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y/ A ’ dbaiuiiciHU. FOR Tin: INDEPENDENT PRESS. •tilen. T -v 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. '