Huntingdon Journal

              BY JAS. CLAEK.
HDNTINGDON, PA., TDESDAY, JULY 2, 1850:'
VOL. XV, NO  26,
CHOICE    PQETRY.
A POETIC OEinr. Thc niantle of Buried Yean.
There arc gems that rest in Ihc silent caves
Of the deop and boundless sca. And the riches of earth on its hounding w-avcs
Is tossed by the breezes free; But I'd give them all for the smiles and tears lhat lie with the wealth of buried years.
There nre sands that glitter away in the VVest, VVhero ages thn rivers have rolled
Their clear cold lloods to thc ocean's breast, O'cr beds stur-sprinkled with gold;
But what IS the w-oalth of their golden tide
'I'othe treasure ofyears thathave vanished away!
There are sounds of voices lhat ever steal back From the depth of by-sono years,
And memory bestrews the oft-trodden track VVith its sunshine, its shadow and lears ;
O, doubly dear are the gems tbal lie
In the golden years that have flilled by I
As the light fades out Irom thc evening cloud.
That days have glided avvay. And tho heart is still 'ncath the chilly shro.id
That beats high in life's happy day: O ! where is the treasure the wide vvorld bears T' at i» w-orth one smile from the buried yenrs !
Vague realm of the past! how joyous a band Have you called from the home of men.
To tho silent vales ofthat shadowy land VVhcneo they come not back ngain !
Ve ga-.hered years, what treasures ye hear!
For the loved and lost to earlh are there I
MISCELLANEOUS.
THC UUiNKAKU'S RESCIE.
A SURGEON'S STORY.
Knocli ! knock! knock! It vvas again the fiiiiiiliiir night warning. A seamiu of disease, especially falal to the working i people of tbc tovvn, kept me constantly nt work ; and, well or ill, willing or not, I must be reatly at iheir call. I bprung from my warm bed, and lifting up ilie window sash, called out, "Who's therei" "You must come directly, sir, to No. f) Smilh's Yard, and see a child thnt lies very ill; il's a neighbor's bairn, sir."
"Yery vvell ; I shall be there present¬ ly," vvas my reply, nud 1 shut down the window.
Tlirowing on my clolhes hastily, nnd a cloak over all, 1 hastened out, nnd pro¬ ceeded 13 thc house indicated. It was n colli winter's morning,about 5 o'clock. The biller wind, laden wilh sleel, caught me nl the street corner, and made me draw my cloak closer around nie. The faclory bells were already ringing, and here and there the huge castles of facto¬ ries were lit np, and poured a thousand streams of light inlo the darkness. Tho streels wore astir vvith thc factory work- vrs—men, women, and liltio girls, who clin.oed ulong in paltensihrotigh the wet SHOW which sprinkled the ground. Poor chiidrcn thus early inured lo the hard lot of toil ! whal a pilcous fate was iheirs! Cut tinkling ihrough thc air went the iiiipurlunate bells of the factories, and away lhcy mnsl go. Were they wannly clnd 1. Were they fed ! Were tliey rested—thus early astir, ami exposed to lhe elements 1 But I stifled my iho'ls and hastened on.
I  found the house  without difficulty. It vvas   situated in a   yard where 1 had often before boen  in the course of the last three  months  called  hiiher by the dutiesof  my profession.    Tipus  I'cvcr in its   worst forms hud  recently been a conslant   visitor  there.    It   wns   in the heart of  nn ill-drained, filthy neighbor¬ hood, exclusively inhabited by working people.      The gutters lay close   by the duors ; thoy did not run, but were stag¬ nant  for months   together.    In   such a pUice tho reinedies provided by medicine have but lillle  avail.    The poison held in solution by the surrounding air biiffles the most skilful trcntment, and dealh is nlinoMt invarinbly the  victor in the con tcsl.    Half the chiidrcn born in this dis¬ trict,  I was assured by men of long ex pericnce, perished under four years old; ¦iiid thc lives oflhose who survived vvere sickly, joyless, and miserable. Life with :hein was only along and painful dying. I found my lillle palicnt in the dealh throes.    It was a case of croup ofthe iVorst kind.    The house was comforlless 'n tho extreme.    A few red cinders in '.he grate struggled for life—a cold firc, nore cheerless even than none at all.— The furniture of tho room into which 1 vas ushered, consisted of drawers sadly I'Ut of repnir,  a deal-safe, three or four licketly chairs, and the miserable truck '<• on which  the   dying  child   lay.    A -Aooden flight of stairs led lo a sleeping ii;iarlment   above—of   the furnilure  of vvhich one might form an idea from this, iKe   "besl" aparlment.    The molher of ilie child  held an infant ofa fevv weeks oid at her  breasl;  she   was crying bit¬ terly, for   the sad  truth was not to be ;oncealed  from her.    She was  dressed in npoor garment, patched in many pla¬
ces, yet she was clenn ; the few arlicles in the apartment, however miserablo in other respects, being also as clean as water and scouring could make litem.— The floor too, was clean and fresh sand- ed. By whatever menns, then, misery had fallen upon this humble household, it did nol, at lirsl sight, appear to bo the woman's fault; the evidences of her do¬ mestic industry were obvious. There was a dismal poverty ; that was only loo apparent.
My inlerest in the poor woman's for¬ tunes was excited by what I saw ; and, afler administering some medicine, I en¬ quired hovv she lived.
"We live but poorly, sir," she said ; "no wages have come into the house this v^'eek ; and you see," glancing nl the in¬ fant in hcr arms, "ihat we have jusl had another lillle mouth lo fill."
"Then yonr husband " I hesita¬ ted, and seeing my doubt—
"Alas!" she said, '-1 have a husband, and yet he is not a husband," and she hung doivn her head and wept. "Is he in work 1" I enquired. "Work enough, and well paid, for that part of it; hut, sir, you see he hns sadly fallen otr in his ways since wo were married. Ho hns become unsteady— careless of his home and fauiily—und in short, sir, a drunkard.''
The confession cosl her a painful ef¬ fort ; and 1 was almosl sorry for Iiaving e.xtracted it; but sho proceeded with her story :
"When vve were married, 1 ihought myself the happiest of women. He vvns kind, nfTcctionatc, and steady. I did my best to mako things coiiil'ortable, and I think I succeeded. We were nol always in the poor house you see now, sir; we had ns snng and tidy a lillle home as is
lo bc found in all  ; but every bil of
furniture hns gone now, e.xcept what you see. He has takeii away one thing after anoihcr, nnd sold them for drink ; and 1, for I could nol help it, had lo pawn my clothes for bread for my children. Mine has become n hard and bitter lot ; and what cnn a poor womnn do, when lied to a wan who has ceased to love her, ceas¬ ed lo think of ber, and cnres only to gralify his craving for drink ! Form¬ erly, when he came home from work, the house was made comforlablofor him and oh! how I rejoiced at the sound of his coming slep! There vvas very mu¬ sic in il! Bul now the sound of his tread makes me shudder ; I lislen for it as before, but it is in dread. 1 hear the unsteady step, and my soul sinks vviihin mo. That dear liltle hoj', how he loved his father! He clumbered about him, and romped and played wilh him, and the father fiAt a proud joy in his young- son. But lhat joy, loo, was poisoned hy the growth of lhe nevv craving for drink which set in upon him, and 1 even feared that the falher begun lo grudge the food that was necessary to nourish the littlo thing, as it limited the moans of selt"-indulgence. All is a dreary blank now!"
I found that the poor child had been called up one cold, raw night, lo lel the futhar in, while tlio mother, unable to rise, was confined to bed with her neiv born infant. A severe cohl was canght, which soon assumed thc form of croup, nnd dcalh fixed his relentless lalons on the doomed child. Thnt father! how much had ho lo an.swer for ! and, did a spnrk of fatherly feeling yet remain in him, hovv horror-stricken musl he bc, vvhen finding the shocking result of his ovvn sinful conduct I
1 left thc house, giving the poor wo¬ man such comfort ns the circumstances would permii; nnd, truth to say, lhcy were exiremely slender. Bul I resolved in my own mind lo have an interview with the man himself, and lo poinl out to him the consequences of his conduct A few hours after, when ihe morning light had dawned, I relurned lo the house. The child had breathed its Inst a few minutes before I enterod. The molher, almosl heart-broken, was stunn¬ ed wilh grief, and tears were all tier ut¬ lerance. A man, bowed down and hag¬ gard, sal by the fire, the very picture of wretchedness. He started up when I entered, and made lo the door, bnt 1 Slood before him nnd said, "I should like to have a word with you before you go. You are, 1 presume, the father of lhat child 1"
"I am, sir," he replied. "And you are awnre of the cause of its dealh V    He  hung down his head and sobbed.
"I do not wish lo speak severely lo you, my friend, at such a time ; but you "muft lake this asn special and solemn warning to yourself—one sent, 1 hope, by Providence, to withdraw you from the guilty course you aro now pursuing, which must inevitably end in utter ruiu and misery to yourself, your vvife, and your children."
"1 know it, sir, he gasped, "I know il!
But I have beon  infatualed—mad—and
1 cruel to my family in the extreme. I feel
It all now ; I see the horrid guiltiness of my course, nnd I have vowed never to drink again. I havo sworn it over the bodyof iny poorchild, whoso love I had begun lo forgel, whose comfort I hud alcly nltogether neglected; and you will see, sir, I shall persevere in my de¬ termination."
"I am glad to hear it," 1 said; "aban¬ don wholly this habit jou have given yourself up to. Do not even laste, for the first drop does the mischiel; and I shall be glad to learn that you have be¬ come restored lo usefulness as a mem¬ ber of sociely, and lo the renewed love and respeel of your family."
'I faithfully promise," he said, and seized my hand and pressed il; 1 thall swear, if lhat be necessary."
Several monihs passed, and, being much occupied, the circumstance had nlmost passed from my mind, until one morning a visitor called lo intiuire for his accounl, and gavo his name, which 1 at once remembered as the occupant of theiiottage of Smith's Yard. I had some difTiculty in recognizing him again ; he was clean, healthy-looking, and well dressed ; a change seemed lo have como over the entire man.
"I have kept my promise, sir," were his first vvords. 1 have not lasled one drop of iuto.Nicat'ng drink since lhal sad inorning, and with God's help shall ne¬ ver tasle anolhor drop while I live. I have found tho good consequences in my restored self-respect, in the restored enjoyment of my home and family. 1 have taken a collage in a clenn and heal¬ thy part of the town ; lor do you know, sir, my craving for stimuliinls sluck by me so long as 1 breathed the air ofthat filthj" court. Who knows how many drunkards these unwholesome couris nnd yards of our town annually make ! I am now a tee-lotalcr, and already a inember of an associalion, just formed, for improving the health of the town.— None can join so zealously in such good causes as those vvho have sufTered from the evils they are inlended lo cure ; and I trust I am not the least zealous among lhe meinbers of these moveinents."
I expressed my cordial delight at lear¬ ning the radical cnre that had been ef¬ fecled in his case, encouraged him to proceed, and settled the business about which he had called.
I afterwards watched his progress, and had frequent occasions to meet him as a fellow-laborer in theexccllent move¬ ments in which he had so hearlily join¬ ed ; and to this day, i believe, he is at work—a usc.''ul, industrious, and gener¬ allj' respected member of the society amidst which he lives.
Thus Providence sent its warning in time. Would that all the dispensations of God were thus turned lo profit, and made as fruitful in good consequences.
Oh! Love, Youug Love.
Jonathan Dunbulter saw Prudence Feastall at meeling. Jonathan kind o' sidled up lo Prudence afler meeting, and she a kind o' sidled off. Ho went clo¬ ser, and axed her if she would accept thc crook of his elbow. She resolved sho would, and plumbed her arm right uround his, Joi.athan felt all overish, and said he liked the text—'Se»k nnd ye shall find'—was purely good rendin,— Prudence hinted that 'Ask and you shall receive' was better. Jonalhan ihought so too, bul this axing was a puzzler. A fellow was apt to get into a snarl when he axed, and snarling was no fun. Pru¬ dence guessed strawberries and cream were slick. Jonalhan guessed they wan't so slick as Prue's lips. 'Now, don't,' said Prue, nnd she guv Jonathan's arm an involuntary hug. He was a leetle startled, but ihunk his farm wanted somc female hsip, lo loulc arter his house. Prue knew how tu make rale good bread. Don't,' said Prue. 'If I should,' said Jonathan. 'Don't,' said Prue. 'Maybe you wouldn't,' and shuk nil over. Pru dence replied, 'if you be coming lhat rame, you had better lell faylher.'— Thai's jist whal 1 want,' said Jonathan. And in three weeks Jonathan and Pru¬ dence were 'my old man,' and 'my old woman.'
A 'Manifest Des-i-iny' Mam.—Waller Savage Landor publishes an arlicle in the London Examiner, in which he pre¬ dicts that the Uniled States will proceed in annexing foreign Stales nnd eslablish¬ ing in them the English language and laws, lill the Union will embrace all fra¬ ternities and climnies !
Thc FIoM'cr thai Looks Upwards.
A  BEAUTIFUL   SKETCH.
A group of young and light-hearted girls sat together in the twilighl, busily arranging the flowers ihey had been gathering in the pleasant woods and fields.
Whal beaatiful things flowers are !" said onc. "And what a plensanl amuse¬ ment It vvould be now that we are all sitling here so quietly, if each were to choose whal flower she would rather be like."
Just ns if there could beany choice," exclaimed Lniira Bennet, a liltle proud¬ ly—and holding np a moss rose as she spoke.—"Among all the flowers that grow, there is none lo vie in beauty with the rose. Lel me be the queen of flow¬ ers or none!"
"For my part," observed her sister Helen, "I should like to resemble the luxuriant rhododendron, so beautifully described in our book of llowers. When any one, in passing, shakes it roughly, it scatters, as we nro told, a "shower of honey dew from ils roseate cups, and immodialcly begins to fill its chalices anew wilh transparent ambrosia;" leach¬ ing us lo shower sweetness even upon the hnnds that disturb us, and lo fill ngsin with pure honey drops the chali¬ ces of our inward thonghts. Oh! who would not wish lo be meek and forgiv¬ ing like the rhododendron, if they could ! But it is very diflicult," added poor Hel¬ en, with tears in her eyes.
" Il is Indeed," said Lucy Neville, gen¬ tly, "if vve trusl only lo our strength.— It is only when my fnther looks at mc in his grave, kind manner, that I havc the slightest control over myself. What a pily it is,'' said Lucy simply, "thnl we cannol always remember lhat the eye of our Henvenly Falher is upon us'!" " I vvish I could," replied Helen. " I have heard my mother say," obser¬ ved Lucy, "lhat praying is betler than wishing."
" Novv Clara'" interrupted Lanra Ben¬ net, lurning impatienlly loward a fair, gentle looking girl by her side, "vve are vvii'iing for you."
(-.lara smiled, nnd immediately chose the pale convolvulus, or bindweed, wind¬ ing so carelessly in and out among the bushes, flinging over them a graceful covering, an emblem of meek beauty and loving lenderness. "The only pity IS," said she, "that it should so soon close up nnd fade."
"But what says our dear Lucy," ex¬ claimed Helen.
"1 think that I can guess," said Clara Seymour, "either a violet or heart's ease —am 1 righl 1"
Not quile," replied Lucy with a deep blush, "although both the flowers tbat you havo menlioned are great favor¬ ites of mine. Bull should liketorcsem- blo the daisy most, because it is always
LOCKING UPWAKBS."
"Do tell me," said Helen, as they walked homo togethiir, carrying the flowers which they had gathered to adorn their several dwellings; do tell me why you wished, jusl now, lo be always look¬ ing upward like the daisy."
"O, Helen, can you aak 1 Whnt more do we require for happiness than lo be able, lot tho cloud be ever so dnrk, to look upward wiih the eye of faith, and say, ll is the Lord's will and there-fore it 'is best 1"
" Do you alvvays think thus ?" askod Helen.
" Alas no !" replied poor Lucy, while tht tears fell fust, "bul 1 am trying and praying lo God to teach me."
in?^ Great minds are charilablo to their bitterest enemies, and can sympa¬ thize with the failings of their fellow creatures. It is only the narrow-mind¬ ed who make no allowance for the faults of olhcrs.
To Parents.—Boys that have been proporly reared aro men m point of use¬ fulness at sixteen, whilst those thnt have been brought up in idle hnbits arc nui- snnc9s at twenty-one.
Kiss Cutilliuus.
The editor of the Windsor Journal— nil obslihnte sort of a bachelor—learns that "Professors of Dancing" in New York, havc recently introduced a new style of cotillion called the kiss cotillion, the peculiar feature of which is, that you kiss the ladies as you swing corners. The editor is n crusty sort of a fellow who never dances, bul says hc would not mind waiving his objections to the am¬ usement so far as lo "swing corners" now and then in this new cotillion!—the selfish scamp. He reminds us ofnn old lady whohad an unaccountable aversion to rye, and never could eat it in any form, "till of late years," sho said, "they had got to making it into whiskey, and I find I can now and then worry tlown a leetle."
^j'Pi. romantic youth, promenading on a fashionable street the other after¬ noon picked up a thimble. He stood a while, meditating npon the probablo houuty of the owner, when he pressed it to his lips, snying, "O ! that it woro tho fair cheek of thc wearer !" Just as he had finished, a stout colored lady, looked out of an upper window, and said, "Boss, jis please to frow dat fim- blo of mine in de enlry.    1 just drapt it."
[ly'Be calm nnd steady ; nothing will grow under amoving harrow.
Sham Hays and his BuII-y Race.
Some forty years ago, lhe manngers of a race course near Brownsville, on lhe Monongalieln, published n noiicc of a race, one mile heats, on a pnrticular day, for a purse of one hundred dollara, "free foi anything witTi four legs and hair on .'"
A man in the neighbibrhood, named Hays, hnd a bull that he vvas in (he hub- it of riding to mill wilh his bag of corn, and he detennined to enter him for the race. He said nothing about it to any one, but he rode him around the trnck a number of times on several moonlight nighls, untilthe bull had the hnng of thc ground prelty well, and would keep the righl eoursc. He rode wilh spurs, vvhich the bull considered particularly disagreeable ; so much so, lhat ho al¬ ways bellowed loudly when they were applied to his sides.
On the morning of the race. Hays came upon the ground "on horseback" on his bull. Inslead of a saddle, he had a dried ox-hidc, the head part of which, with the horns still on, he had placed on the bull's rump. He carried a shoit tin horn in his hund.
He rode lo the judges' stand and of¬ fered to enter his bull for the race, but the owners of the horses lhat w-ere en¬ lered objected. Ilays appenled to the terms of the notice, insisting lhat his bull hnd "for legs arnl hair on,'^ and that therefore he had a right to enter him. After a good deal of ''cussin" and "dis¬ cussion,' the judges declared ihemselves compelled to decide that the bull had a right to run.
VVhcn the time for starting arrived, the horses took their piaccs. 'The horso- racers were out of Iiumor at being both¬ ered with tho bull, and nl the burlesque which thoy supposed was intended, but ihought lhat nil would be over ns soon as thc horses started. When the signnl ivns given lhcy did start. Hays gave a blast wilh his horn and sunk his spurs into the bull's sides, who bounded ofT wilh a terrible bawl, al no trifling speed, the dried ox-hide flapping up and down and rattling at every jump, making a combination of noises that had never been henrd on a race course before. The horsos all flow the track, every one seem¬ ing to be seized with a sudden determi- n.»tion to like the shortest cut lo get out of the Redstone country, and nol one of them could be brought back in time to save their distance. Thc purse was giv¬ en to Hays under a good deal of hard swearing on the part of the owners of llio horses.
A general row ensued, but the fun of the thing put the crowd all on tho side of the bull. The horsemen all conten¬ ded that they were swindled out of the purse, nnd thai if it had not been for Hnys' horn and ox-liido, which he ought not lo have been permitted to bring on the ground, lhe ihinw would not have turned oul as it did.
Upon this. Hays told them that his bull could beat any of their horses any¬ how, and if they would put np a hun¬ dred dollars against the purse which he had won, he would take ofl^ the ox hide, leave his tin horn, and run a fair race wilh them. His ofTer was accepted, and the money slaked. They again took their places at the starling post, and the signal vvas given. Hays give the bull another touch with his spur, and the bull gave anolher treinondous bellow. The horses remembered the horrible sound, and thought the rest was coming as be¬ fore. Away lhcy wont again, in spile of all tho exertions of their riders ; while Hays galloped his bull around the track agttin and won the money. From that lime tbey nick-named him Shniii Hnys. He afterwards removed to Ohio but his nickname stuck to him ns long as   he lived.— Spirit  of the Times.
A SulTering Youlh.
' Fnther I wants a dollnr," said a country boy—a strapping lad of sixteen, who measured two ax-handles in his stockings—to his dad, one Sunday night —"I -ivants a buzzum pin amazingly, all the big boys in town have got 'em but me."
"Fudge," replied the s'lrc,"abuzzum pin! nonsense! You'd belter get a pair of shoes or a ncw folt, for a dollnr, or suthin' o'Boine consekwenso—but b-u-z-z-u-m-p-i-n !—pshaw !"
"Humph!" returned tho juvenile, "these ere things you spoke on are all well enough in the fall ; wont my palm- leaf dew for this summer, and can't I go bare-fool now 1 Bul," sobbed out tho stripling, "I'm really suflering fcr a buz- zuni-pin '.
(I5^"The heart of the generous man is like the cluuds of heaven, which drop upon the earlh fruits, herbage, and flow¬ ers ; the heart of the ungrateful is like adesort of sand, which svvallovveth wilh greediness the showers that fall, but hurieih them in iti bosom, and produ- celh nothing."
Irisli (ircumlocutioii.
If the Irish nre to bc (listinguished as n convivial and a musical, tlicjr must also be noled as a circumlocutory people. Obseivingone duy nn unusual commo¬ tion in the streets of Derry, I inquired of a bystander the.reason ; and he, rvitfi a mellifluous brogue, replied in the fol¬ lowing metaphorical mnnner:
" The rnson, sir ! Why, you sec that thc justice nnd litlle Larry O'Hone, tha carpenter, havebeen pulling up apicture- franie al the end of tho slrnle yonder, nnd they nre going to hang one of 'Ad¬ am's copies' in it."
" What's thnti"
" Why, poor Murdock O'DonneJ."
"Oh, there's a man to be hiingV
" Do thev put up a gallows for any other purpose '."
" What's his ofTence 1"
" No oflence, your honor ; it was only a liberty he took."
' Well, what was the liberty 1
" ^^ I'V) y°" ^'^'^1 ^i""! pfor Murdock was in delicate health, and his physi¬ cinn advised tlial he should take exer¬ cise on horseback ; and so, having no horse of his own, be borrowed one from Squire Doyle's paddock : and no sooner
was he on its shovvlder.*, than the d 1
pul il into the craclier's head togo over to Kcllovvgresn caltle-fair, where iie had a good many nrquaiutances; antl when he was got there, Murdock spied a friend at the door of a shebeen-house, and left the animal grazing outside, whilst ho went in to havc a thimbleful of whiskej-; and then, you see, they got frisky and had anoihcr, and another, till poor Murdock went to sleep on the binch ; and when he vvouko up, he found the cracr.er gone, and his pocket stufT- cd full vvilh a big lump of money.,'
" In short," snid I, "you mean to sny hc has heen horse-stealiag."
Why, sir," he replied, stammering and scratching his head, "thoy call it so in England."
A PoLiricAi. Joke.—A clerk in tho Wnr Department died a few dnys ngo, and some nnxious nnd expectant whigs Ihoughl they would tnke time by tho forelock to recommend a candidale.— They callod immediately upon the'Sec¬ retary, and after stating their business apologised for calling so soon afler the clerk's death. The Secretary blandly assured the genllemen lhat no apology- was necessary for so early a call, lor the vacancy wan already filled.
Cross-E.\am-..n-ation.—A wilness, cx¬ nmined in one of the Couris of Illinois, upon trial concerning a horso trnde, was asked by the counsel for the defendant how thc plaintifrgonerally rodel JVii- ness—Hc generally rides a-strnddle, sir. Counsel—How does he ride in compa¬ ny 1 Witness—If he has a good horse he alvvays keeps up. Counsel—How does he ride when he is alono 1 Witness —Keally, sir, 1 cannot say, for I never was in company wilh him when he rode by himself. Coun.-Yo'a may siand aside.
As Apolocv.—A lawyer in a neigh¬ boring county, addressed the Courl ns. "genlleme*," instead of your "Honors." After he had concluded a brotherof the Bar reminded him of his error. He im¬ mediately rose to apologise thus :
" May it please the Court—in the beat of debate I called your Honorsgcn- tlemen.    I made a mistake your Honors."
The gentleman snt down, and we hope thc court was stitisfied w-ith the explana¬ lion.
037".\ young boauty beheld one eve¬ ning tvvo horses running ofT, at locomo¬ tive speed with a light wagon. Asthey npproached, shc wns horrified at recog¬ nising, in tho occupants of iho vehicle, two gentlemen of her acquaintance.— "Boys! boys!" she screamed in terror, "Jump out—quick—jump out—especial¬ ly Charley.'" It is noodless lo say lhat her senliments as lo "Charley," were, fromthat time forth, no secret.
A Male Flirt.—A monster in cassi¬ mere—a wretch, in short, who trifles with the besl aflections of a young girl, and then flings her aside ns lie would a dead pink, or any laded flowers ofT of which he had taken the bloom. Mrs. Smilhers says, such aman ought to be squeezed to doalh with mountains, with¬ out the benefit of hollering.
[[yA. Lowell boy, writing from Cali¬ fornia, by the late steamer, speaking of ttie markel says :—" 1 am not a prophet, but I think it safe to send pork, drieti apples, dried peaches, beef, molasses, sugar, good butter—and cheese^—done up to preserve it on the voyage—pickled onions, cider, vinegar, Shaker brooms and'women,"
[I^"Cut your garment according to your clolh," is an old maxim, but the sentiment is as true now as ever. A life of gaudy shovv may do for a butter¬ fly, bul never for a man and woman who expect to survive oiio season