpose ; be engaged a mob, at so much a head, to hiss the dancer, and poor Lola, at her next appearance, in stead of the usual greeting of wreaths and boquets, received nothing but insult. She paused upon the stage, and waited for the confusion to subside, in stead of which it was redoubled. Then the spirited woman took her resolution at once; she marched with a haughty step down to the loot-lights, raised her voice, and 1 elated the whole story of her perse cution by the minister of police—thus bravingthe re newed anger of that functionary, who iiad the power to throw her into prison, and the body of sifjluers in bis pay, who thronged the house ; nevertheless, she 1 succeeded in causing a reaction, and the audience I gave her three cheers. The minister of police dared go no further, though lie would gladly have sent her to Siberia. —Message Bird. Gen. and Madame Santa Anna. —Extract [ trom a letter by Dr. Foote, in the Buffalo “Com mercial Advertiser,” dated Jamaica, December,! 1849 : Ihe handsomest house, externally, I have seen in Kingston, or its environs, and the most like a gentleman’s mansion within, according to Northern notions, is the one occupied by (Jen. Santa Anna, about two miles out of town, on a road atfuruing a charming drive. I saw it and its occupant, by accident, last Sunday evening. I was riding with the Attorney General of the Island, to whom 1 am greatly indebted for his i kind and courteous attention, when, as we drew i near a house of good size and style, surrounded by grounds nicely kept, lie asked me if I knew Santa Anna. On my replying in the negative, he inquired if I would like to see him, and almost without waiting for an answer, turned in tlfe open gate way and up the broad carriage road to the door. On alighting, we were ushered into a large drawing-room, neatly furnished, and in a i lew moments Santa Anna, accompanied by his wife and daughter, joined us. i was disappoint- ; ed in his appearance. He is taller and stouter than 1 had supposed, and there is much grace, ; and even dignity in his carriage. llis manner ; was bland and courteous, but grave. Our inter coru.se was confined to the merest common-pla- ; ces, for he had but little English, and 1 less j Spanish at command. I | Madame Santa Anna, of whose beauty I had | often hoard, is worthy all the encomiums she | has received. Her figure is exquisitely molded, • | plump to the extremest point, consistent with perfect health, graces of motion and symmetry. I Her complexion is of the cool, opaque white, | peculiar, I believe, to the thorough bred Spanish ; women. It her eyes, which are black and j sparkling, were a trifle larger, and relieved by a : slightly increased depth of shade, so as to cor- ! respond more strictly to the classical outline of her head and face, she would he one of the most | beautiful women I have seen. She speaks En glish very well, and her manner is exceedingly I lady-like, frank and gracious. Singular Reappearance. —Jonathan Hunt, Esq., whose mysterious disappearance about two 1 years since is probably in the recollection of ma j ny of our readers, has at length been seen in Eng j land. The idea was generally entertained that ; he had been drowned. He possessed a large fortune, which, after all hope of his recovery had been given up, wis ; regularly administered upon. Within a month I past he was seen in Liverpool, by a'gentleman j of this city who had formerly known him well, i : and who had lodged at the same house with him,* j in this neighborhood. The gentleman recognized him immediately ! land had a long conversation with him. Mr. j | Hunt said he had passed two years in travelling! ; through different countries in Europe. [N. Y. Sat. Eve Post. ! To \ounc; Ladies.—[ have found that the men who are really the most fond of the socie ty ot t lie ladies, who cheiish for them a high respect, are seldom the most popular with the sox. Men of great assurance, whose tongues are highly hung, who make words supply the place of ideas, and place compliment in the room of sentiment, are the favorites. A due respect for women leads to respectful action to wards (hem; and respectful is usually distant action, and this great distance is mistaken by them for neglect or want of interest. Addison. Not out yet.— The New \ork Knickerbocker tells the following good one :--"Havc you,” said an inquir ing-minded and slightly worldly gentleman recently, ton bookse'ler in Broadway, “have you Christ's Ser mon on the mount?” “Christ's Sermon on the Mount?” exclaimed the bookseller, with not a little surprise. ‘ Yes,” said the other; “it was mentioned yesterday in a very charming discourse at our chnrch'as an ad mirable thing ; hut perhaps it i.-n’t out yet !” The anxiom; inquirer was not corrected, out was permit ted to go iiis way—“lor he had great possessions.” A No vet. Marriage. —A newly appointed magis trate in Habersham county, was lately called on tn join a couple in the holy bonds of wedlock. Not having received his copy of the “Georgia Justice” and never having performed the interestinir ceremony before, ho was at a loss how to proceed. At length be hit upon a plan. Making ilie paities hold up their hands, he said : i “You and each of you do solemnly swear that you j j will perform the offices and duties ot husband and j , wife, to the best of your skill and ability, so help you j 1 God.' 1 We really like the ceremony more than the! | long and foolish flummery practiced at weddings ‘ j commonly. | Golden Piiosi*errs of Col. Fremont.— : The last Philadelphia IVmrs contains a letter i from Washington, which says: Letters have been received by Mr. Benton from Col. Fremont, in which the indefatigable explorator states, that upon a piece of ground purchased by him, near the bay of San Francis, co, a gold mine has been discovered, which in ; magnitude and wealth exceeds any thing of the j kind ever found in California. It is not a placer. ! but natural mine, in which the virgin mineral is j concealed in ail its purity, without being diffused j by volcanic action throughout whole acres, and | lost in the sands of the surface. Godey, Pretiss, and many others of his early associates, whom he took with him on his tour thither, are the ■ conductors of I lie mine, and are now according ; to these letters, rolling in affluence, and wield a moneyed influence more potent than the welthi ! est of our Atlantic nabobs. May their shadows never grow less, nor their pipes, of which they j severally were so passionately fond, ever cease I to curl with the smokes of comfort and content ment.—JV. O. Com. Bulletin. Later information, we understand, has greatly ; ; lessened the value and richness of this mine, and ; ; again proved the adage, that “all is not gold that | glitters.” j Consols. —The following from the N. York j Commercial, explains the meaning of this word, j j which we venture to say is not known to all 1 | our readers : “Consol is only an abbreviation of Uie word ‘consolidated.’ At various times the British Government has borrowed divers sums of mo ney, payable at different dates and bearing dif ferent rates of interest. Occasionally the stocks issued, as evidences of these various debts, have been taken up or called in, and ! anew slock issued in their stead, payable at one fixed time and bearing one fixed rate of I interest. Such a stock is called a consolida ted stock or ‘consol’ ; and to distinguish it from others, the rate of interest it bears is gener- ‘ ally mentioned ; thus we read of three per cent, consols, dre. die.” (£r The colored population of Philadelphia is j estimated at 42,000. They are generally in a ’ most depraved condition. 03* “We should be cautious,” says Coleridge, “how we indulge in the feelings of a virtuous in-; dignation. It is the handsome brother of anger j ant! hatred.” 0C?“ An observant editor “down south says : “The march of civilization is onward —on- ward —like the slow but intrepid tread of a donkey towards a peck of oats.” - Tiie Deer Hunt. —Hoflman and Cowan, both of whom were good shots and great boast ers, went out deer hunting, and after getting in to the woods where they expected to find deer, they separated. Shortly afterwards 7/offman heard the report of Cowan’s gun, and irnmedi. ately rejoined his comrade, expecting to assist him in cutting up a deer. He found Cowan intent upon loading the gun and shouted out— ‘Halloo, Cowan, what did you shoot at ?’ ‘lt’s none of your business, Hoffman ; go on over the hi!!.’ 7/ofiinan was surprised at this short answer, and on looking around discovered a calf among the bushes, when he again sang out— *l say. Cowan, did you shoot at that calf? ‘Y es I did—is that any business of yours.’ ‘Of course not, but what made you shoot at : it V ‘YY hy I took it for a deer.’ ‘Well, did you hit it ?’ | ‘No, I missed it.’ “How came you to miss it ?’ ‘Why, 1 wasn’t sure but what it was a calf.’ ‘YY ell,’ says //ofi’man, ‘you are a pretty hunt er to shoot a calf fora deer and then miss it.’ ‘Look here, Hoffman,’ said Cowan, losing his temper, ‘I say, don’t make a blamed fool of yourself; I shot at it so as to hit it if it was a deer, and to miss it if it was a calf.’ Woman is the salt of the earth. If you doubt it, think of “Lot’s wife.” “Swipes, if I were in your place, I’d go and hang myself.” “So would I, Snarl, if I were as big a fool I as you are.” “A fellow out YY’est, who was recently elect- j j ed to the Indiana Legislature from Wayne ! county, was so elated at his success, that he caught himself by the seat of the trowsers and : tried to hold himself out at arm’s length, ft is added in a postscript that he would have accom plished the leat, if he hadn’t let go to spit on his hands. “Digby, will you have some of this butter?” “Thank you,n>arm,l can’t take anything strong, i belong to the Temperance Society.” Why did the French depose Louis I’hillippe ? Because his offence was rank. How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is, to ! have a thankless child ! (KT “Ah. John, my uncle has been to New York, and your’n haiut.” “YY ell, what of that ?” said John ; “my un- 1 cle has been in jail, and your’u liaint.” An Irish Bull. —“ Good mornin, Mrs. M ’ Laugh! in.’^ “The top o’ the mornin’ to you, Mrs. Mur phy.” “And how is Jimmy this fine mornin, Mrs. M’Langhlin ?” “Shine Jimmy’s dead, Mrs. Murphy.” “What did he die of, Mrs. M’Laughlin?” “Shine he died of a Tuesday.” j A Frenchman, who was exhibiting some sa ; cred relics and other curiosities, produced, ; among other things, a sword, which he assured his visitors was “De sword dat Balaam had ’ when he would kill de ass.” A spectator re marked that Balaam had no sword, but only I wished for one.- “Ver well, dis is de one he | wished foi.” OO” “Is this your cr.lt, sir ?” said one of our ■ butchers in search of veal, to a boy who was j tending some cattle in front of the City Z/nll. ! j “No, it ’sn t,” said the bov. “Well, who owns jit?” inquired the butcher. “I don’t know,” j replied the boy, “but I kinder reckon it be : longs to that old cuw over yonder, without I horns.” (D’Bnofmakers have great faith in thrir shoe lentli j er. A tight pair ol boots was never tried on yet hut j what, the suffering martyr was assured “that, it would i he all right in a day or two—the leather would he I sere to stretch. But while the leather is coolly stretch j ing itself, you are sowing the seeds of a plentiful j ’ corn crop, which when gatlierd in, may be measured out as follows: CORN MEASURE. 1 Corn makes One Limp and Bluster. 1 Bluster makes One Quarrel. 1 Quarrel makes One Kick. ] Kick makes One Sleep in the Station-house. ] Night in the Station-house makes One look fool-j ish in the Newspapers tiie next morning. [Punch. Irish Wit. —One of our eminent lawyers, of Irish descent, was engaged some time since to defend an Irishman who had been charged with theft. Assuming the prerogative of Lis position, the counsel, in a private interview with his cli j cut. said to him— “ Now, Patrick, as I am to defend you, I want you to tell me frankly whether you are guilty or 1 not. Did you steal the goods ?” i “Faith, then,” says Put, “ I s’pose I must tell yez. In troth, I did stale ’em.” “Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself,, j to come here and disgrace your country by steal-! ; ing,” said the honest counsel. “In troth. Mr. B . maybe I ought, but then, if I didn't stale, you wouldn't have the hon j or and credit of getting me off, d’ye sec.” Consolation. —A friend, lately married, but | fairly out of the sweet month, came to Mr. Snooks, and with a sorrowful countenance said —“Snooks, I’m the most unfortunate wretch liv. ing. The fact is, I have married a look” “Ah,” replied Snooks, with a look of commiseration, “but. never mind it, my dear fellow—that calam ity does not excite my compassion so much as a previous one of yours.’’ “ Why, what was that ?” “ That you were born one.” Snooks then quietly took up the last number of the Copperfield, which he had laid down, and his married friend seemed as if anew thought had ; struck him. — Chronolype. Cross Readings. — A droll fellow, being re. quested by an old lady to read the newspaper, took it up and read as follows : “Last night, yesterday morning, about two! o’clock in the afternoon, before breakfast, a hun- j gry boy, about forty years old, bought a sip cus- j tard for a levy, and threw it through a brick wall nine feel thick, and jumped over it and broke his 1 ankle t ight off above his knee, and fell into a dry mill pond and was drowned. About forty years after that, on the same day, an old cat had nine turkey gobblers, the wind blew Yankee j Doodle into a frying-pan, and knocked the old Dutch churn clown, and killed a sow and two dead pig3 at Costing, where a deaf and dumb! man was talking French to his aunt Peter !” The old lady raised up both her hands and j exclaimed —“ Du tell!” The Cultivation of Sugar in South western Georgia. —The Albany Patriot of the 25th instant, says : “Judging from the pres, ent appearances, this section will, within a few years, produce a considerable amount of sugar for exportation. A. E. Lawton, Esq. an intelligent planter, has just returned from Louisiana, where he has been, to observe the various processes ofculti. vating and manufacturing sugar, and to exam, ine the character and quality of the land for agricultural purposes. In a recent conversation with Mr. Lawton, he gave us the following in : formation : He visited many of the sugar ami cotton plan. ; tations on the Mississippi and Rod Rivers, and he describes the land as unsurpassed in natural : fertility, but subject to so many casualties as to more than balance this advantnngc. After a ’ thorough investigation of the advantages and disadvantages, he decidedly prefers the choice ! pine land which he is now cultivating near this ; place, for the production of either cotton or I sugar, to the far-famed lands of Louisiana. The advantages of the planter here, are, that the country is much more healthy, crops are more certain, land is cheaper, and on an aver age of five or ten years, they will yield more I than the Louisiana lands. Besides the cotton crop, Mr. Lawton culti : rated about 10 acres in sugar the past year.— He procured an iion mill, similar in construc tion to the steam mills used for grinding cane, with which, operated by three mules, lie can make a barrel of sugar per hour. Tho cost of the mill put up was only two hundred dollars. ! The yield, from the part of the crop which ho manufactured, was -384 50 per acre. This j year Mr. Lawton is planting over sixty acres of jcane. Mr. Lawton says he prefers making sugar here at five cents per pound, to cotton at ten cents, and he considers this tho best cotton . country in the world.” Reckii'T* for Curing Bkkf and Fork.—• There being so many applications tor our cele. brated receipt for curing beef and pork, that we think it will be best subserving the wishes of all, by again republishing it : ‘To one gallon of water, take one and a half pounds salt, half pound sugar, and half ounce salt petre. In this ratio the pickle to he increased to any quantity desired. Let these be boiled together until all the dirt from the salt and sugar, (which will not bo a little.) riss to the top and is skimmed off.— Then tlimw it into a tub to cool, and when per fectly cool, pour it over your beef or pork, to remain the usual time, say four to six weeks, according to the size of the pieces. The meat must be well covered with the pickle, and should not be put down (in at least two days after killing, during which lime it should be slightly sprinkled with powdered saltpetre. Several of our friends have not boiled tho pickle, and found it to answer well. [ Telegraph. I Pork—Use of Charcoal.— We alluded the other ! day t> the heavy loss of pork sustained bv the people in every part ol the State, in consequence of the wr ; tlier. We would suggest to such persons as this pa ; per may reach in time, that the free use of charcoal upon meat which has been tainted has succeeded in many instances in restoring it. So at least we learn ; ! and as charcoal is so powerful an antiseptic, as to be : “ed with success, very often, in arresting incipient i mortification, we have no doubt it is to a certain extent ; true. Our friends, at any rate, can lose nothin” by I trying the experiment.-- -Richmond Whig. j Charcoal slmfild be recently burned and pulverized j helore it is applied tu meat lor the purpose above indi ; rated. Bach piece oi meat should he covered on all j *idos by coal dust at least a half inch in thickness ; I in which case it will absorb all offensive gases and smell.— .1 ugusi a, Son/inct. bn ii Buckwheat Lakes.— i’ako two pints of tresh buckwheat flour and a half a p : nt of sifted corn meal, mix with milk to a thin hatter and add one ta bic-spoonful of brewer’s yeast, or an equivalent of other yeast. L?ave the whole in a stone jar, in a warm place, to rise over night. In the morning. add a teaspoon!.ii of saleratus dissolved in a teaspJonful of iiot water,and then bake immediately. California Gold at the Mint.-—The amount of California gold received at the Mint in Philadelphia during the year 1849, was §0.375.616; in the New Orleans Mint. §,16,000. The gold coinage t the Mint in Philadelphia city for the vrar, was §7,918,- 33-2 ; silver coinage, §922,950 ; copper, $41,934 ; to tal, §3.913 256. The first California gold sent to the Mint, was in Dec., 1818,by Mr. Carter, of Boston. Slave Stealing. —The Athens Banner of the 3d i tnsj- says that an attempt was made in that place on j I •'klay night last, by a man by the name of Kellogg, a dentist by profession, to entice and carry a wav a negro man belonging to Thomas Hancock. Kellogg was, we understand, arrested in the act and committed to the county jail the same night. Brutal. —ln a difficulty, near Atlanta, in i Georgia, between a Mr. Fannin and liis son in-law, Mr. Godfrey, about some slaves, a fight : ensued and the wife of Mr, G., in attempting Ito separate the parties, received a stab from | her father which caused her death some two daj s afterwards. Mrs. Godfrey at the time* I “as some eight mouths in pregnancy. Fannin j must have been drunk, cither with liquor or passion, for none but a monster could commit j such a deed when sober. A Goon Hit.—The editor of the Portland j Umpire says, and we agree with him, that | ••there is not a more sickening fight under heaven, than a large, fat, lazy young man, dressed in the best of broadcloth, dependent for 1 support on an aged mother, who is obliged t<x i take in washing to suppoit him in his folly and exti avagancc.” The Honest Fak.uek.— Two farmers havings dispute as to some land, an action at law was com menced to determne it. On the day fixed for the i trial, one of them called on his opponent to accompa ny him to the court, that each might give his own ‘statement of the case. Finding his neighbor at I work in the field, he said to him, “is it possible yon have forgotten our cause is to be decided to day ?’* | “No,” said the other, “I have not forgotten it, but I | cannot well spare time to go. You “will be there and J know you are an honest man, and will state the* case fairly, and justice will be done.” And so it proved ; for the farmer who went to the Judge stated his neighbor’s claims so clearly, that the cause was decided against himself, and he returned to inform his opponent that ho had gained the property. Much a character is worth more than the wealth of the Indies. O’Mhs. Partington, the Boston Pgst’e famous and amusing ‘‘perverter’’ of facts and language, has gone abroad, it seems. The following is the latest from her: *‘A correspondent writes ue that he encountered Mrs. Partington on the Rhine, who informed him that she had been up to learn the price of putty from the Swiss glaziers, and was then on her way to find out what made the Dutch madder, hoping it wouldn’t come to extremities. She had been disap pointed while in Rome, at not getting a sight of any of the pope’s bulls, hide nor horns.”