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FOR Tin: INDEPENDENT PRESS.
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Old Allen has at length passed
away. He not only survived all his
eotemporaries-—the companions ol his
youth—but he survived the manners
and customs which prevailed in his
early manhood; so, tilth, in his last
day's, in the old community in which
he lived, he seemed more like an
antique ruin than anything else, lie
seemed, to those who sought him in
Itis retreat, like the fossil remains of
the Mastodon —a specimen of an ex
tinct genus. He was in manners and
habits, exceedingly primitive; living
Vast as he did when his section was cov
ered with forest, lie seemed to prefer
the kind of life incident to a newly
settled country, and still he lingered
in the county where he died, long af
ter it had become old, and’customs and
habits like his had passed away, in
stead of removing west, follow mg the
trail of the red-man and retiring be
fore the march of civilization, as men
'bi‘bis cast of mind generally do.
In my childish days, old Allen was
rather an object of fear with me. I I
vised, sometimes, to pass by (he door ot j
his cabin, when he was confined to it >
by sickness, and his melancholy stare,
and garrulous complainings, always
made me hasten by with ail possible
speed. At other times, I met him in
the road, striding along, followed by
sober, cranky-looking little cur;
and occasionally he used to come to
mv father's house. On all these occa
sions, however, I avoided him. W hen
T grew older, of course* I overcame
this fear, and then I used frequently to
go to his cabin and talk with him, or j
lead him on to talk of things long
past.
He was one of the vert/ earliest set
tiers of his section, and remembered
well the time, when these, at present,
worn-out fed lulls, were covered with
the close and heavy forest, where the
Indian only hunted, and where the J
white man had hardly set foot, even as j
an explorer. lie remembered, indeed, ;
when no evidence of civilization, not!
a sinalc trace of the presence of a white |
man existed, where now the forests are j
nearly all felled, and the soil wasted. |
What a change from then till now ! j
And in what a. short time has this !
change been effected! Fifty years are j
all that have been required to change j
the whole face of nature, over a space i
of country which, in Europe, would .
constitute a tolerable-sized kingdom! j
so that one who knew it fifty years J
ago, would now scarcely be able to re- j
cognize it I It not only does not look j
new, but looks very old, and is called \
an old section. There has been a great- j
■er change here, in half a century, than
Would be effected, in Europe, in the
course of centuries.
Old Allen had many tales to relate,
concerning what happened in the early
settlement of the country, and if, at
some future time, 1 can recall, with
sufficient distinctness, some of these
tales. I may commit them to paper. — j
At present, I have to do with the hab
its and appearance of the old man at
the time I knew him.
In person, he was tall; over six feet, j
In spiteof a very low stoop in has should-1
crs. Ho must, when perfectly erect, j
have been at least six and a half feet j
high. I myself,-with the aid of high ;
boot heels, arn fully six feet high, and !
ac always towered above me, even with j
his head bent nearly to his breast. —
His frame was very large ; he was by
no means corpulent, so that he had a
gaunt, huge, gigantic appearance. His
garments were of the simplest cut and I
coarsest 'material. His face presented j
the appearance of having passed i
through some rough scenes, and the j
marks of dissipation mingled with
. those of time. A white beard, of a
month’s growth, covered the larger |
part.of his face. Whether he trim
med it so as to give it always the ap
pearance of being just a month old,
I cannot say ; but I do not recollect
everto seen him newly shaved,
•or with a beard longer than that al
ready designated. A few scanty white
locks straggled out. from beneath a
broad-prirmned hat. Sometimes this
hat was tef wool and sometimes of
straw ; 'bftt it always had a broad brim,
.sometimes straight and ; sometimes
slouched.
: Old Allen never stirred abroad,
jjpjfhoul a long staff or a long gun,
jg and a little hull-fire which, in stutter
* ing accents, he .used to call F-f-un.
Accompanied by these, he used to roam
through the few remaining forests,
hunting for bee-trees. This was old
Alien-s favorite occupation, and in his
•young days,—or rather., in the early
Fett jem.er.t of the country, for when he
jams a little tight, 1m used to say he was
a-b-bout ahundred and n-ninety
. tfid, consequently, fifty years be
fbrch%ath,Jmc°uld hardly be call
ed a vJSfc, young man—in the early
- Iw^rc;.
ihh To rush had by a h-Velol, bee-trees
Word' very plentiful, and the settlers
feasted on wild Ifogey. After the
time came, when wnd-bees could hard
ly find a resting place, he continued to
hunt them as much, I suppose, from
| force of habit as from inclination ; and
i he met with sufficient, success to en
. courage him to persevere.
He certainly betrayed a marvellous
sagacity in finding bee*trees, and could
sec bees farther, and trace them better,
than most; men. Still, I never heard
him say ho could see a bee a mile,
and if 1 had heard him say so, I
should have set down the assertion as
a specimen of what he himself used to
call “romancing.” No one can see a
bee a mile, although Tom Owen told
Mr, Thorpe that he, Tom, could do so.
So fond was old Allen of bee-huut
ing, that after his own eyes grew dim,
he used to “get a course” and then, pro
cure the assistance of sonic one with a
younger pair of eyes, tg find the tree
1 for him. I never accompanied him
! on one of his excursions, and therefore,
j cannot give an account of his peculiar
.melfiod o proceeding. Indeed, the
; thing of bee-hunting has been too well
j described by Mr. Cooper and Mr.
| Thorpe, for me to attempt to improve
: upon it.
Next to a bee tree, he delighted most
lin a finding hawk's nest. He was a
| great poultry raiser and, of course, the
i open, avowed and deadly enemy, of
; hawks. Every Spring, he used to
hunt them with a system and perse
verence which won for him the regard
of all the poultry-raisers in the neigh
borhood. In the matter of raising
poultry, he was accustomed to see
much trouble. He imagined that
hawks, minks, and possums, as well
as all the vagabond negroes around,
had a special spite again, t his hen
roost; and many and dire were his
threatnings and denunciations, against
the whole class of depredators. To
find a nest of young hawks, then, to
watch, day after day until he had shot
the builders of the nest, the old hawks,
and then to destroy the young ones,
was with him a great exploit. In
this, as in bee-hunting, after his e}*e
sight grew dim, and his nerves un
strung and tremulous with age, he was
accustomed to seek the aid of ycfuugcr
eyes and steadier nerves. He used,
sometimes, to get me to shoot the
hawks, after he had found the nest.
But even after age and infirmity, had
thus come upon him, he one day shot
a hawk from the door, as he was flying
off with one of his chickens. He made
this exploit the occasion of much self
gratulation ; saying the hawks must
not think because he had grown old,
that he could not shoot.
Asa chicken raiser, he prided him
self on the pure blood of his game
cocks ; he having once been an ardent
votary of the cock-pit. He said his
cocks were of the pure Baltimore
Blue stock. Peidiaps some ill ay say
there is no such stock, and that old
Allen must have meant Liverpool Blue.
My recollection on this point, however,
is distinct—he said his was the Balti
more Blue stock, lie took great de
light in relating his experience in his
favorite sport and in showing his
cocks, although, for many years before
his death, he never pitted one, and
the only evidence he had of their
game was the frequency of their at
tacks on each other, and on his dog,
Fun.
Strong drink was a great enemy of
olcl Alien’s during a great portion of
his life. For a number of his latter
years, lie abstained from its use; but
there is little doubt it had injured his
iron constitution, When I first knew
him, near a score of years before his
death, it had, to some extent, dimmed
his eye and shaken his nerves. Itis
true he was, even then, an old Yuan—in
deed had arrived at the age when most
men begin to fail in their strength; but
his was a constitution which would,
j have resisted the slow decay of time
for years longer, had not time been as
sisted, in its endeavors, by the “ene
my” which he himself “put into his
mouth.”
In spite of his years, the influence
of strong drink, and his want of more
than the rudiments of an education,
no one could converse with old Alien,
at certain times, without being struck
with the evidence of strong good
sense—in fact of a much larger share
ol' intellect than falls to the lot of the
majority of mankind. He had read
much more than one would have sup
posed possible from the loose, ramb
ling, vagabond kind of life ho had led.
He had perused some old medical work,
and mastered its meaning, so that I
have been astonished at his using med
ical terms which require some reading
and observation to understand. He
used these terms, too, familiarly and
unconsciously—never misapplying one,
in any instance.
In his extreme age, he preferred to
read some gossipy, wonder-relating
newspaper, and for a great while, he
was a subscriber, and attentive reader
of Wilson & Co's. Dispatch. After
that paper went out-, .ho took some
other similar publication. With this,
ho used to sit in the- shade, in summer.
IIP IIP
or against the .sunny, wall or m the
warm chimney corner, of Ids cabin,
in winter, and while away many a long
hour, which, otherwise,, would have 1
hung heavy on his hands.
For tiie independent press.
Murry- Graph s.
to. l.
THE LOAFER,'
The loafer is by no means an uncom
mon species of the genus homo. —
Every community, and particularly
every village, can boast a greater or
less number of specimens. We mean
not now to speculate on the probable
origin, or the usefulness of this class of
individuals. We may do .so, however,
in a subsequent number of our Hurry -
Graphs. Our present purpose is mere
ly to notice some of their haunts and
habits, and to classify them, according
as we may find them differing in these
respects. We say classify them, be
cause there are different kinds, and
classes, each possessing certain dis
tinct, Well defined characteristics, while
at the same time, they all have cer
tain other features in common, certain
! unmistakable marks, which distin
guish them all as loafers.
Aha prominent among these, is their
inactivity, or rather we shculd say
(for many of them are very industri
ous, as we shall presently see) their
inattention to any regular department
of business. They are never engaged
in any useful employment. You can
see them, at all times sitting about the
corners, and crossings of the streets,
at the meeting of the ways; free
from the cares and concerns of busi
ness, and exercising as they are sever
ally gifted.
When the “Know-Nothings,” (hat
mysterious and influential order, first
began to attract attention, some face
° ;
I lions writer proposed to organize an
association of “ Do-Nothings.'' This
was the hand of the loafers, and such
an organization would be nothing
more than' a “Loafer-Union,” for all J
the loafers would be united to member- ;
ship, and nobody else but loafers —
for they are the “Do-Nothings.” Thus
much as to the race generally.
The first subdivision or family, we
will style the “ growling-loafer .” The
most common specimen of this class,
arc men advanced in life, and they are j
generally of that sort, who “have seen
better days,” and they seem to think
themselves entitled—by virtue, per
haps, of the experience of those “bet
ter days”—to know more upon all sub
jects than most other men. Hence
they are accustomed to speak very or
acularly, and as though they possessed
all knowledge.
Let a man fail as a merchant, or
break down in any pursuit whatever, j
and let that failure too be the result of j
his own want of judgment, and miscal- j
dilation, and ten chances to one he
settles down into a “growling loafer.”
His opinion, in any matter, is always
on his tongue’s end, and lie never fails
to volunteer his advice on all occasions,
and particularly on thatsubject in refer
ence to which, his imprudence and
want of sagacity involved his failure.
But the particular thing to which he
owes his name and distinction as a
“growling loafer, is, that he is incessant
ly complaining of something, or some
body. Nothing that happens, hap
pens right; —nothing that is said or
done, pleases him, nor is he at all mod
est in his complaints.
If one neighbor prospers by the
practice of' acknowledged skill and
virtue, he fails to recognize it, and
charges his prosperity to niggardliness
and rascality, fur, according to his
creed, meanness is the price of success.
If another fails, for the want of skill
in business, just as he has failed before
him, lie never ceases to growl over it,
as a thing any one might have fore
seen, and guarded against. If it rains,
it rains too much, or at the wrong
lime; if it is dry, we arc going to per
ish. And in truth, if lie had all pow
er, and could control men, and the
elements, and have all the operations'
of nature to take place in accordance
with his own directions, he would even
then complain, or die of grief because
he had nothing to complain of. In
♦ffiort he is never perfectly happy and
contented, only when most unhappy.
The next is the “boring loafer.” —
And hero we might remark that all
the other classes ol' which we know
anything, possess in a greater or less
degree the distinguishing characteristic
of this., ,But this is so pre-eminently
distinguished, that we , have thought
proper to assign it a separate place in
our catalogue. The striking (or per
haps Wo should rather say, the “boring")
feature of this class of loafers is, that
they are given to telling long yarns,
(and dry ones too.) If one.joins a
party, he imagines himself always en
titled to the floor, and whether in or
out of order, “proceeds his tale to un
fold,” and that is the thing with ."which
he bores, hence his name.
Those , who arc near enough to be
in danger, and who can, immediately
escape, leaving,. .perhaps, one or tw<>,
less fortunate, to bear Mm infliction. If
l —: --
he gets yoi by the button hole, your
case is ho elcss, ,for' then there is no
escapo/am as long as you slay, yon
are bound o hear. If you seem list
jels and in f ten live, ypu ate reminded
of your ); reach of politeness by a
|friendly pike,in the ribs, or upon the
knees,' aceonpanied by sundry signil
ficant winnings of the eye—all very
pleasant! And when the yarn is
spun—-the fall unfolded, although you
see nothing deserving a laugh, yet so
hearty is tl|c cachination of the “borer"
that you are bound, through sheer po
liteness to render, at leavSt the tribute
of a sickly- smile —-just such :an one
as might be expected from a man
whose spine was being perforated with
an inch auger. And unless you make
good your escape now, you will have
to undergo 'another infliction, perhaps,
even worse than the first —for they
understand; that figure of language
called the climax. Individuals ol' this
class never congregate together, for
they cannot agree. Each one must do
all the talking that is done where he is,
and none of them will submit- to be
talked to, even by their own kind.
We once had the misfortune to live in
a village where there were two broth
ers —-both of them admirable specimens
.of the kind of loafer wc are now
speaking of, and we do not recollect to
have seen them associate together, or
exchange words more than the ordin
ary commonplaces ol daily intercourse.
And such is an universal characteris
tic of the “boring loafer.”
'The “swell loafer,” is, as his name
biiports, puffed up —full of himself,
ilis gait is a proud, arrogant strut, as
though he spurned the earth beneath
his feet. His speech is a torrent of
bombast, “great swelling words of van
ity.” lie affects to be always busy,
talks largely of his engagements, from
which he can hardly steal an hour of rest
and recreation, though it is notorious
that he is only busy in his efforts to
appear to be busy.
This kind of loafer is very nearly
allied to the humbug, and, indeed, is
often so styled, and the difference is
really so slight, we shall not now un
dertake to trace it.
But our limits warn us to be a little
less minute. We shall therefore mere
ly glance at a few of the remaining
kinds.
The “pert loafer” is generally a
j “young man about town,” very for
ward and as lie imagines very shrewd
in his remarks, which arc always very
freely made and that without regard
to time, place, or propriety.
He so much resembles the borer that
we maj r be mistaken in treating him as
a different class, lie may be merely
a juvenile specimen, becoming a gen
uine “boring loafer” as lie matures.
The whittling loafer is perhaps the
! most tolerable of the whole-race. Emp
| ty goods boxes, and chairs, are the ob-
I jectof his attacks, and pocket knives
the badge of the class.
The next and last we shall notice
is the.“sponging loafer,” who is found
hanging around drinking and refresh
ment establishments, and is never
known to refuse to enter them, token
invited, though he is never a leader,. or
pioneer, in this movement. He man
ifests much shrewdness and ingenuity
in attracting attention to himself,
whenever any one stand proposes to
treat.
lie is also occasionally seen about
the offices or counting houses of gen
tlemen, where books, and papers may
be obtained without “money and with
out price,” and "with these he makes
very free when his inclination leads
him this way.
Such are some of the habits and pe
culiarities of the loafer. We are aware
that this sketch is very imperfect —
that we have not included-all the dif
ferent species of the race, nor have we
clone justice to those we have noticed.
These hints however, may serve to di
rect attention to the subject, may en
list some abler pen in a more interest
ing sketch of the natural history ol
this numerous race of individuals, and
perhaps the Hurry-Grapher may re
turn to the subject at a future day, and
treat it more elaborately.
Hurry-Grapher.
i » ———
•ft •Tiodel ISaby.
There "was only one baby among the
members of the late excursion party
np the Mississippi to the Falls of St.
Anthony. That bady was only six
months’ohU—a sou of Henry Farnam,
Esq., the engineer of tie Chicago and
Rock Island Rail-road. When the
baby was first brought on hoard the
Golden Era, some of the company
shrugged their shoulders, and others
said “humph.” One crusty old bach
elor muttered, “wp may look out for
squalls now’;” and a young man with
moustaches, w r ho passed for a, wit,
sighed for the days of good king Herod.
The, baby meanwbile 1 poked aboilt
and crowed a little and then quietly
entertained himself with suoking his
list. ,
- .Well,’ from the time. we left Rock
Island on Monday evening, till wo s re
turned the following Saturday, not a
cry or .the suspicion of a cry was ut
tered by the baby. He was indeed a
charming little fellow’— always bright
and placid, kid ready to meet, half
way those who were disposed to be at
tentive. .Os the sensption of fear, lie
seemed* to be utterly ignorant, ' He’
would go to tl'to arms of :y rougli old
backwoodsman as readily as to those of
the beautiful Miss W, or Miss J., and
remain contented away from his moth
er or his nurse, till fearful he was giv
ing trouble, they would come in search
of him. But, instead ol giving trouble
he seemed to be doing more than any
body else for the general entertain
ment, It was frequently proposed to
pinch him to see if he could cry ; and
in one instance the experiment was
tried without success. The features of
the gruff old bachelor, who had look
ed so' austerely at first on this infant
phenomenon, would now relax as he
came in sight, and he at last ventured
upon the experiment of taking him in
his arms and found to his delight that
the baby maintained his good charac
ter even in his experienced embrace.
The general satisfaction at the baby’s
unparalleled behavior at length man
ifested itself in a substantial form. —
Ic was resolved to get up a testimonial.
A. subscription was put in circulation
for a gold cup to be presented as a to
ken of the admiration and esteem of
the passengers; who, when they reflec
ted bow much a crying bady might
have detracted from their enjoyment,
liberally opened their purses, and sub
scribed the handsome sum of S2OO.
A formal presentation of this offering
was then made, Mr. Rockwell, late
member of Congress from Connecticut,
was deputed to address the baby.-
This lie did in the presence of the as
sembled passengers, the baby mean
while being held in his mother’s arms,
and always jumping and chuckling at
the right place in Mr. Rockwell’s
speech. The speech, which was a cap
ital one, and enunciated with due grav
ity and dignity, was followed by a re
ply from Professor , Twining, of New
Haven the baby’s medium on the oc
casion, and who spoke in the little fel
low’s behalf in admirable style, now
witty and now beautiful, for upwards
of five minutes. Both speeches were
much enjoyed and applauded. Ex-
President Fillmore was appointed to
prepare an inscription for the gold cup;
a task which he accomplished with his
accustomed good taste ; and Mr. Rock
well was appointed to purchase the
cup.
Thus ended one of the pleasantest
little episodes of the great- excursion
—one that must be always remember
ed with pleasure by those who witness
ed it, and especially by the parents of
the child, who so early in life won so
solid a mark of the approbation of his
seniors.
One of the Spectators.
HiSistingwshcfl Sprinters.
Biackstone, the distinguished jurist,
Vv as a printer ; Wm. C. Bryant, the
poet, was a printer; N. P. Willis, the
scholar and poet was a printer; Judge
Buchanan, Judge of the Supreme
Court of Louisiana, was a printer; ex-
United States Senator, Simeon Cam
eron, was a printer; Edwin Forrest,
| the American Tragedian, was a devil
| in a printing office ; W m. Bigler, the
i present Governor of Pennsylvania,
| was a printer ; and now Louisiana has'
! one of the brightest ornaments that
| ever adorned the Criminal Bench, and
| lie a disciple of G uttenburg, Faust and
i Schceffer, Hon. John Larue.
The American Senate, the House of
! Representatiues, every Legislature that
has sat in this country, and every
branch where genius of intellect, sound
ness of judgment, and depth of pro
found thought have been essential, lias
been graced by the poor typo, who
once received - Journeyman's wages.
John Mantlolph.
Anew anecdote of John Randolph
of Ronoalce is always welcome ; this is
given by the Norfolk Aeivs:
“He was travelling through a part
of Virginia in which lie was unac
quainted: during the meantime, lie
stopped during the night at an inn near
the forks of the road. The innkeeper
was a fine gentleman, and, no doubt,
one of the first families oj the Old Do
minion. Knowing who his distinguish
ed guest was, he endeavored during
the evening to draw him into a con
versation, but failed in all his efforts.
But in the morning, when Mr. Ran
dolph was ready to start, he called for
his bill, which, on being presented,
was paid. The landlord, still anxious
to have some conversation with him,
began as follows :
‘Which way are you traveling, Mr.
Randolph ?”
•‘Sir?” said Mr. Randolph, with a
look of displeasure.
“I asked,” said the landlord, ‘which
I way are you traveling?
“Have I paid you my bill?"
“Yes.”
“Do‘l owe you anything more?'’
“No.”
“Well, I’m going just where I please;
do you understand?”
“Yes.”
‘The landlord by this time got some
what excited, and'Mr. Randolph drove
off; but, to the landlord’s surprise, in
a few minutes sent one of the servants
to inquire which of the forks of the
road to ffike. Mr. Randolph not being
out of hearing distance, the landlord
spoke at the ton of his breath, ‘Mr.
Randolph, you don’t owe me one cent;
just take which road you please,”
Tt is said that the air turhed|blue
with the curses of Randolph.’ '
A Frenchman's Yankee.-—A
French traveller in the U nited States
sends the following unflattering sketch
to a Parisian journal:
“PictureJo yourself, if you please,
a lean figure with bony wrists, feet
with dimensions that would forever
tarnish the escutcheon of a gentleman,
a hat stuck upon the back of the head,
straight hair, mouth stretched from
morning till night by a lump of to
bacco; lips stained yellow by the juice
of the same weed; a black, coat with
narrow skits; a tumbled shirt; the
gloves of a gendarme; trousers in har
‘mony with t ho Vest of the’'equipment,
'and you will have before you the ex
act portrait of a thorough-bred Yan
kee,’ * . ■ •
Smart Young Lady,--At a party,
a few evenings since, as a yountr gen
tleman named Frost, was eating an ap
ple in a quiet corner by himself, a
young lady came up and gaily asked
him “why he did not share with her.
He good-naturedly turned the . side
which was not bitten towards her, say
ing : —“Here, take it if you wish.”- -
“No I thank you, she exclaimed, look
ing at him archly, “I would rather
have one that is not frost bitten / and
ran off to join the company, leaving
poor Frost with a thaw in his heart.
Revolutionary A necdote,—-- A
correspondent of the (N. II.) Patriot,
furnishes the following:
“When the British were in Boston,
1767, my father was in a barber’s shop
waiting to be shaved. A British offi
cer came in and wanted to be shaved,
provided the barber could do it with
out drawing blood, and saying if lie
did not he would run his sword through
him. The barber was frightened and
dare not undertake th'c task. A little
boy sitting there spoke up and said he
would do ir. He looked at the boy
with astonishment, but the hoy strip
ped off his coat and told him to take,
a seat. He took off the officer’s beard
without drawing blood, and was paid
a guinea for his trouble., The officer
then asked him how he ventured to do
it, as he had been to every barber’s
shop in town, and no one before dared
to do it. The boy replied ‘I thought
I should see the blood as soon as you
would, and if I had, I won! t have cut
your throat to the back-bone in a mo
ment.’ The British officer hung do wn
his head and left, amid shouts of ap
plause for the boy.”
Fanny Fern. —The following por
trait of the celebrated authoress may
be interesting to many of our readers.
Not two years since, she was living m
poverty; herself and children subsis
ting on bread and milk ; with none to
aid, or counsel, or sympathise with her;
nursing her sick ‘little one day and
night, °and wearily writing at inter
vals while it slept —and now, she is
wealthy; her name has become a
household word in thousands of fami
lies in both hemispheres, where she is
known by her works and admired and
loved for her brilliant genius, her wo
manly tenderness and her unmistaka
ble goodness and purity of heart. I
sometimes meet this lady in Broad
way, and it may please your readers to
hear what manner of woman she is
like. Well, she is a little above me
dium height, her figure is perfectly
symmetrical, and her bust and should
ers, and the sitting and lift of her head,
would excite the envy of Venus her
self. She has a delicate, beautiful,
florid complexion, glossy golden hair,
an honest, handsome face; a keen daunt
less loving blue eye, and a hand and foot
of most juvenile dimensions. Her
carriage is graceful, her step firm and
elastic; her mien commanding and in
domitable, yet winning; in short, she
looks just like Fanny Fern. She
dresses in perfect taste, generally wear
ing black, and sweeps along Broadway
with a grace, abandon and self forget
fulness characteristic of the accom
plished lady of society and nature’s
gentlewoman —two characters which
are seldom united in the same per
son. —[Ex.
Oh! let me die in the country where
I shall rest, fall like a leaf of the for
est unheeded; where those who love
me need not mask the heart to meet
the careless multitude, and strive to
forget me ! Bury me in the country
amid the prayers of the good and the
tears of the loving ; not in the dark
damp vault, away from the sweet
scented air and the cheerful sunshine,
but in the open fields among the flow
ers that I loved and cherished while
living.— Fanny Forrester.
Crescents. —The Crescent was the
symbol of the city Byzantium, now
Constantinople, which the Turks have
i adopted. This device of the Ottoman
Empire is of great antiquity, as ap
pears from several medals, and took its
rise from an event related by Stephens
the Geographer, a native of Byzan
tium. He tells us that Philip, the fath
er of Alexander the Great, meeting
with mighty difficulties in carrying out
the siege of that city set the workmen on
a very dark night to undermine the
walls, that his troops might enter the
place without being perceived, but
luckily for the besieged, the moon ap
pearing, discovered the design, which
accordingly miscarried. “In acknowl
edgment of the deliverance,” says lie,
“the Byzatines erected a statute to
Diana, and thus the Crescent became
the symbol.”
Kissing.—Hardly any two females
kiss alike. There is as much variety
in the manner of doing it, as in the
face and manner of the sex. Some
delicate little creatures merely give a
slight brush of the lip. This is a sad
aggravation. "We seem to be about to
“have a good time,” but actually get
nothing. Others go into us like a
hungry man to a beef-steak, and seem
to chew up our countenances. This is
disgusting, and soon drives away a
delicate lover. Others struggle like
liens when burying themselves in the
wet dirt. The kiss'is won by great
exertions, and is not w'orth as much as
the trouble it costs. Now, we afe in
favor of a certain shyness when a kiss
is proposed, but it should not continue
too long; and when the fair one “gives
in” let her administer the kiss with
warmth and energy. Let there be
soul in it. If she close her eves, and
sigh deeply immediately after it, the
effect is greater. She should be care
ful and not “ slobber” a kiss, but jgivp.
it as a humming bird runs his bill into
a honey-Suckly, ‘deep, blit delicately. —*
There is much virtue in iy kiss when
well delivered. Wo have had tfie
memory of one we received in our j
youth last us forty years.; and. vyc be- j
Hove it will be the last th[ng wo think .
pf when we die, , ,
The lost Shilling;—A. man <w. I
ped a shilling in the car. As the ff 0,,,.
was covered with si raw, it was no sm a ]j
job to find it aphfi The seats were n<,. I
crowded, so it troubled no one for I
to hunt for it; At” it he went. You I
would have blushed to loplc for a shil 1
ling in the straw—lie did not, but h c
looked in vain, Passengers soon be
gan to smile. One’said it go g
is not worth the hunt.” “But it, is tin*
interest of a dollar for two years’’
said another. “He could have' for R,
the use of twenty-five for a month”
said a third. “Pshaw,” saida fourth
“it would buy a scant lunch ;” —“oroin
ly one drink of brandy,” said the red
facedman in the corner. “It would
buy a yellow covered novel,” sighed
a pale latT—“two loaves of bread for
the starving childcrn,” said a tattered
wizen mother of a haggard boy, who
in his hunger thought how many fine
crackers it would buy him."
“I’ll rrot give it up yet,” said the
seeker. “ I’ve nothing to do on board,
and I might as well be looking for it as
not. It is the price of an hour’s hard,
sweating work. I struck tor an ad
vance of as much last month,” —and
into the straw he plunged again—-
Labour is honorable. We thought the
more of him for the search, but the
moneyed man at our elbow r , who was
thinking of the shilling hc shrewdly
got out of the grocer, not over honor
ably, an hour ago, turned up his nose,
and muttered, as he pulled the strap, “ra
ther small business." '
The Home Journal, in a pleasant
homily upon: “The ways of Tailors,”
shows up some of the tricks of the
trade :
Tailors must live; at least they think
so, we have no objections. Yet they
have ingenious ways of torturing their
victims. One way is this. They in
vent a fashion which is strikingly pec
uliar, and get it into vogue by various
arts best known to themselves; forex
ample very short over-coats with long
waists, which look well on men like
Count Rossi, whose figure is faultless.
Their next movement after every body
is over-coated for the winter, is to bring
a garment which differs as much as pos
sible from the one in fashion, that is, an
over-coat with skirts to the heels, and
waist under the arm-pits. They get a
half dozen men of high fashion who
looiv well in anything, to parade this
new invention in Broadway, and make
the short-coated majority appear out of
date. The manoeuvre succeeds: all
the dandies are driven to the extrav
cxtravagance of ordering a superfluous
coat; the tailors smile and the dandies
bleed, or their fathers do. Some time
ago our tailor tyrants put us all into long
waistcoats, and consequently, into con
tinuations that just lapped over the
hips. Suddenly t.hc waistcoats were
abbreviated four inches. What was
the consequence? Why, of course the
continuations “failed to connect,” and
lie who would not exhibit to mankind
a broad belt of white around his waist,
was compelled to discard all his store
of well-saved unnameables; and in
vain shall the oldest customer protest
and order garments of the last fashion.
“Consider my reputation, sir,” says the
tailor with the air of offended majesty.
A Model Speech.—“ Fellow citi
zens : lam no speech maker—But
what I say, I’ll do. I’ve lived among
| you twenty years —if I have shown
myself a clever fellow, you know it
without a speech; if I’m not a clever
fellow you know that too, and wouldn’t
forget it with a speech. I’m a candi
date for the Legislature; if you think
I’m the clear grit, vote for me; if you
think Major R. of a better stripe than I
am, vote for him. The fact is, either of
ns will make a good Representative.
Confidence.
“You say you have confidence in
the plaintiff, Mr. Smith!
“Yes, sir.”
“State to the court, if you please what
caused this feeling of confidence.”
“Why, you see, sir, there’s allers re
ports ’bout eatin’ house men, an’ I used
to kinder think —”
“Never mind what you thought—tell
us what you know.”
“Well, sir, one day I goes down to
Cooken’s shop, an’ sez to the waiter,
waiter, sez I, give’s a weal pic.”
“Well sir, proceed.”
“Well, just then, Mr. Cooken comes
up, and sez hc, how du, Smith, what
ye going to hev?”
“Weal pie, sez I.”
“Good,” sez lie, “I’ll take one, tu;”
so he sets down and eats one of his
own weal pies right afore me.”
“Did that cause your confidence in
him?”
“Yes, indeed, sir, when an eatin’
house keeper set-s down afore his cus
tomers an, deliberately eats one of his
own'weal pies; no man can refuse to
feel confidence—it shows him to be an
honest man.”—A. Y. Picayune.
Hard To please.—ATady went in
to a-‘grocery recently, and asked for
some self-raising flour. The clerk for
the moment was a green Irishman
who, opening a barrel, showed her
some of the ordinary superfine.
“This is not what I want,” said the
lady, with some pique, “ I want sclfrais
ihg flour.”
“Oh,” said Pat, with promptness,
“the mischief a bit will ye find fault
with it not rising, the whole ban el went
up this morning from nine to eleven
dollars, and if that dont t suit, \ou aie
hard to plase, entirely.”
The laay disappeared in a hull.
“Flour lias ris,” and it is owing to
the “yeastern question, of com sc.
It has been decided that Absalom
wa | tkc leader of the first party of
.-<# Know Nothings:” The authority is
2 Samuel xv. 11: .
“ \nd with Absalom wont two hun
dred* men .out of Jerusalem, that were
called —and they went in their .simpli
city, and they hnew uot any thing.
Thu hope of reward sweetens in
dustry. '