OCR Interpretation


The Lewis County banner. (Lowville, N.Y.) 1856-1864, September 10, 1856, Image 1

Image and text provided by Northern NY Library Network

Persistent link: http://nyshistoricnewspapers.org/lccn/sn83031791/1856-09-10/ed-1/seq-1/


Thumbnail for 1
-td K THE LEWIS COl XO NORTH! NO SOUTH J NO EAST! NO WEST! BUT THE VRIOH Alfl> THE COW fTITUTIOIf, WOW AND FOREVER. VOL. 1. LOWVILLE, LEWIS CO, N. Y., WEDNESDAY, SEPT., 10, 1856, NO. 2. POETRY. A Psalm of tire. WHAT fHETfEVKTOF THE 1OUXG MAX SAID TO THE PSALMIST. , LONOFllLOW. «~ Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an cinptv dream' for the soul 13 doul tint ^Inmbers, And things arc not what thev seem. Life is real! Life 1- e mie 11 Ami the gi~r\e 1 not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust retmne t, Was not spoken of the soul. Sot enjoyment, anil not sort-on, 1^ our do tint.il mil or » xv , But to act, that lath to morrow, finds Us i 11 tllLl til 111 tO (11\. Art is long, iml Time I- tlecUnir, And otu ho iris though stout ami brave, Still like muMi.il ilrum~, ire beitmg funeral min,ht» to the grwe. In the world'- bioad held of luttle, In the biVou IL ot Lite, Be not like dumb, ilium eittle' Be a hero in the atiiie' Ti n>t no funu e how c ei pit i^ nit' Let the ik id T\-t bui t i » ilc id! Act—let in the living l'u-int' IKirt within u»d GOD o'uhead 1 Lives of ^reit men all remind us A\ e c m in ike our lne- sublime, Ami, depaitiiij; lev\e bchi'icl u>, Footprints on tlie - mds of time, i Footpum-, that peilnjw suiotliei, S ii'ing ou 'ifi » »oloma m nn, A loiloin mil Oupwi >.k djwother, nuv tike he. ut igam POPULAR TALES. The Old Soldier's Barling* Let ii tlieu, be up ind dom^r, VAilh theirttoi i m lite, ll achieving - ill piwun.' Learn to to 1 ibuui incl to w ut Charade Jfo. 2. BY M VU\ VV. STANLEY CHAPTER I. I had waited long beside tlie little fUrm- vaid gate for the evening stage from , which was to carry me to \Woodville.— The sad silence of the summer evening weighed hcav lly upon my spirits. I was tot happy when I left my little chamber, and as T sat upon t}ie broad stone steps, watching the lights of \sunset dying^in the western sky, and listening dreamily to the subdued lowing of the covs that came slowly down the hilly pi&turo to be milk- eJ, mv taeo grew solnir and niy e)es were almost icadv too\erflow. Betoic 1 had ehsgiaced myself in my own eves bj nirv such show of weakness T he aid the stage vvheeK tattling downove the mountam load, and lumied down to the oud of the little green law n to be in lLiehnoss fot it, Tlieio was OIJK one occupant beside imselt— in old \cntleman whose soft blue C}es anil good natuiod smile won my hcai aboncc He was. apparently, between fif tv and si\t\ jeai«. old, with a gallant air and oieet and soldiei like beamier, thai s fulh cvplaued when I saw the smal gilt bands upon the undress uniform he w me His sil\ei\ hair hung in short cml aiound Ins toichead and neck, a woll-tnm ed bend and mustache of the same hue a VLel to the look of manly self-ieliance ii his fite '• Lho-c who love v ou, and w hom jo Jo\e, must Le ^ en lnpp\,''I thought t im~clt, asl met the- hank unclouded gaz< of tho^c honest e\ cs, and accepted the as What was there in that simple speech that made blush ? I could not tell, but lush I did, to the roots of my hair. The stage rolled away from the office, and stopped before a handsome stone louse, [standing back from the road.— Lights were blazing in all the windows, tnd on the wide portico a gay group were standing. Foremost among these I saw a stately black-eyed woman, richly dressed in purple velvet, with a single dia- mond sparkling on her forehead,that seem- d to burn into my brain. He arose from his seat, and held out his hand. \ We may never meet again my child,' he said, very kindly, \but I shall not for- get our pleasant ride. Gi\e me one fiow- r from your boquct in memory of it.\ I jgavc him one—the fairest rosebud him hide it within his The thirsts v\ indeiers eiser lip, Tint -hoit iltliv ini\ l>ule, Greet not m\ Fnet, i- he stoops to «>p V itrmsht of the m-til title But ti- kis ul b\ tie pioud 'neath pihce rendering my sea Fre the wine the i lip nn\ kno», Vn 1 tin lo«'\ pooi ii the i humble home-, A\ ho ihmk ot a pnui fiou. A-tctl elul \ uno a 1 LI-'dhorn, Duhince -t<_mH li'iw, A~ on thi, lifted helO it mom, A giw r 'et sura he threw , Anil HOIK duel lilt tint icirtil dire— Nor A i 1 ! int ktu^'it oi ~ii irt 'Till mv \i_\t m tiii hind ot i initi tiU pige {struck dot it the eh uipiop due Win A\ hole, ttiicre embi\o liglituing- -leep, Iu Eirth- il<_ep ~i(n,t eell-, And ui'ioin thumlei-- -lleiin. keep, In piiinil ilirkne» dwell- \iu it light- the fh-h of the Mugful gun, \l hen the \eiigtul bullet -ing- , Anil it, «peert* the nmi derou rocket on, As through the nr it ^prmg« [irnm tho 'New there, and saw vest. ' And what shall I leave you for a tok en of the old man 1 \ he continued, look ing deep down into my eyes. An eagle button, toi n aw aj by some ac cidcut, hung suspended by one frail thread from lus coat. I pointed to that. \ It w ill remind me more A n idly than am thing else ot jou.\ lie placed it in my hand -with a gratifi ed smile. and animated face* \Can it bo you? I did not recognise j ou here.\ \ My dear child!\ How grateful my heartfelt for the pet name, But those a- round me seemed struck with dismay at so familiar an address. I did not mind them, but taking his offered arm, we walk- ed away to a more quiet saloon, to re- new our acquaintance there. I was only too glad to desert the foolish crowd a- round me; and after losing faith in every- thing, be looking into those clear ejes, and feel sure that truth and candor were in the answering glance. \ And so yon have kept my poor token,\ lie said, thoughtfully, as the party broke up, and we rose to go. \I have not been forgetful of the fair young child who was kind enough to listen to me.\ lie touched a spring in a locket, half hidden beneath his vest, and showed me my rosebud, faded and discolored, but preserved carefully. Mj heart leaped with a sudden bound, but I was too happy to speak. From that evening he was constantly by my side. Younger men, trying to wn my notice, and only rewarded now and then with a languid smile, would diaw back with ludricous astonishment when I grew animatd as he came near. grown weary of plaving a part. I hac 1 I loved '•Tt has been where the bullets rained! him frankl . v > ^ and tenderly—I be ' « i»i i » ti Aiu—' D 1\ New-] Sons. m^ uil Bnght.\ EL- t.L Our binner'« un'ui'ed To the gv> of the noihl, d il l l Jth g And ilo it- 1 it->.l>os^ ill , TJ\ million reieied It i- prouulj roired In the r m of our ho-t of brother\. A it -tream* on. lrtj,li It catehes the CTC Of the pilgrim cros-ing the ocean, And he ne »r our ^trind With trembling hand Uplifted in deep de\ otion [CIIORCS 3 Then Democrats rai o The crj of prai e, As Freedom bear our pennon; And our voice well jpThe victorious sh nt— Ilurjah for our great Buchanan t That crv goes forth To the icy Xorth— F om the \ er> I'olc returning— And its echoes reply \Where the Southern sky Is ever resplendent burning. From, the eagle's jicst In the. glorious Wcstj Where the buffilo flie the yeoman, To4he Ea tern gnnc«, Of »ur father braves Who sleep by their Bnti h foemen. Then Democrat, raise The cry of praise, As Freedom bears our pennon; And our voices swell The Yictonong shout— Ilurrah for our great Buchanan! ODDS AND ENDS. sktarico lie offered iu more comfortable. Some, waiter; lias said: \no Woman cai witlistaiid; the ~seige' of a ha.Ttdsoineniri: •fsm;\\-I.plGa'd;guiity'to\t!iis.amiablc-ivcalc ness, ofin-v sex, and confess that Iprefi: epaulfets. and eaglebuttons to all civfiliail eiij!bdidimen'ts^'^v4iilv>-aGon?mandin*.flg^TC amt free .military step, carry myf eyes en- tirely away from the. stooping forms and shambling, vyalk .of the ^business men of our large cities; -_• - .- , .•So, vvlieii tliegail.iht officer,, vviiliiig to relieve tlio monotony ;uid embaressnient of our forced journey* talked toinc w-jtli the tliii kiiujtv freedom Ive iiiight use.\\'toward a tng •chil'el, I .did not put on airs of wo- jnaiilioo4,:l>ttt ircsponded as fteely, aftd;lisi vv'itiii uiifcigiie'd dcliglit; wlien he told sonic of tLc:' scenes in whichLLC .had been .oiigaged.. • . • ' ; „ . • Xo liear of the.: gallant May, vvhosesol-' .3ier-fig«Tfe Jiad vyon. my childish, heart,• ft^m €ie lips of oncw^oiradfpughtbylus; sule^^to ]ICM of Scott, aid-Tayfor, -Worth .•arid•'W-obi-^to listen to tlie tales, of. Ees,a- ca de. la Pal ma and IPaio Aito^of the geigc of Monterey arid the battle of Biiena Tjsta, ~\vas' : mdeed' a trcat v and I was tinr fcigjieeily soi:iy Aviieti the stage dashed tip > ;tho door of the WooiKille post-office .n'd onr ipleasant aide was hi, an end. nevv fnerid\ looked out of th'e vviii^ .ovvyand then, took. iiis cloak upon -Ms \Almost lxome,\ lie said with a cheer-' ill smile, that vvonMhavftniadc:that home, nost brjglit and cheerful. And,yovif youiig r ladyj may task if you ?topin town!\ Oiily for the mghtj\ I answared;. \ My sepon hqre lias expired • I.have'said good by to .the. little: farm-house . where I have dccii boardingy and to=-morroW sees' me on iny vv=ay to JfeW Yotki\ \Ah?'' He looked thoughtful 1 for a nioracpti Wl»s the same thought stirring llis breast that we two shoiildjiave' met be- fore? Lam very sorryy' said he after that hcved he loved me—and could not seem cold or formal to satisfy a prejudiced anc exacting world. A careless word from an officious frieiv aroused me. And then the thought toi inented me—that I—who had been so long cold and unmoved, I who had giown ol< in the hypocrisy of the w orld, and wh was an adept in all its arts—had allowet mjself to be hurried and pushed alonj blindly—had shown my heart to one wh was pained by what he&aw there, and onl) kept silence because he knew -not what t sav. The thought w as maddening to one s proud as I. I bore the keen torture for day/and kept aloof from him; but w hoi evening came, my resolution was token.— I would leave the place—leave him an grandfather, who, in lite had never e\cn| never look upon his fare again. An like hail my child. Good b)e, and if we never meet again, G«d keep jou.\ He pressed my hand, and sprang out of the coach. I saw him go up to the laugh- ing gioijp, and heaul the J0V.011T1 welcome thej gave him; saw that stately lacU benel her pi oud head as he kissed her hand with all the gallantry of a knight-errant; heard her call him \mv dear husband,\ and then sank back among the cushions as we diove aw av, and thought how loneh and forsak- en I hael alwavsbecn, while tootheis were given such welcomes and such friends.— And so, among those he loved, I left him and went out into the gieat w01 Id all a- lonc. CHAPTER II. Three vear-, had passed awav. M\ WHAT-TTHEI: 4«E LiEEi^-Men are lik< bugles^-themore,brass they contain, the .further youcan-iheax'them; •Printers'are like patient wives with dis- *ipated husbands^they-are used to settin: np. Women are like; tniips^the; more mod- est aiid retired they appear, the better yoi love them, v- A storekeeper in Iowa advertises 1< pink-eyed potatoes as ^elon^ited tubeR with scorbutic optics.\ The reason why editors, are so apt; t. have their manners spoiled,is because they have a vast number of evil communica tions. \WTjiciplaeedid yOtt'jrafet'fromi\ ask ed a *»#«? a crooked-backed gentleman. -^w|p%<^||.^n^Wi!!*n^\ • -:. ~ ' l^t^iw. must have been\ short pause, \ that I am not to have the pleasure of seeing you again. We garru- lous old men like a good listener, you know,\ he added with a kind smile. \ Then j ou reside here now ? \ I asked \ Only for a time. I am on a furlough and am going to meet my wiib, who is spending the summer with some of her re lations.\ Shall I confess it ? I felt, for a moment, wlonged and defrauded when he spok that name. I felt as if that unseen wife had wronged me of something that shouk have \belonged to me. For the first time had met with one whom I could love witt blenjfed afteetion,csteem and ideal worship and that woman had stepped between me and him forever. I heaved a sigh as thought of it, and then, checking it, smi ed sarcasticly at my folly. We were silent for a time, and then be took a card from tinny silver case, ant gave it to me. I read the name. \ Major Leslie Underbill, U. S. A.\ \ Will you &vor me with your name t he asked. I gave him my card in return. \Mary—Mary be said; and I bad never loved my name half so well before \ Why that is* my favorite name before all others. I always said I would many a Marj, but my wife's name is Catharine. 1 given me a kind word, died and left me a splendid fortune. Not because he loved me; he wa a cold severe man, in whose heart love had long since died out, but be- cause I was the licit to his name, and the only one who could rightfully inhcut his v ast property. No longer alone, I took my place in the sav w oi Id, as a leader of its people. My unmci fi lends flocked around me; I w as jllovved, flatteicd and caie«sed. For- une hunters by the score were at my feet, j nd mammas and rival belles looked on in ire dismay. But through the whole, 1 was unspoiled, dispised my flatterers too much to be duped by them. I was called cold and aughtv, when I was only weary and -sick t heait. But more than all, one memory saved nc. The memory of that kind, honest ice, seen but once, but never forgotten.— There wefe none like him there; none with his gallant bearing, his noble face or good heart. Beside the picture in my heart, he. men around me sank into utter insig- nificance ; they could not win a thought rom me, when absent. An eagle button, set in a rich chasing of ough red gold, always glistened like, a star upon my breast None knew its his- tory, though many longed to know. But I looked upon it a talisman that would one day bring its giver back to me. I had not once lost sight of him during all those weary years. The beautiful lady who had greeted him, would never greet him on earth again; that proud brow over which the diamond shone, was laid beneath the church yard mould. He was was alone. He was free to love me if he would. But when I mused of him thus, I always sighed and shook my head. having taken this resolution, told my mai to pack mv trunks, I went down agai into the saloon. MISCELLANY. The Plumtom Prcwnaii. BY VICTOR QALURITH. The old office was deserted for the ight; the typos, 'devils' and pressman had quitted their labors; and the silence and darkness which now reigned were in bold contrast with the sounds of the clan- ing press, and tlie clattering and hissing of the steam engine, which had all day dinned their loud noise in the ears of the occupants of the office-building It was a relic of a past age—that old printing office—and many years had roll- ed into the gulf of Time since it was new. Many 'printice' had spiang up into a man within its walls ; and many an editor and publisher had there been fitted for the great battle [against Ignorance andWiong Old, disabled cases—containing older ype, bruised, battered, worn, old-fash- ioned and obsolete—ware piled in the cor- ners and in the garret; and heaps of nonde- cript artie'o ot a by-gone period, were to be iound in all out-ot-the-way places, re- minding one of the'fast' age we live 111 and throwing a gloomy air over the office Adjoining the composing 100m was tin press-rooin,| with its mammoth cylmde press, which—although nut so ancient a the rest ot the establishment—hael a time worn appcaiancc. I thought of the many workmen who had mn the machine, witl its rusty clanking, and dilapidated ol boiler and engine ; of those who ha sprung up and passed away since it wa made then slave, doing their bidding with a faithfnl, grim and mighty povvei. I was soon lost in a rev cue. I sat my arm-chan, by the »-tove 111 the compo sing-room, pondeiing on the many chan ges, for good and toi evil, that had pas«ee over the progiamme of my office-life conning over the list, in my uiemoiy, o those who had been through the school o apprenticeship beneath, that ancient loof Boys had become men in the room when I was sitting, had lived and died, flouiish ed or failed, according to their destiny and many aie yet living, to obtain thei bread by the use of the implements an machinery around me There, in the corner by the window, 1 the 'case and stand' where pooi Jack Bang used to set type, before he was killed b the steam-demon 111 the press-room. Hi was a fine young fellow as ever handled eoinpo ing stick; he used to inn the ol prcs occasionally, and always at the to notch of its speed ; Dut one night he w a at his po t, w ith a lull head ot steam, run mug at lightning speed, being impaticn to end his labor, when he was accidentall trippeel from oft his feet and fell mimed >ap and bound with a motion almost too ipid for the eye to follow, The eyeB of he skeleton danced it his skull, emitting .parks of fire. I stole cautiously up to the fly-table, here the sheets were piling as they came rom the press, and glanced at them in vonder and horror. They smoked and teamed, as if wet with boiling liquid;— md the ink was of a blood-red color. It was the copy of our newspapar; and the type seemed to glare from the paper with the brightness of phosphorescent light.— As I gazed on the terrible apparition guid- *ng them in furious speed, it sent a thrill ){ horror to my very marrow. I stepped >ack to my place near the door,and watch- id with suspended breath, w lnle the gaunt and fleshlebs fingers of tlie unearthly press- man fed in the reeking sheets. The pile of paper on the feeding-board rapidly diminished, and soon was entirely gone. As the last sheet sprang from his fingers, tlie spectre uttered a wild uncarth-did I had come to Saratoga because I knew he would be there. And on the evening of which I am writing, I sat in the par- lor surrounded by my usual train, secretly awaiting his appearance. I only half lis- tened to their rapid remarks, and my eyes looking carefully over the crowded rooms, kept a vigilent, though stealthy watch up- on the door. How little those around me guessed what was passing in my baart! He came at last A Httle more serious and reserved, a very little abstracted, and looking as though be longed to be away t he was led up before me. He bowed low as be heard my name, but I saw with an inward pang, that he had forgotten it— Well, the Major was now General—feted, flattered and famous—how could I dream he would remember me! He sat beside me, talking with a well- bred but somewhat indifferent air, with the gentlemen near by, when a 4&dden move- ment of mine made the eagle button flash with light. He started, gave me a rapid searching look, and then his face lit up with that beautiful kind smile that I re- membered so well. \My dear child!\ he said, taking my hand in his, and bending down a pleased It was empty, and leaning from the wind- j a telj U pon the bed of the press, and wa ow, I could see the gay party just leaving the grounds for a moonlight stroll before the evening dance commenced. I leaned my head upon my folded arm-, and sigh- ed heavily. At that moment I felt un- speakably w retched. My sigh was echoed back again, and loking up, I saw Gen. Undeihill stand- ngbesule me. I dared not give myself time to think, and exclaimed— \ I am glad to sotTyou here, for I am going early to-morrow nioming, so will say jood by e, now.\ He took the hand I held out. \ And this is your farewell to me\ said he, in an agitated voice. \It is,\ I said emickly, for I felt my firmness leaving me, and knew I should be away. \ Good bye. My best wishes attend you.\ \If it must be so!\ he answered.— And then he was silent, and I felt the* band tremble that held mine. Suddenly a tear sparkled in the light, and looking up, I saw his eyes were full. It was too much, and something in my face \must have told him all, for be cried out earnestly— \ Mary, I love you! Never leave me!\ \ I never will!\ I murmured, and went up close to linn as he'openedhis arras and laid my bead against his breast \ The old Soldier's darling.\ Yes, they call me so; he calls me so, and I love the name. But is be old ? True the furrowed brow and snowy hair are there—but oh, the loving smile, the warm heart, the strong arm—these make him young tome. There is not one like him, so gallant and so true! Happiest of all happy homes is ours—happiest of all happy wives am I! And so much of romance still remains in our hearts, that the eagle button and the rose-bud are still worn and cherished as the dearest token of the love that knows no change. carried under the enounoiis cylinder.—A the bed lan through, he was tin own of upon the floor,hleless and cold. The pres continued it-> motion all the long nigh thundeung, jaumg and rumbling; an when the hands came to their woik 111th morning, they found poor Jack there, lite less and dead, the demon of steam an iron still urging the maehmeiy on i its din. They took him up reverently anc sadly, and he was borne to his grave 1 the churchyard by his soirowing compan ions. Tliis eve was the twentieth anniversai of his death, and I shudeleieda-I remem bcred the fact, for I had heard dim hints to the effect, that the office w as v lsitcd eac year, on that night, by the \Phantoi Pressman!\ There w as a pi int on th wall of the press room of a skeleton hand said to have been made by him m one o his visits, which I have often seen ant shuddered at. Being, however, of a bold resolute nature, I did not allow my self t be frightened by silly superstitions, anc tried to feel comfortable and at my case The coal burned brightly on the grate and shed a light around the room sum cient to discern the objects dimly; and felt a chill come over me in spite of all m philosophy. Suddenly I imagined I saw a bright flash of light from a crack of the press-room door, and heard a slight hiss ing as of the escaping steam. I startee nervously, and watched and listened. M flesh crept; the hair seemed to crawl anc move on my seal with a chill feeling;— and I trembled like a leaf. There was : light in the press-room, surely! I felt ini pelled to rise from my chair and walk tc the door. A sort of fascination drew me forward; and I advanced noiselessly. Th door was slightly ajar, and I looked in the gas was burning in binding flashcs,an< as my eye rested on the old boiler, I sav it was at a white heat, glowing and spark ling like a meteor. The light neaily blind ed me at first; but as my eye became ac customed to it, 1 saw the engine in motion JOKES UPON LAWYERS.—The English papers state that a certain member of the bar, remarkable for his red face and iritable temperament, goes by the appro- priate name of the w red precipitate. A better joke than this, however, has been committed at the expense of one of the gentlemen of the long robe, remarkable tor his high statue, and, at the same time, vacant countenance.—Has been christened the \ long vacation.\ Another, in New Hampshire, whose complexion indicated a more extensive practice at the bar of a hotel, than at the bar of the court, was said by Judge V, to be a \ very deep red lawyer. -*•- \ See there! exclaimed an Irish soldier, just returned from the wars, to a gaping crowd, as he exhibited with-Mfpe- pride his tall hat with * bullet hole tb*»*gh it. \Look at that hole, will yon? Ton see if H bad Mint * low-crowned eat 1 should have been killed outright\ moving at 1 indeed, wit! such a frightful velocity as almost to be invisible. The immense pile of iror wheels, cylinders and bars, composing tin press were not in motion; but in ja, momen I saw, Advancing to the engine, a form can never banish from my memory—a tal gaunt and fleshless skeleton, the whit bones gleaming and shining in the light the long slender fingers working and twist ing, the bright, piercing eyes sparkling like diamonds, deep sunken in their sock ets in the horrid skull. The \Phantom Pressman\ stood be fore me! He advanced to tlie engine ane tried the steam-cocks, and as he turnee them open, the immense volumes of steam rushed forth in noiseless fury, and the bo ny jaws of the phantom parted in a hast smile, disclosing not the white teeth am red throat of life, but rows of yellow ane rattling bones. The phantom grined horribly, as if we pleased with the immense head of steam now generated in the o ,_ silently to the fever wl boiler, am ;h connect edthe engine to the-press. The lever was pulled noiselessly towards him, and in 1 second the ponderous old press was inino tkm. The sheets were fed with appaUine and th* machine, in its forward d fil verity; and sod backward m, course, seemed fairly howl, the boiler swayed to and fio, and suddenly a sound as of the report of a thousand canons pierced the air, the boil- 1 had exploded, scatteimg everything in the 100mm fiagmcnts, mingling wheels, bais, levels, masses of burning coal and ashes,•and scalding steam with the bones of the .skeleton itself. When 1 awoke ft 0111 my hoi id dream, I founel myself sitting in my chair, with bioad daylight stieammg in at the window and the woikmcn standing by laughing a my frightened appearance. I had fallen a lecp, and slept till thei return, and thelnssing of the steam I hac heard w as occasioned by one of the stok eis at the fuinace in the \ old Pres-s-ioom. , . Betsy will expect them. But'come ou may look at them.\ So the old woman pnt on her specs, and ent out with him to bis wagon. He dug i the bottom and hauled out some pans lust like those on top. \Here they are ; jeep them stowed away out of sight—the genuine Lafayette tin—come ftom France. Tlie more you use them the brighter they grow; they never need scouring.\ M What is the price of these common >nes,\ said she, pointing to some just like Jiose be had in his hand. \ Five shillings, and these are tih — the Lafayette tin cost nine and six-pence; but for that pretty girl's sake, that looks so much like you,they say, Pll let you have a few for seventeen shillings.\ So he went on talking till he aold her more than five dollars worth of ware, not near as good as mine, at a great deal high- er price. When he started on, says he, u how much vou sell?\ \None.\ K - \Ah you did'nt come from Connecticut V \No I did'nt,\ says I and then 111 a low voice—\and I don't want to, if they all lie as you do !\ Specimens of Connecticut and Ma«i«*aclm«ietts Tin Pcdlers. \ One day,\ said the Bay State pedler \ as I w as driving along, a fellow with load of Tin came out of a by road, an followed right along m my tlacks. Mis ter said I, which way are you going!\ \ Going ahead, don't y ou see ? \ said he \Yes said I, \Iieckon we had bette takQ difteient loads, else one of us will se no tin—what sav you?\ \ Yc\ we will, you mav go ahead an' sell all you ean, and then I'll sell as much again as v oij.\ \ Why, will y ou sell so much cheapei ? \ No. I'll get moie tor evciy r article.\ \ ~Y\ ell, I elon't see how y ou can do it. \Tiy it and I'll show you. I'll sto here while you dnve to that house yon del and sell all you can. Start ou you team a little, and then come back for v 011 whip or something you have dropped, anc you can see how I sell.\ \ Well,\ said I, so I drov c up to th house and went in, and spoke to the ol gentleman who was reading the newspape \ How do y on do '\ says I, but he diel no mind any thing about me, \ Want to buy any tin pan*, pails o anything?\ \ 1,11 sell cheap, and take most any thing m pay.\ \Don't want none.\ \ But just look at my lot, it is the com pletcst y ou ever saw.\ *• But I don't want to. \TAelll realy wish I could sell yo something. You realy think vou can' buy?\ \ No, don't want any thing.\ So I went out and started my horse. \Whoa says I; \now I'll see whai the Connecticut fellow can do.\ So walks back to the house. \ I did'nt kav my whip here did I ? \ \lla'ntseen it,\ saiel the old man, keep ing on reading advertismcnts. Then the Connecticut fellow came in. \How far is it to a tavern?\ \ Half a mile,\ said the old man. \ I am as dry as a codfish. I'll take some of your water,\ walking up to ji ta ble, and taking up a pitcher. \ Oh!\ sai he, \it is cider,\ making believe that he was going to set it down. \ \ Drink it,\ said the old man—aVl he did. > \That's royal good cider—you made i for your own use—cant buy such as that If I had a barrel of that in Boston, IVLget five dollars for it. How did you make it t ' \ Maele it out of apples.\ \ Did you ? Well they must have been extraordinary good ones, every one-of them fit_to make pies of. Got a large orchard, ha'int you, squire ?\ \No.\ \First rate, what there is on it, got a snug house here, too, Havent seen many houses I like as well as this,, and I have seen a good many in my day. Eeal snug house,\ looking around as if hunting a stray fly; \How many rooms up stairs?\ \ Four, anel all finished off,\ said the old woman who was ironing. On that he turned around and addressed all his talk to her. \ Four and all finished off and furnish ed. You are thriving like all nature. Got smart girls enough to fill them ?\ No, only one/' Well, one good one is enough. Bet- ter than three or four ordinary ones.— how old is she?\ \ Eighteen.\ '^Eighteen? She'll be married before long, I reckon. Not many girls like yours live to be old maids.\ \ I don't think shell be an old maid.\ \She looks like yon, don't she? Iv'e heard of her—She's handsom as a pic- ture ; what a setting out you'll give her.\ \Yes Iv'e got five pair of linen sheets, and four co made for her this summer. I mean thatif-sheever does get married, she shalLbaive as good a setting out as any body?' * \ - * So I would, and you Are able to doit E Now 1 think of ft, I've got« fewest rate' thing* that I must cany iiomV to; some- bdy/you dan h (wikt^ l i iS6ii^Sio^%^pi 4 ^i| f ' Wonderful Sagacity of aDog. We take tlie following- from the Tiimtv California, Times. Jt certainly raoid's one of the most jsemaka^le mi-tui<.<>5 we have evei he\ardof of ,\*r ^a \sagacity.'* Wm. Dredge lives about five miles from town, at the base of the mountains which tower north of us. A short time aftei midnight on the morning of \V\ ednes- day last, he w as aroused from his slumbers by the-moui nful howl of dog. No menace on his part could rid him of the pie«cjice of the strange intruder. The dog contin ued to walk around the cabin,still repeating-' his dismal moaning and howling,occasion- ally making efforts to effect an entrance through the closed doorway. JSui prised and somewhat alarmed at this <mgulai demonstration, ~ilr. Dredge at last hast ily dressed himself and uubolted the dooi, when a large mastiff rushed within. Tliti dog at once caught hold of his pant* and and employed eveiy gentle means to 111 duce the gentleman to accompaj him out. Drc'lge'h fiist impression was that the an imal vvas mad, and yet so peculiar and earnest were the dumb .entreaties that he finally yielded and pioeeeded with- out the cabin. V ]ov till 3 ell w as the resiilt and the delighted bi ute now capei ing and w agging his tail, before him, antl now re- tnrnmg and gentely seizing him bv the and pants, he ineluced Diedije to follow him. -'-_ Their covrsa was up the picoipitous sides of the mountain, and soon they were foicing their way through snow that had settled in one of its numerous abiasnrcb. Here conies the wonder. Upon ihe«novv lay thebodv of a \woman who ha<Levidcnt lv pel ished from cold and exhaustion, llci libms were already stiffened in the embia- ces of death. But what was the&upnse of Mr. Dredge to see that faithful dog fei ret out ft 0111 a bundle of clothing that lay vviaped up T»y T the <-icIe of the woman, a young child about two years of age, still w arm and liv ing. A litle inspection, aid- ed by the pale starlight and the, bright- ness of the snow, enabled him to diseuv 01 that the person of the woman was nearly naked. With a mother's affection she had striped her own person in order to furn ish warmth to her exposed infant trusty dog had completed her work sacrifice and immolation. Mr. Dredge immediately conveyed the child to his cabin, and arousing some of hi? neighbois, proceeded again to the moun- tain to secure from attack ot w lid beasts the person of the unfortunate woman. Hei body was buried the next day. Tin* child and dog haveljeen adopedby this 4rood Samaritan. But as yet he has been una- ble to obtain any light as to the name of the woman, or how she happened to stray on the dismal mountain side at such an un fortunate hour. The child is doing weli, and is truly a handsome boy. {MO When the present Congress commenced its session, the country Was assured by tlie New-York Tribune and kindred prints,that the Republicans, upon an actual <ount,had a fair working majority. Upon this ma- jority they succeeded in organizing the House electing one of their number Speak- er, and fashioning the Committies to suit themselves. Congress adjourned on die 18th, and the exceedingly pertinent question presents itself—what have this working majority accomplished ? What have they done forthe country 1 Nothing. * What have the done for bleeding-Kan- sas ? Worse than nothing} for theyhave refused to pass the bill forth* pacification of the Territory. What have they done for themselves? A great deal. They have repudiated:<he $8 per diem compensation as \llj)* tatoes\ and increased their ?^8?f!--;:.\^ -^-;-.-s.-^-..-.-jrv.=-.i-- ^-^r—,t-

xml | txt