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THE POET’S CORNER.
From the Knicker Locker Jor November.
CcflVc.
BY SII3S MARY 1.. LAWSON.
All sing the praise of ruby wine
Through crystal gol.lt ts flowing,
And murmur of the purple vine
’Neath endless summer glowing;
llow well it charms, the heart it warms,
The soul in sunshine sleeping,
As beauty, mirth, and hope's bright truth
Lay chained within its keeping.
But wherefore gild the tempting draught,
Wliieh stains the lip that praises ?
A nectar far more pure and sweet
The wearied spirit raises :
’Twill tinge with light care’s darkest night,
Like some divine libation ;
J.y tills the eye and hearts beat high
He death its inspiration.
ll ripples through the silver spout,
In clear transparent china,
Brought freshly from the sparkling health
By Phillis or by Dinah. -
llovv rich the scent when softly blent
With cream, rich, thick and yellow,
Whoso currents glide in mingled tide
Its pungent strength to mellow 1
It stirs the flash of soul and 3etise,
Till wit and converse mingle ;
for mind's best rays, the sorrow’s waves,
Ne’er rush to meet us single:
Height fancies strike on minds alike,
That fade i*rt with the fleeting,
p'or words that thrill grow deeper still
When glance with glance is meeting.
[t wakes within the melting soul
Time's lost or buried pleasures,
Old friends old books, old songs, old joys,
And all life’s garnered treasures,
Bereft of pain, ‘twill softly gain
Old Memoiy’s haunted places,
While o’er us rise, in angel guise,
Soft iiniles oc vai‘ule.i Lees.
As one by one our guests depart,
Left with remembrance only,
IVe scarcely sigh that time flits by,
And leaves us sad and lonely ;
Hope’s morning breaks, and joy awakes,
Life’s gloomy page to brighten,
As on our quiet silent hearth
The dying embers lighten.
Then on the pillow softly sinks
The head with visions teeming.
And many an eastern pageant floats
Before our gorgeous dreaming;
To sec- life pass in fancy’s glass,
With moonlight radiance beaming,
Jt seeks the breast divinely blest
Through misty Mocha gleaming,
There’s no such word as Fall.
‘excelsior.’
\From the November number of the Literary and
Dramatic Society's Magazine.]
110 ! toiler of the moody brow !
110 ! youth of downcast eye!
W by should st thou talk of sinking now,
Why heave that bitter sigh ?
Come, coin thy thoughts iu Hope’s bright mould,
And light that cheek so pale ;
l or youths like thee, so young and bold,
There’s no such word as fail!
Art crossed in love ? Let beauty frown ;
Turn thou to surer game ;
Turn to the virtuous deed’s renown,
And earn a deathless name,
Turn to the works of godlike men;
Hoist up a daring sail;
And if thou stumblest, try again
There’s no such word as fail!
The Spanish voyager crossed the sea
To seek another world ;
And, sickening in despondency,
IBs weary sails he furled.
But, taking heart, he wended on,
Till land-birds filled the gale ;
Columbus saw bis work was done—
There’s no such word as fail J
I housands who rose from want and gloom
Are now in grandeur laid,
With storied marbles o’er their tomb,
In many a minster’s shade ;
While noble youths, with bended head,
Tliiuk, as the brow they veil,
And learn the glories of the dead—
There’s no such word as fail!
x\nd thou, oh, youth of moody look,
Cheer up thy sinking heart!
Try anew leaf in life’s worn book,
Con o’er a better part.
A mocking devil bids thee fear,
But turn and cry—all hail !
And shout into his aching ear—
l here's no such word as fail!
MISCEtiIASy.
From the Student.
Being Somebody.
BY ELIZA A. CHASE.
‘Come, William, you will go with us this
afternoon,’ said James Grey to his cousin.
‘No, James; and I have already given you
my reasons for refusing,’ was the reply.
‘A tig for such reasons! You can’t afford
the time ! Why, man—or boy, rather, for you
will never be a man—what is one afternoon,
tluit you are so afraid of spending it?’
‘Much, very much, James. I have u difficult
plan almost completed, ai;d wish to finish it
while the idea is fresh in my mind.’
•That everlasting [ilea again. Some old ma
chinery, enough to puzzle tlie brain of Archim
edes himself. Are you going to invent per
petual motion? I do declare, William Grey,
you are enough to provoke the patience ot a
saint. Forever moping over plans, diagrams,
and models, and heathenish machinery, that
would make one think your room a pagan
temple. I expect you will apply for a patent
for an improvement in the car of Juggernaut.
Hut it is of no use to talk to you, for you are
‘joined to your idols.’
‘I would try to be somebody,’ he pettishly
continued, as he turned towaid the door.
‘Would you, James?’ was the quiet reply of
William. ‘Well, lam trying to be somebody.’
‘You take a strange way tor it though Here
you are shut up iu this di>inal room, night
after night, never enjoying a baiinless trick
with the rest of us, or giving yourself any of
the indulgences that make life pleasant. Even
a holiday makes no difference with you. One
would think you love the very sight ot the tools
and workshop, for you have she in forever with
you.’
‘Don’t get excited, James,’ said William,
smiling. ‘Come, be serious now’ Do 1 ne
glect any of my duties? Do I not perform as
much labor and succeed as well in my tiade
as any of you ? Ai das for ei j ymeiH, no one
loves pleasure better than 1 do. I should en
joy a sail wi h you this aft* rnoon very much,
but 1 can not indulge mvself, lor my moans ot
improvement are limited, and but little ot my
time can I call my own.
‘James, we are machinists, causing gross,
material substances to assume shapes ot beauty
and fitness, under the mysterious supremacy
of our wills. Some ca l this a low, a common
business, a mechanical operation, but it is not
so. There is a mental power to which matter
must bow, and there is nothing higher than to
elevate and ennoble o ir conceptions, so as to
make this plastic matter subservient to the best
interests oi man, It is thus improvements are
made. First, the ideal, ttren tle corresponding
outward form. Now, in my mind there is
shad- wed forth, though dimly ’
‘Save me from such learned aflictions,’ ex
claimed James. ‘I have no taste for what 1
can not understand. M ell, W illiam, be a
dreamer if you please, I am fbr active life and
its p’easures. Hurrah for our sail, and good
by to the seccoml Fulton ! ’
‘Poor James! A mere hewer of wool and
drawer of water,’ said William, as he closed the
door and resumed his employment.
‘Where’s Will ? cried several voices, as James
joined his comrades in the street.
‘Ob, in bis room, of course, calculating how
much beetle power it will take to draw an acorn
up an ant hill.’
‘Couldn’t you prevail on him to come ? lie
is one of the best rowers we have.’
‘Prevail oil him ! No, you might as well
try to prevail on an oyster to leave his shell!
1 was really vexed with him. and gave a short
piece of my mind. 1 tiAl him. at length. 1
would try to be somebody,’ said James, light
ing his cigar and twilling his cane alter the
most approved fashion.
‘Good ! 1 said Hairy Gilbert, ‘I am g'ad you
showed vour spirit. William is a good-hearted
fellow’, it he is so full of oddities, and it may
perhaps start him from his burrow. Hut what
did he say ? ’
•Oh, after arguing the matter awhile he went
off into a learned dissertation, in the midst of
which 1 made my escape. Ilis ‘conceptions
and ‘ideals’ were too much for me. He never
will be anv body in the world, that s the long
and short of it.’
James and William Grey were cousins, and
were both apprentices in a machine shop, where
various kinds of machinery were made. James,
as may be inferred by the forgoing conversa
tion, looked upon his employment as a neces
sary evil. To him it was mere manual labor,
a given number ot blows, a requisite degree of
heat, a certain expenditure of strength, in a
word, it was toil in its most literal sense.
William, on the contrary, viewed it with the
eve <f an aitist. There was not merely the
tough iron to be moulded and formed into
some uncared-for machine, but. as he bad told
James, a plastic materiel, assuming beauty b\
the will of man He studied, therefore, not only
the mechanical part ot his trade, but his invent
ive genius was excited. Curiosity led him t<>
examine the uses and peculiar adaption ot the
machinery he made, till at length his active
mind suggested various improvements.
All his leisure time was employed in the con
struction of models, and his room might have
been taken fora miniature patent-office. The
last year of his apprenticeship was nearly at its
close, and William had not only improved, but
had invented several really useful designs.
Looking over a paper one day, he read an
offer of a prize of a thousand dollars for the
best model for a peculiar kind of machinery to
be used in a cotton factory.
‘Why should 1 not try V said William.
He understood what was wanted, and, day
after day did he study intensely on the subject.
At length he grasped the idea, and it was the
model of this upon which he was at work when
James urged him to join the sailing paity.
Late at night his cousin returned, weary
with pleasure, and found him sitting at the ta
ble, a sealed package before him, his cheeks
flushed, an unusual brightness in his eye. and a
peculiar expression on his countenance.
About a week after this, a gentleman knock
ed at the door. It was opened by James, who
was then alone
‘l wish to see Mr. Grey,’ said the stranger,
glancing wilh a smile at the peculiar decora
tions of the room.
‘My name is Grey,’ returned James, placing
a chair for the guest.
‘Allow me to congratulate you on your suc
cess, Mr, Grey,’ said the gentleman, pointing
to a counterpart of the model which stood upon
the table. . f
‘Mv success ! Ido not understand you, sir,
said James.
‘Are you not Mr. Grey, the inventor of this
delicate and important machinery <’
‘I am Mr. Grey, but I am not an inventor of
anything,’ returned James, somewhat bitterly.
MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JANUARY 22, 1853.
‘lleie is the fortunate person, my cousin, Wil
liam Grey,’ he continued, as William entered.
‘I rejoice in your success, young man,’’ said
the stranger to William. A our plan has met
the entire approbation of the committee, of
which 1 am < tie. My name is Wilson, and 1
am authorized to pay you the thousand dol
lars, and also to advance y< u auoher thousand
on condition that you superintend the erection
ot the woiks to be esiabhshed.’
William was astonished, overwhelmed, and
after expressing his thanks, added’ ‘1 am yet an
apprentice, and my time will not expire within
some three months. After that 1 will accept
your offer, if you will wait lill then.’
‘An apprentice! ’ said Mr. Wilson, ‘llow
then, let me ask you, hu'e you obtained such
a knowledge of mechanics ? ’
‘By saving my leisure moim-nts, joined to a
love of my business as involving some of the
best interests of man.’
Six months from that time I saw W'llliam in
a responsible office, with a high salary, and the
patentee of several ust-fui inventions, while
James was a journeyman laborer with twenty
five dollars a month.
‘Well, James,’ said Harry Gilbert, a short
time after, ‘William is somebody after all.’
‘Yes,’ returned James, 1 think we judged
him wrongly, once. 1 would give all I have iu
the world to live over my apprentice life. These
leisure moments are what make the man afier
all, Harry ! ’
My Scissors.
BY FRANCIS DANA GAGE.
‘Good morning, Mrs. Wicks; hope I see
you well this morning.’
‘Well, yes, pretty well, all but my hands.’
‘Your hands! What’s the matter with
your hands; not been scalding them, I hope ?’
‘No, worse than that, 1 have got them all
bhstered up, trying to cut out the children’s fall
clothes with my oid scissors; I’ve had ’em these
ten years, and they are just as dull as a hoe,
and every time 1 cut a roundabout, shirt, or
pair of pants, 1 have just such a time of it. —
Susan W iilard is sewing for me now, and 1
wanted to get my cutting done while my hand
was in, so 1 just wanted to see if you would
not lend me your nice large tailor shears, a day
or two, for I wont do another thing with mine
for a week to come.’
‘Really, Mrs. \\ ieks, I would like to accom
modate you, but 1 am very busy with mine
just now, and could not possibly spare them
w ithout great inconvenience.’
‘Well, I don’t know what I’ll do, I can’t cut
out any more with mine, and Susan has only
two weeks to stay. Do you know of any one
that has a good pair ?’
‘No, Ido not. Would it not be better for
you t<* purchase a new pair t I eoukl hardly
get along without mine for a single day, with
out feeling the want of them.’
‘What did ypur* cost 1
‘Two dollars and a half-—goodness! Mr.
Wicks would no more let me have money to
buy such a pair of scissors than he’d fly.’
‘Oh, I think you are mistaken, I have al
ways thought Mr. Weeks very indulgent.’
‘There’s where you are altogether mistaken.
I hardly ever ask him for money, but what he
says something to hurt my feelings,and I often
do without things 1 really need, rather than
have any words Why, ves, to-day, I asked
him for money to get my fall trimmings for
my bonnet and Rosina’s, and it was all I could
do to get it out of him— ’
‘Only five dollars; it would cost ten you
know to get us both new ones. I thought he
need not have complained at fixing up the old
ones.’
’And you have the five dollars in your pos
session— ’
‘Yes, and we thought we would get trim
mings at Grant’s. That beautiful royal purple
with the orange edge, its a love of a ribbon,
and so cheap, only seventy-five cents a yard.’
‘My dear Mrs. Wicks, let me give you anew
idea. M ould your husband complain if you
should trim your bonnets with ribbon worth
half that sum, and appropriate the balance to
the purchase of a good pair of scissors ?’
‘No, of course he would not; but who, I’d
like to know, is going to make themselves the
tow n talk for the sakeof gratifying a husband’s
w hims V
‘Do it to gratify yourself, to add to your own
comfort. My bonnet trimmings and all will
not cost me over one dollar and a half, and I
don’t believe the town will trouble itself one
bit about it. Town-talk or no talk, you may
be sure I’ll never run about with iny fingers in
rags while I can save the price of a pair of
scissors in one bonnet trimming. Now don’t
be offended, Mrs. Wicks : 1 know you can’t
get along any other wav than just as you do ;
but if you will only make the effort to econo
mise in your items of dress, Ac. you will soon
find yourself amply provided with all these lit
tle household conveniences, w hich you seem so
much to want, and my word for it, your hus
band will not make half the objection to fur
nishing money for usefuls than he now does for
the purchasing of non essentials.’
‘Now there is neighbor Pennyman’s wife,
flourishing in a fifteen dollar crape shaw l, but
her girl complains that she has to borrow wash
tubs, weekly, and that Mrs. P. says that it is all
Mr. IVnnyman’s fault.’
‘Why, Mrs. Smith, I thought you were a
Woman’s Rights’ w-oman.’
‘And so I am; but I assure you I am no ad
vocate for woman’s injustice and folly, and
while 1 feel that the law of the land, in com
mon justice, greatly oppresses woman, I also
feel that she oftentimes greatly oppresses her
self, and lays heavier burdens upon her own
heart than she herself is willing to bear, and to
excuse her own weakness of purpose, her own
foolish love of display, lays all the blame upon
her husband, who would willingly indulge every
reasonable desire, and only frowns when ungen
erous demands are made upon his means.’
‘Well, 1 don’t know, Mr. Wicks seems more
willing to give me money for dress than any
thing else.’
‘ls not that because he does not feel at liber
ty to deny you any personal gratification, be
cause lie feels that he can make you happier
thus than in any other way ? Try the experi
ment, Mrs. Wicks. Tell him you w ill reserve
half your annual expenses for household con
veniences, and if he does not fiil your purse
with a more cheerful heart, I am much mista
ken in him. Begin on the scissors, and if he
makes one word of objection, I w ill agree to
change with you for a week, and wear my
hands to blisters on your old ones.’
‘Well, I’ll try this once. Good morning.’
‘Good morning, Mrs. Wicks.’
Mrs. Wicks went home, and when her hus
band came in to dinner, the first thing that took
his attention was a beautiful pair of polished
steel scissors, not worth less than two dollars.
‘Whose are these ? Been borrowing again,
Swab!’
‘No,’ replied Mrs. Wicks : ‘I blistered my
hands yesterday, with my old ones, and I just
concluded I would wear my old last winter
trimmings, and have me a good pair of scissors
for my work. Don’t you think they are nice
ones ? I thought you would not care how I
spent my money. Her voice was kinder than
usual.
‘Of course not,’ he replied. Nothing further
was said. In the evening instead of going out
he drew up his chair by the workstand.
‘Ain’t you going down street ?’ said Rosina.
‘No, I believe not to-night; I like the click
of your ma’s new scissors, and if I go down
street 1 am afraid they will lose their pleasant
tone.
M rs. Wicks did not look up ; her heart was
full, for just then a hitle roll of ‘royal purple
with orange edge,’ ‘cln ip at seventy-five cents,’
fell into her lap. — Ohio Farmer.
From Peabody's American Chronicle.
Thrashing the Wrong Man.
ECCENTRIC AMERICAN CHARACTER.
[Joseph Silsbee, the American Comedian,
now in England, is famous (as every one knows)
for his fund of facetiae and anecdote always
having ‘a store’ of stories at his finger-ends,
which he retails with an unction and spirit
quite delectable. Among other good things
he has forwarded to us the following delicious
morceaux. — Ed. P. A. C \
Yankee Peddlars, from time immemorial,
have been famous for ‘doing others’ and being
‘done’ notwithstanding their shrewdness, and
though in the long run, they may come out
‘right side up,’ yet once in a while the force of
circumstances so corners them that they are
obliged to cry peccavi!
‘ln the course or human events’ to find a
new style antepodean with the Flood, or cotem
porary with the time of George Washington—
there happened to be a pedlar of the Oid Hay-
State, by the name of Ike Jewel, who, one day
[licked tq* his traps and started off - South,
along the line of the Mississippi, in order to
dispense patents for various inventions —from a
toothpick to a fanning-mill, anti at last brought
up at the little village of Helena, in the State
of Arkansas. Now, it happened that on the
very duv Mr. Jewell arrived in town, a fellow
had been arrested for negro stealing and placed
in the old log jail, preparatory to receiving the
penalty of fifty lashes for the offence. The
jail being insecure, there being no parole ala
horse-yuards to protect it, and the prisoner
having a tinge of Jack Sheppard blood in his
veins, managed to escape, and of course flew
bv night after the manner of the witches in
Macbeth. The consequence was that w hen the
sheriff’ went the next morning, in all the dig
nity of official pride, to administer the punish
ment, he was both surprised and indignant to
find his man non est inventus!
‘Ah, this won’t do,’ the dignitary, biting
his lip and looking poignards at the under
sheriff’- —a carroty heath 4 deputy, with a pump
kin colored beard of a week’s growth.
‘We must set spies about fur him, and have
him re-apprehended.’
Scouts were immediately despatched on all
sides, all of whom had seen the man on trial
and knew his face, and as the sheriff ’s indigni
ty was hugely ‘riz,’ their orders were uncom
promisingly stringent.
Now, it happened, from some strange and
unfortunate circumstance, that the newly ar
rived Yankee Pedlar was the very image—the
regular ‘Corsican Hrother’ —the ‘Siamese Tw in’
of the fugitive culprit, and as he was buttering
a pancake at breakfast the next morning, a
large strong man with an official grin tapped
him gently on the shoulder.
‘Wal,’ said the Yankee, ‘what’s the row,
neow eh ?’
‘Want you mister,’ was the brief reply.
Aces—du you, want me? I s’pose you’ve
beam of my haveing cum tue teown with my
everlastin and all-snortin inventions. You’r
wide awake, 1 see, for cuming afore any one
else.
‘Curse your inventions,’ said the official. —
‘The sheriff’ wants to see you immediately.—
You thought to escape, did you?’
‘Sheriff-—escape ! Luke a’here critter, what
on arth due you mean ?’
‘Mean, for you to come along with me, with
out another word.’ And so saying he dragged
the pedlar out of the room.
On the way he learned the circumstances of
the arrest, and though he protested and swore
he was not the man, the likeness was too
strong for belief. The sheriff advised him for
the good of his country and the honor of his
friends, if he had any, not to tell such ‘dreadful
lies,’ but quietly submit to the punishment.
The consequence was, he was tied to the
whipping post, and the sheriff’prepared to ren
der in the dreariest manner the infliction.
‘Now before I begin, old fellow,’ said the
sheriff’, ‘w hat have you got to say.’
•Oh, nothin’ in particular, said the Pedlar,
laughing with a meaning curve of the lip—
only es you can afford tue pay for luxuries,
mister, yo ahead /’
The sheriff’, not comprehending the drifts of
this business-like observation, applied the
scourge, and at every cut the Yankee laughed
with immoderate glee. Lash succeeded lash,
and still lie laughed, ‘and still the wonder
grew.’ Whenthe fiftieth lash had been well
laid on, as the parting salute, the sheriff’, in a
flood of wonderment threw down the whip and
asked him the reason of his mirth.
‘l’m regularly dumb founded,’ said he. —
AY hat in the devil’s name makes you laugh so?’
‘Laugh ! Why, who could help it,’ fairly
roared the Yankee. ‘l’m laughin tu think
heow you’ve been sucked in on this operation,
I ain't the man!’ He said this so meaningly
that the sheriff began to think that there must
be a mistake somewhere. The Yankee con
tinued—
‘lt strikes me that business in my line is go
ing tue be rather dull in this tow n, and if there’s
any law tue be had, I’ll speculate ou this lick
ing, and see if I can’t turn it to tue some ac
count. I’m always open for trade,, mister, it
you wish to compromise—for remember, you've
licked the wrony man V
In Extacies. —The Editor of the Boston
Commonwealth is ‘tickled to death’ —almost-
his wife having presented him with two more
little responsibilities —a boy and girl. This
last addition makes eighteen little cherubs the
happy man has had the pleasure of providing
for—one regularly every eleven months J Good
gracious! Hoys and baby-jumpers! Only think
—an editor! wiih eighteen little responsibili
ties ! 0 , tempora ! 0. mores ! O—the wo
man ! We believe Mrs. Wright is a (W)right
minded, well disposed woman, and an advocate
of Woman’s (W)rights, and moreover, is de
termined to have her (W)rights, confident, no
doubt, in lier husband’s ability to maintain
them. Well, we suppose it’s all. (W)right—
God save the Commonwealth. — New Haven
Palladium.
Scene in an Editor’s Sanctum.
Subscriber. — Mr. Printer, 1 believe 1 have taken
your paper about—let me see—about seven years ;
and all that time too, I have lived off the poriage road.
How you have lived 1 do not know, but precious iittle
of my money have you fingered. However, make me
out a receipt, here’s your money.’
[Subscriber deposites sl4 on the table, which tin
editor grasps nervously lor fear the subscriber’s mind
might change, and fills out a receipt. Exit subscri
ber.]
As might naturally be supposed, the thermometer
of the editor’s feelings went up to sunshine 16 per ecu.
Another rap at the door—
‘Conme in.’ [Tall countryman enters.]
Countryman. —‘Well Mr. Newspaper man. how
d’e dew ! Been taking your paper dingtiation a while,
& it’s a lung time since 1 paid you anything. Would
n’t be without it any how—as your list of market prices
saves me ten dollars a year. Really, its too bad that
1 haven’t attended to it sooner. llow much is it?’
Editor. —Running his eye over the ledger, ‘two
and one's three and two are five—ten dollars.’
[Countryman depositesasaw horse, takes his receipt,
bids the editci an affectionate good bye and vamoses. J
Another rap. [Enter Irish subscriber from the
mountain.]
Irishman. —‘How are yes ? Bad luck to mesclf,
but it’s owing this paper a long time I am, and sure a
good one it is ; sorry a better barrin’ them from the
ould country. For what am I enduees yes?’ [Edi
tor tefers to the books.]
Editor —Two years and six months—five dollars.
[lrishman deposits a yellow coin bearing the impres
sion of the American eagle, pockets the resayte and
oil’.’
Editor —[solus] a weight transferred from your con
science to our pocket.
[Editor proceeds to enter credit, and sings, ‘Oh thus
may it ever be ;’ when the song is cut short by the en
durance of a German patron.
German subscriber. —'Veil, we gates. Mr. Brinter,
her ? Can’t read much niineself, but mine children
say ter rnu.it have ter paper, and guess if they mush
have him, ter old man mush bay, hay?’ [German
subscriber bo is something of a wag, chuckles and
gives the editor u dig in the ribs.]
Editor —" Squire, your bill is only four dollars.’
German subscriber pulls out an old stocking and
counts down out of it eight bright half dollars. [Lhl
ilor’s-eyes dilate, he becomes exceedingly nervous, and
shows symptoms of fly ing off the handle. [Exit.
The sky is clouded but never looked belter; the
light was never stronger. The horrors of a long win*
ter are forgotten, aud sunshine reigns in the heart.
Even the accordcon iu the bookstore underneath,
which a few momenta ago made an execrable noise,
is now making passable musie. (A heavy step was
heard on the stairs!) What! is it possible? The
streak has beeu so good, that it must be a call on
the other side.
[L)oor opens, enter J.] Jerusalem ! if lie pays the
mili&nium is at hand, and the next sound will be the
final trumpet!
J. —'Well, my hearty, 1 have succeeded in collect
ing an old account, and as 1 owe a considerable of a
rail, 1 tliuught 1 could .iu no better than Let you have
a trifle ou account.’
Editor [Strongly impressed with the same opin
ion.] ‘Under such circumstances in the language of
Dummy Allen, ‘happy to meet, trappy to part, and al
ways happy to meet again.’ ’
[J. drposites two V’s on the table, and sees the
entry made and leaves.]
Editor has reached a state of perfect bliss, and whis
tles Dolly day, with variations, when a prommeut Whig
enters.
Whig. —‘Believe I owe you Locofoco printers a
bill for advertising. Don’t like the principles you
advocate, but 1 would just as soon do business with
one party as with another, besides l know you have
the largest circulation in this vicinity ; and iu short, 1
know what's wllat.’
Editor.— ‘Good ! your bill is nine dollars.’
[Whig pays, bauds over anew advertisement aud
leaves. J
Another knock ! ‘Walk in.’
[Enter a lean, long, lank, cadaverous looking mid
dle aged gentleman, dressed in black, with white neck
eloili. Editor takes him for a preacher and bows de
ferentially.
Stranger. —‘l am the travelling agent of Dr. dolin
O. Lillemoff’s Universal Regenerating Repuraiive Res
urrection Syrup, which l wish to advertise in your
paper.’
[Editor lights a segar, corks his legs upon the table,
and feels very independent.j
Editor. — We don't advertise quack medicines at
this establishment unless paid for in advance.’
Travelling Agent. —’‘Excuse me, but tills is not a
quack medicine, but one highly recommended by the
faculty. What are your terms lor a half eolumu a
year ?’
Editor. —‘Thirty dollars.’
[Agent dues not appear to be a bit taken back, as
usual on such an occasion, but draws his RorUuo
-11 ie,]
‘Here’s five, and live are ten, and ten are
[Seene suddenly changes; the editorial room and
quaek agent fade away—Editor linds himseit at home
in bed —wile shaking him.]
Wise —It’s six o'clock. Ain’t you going to mar
ket ?’
Didn’t I tell you last night I had no market mo
ney l ’
[Editor turns over and tries to continue the dream,
but the charm is broken, the spell is gone, and all that
remains is an uneasy doze, which is interrupted by the
iunior of the family bestriding him for a horse, and
clutehing his hair lor the bridle-reins.]
[Scene changes lo the breakla-t table.]
Wis should like to know what you were dream
ing abc ut this morning ? ’
Editor.- —‘Why ? ’
Wife. — ’ Because when I awoke you, you continued
grumbling in an unintelligible language. Ihe only
thing that 1 could understaud, was “it was an infernal
shame 1 didn’t wait till it was a hundred ; enough to
buy paper.’
[Editor grins a ghastly grin, seizes his hat, rustic
out of the house like a madman.]Exchange Taper
The Devil*
There is no name more generally abhorred,
and yet there is uo individual more useful in
his way. I'rom the great arch devil, down to
the poor printer’s devil, lie has uses and abu
ses.
The delicate young lady ot fashion would be
shocked to hear the name slipped from the lips
even oi her lover, yet this same young saint v ill
play the devil with the dress maker or milliner
should they make the slightest error in her
wearing apparel The preacher Irotn his pul
pit denounces the devil and all his imps, and
yet this tnan of sanctity will iook very much like
the devil it his congregation do not pay up and
least hint on the good things ofide. The church
would be profaned by the appearance oft lie dev,l
yet how many devilish tricks are played under
the veil of sanctimony in (lie church. And where
would thatehurch be were it not for the devil?
The tact is, the devil is as necessary lot be
well-being of the woi Id, assail is lo the salvation
of pork. Without the fear . f satan before out
eyes we would all literally go to the devil.
Here a little smutty-faced imp at our el bp w
bawled more c'opv, sir?’ dh ! the devil.
It s Xotliiug.
Who has not known young men and young
women, who upon every slight variation from
rectitude, w*<uld carelessly say, “Oh that’s
nothing!” Aye! and who has not known some
noble friend —some once delicate young lady,
whom shame has made reckless, and who has
at List been ruined by a perseverance in that
very injurious habit ?
‘’ Why did you speak so harshly to your
mother ?”
“Oh that’s nothing-”
It’s notidng only the child lives to break the
mothers heart; to lay her hairs, whitened by
his disobedience, in her grave. And he learns,
too, ilt at they who honor not father and moth
er, end their ow n lives in anguish and dishonor.
It is not well, young lady, for you to spend
your evenings in moonlight walks with the
wild and irieverend. Home is your sanctuary,
especially in the silence and danger of the eve
ning : \ ou are doing your good name injury.
“Oh ! that's nothing.”
S.tv you so now, poor creature? Lay your
shaking hands on mine, as it rests on the scant
coverlid, and tell me vonr bistort'.
*• Early 1 learned to dislike home* —its re
straints —its simple pleasure*. Sought for com
panions, the mer*'}’, the thoughtless, without
consideration of principle. Was lured from
innocence; deserted ; and all because I used to
think it was nothing. Oh how often have I
said, ‘it’s nothing!’ when my best friends warn
ed me of the consequences. Those l.ttle words,
how many have they ruined. ’
Beware, then, and when temptation comes
sav not “it’s nothing.” Throw the wine cup
from you—touch not *he miserable card —for-
bear to spend your Sabbath in selfish amuse
ment—remember what that dear old mother
said as you left, “My son if sinners entice thee,
consent thou not.” Beware how you put your
hand to the till of your employer, to take there
from one cent, eveti if you intend to leplace it.
Advertising.
llerc, within the compass ot a single News
paper, (Tue Tunes,)are above live hundred an
nouuceiiieuls ot wants or supeitluities—reiue
oies for all .'Oris of ailments—candidates for all
sorts of situations —conveyances for those who
wish to t.avel, establishments for those who
wih to stay at home—investments for him
who has made his fortune, and modes of grow
ing rich lor him who has that pleasure \etto
come —elixirs to make us beautiful, and balsam
to preserve us from decay —new theatres for
the idle, new chapels for the serious, new Cem
eteries in pleasant siluaiions fur the dead ; car
nages, horses, dogs, men-servants, m aid'Ser
vants, East India Directors, and Governesses, —
how is all this to b*- disregarded or disbelieved,
without wiliully shutting our eyes to the pro
gress of society; or living in an habitual state
of apprehension, resembling that of the late
Mr. A ecu m of ‘Death in the Pot'’ celebrity,
who believed that everything he ate was pois
oned more or less, ana regarded every butcher
as a Caesar Borgia, and every cookmaid who
boiled a potato tor him as a Marquis de Brin
villiers in disguise ! In short, the grand prin
ciple of modern existence is notoriety; we live
and move and have our being in print. Hardly
a second rate dandy can start for the moors, or :
a retired Slopseller leave London tor Margate,
without announcing the ‘‘fashionable move
ment’’ in the Morning Post; und what Curran i
sahl of Byron, that “lie wept for the Press, and
wiped his eyes with the public,” may now be
predicted of every one who is striving for any
>ort of distinction. He must not only weep,
but eat, drink, walk, talk, hunt, shoot, give par
ties, and travel, in the newspapers. People
now-a days contemptuously reject the old ar
gument, “whom not to know argues yourself
unknown.’* The universal inference is, that if a
man be not known he cannot be vvarth know
ing, and any attempt to Couple merit with mod
esty is invariably met w ith the well-known aph
orism of the liev. Sydney Smith, the ouly con
nection between them is their both beginning
with an m. In tins stale ot things it is useless j
to swim against the stream, and folly to ditier ;
from our coutempoi a ies ; a prudent youth will j
purchase the la*t edition of “The Art of Rising j
in the world; or Every Man his own Fortune- l
maker!’’ and sedulously practice ihe main pro- !
cept it enjoins—never to omit an opportunity ot
placing our name in printed characters before
the world. — Edinburg Review.
England's Humanity.— lt is generally
known that savages were employed by the king
of England, George 111, and paid at so much J
per scalp of man, woman and child during our j
revolutionary war, A few items from this ter
rible trade in human tiesh may perhaps interest !
some of our readers, and show them how this 1
paternal king strove to crush out the nobles pi r- j
it of independence of our early heroes. Here !
is a list of a number of packages that were sent ;
by one Janies Boyd from a Captain Crawford .
to the British governor ot Canada, Col. Haldi
man. These packages of scalps were found a- ;
mong the baggage <>t the English army after
the defeat of Burgoyne, cured and dried, with
Indian mark*; up >n them. The letter accom
panying them reads thus:
‘Package 1. Containing forty-three scalps
of congress soldiers killed in different skirmish
es, stretched ou black hoops four inches iu di
ameter.
Pack. 2- Containing ninety-eight farmers
killed in'their houses, on red hoops, wi ll a fig
ure of a hoe painted oil each to denote their oc
cupation.
Pack. 3 Containing ninety-seven farmers’
scalps on green hoops, to show they were killed
in tin* fields.
Pack. 4. Containing one hundred and two
farmers’ scalps eighteen of them marked with
yellow flames, to signify that they were burnt
alive.
Pack. 5. Containing eighty eight scalps of
woman, hair long and braided, to show that they
were mothers.
Pack. 6. Containing one hundred and nine
tv-three scalps of boys of various ages, on small
green hoops.
Pack 7. Two hundred and el ven girls
scalps, big and little, on small yellow hoops.’
Such was the stuff of which English royalists
were made in the days ‘which tried men s soul*.
—Boston Post.
Smoking Bacon. —As this i* the season for the per
formance of this indispensable operation, we clip the
following receipt from the Mississippi Independnt y of
which we have a very favorable opinion :
A friend of riirs wHo never to matte the finest
of bacon, inak*f a paste of finely ground pepper and
lard which he applies w ith a brush to the flesh surface
l of each piece upon hanging it to smoke, A pouud of
| pepper is sufficient for teu or a dozen pieces. He
| has fotntd j* pu jrifalHile preventive of injury tfrai flic*.’
f tt.N I c
— ~’ “*"'■■■ ■” - —nr:.
A lady steped into the store of a vender of THom
*on;un medieine, at Lnuisviile, and called for a bottle of
lobelia. After she had paid for it, she asked the ven
der how many kinds of lobelia therewire.
‘‘Ouly one kind, madam, and this is the right sort,”
replied the quack.
“But,” rejoined the lady, “you must must be mis
taken, sir, 1 have two kinds of the lobelia in my gar
den—one bears a wliile flower and the other a red
one.*’
“Why. to be sure, madam,” replied the dise’aJe of
Thompson, ‘‘There are two plants very much alike,
but the one with the red flower, madman, is the high
beltn, whereas the one with the white flower is tin*
low bsha. ,r
A staid and demure Quaker lady entered s
dry goods establishment, with the intention of
makiug purchases. The salesman commenced
praising his own goods at the expense of his
neighbor’s, stating, at the same time, what great
saving in expense she would make by purchas
ing of him. She heard him silently for a time,
and finished the conversation by saying: ‘Friend
0., what a pity it is that it >* a s*in to lie, when
it seems so necessary in thy business! 7
1 What did you say ? ’exclaimed the old lady, 1
looking at her young friend w ith astonishment;
‘what, wash yourself all over ’ Why I never
beared of such a tiling! Only think of it; you
must get orful wet.’ And the old lady con
tinued peeling unions, and crying as if her heart
would break.
A hardy son of the ocean on leaving his ship,
after the taking of Vera Cruz, captured a don
key and immediately mounted him, but seat
ing himself on the rump, the animal kicked up
and came near throwing him off. A soldier
told him to sit further forward on the mule and
he would not kick so. The tai replied—‘l'll
see you blowed first; this is mine, and I would
like to know who will stop me from riding on
the quarter deck of my own mule’
Mr. Speckles says, that the best vegetable pill
that has ever been invented, is the apple-dump
ling. For destroying a gnawing at the stom
ach, it is the only pill to be relied on. ‘Dat’s
a fack.’
As .Mr. Sounds very justly observed, people
must marry, or there would soou be an end to
Sunday Schools and New England Primers, to
say nothing of the fall that w ould take place in
the ciadle and small shoe trade.
The editor of the ‘Pittsfield (Ills.) Union’ has
been presented ‘with a cabbage head weighing
18 1-2 lbs.’ As lie now has two, it will be an
easy matter for him to lay iu his Krout fur the
season.
‘Gone a ducking,’ is the term used to a young
‘feller’ in Arkansas, who goes to ‘sit up’ with a
young woman.
A German Chemist has discovered that there
is sugar in tears. What a lump of sweetness,
then, Niobe must have been w ho was ‘all tears.*
Pity some married men could not contrive to
distill this sweetness : their wives would sup
ply them all the year round.
The eyes of the pretty woman are the inter
preters of the language of the heart. They
translate what her tougue has a great difficulty
iu expressing.
The last case of modesty is that of a young
lady, w ho declared she wouldn’t pass by a ship
yard, w here there was so many w hite oak knees
all in plain sight.
Mrs. Partington thinks that there will be
such felicities for traveling, bimeby, that we
can go anywhere for nothing aud come back
again.
‘Warm day, Mr. Jones, warm day,’ said
Chick, as they met on thanksgiving day. ‘Yea
it is,’ said Jones, ‘it is some warm, if not sum
mer.’
Miss Fantadling says that if she ain’t dead,
she has lost her ‘vital spark,’ the young man
wot use to sit up with her. Poor girl, we feel
for her.
Young ladies that faint on being proposed
to, can be resiored to conciousness by just whis
pering in their ear, that you are only joking.
A Buffalo paper says that city is so healthy
that the doctors have nothing to do. Seven of
them were seen together ou the pier, fishing
for minnows.
There’s one hotel in Troy that keeps a qual
ity of brandy that will kill as far as a rifle. Be
fore people can driuk it, they are obliged to
have their throats macadamized.
A company of Cockneys are playing, out
West, ‘The Mysterious Horphan, hor tbo
Ilnutragous Iluukle—the principal character
appears on a orse.’
The laborer who, by the work of his hands,
adds to the nations’ wealth, i* a tiue patriot
and a benefactor to mankind.
A Yankee Editor says he’d ‘like to die a lar
fin, to see a drinkin’ chap trying to pocket the
shadow of a swinging sign for a pocket-hand
kerchief’
The Manchester (N. IT.) Mirror says‘An
Irish woman in North Haverhill, in this State,
gave birth to four live children . one day last
week! They were all doing well when last
heard from. This is a progressive age.’
A Promising Youth —‘Sammy, ran to tho
store, and get some sugar.’
‘Excuse me, ma; I am somewhat indisposed
this morning. Send father, and tell him to
bring me a paper of tobacco along.’
If you till your fancy, while you are in com*
panv, with suspicions of their thinking meanly
of you. if you puff yourself up with imagina
tions of appearing to them a very witty or pro
found person; if you discompose yourself w ith
fears of misbehaving before them ; or any way
put yourself out of yourself; you will not appear
in your natural color, but in that of an affected,
personated character, which is always disagree
able.
Avoid disputes altogether, if possible : especi
ally in mixed companies, and with ladies. Y’ou
will hardly convince any one, and may diso
blige or sterile them, and get yourself the char
acter of a conceited, pragmatical person,——
Where**, that of an agreeable companion,
which you may have without giving yourself
any great air of learning or depth, may be more
advantageous to you in life, and will make you
welcome iu all companies,
Mrs. PaJmitta, in bar speech at the Woman’s
Right Convention, said that it had been argued
women were the wickedest portion of mankind,
which position she triumphantly refuted as ioL
lows; ‘A rib was taken from a man, was totmed
into woman, and was accepted as one of his
bone, and flesh of his flesh. If one rib is bq
wicked, what a ma;s of w ickedness the whoja
man must tie t ’
NO. 41.