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HERKIMER_DEMOGRAT. o . o . W f T H E R S X I N E , EDETOK AND PROPRIETOK.” THE H E B K I I V ^ DEMOCRAT jMiNff at ind Will for $2,00 p er annum. M ail anbseribers, $2,00 per annum, or $1,50 iij advance, E&TESOFADYEBTISXNS- One square or less.one insertion,. ..$1 OQ. 'P C ’ O A T Q __ ,<DO A \ V T ? A T ? Each subsequent i n s e r t i o n . . . . . . . . . 0 25 i J - i t L i V i O A . x JjixxxC * One square 2 months, ........................ 2 00 One square 3 months,.., ......... .. 3 OQ One square 6 months, .................. 5 00 One square one y e a r, . ........................ 8 0 0 liberal deduction w ill be made to those who advertise by the year. b o o k a n d j o b p r i n t i n g , in all its branches,executed with neatness #nd dispatch, and on reasonable terms Pefkimo? itJLibevtf, ] 6 'ra f e y n jt y ,,a a i d E ^ w a U t y ” YOEUIB III. HERKIMER, WEDIESDIT MORHII.R, APRIL 12, 1854. $1 50 IN A D V A N C E . lUMBER 32. TO tlCSlN G AND BEADTIFDL LINES. The New^ngland JDiadem gives its readers the following beautiful stanzas, which were suggested by hearing read an extract of a let- ter from Capt. C h a s e , giving an account of the sickness ahd death o f his hrother-in-Iaw, Mr. B kown O wen , who died on his passage to Cali- Lay up nearer, brother, nearer, For my limbs are growing cold, smeth dearer, And thy pres When thy isenee seemeth dearer, ly arms around me fold j am dying, brother, dying, Soon ye’ll miss me in your birth, For my form will soon be lying ’Neath the ocean’s briny surf. Hearken to me, brother, hearken, 1 bare something I would say, Ere the veil my vision darken, And I go I am going, But my h( from hence away j iurely going, 2 in God iss stvrong, t my hope in God i st am willing, brother, knowing That be doeth nothing wrong. strength ; then the old Roman Cathe dral and Bishop’s Palace; but we lin gered longest in the Alameda—that beautiful promenade—which is eighty feet wide, and is bordered by rows of orange and oleander trees, and in the centre of which a magnificent marble fountain was tossing its sparkling wa ters into the starry sky. Here we saw some bright-eyed Span ish women in their dark manUHas and veils, and not a few in the homely and assuredly less graceful bonnet and shawl of London and Paris, whose fashions gradually, and, I think, unfortunate ly, superceding the more captivating dress of old Spain; we saw, too, fero cious-looking soldiers in dark dresses, wearing yellow sashes, red forage caps, and enormous moustaches; old priests gliding stealthily along, with an aspect of meekness, and apparently crushed in spirit; for the present government press es with a heavy band on the ecclesias tics ; citizens clad in light stuffs of bright colors, with red sashes and low crowned hats, having black silk tuffts at each side; queer looking Caballeros monthlies,” said Hall with a heedless laugh. \ I think I should know him,” said I j “ for we saw at least twenty colored prints of him in the shops on thq Ala meda, last night. He is a ferocious looking dog!” The contrabandists looked round with alarm and then laughed immode- ” Ferocious ? Indeed, senor ?” said the paisano ; “ I beg to differ from you, having myself seen Juan of Antequera face to face; and so think him quite like other mem.” I gazed at the speaker, whom, by his green velvet jacket, adorned by four dozen brass buttons, his somberero, with its broad yellow ribbon, his black plush .breeches, red scarf, and shoe buckles, I supposed to be the substantial farmer of one of the adjacent quintas. He had a fine dark face, a powerful figure, and two black eyes that seemed to be al ways looking through me. Over one eyebrow he bad a large black patch.— He carried a riding switch, had a knife in his girdle; and all together, as he Tell r That Prayed that I may oi In a world that’s fi in large brown cloaks, like that of Pon f lolled on the sward, smoking a paper iet him, rom sin } Tell my mother (God assist her} Now that she is growing old, . Tell her, her child would glad have Icis Tell her, her chi When his lips grew p low I missed her, burned my brow ; closely listen, When the fever Tell her, brother, closely listen, Don’t forget a single word, That in death my eyes did glisten, With the tears he^ memory stirrec Tell her she must kiss my children, Like the kiss I last impressed, Hold them as when last I held them. Folded close!ly pressed, n last I ‘ Dse to roy breast ; Give them early to their Maker, putting all her trust in God, And He never will forsake her, For He’s said so in His word. »n b less them ! :areas t h e m , O, my children ! He: They were all ray li Would I could once more caress t Ere I sink beneath the sea ; ’Twas for them I Orossed the ocean, What my hopes were I’ll not tell, But I have gained an orphan’s portion, Yet He doeth all things well. Tell my siste.~s I remember Every kindly parting word, And my heart has been kept tender. By the thought.® their raem’ry stirred Tell them I ne’er reached th* haven Where I sought the precious dusf But I have gained a port called Hes W h e re th e goid w ill n( Urge them to secure an entrance. For they’ll find their brother there j Fai*h in Jesus, and repei W ill secure .or each a Hark ? I hear ray Savior ’Tis, I know h is’ When I am gone, oh don’t be weeping, treweli. tpentance a a share. r S speaking, Brother, i s my last farm From the United States Service Gazette. T H E W A Y - S I D E INN. A TSBE NABRATIVE. In the summer of last year, I was pro ceeding home to Britain, on leave of ab sence from my regiment, the—the High landers, which were then, and are still lying in garrison at Malta. Favored, by the friendship—of her commander, and ray good friend and old school-fellow. Lieutenant John Hall, I had a passage given to me in her Majesty’s Sloop Blonde, of twenty-sLx guns ; and after a pleasant run of a few days, a smart bieeze, which we encountered off Al* rauneear, when sailing along the coast of Spain, brought do wn some of our top hamper, and we ran into Malaga to re pair the damage. It was a beautiful and sonny evening when our anchor plunged into the shin ing waters of that deep bay which pre sents so superb a line of coast, and the back-ground of which is formed by the undulating line of Sierra de Mija tow ering into the pure blue sky of Spain, and bounding in the distance the fiat and fertile Vega. From thequarter deckof the Blonde, we had a magnificent prospect of Mala ga, with its stately mansions, its domes, its spires and showy kiosks, bathed in warm yellow tint, as the sun’s rays fa ded along the Vega, and the shadows deepend on its hills, clothed with vine yards and plantations, orange, almond, lemon and olive trees. The gaudy Spanish Hag descended from the dark ramparts of the old Moorish forti^ss of Hibral-Faro, as the evening gun was fired from the guard-ship ; and then, as the sun set behind the iiiountains, the bells tolled for vespers in the lofty stee ple of the square catfiedral, and the red lambet began to glimmer on the tall |)rick chimneys of that extensive iron? foundry, which (alas for roigance !) a thoroughly practical Scotchman has built in Malaga, where, it finds food and work for hundreds, in smelting the ore of the adjacent bills, while it pollutes the cerulean sky of Granada. — Bent upon a ramble or adventure, the Second-Lieutenent (Jack Hall) and I took our fowling-pieces, and leaving our swords behind us—at least I took only ray regimental dirk—-were pulled ashore in the dingy, which landed ns at one of those piers that project from the city into th e sea, forming part of that noble mole which measures seyen hundred yards in length. Leaving our guns and shooting appa? ratus at a hotel, we wandered about Iowa; visited the Alezaha, which must once have beep a forfrfs^ of y^st Diego de Mendozas—” Poor Hidalgo,” and wearing hats a la Kossuth. As every man was smoking as if his salva tion depended upon his doing so with vigor, the whole air was redolent of cigars. I had on my undress—a forage cap, and plain red jacket, with tartan trews, my sash and dirk; for I have found that the British uniform always ensures the wearer attention and respect in every part of the globe. We wandered long in lovely Alame da, until the last of its fair promenaders had withdrawn; and then we returned to our hotel rather disappointed, that of all the black eyes we had seen flashing under veils, of Maderia lace, not one had given us a glance of encouragement j that of all the pretty lips, which had been, lisping du’cet Spanish mixed with the Arabic of Granada, qone had invi ted us to follow; that of all the sombre cavaliers not one appeared to be an as sassin or a Grand Inquisitor; and that, of all the hideous old duennas whom we had seen cruising about us, not one had approached, and with finger on her lip, and an impressive glance in her eye, placed a mysterious note in either of our hands, and “ disappeared in the crowd,” ' Nothing remarkaDieTappen6a-=^ve that Hall had his pocket picked of his handkerchief and cigar-case—and we returned like other men to our hotel, where we supped on deviled turkey and the wine of the district—^Tierno and Malaga—after which we turned into bed, warning the waiter to summon us early and have a guide to lead us to wards the neighboring hills, where we intended to make some harvoC among the game next day. • Punctually at five o’clock in the morn ing the mozo-de-cafe roused U’s, and, af ter coffee, we shouldered our double-bar relled rifles, and accompanied by a young gamin, named Pedrillo, for whose fidelity the waiter pledged his “ hoaor,” we departed our ramble. If my reader ever saw a Spanish beg gar boy, as depicted by Murillo in his famous picture, which is now in Dul wich College, they will know perfectly the aspect of Pedrillo,; our little guide. He was about twelv/i years old; but, hardened by indigence, and .sharpened by privation, his perceptive faculties were keener than those of many a man. His sallow little visage was stamped with more of the animal, than of the in cigar and sipping red wine, I thought he would make a fine and striking sketch, and equal to any ofPinelli. “ JuanRoa,” said he, “ has commit ted great outrages in the Vega of Gra nada. The Duke of Wellington has there an estate, having on it about three hundred tenants. Who yieldsome fifteen thousand dollars of rental; but Juan has thrice drawn every duro of it from the old abagado, who acts as steward to the Duke.” The contrabandist again laughed at this immoderately. “ You have seen this Juan of Ante quera, have you not ?” said I. “ Face to face— often, senor.” “ And so have I,” said little Pedrillo. “ You ! and when was this, my little fellow ?” said Jack Hall. “ On the night old Barradas, the mu leteer, was murdered.” The Spaniard with the patch knit his brows. “ Carajo I” said h e ; “ ah! I remem ber that.” “ Tell about this murder,” said Hall. “ You must know, senore,” said Pe drillo, “ that at the foot of the Sierra de Mija, about five miles from this, there stands a wayside inn called La Posada , for the keeper, MartiuSee- CO, haft -ft side-board. This man is the uncle of Juan Roa, or of Antequera. He has a wife, and had two daughters. The place is lonely; and it often happens, that those who put up there for the night forget the right path ; for they are lost among the mountains, or fall into the sand-pits—at least they are seldom beard of after. You understand, se- nors ?” The Spaniard with the patch smiled grimly, and played with the knife. “ One night last year, I guided Pedre Barradas, the Cordovan muleteer, to the Posada, when it w*as dark as pitch.-^ Pedro was very old, and half blind, and had never been that way before. A storm came on,, and he desired me to remain with him, saying he Would pay well; old Barradas was rich ; he had made money in the war of Independence and in the last ciyil war between the Carlists and Christinas ; and had given earns three silver imageslag^ to the church ofhis native peubla, iu u<xcu. ' We supped on baeallao, raisins and tellectual being; his eyes were black, glossy, and glittered ^terhately with cunning and intelligence. His sole at tire consisted of a dilapidated shirt,* a pair of knee-breeches and a cowl, which confined his luxuriant black hair; he hand zinc rings in bis ears, and bore altogether the aspect of s, little LesJSa.- He was intelligent withal, and he told us a vast number of anecdotes, which increased in wonder and ferocity as we paid him one peseta after another; hut he, dwelt particularly on the achieve ments of a certain Juan Roa, otberwiw styled de Antequera^ who was then prowling in that savage .range of moun tains, from whence he despended some times alone, sometimes with many fol lowers, especially when the Solano blew from Africa, to commit outrages among the quiet quintas and villages of the fer tile Vega, v/here he was said to be in league with every posada-keeper for fotty miles around Malaga. About mid-day we rested under the cool shadow of a cork wood, about ten miles from the city; it was a beautiful place, where Ihe sward was as soft as velvet, and where a thick border of blushing rose-trees add wild hydrangias fiourished near us. Here we tasted our provisions with a paisano and two arm ed contrabandists whom we met, and who shared with us their wine in return, The two smugglers had strong and’ ac tive horses, and carried blunderbusses and .pistols to guard their bales of cho colate, soap, tobacco and cigars I they were fine, merry fellows, gaudily dress ed, and full Qf fun and anecdote; for in Spain the contrabandista Is A species of travelling newspaper- J^osv all their news were of the last feat or outrage of Juan Roa. ; ^ “ I would give a guinea to meet \this interesting vagabond; the interview , would tell famously iu aomo of nipped plain bread, for the season was Lent, While we were at supper, in the com mon hall of the Posada, I heard the rain pattering on the wooden shutters (there is not a*glass window in the house;} I heard the thunder grhmbling among the hills, afld the wind howling as it swept over the fields and vineyards of the Ve ga. It was a lonely place for a poor oy who had neither father nor mother, senors; but then, I was not worth kill ing, though many fears flitted through my mind; for Martin’s wife—an ugly afid wicked looking Basque provincial —put some very alarming questions to hid Pedro Barradas. She told him that the neighborhood was infested by ban- didos and cootrabandistas; and asked if he was a heavy sleeper. “ No,” said Barradas, \ la the war against Joseph Bonaparte, I learned the art of sleeping lightly,” “ But what will you do, if attacked I” “ That is as it may b e ; but I have only twenty dures, and so I shall sleep soundly enough.” “ These questions alarmed me very much; visions: of murder and slaughter came before me, I crept close to Bar radas, who as J have said, was very old and very frail ; Ibnt his presence seemed a protection to me for a time, “ When the hour for bed arrived, we, who were the only guests, were some what imperatively requested to retire to our rooms by the wife of Martin Secco. “ Barradas saw, perhaps, his danger, and said that I should sleep fntb®same room with him. “ But Jneg Secco told him roughly that he must be content to sleep alone. Then the poor old mail was balfiled and half-dragged away. As for ma, I was but A boy; m they thrust me into ^ dark closet, where some straw lay on the floor, and, desiring mo to sleep there and be thankful, left me, t lay down on the straw, and find ing it wet, arose in horror, fearing that |t wfis blood I and so iq tfib dark, praying to'our Lady of the Seven Sorrows, and trembling and listening to the howling of the storm for more than an hour, when all tlie other sounds in that terrible Posada died away. ” I was just beginning to doze, when a ray of light streamed through the key hole of my door; I heard it open, and lo ! Marlin’s wife, Inez Secco, appear ed, with a long and sharp cuchilio in her hand. A man accompanied her.— He was Juan Roa de Antequera ! Ter ror paralysed me; and she believed me to be asleep, for' she felt all over my clothes—that is my poor shirt and breeches pockets, from, which she took, two quarter-dures—all I possessed in the world; and then, passing the light thrice across roy face; to assure herself that I slept, the hag went away muiter- ing— ; * “ Garamba I only a half-dure; this little wretch is neither worth lodging nor killing.” “ Inamediately after this I heard them whispering with Martin Secco; and then they knocked at the door of old Pedro' Baradas, who, like a cautious man. had fastened it on the inside. Get up,” said they, “ Senor Barra das—get up-—you are wanted.” “ But Barradas either slept like a top, or he was too weary to open; for he heeded them not. Then I heard Juan and Martin mut tering curses as they deliberately forced open the door; next there came a ter rible cry of— “ Help! Pedrillo, help! Ayuda por amor de neustra, Senora Santissima 1” \ These were followed by sounds like those made by a sheep when the knife of the carcinero is in its throat; and, in the mean-time, Martin’s two daugh ters were singing as loud as they could, and dancing a bolero iu the passage, to conceal these terrible sounds, which froze the blood within me.” Here Pedrillo paused. “Go on,” said Jack Hall, impatient ly ; “ and how did you escape ?” “ If the noble &enoi*3 would help me to refresh my memory— “ Ah, I comprehend,” said I, tossing a peseta to him ;■ “ and now fire away, Pedrillo.” “ You should not, encourage this young picaro, Senor' dabaliero,”'said the Spaniard, whose brow was now darkened by a terrible frown; “ for it ia my-heiief that h&ngftHiA iruH-aAiffcut.. juka. who led poor-oWT^arradas to that vil lainous Posada.” Instead of being angry, Pedrillo lifted up his hands, and prayed that Heaven and our Lady of the Seven Sorrows would forgive the speaker for his vile suspicions. “ I never closed my eyes that night. In the morning I was told by Inez the Patrona, that old Barradas had depart ed across the bills of Antequera with out me. Martin Secco asked me how I had slept ? I said, like a dormouse; and as soon as I was free, I ran like a bare back to Malaga; and to make up for the loss of ray lastnightfs rest, slept like a torpedo under the trees of the Alameda.” “ You are acquainted with the magis trates—the alguazils, of course,” said Hall, knocking the ashes from his third cigar. “ I was only- a poor, little ragged pi caro,” replied Pedrillo, in a winning voice; “ and who would believe me ? besides, old Barrados was a stranger from Gordova or Jaen; ahd a man, more or less nothing in -Granada; hut since that time, Martin’s two daughters have been sent to the galleys at jBarce- lona, by the Captain-General of the kingdom, for intrigqeing in many ways with the contrabandists of -lean. Now, Seilors, the noon is past; and if it please you, ’tis time we Avere moving, if you wish to reach the Sierra.” While.we were placing fresh caps on pur rifles, and preparing to start the Spaniard with the patch, who had list ened to Tedrillo’s story with great im patience, now seized the young gamin by the arm, and grasping it like a vice, gave him a savage scowl, and said some thing in Spanish; but so rapidly, that I could .only make out that he was repre hending him severely for telling us “ a succession of falsehoods.” 'So I thought at that timei after wards I Was enabled to put a different construction upon his indignation, at which Pedrillo sCemed to be considera bly alarmed. Bidding adieu to him and the contra- bandistas, we parted under Pedrillo’s guidance and (sans leave) shot along the sides of the mountain range, on the slope of whiclh f taads the email but an cient city o f Antequera, so noted for the revolt of the Moors in the sixteenth ceutu^; and had some narrow escapes from fimiiig into those reraarkahte p ts , whern water settles in the low places, and is formed into salt h j the mere heat of the sun, , We did not see. much game; but knocked over a few braced of birds, and with these and two red foxes, otir little guide Fedrilla was quite laden. So he seemed to think I'for, taking advantage^ of the concealment afforded him b j the olive groves, and scattered remnants of day, when Hall and I Were draining the last drop of our flask, and surveying from the mountaiu slope, the magnifi cent prospects of the verdant Vega, spreading at our feet like a brightly tinted map, having that warm and rose ate glow which well might win it the name of Tierra Caliente. Malaga, the ancient bulwark of Spain against Afri ca, was shining in the distance, with its towers and gates, flat-roofed houses, and vast cathedral; its Moorish castles and Gothic spires, all bathed in a warm and sunny yellow, while beyond lay the broad Mediterranean, dotted hy sails, and changing from gold to purple and to blue. This was very-fine; but our pleasure was lessened by the conviction that our little rascle Pedrillo, was absconding with our game; and we knew that it would never do to relate to the gun room mess how we had been outwitted on returning lo the Blonde next day, [ concluded n e x t w e e k .] L ik e t h e A n g e l s . —“ Why ! you would have me like the' angels,” ex claimed a little girl, to whom a friend had been talking. Truly would we have woman like the angels. And why not ? Is it any harm to be like an an gel ? We read that they are very beau tiful—full of love, truth, purity, com passionate, sinless. Are these forbid ding traits ? Angels slander not each other I They have no circles in their glorious home \ 5 ?here characters are picked to pieces.- Angels never wreathe the filce with smiles when envy is gnaw ing the very heart-strings in twain.— Angels never rejoice over the downfall of another. Angels lure not with the eye, then coldly cast off with the lip.-^ Angels suffer not passion to paint the brow dark with discontent and hatred. Would-you not wish eventually to be come angels ? Or does this thought never enter with the multitude that cross the mind’s threshold ? Why not tination ? THE BURSTiyg OF THE BDD- Spring ia coming-—Spring is coming 1 With her sunshine and her shower ; Hesven is ringing* with the Ringing Of the birds in brake and bower ^ Buds are filling, leaves are swelling, Flower# on-field, and bloom on tree ; O’er the earth, and air. and ocean, Nature holds her jubilee. Soft then stealing comes a feeling O’er rny bosom tenderly ; Sweet I ponder as I wander, For my musings are o f thee. Spring is c With her morni With her noon ot c “Sky of blue and clone Calm and grey night From the star be; While the splendor, pale and tender, Of the young moon gleams on high. Still, at morn, at noon, and even, Spring is full of joy for me, For I ponder as I wander, And my musings are of thee, e dwelling, ^caui-.iu. ucj;uMU wuiHst iciiing. Is thy presence unto me. Morning’s breaking, finds thee waking, Wandering in the breeze’s flight -, Noon title’s glory manfies o’er thee, In a shower o f sunny light ; Daylight dyitig, leaves thee lyipj In the silvery twilight ray; Everywhere and every mir Feel X near thee, lovely In the lark and in the linne minute Of thy feet o’er vale and h ill; &.nd thy presence^ with life’s essence, Makes the forest’s heart to fill. oly name o f ,S tthee THE OLD MAN- prepare, then, fot this high destination '? Why ijot discipline the sublime thoughts and grow beautiful in good deeds ?, Cul tivate your affections, be pure in thought, gentle in spirit. Banish forever decep tion, evil speaking, inordinate love of pleasure. Why not become as near as you may be, angels on earth ? . Ah I young ladies, believe us when we tell you there is no harm in striving to he THE INDIAN’S A correspondent of the Detroit Free Press, gives some deeply interesting an- 'cedotes of the great Indian warrior and prophet, Tecumseh: While the enemy was in full posses sion of the country around Monroe and Detroit, Tecumseh, with a large band of his warriors, visited the river Raisin. The inhabitants along that river had been'Stripped of nearly every means of subsistance. Old Mr. Rivard, (a Frenchman,) who was lame, and unable by bis labor to procure a living for himseif and family, had contrived to keep out of sight of the wandering bands of savages a pair of pxen, with which his son was able to procure a scanty support for the family. It so happened that while at labor with the oxen, Tecumseh, who had come over from Malden, met him in the road, and walking up to him said: “ My friend, J must have these oxen. My young men are very hungry; and they have nothing to eat. We must have the oxen.” Young Riward remonstrated. He told the Chief that if he took the oxen, his. father would starve to death. “ Well,” said Tecumseh, “ we are the conquerors, and every thing we want is ours. I must have the oxen; my peo ple must not starve; but I will not be so mean as to rob you of them. I will pay you $100 for them, and that is far more than they are%orth |—but we I must have them.” Tecumseh got a white man to writs an order on the British' Indian Agent, Col. Elliot, who was on the river some distance below, for the money. The oxen were killed, large fires built, and the forest v/arriors were soon feasting on their flesh. Young Rivard took the order to Col. Elliot who promptly refused to pay it, saying: “ We are entitled, to our sup port from the country we have conquer ed. i will not pay it.” The young man with a sorrowful heart returned with the answer to Tecumseh, who said: He won’t pay it, will he ? Stay all night and to?morrow we will go and On the morning he took young Riv ard and went down to see the Colonel. On meeting him he said: Do you refuse to pay for the oxen I bought ?” “ Yes,” said the Colonel ; and he re iterated the reason for refusal. I bought them,” said the chief, “for my men were very hungry, f promised to pay for them, and they shall be paid for. I have always heard that whits nations went to war with each other, and not with jieaceful individuals; that they did not rob and plunder poor peo’ pie. I will not.” Well,” said the Colonel, “ I will not pay for them.” “ You can do as you please,” said the chief; “ but before Tecumseh and his warriors came to fight the battles of the Bow low the head, boy; do rever ence to the old man. Once young like you, the vicissitudes of life have silvered the hair and changed the round meri'Y face to the care worn visage before you. Once that heart beat with aspi rations equal to any you have felt: as pirations crushed by disappointment, as yours are perhaps destined to be. Once that form stalked proudly through the gay scenes of pleasure, the beau ideal of grace; now the hand of Time that Withers the flower of yesterday, has warped that figure and destroyed the ^ « 'nobl. oarringe. Onse «t your he grert Kiug, they iad euough to eat t e B e C h e e r f u l . —If people generally knew what an advantage it was tp _be cheerful, says the Albany Journal, there would be fewer sour faces in the world and infinitely less ill-temper. A man never gains anything by exhibiting his annoyance in his face, much less by bursting into a passion. As it is neith er manly nor wise to yield, like a child, pettishly to every cross, so it is alike foolish and absurd to allow feelings of anger to deprive us of self-control. Happiness is much better distributed .than money. It is one of those valuable productions which money can’t buy.— One of these mornings in walking to your place of business, you see one of the rich men of the day, who dwells in marble halls and wears expensive cloth ing and a gold watch hurrying across the street to his place of business, with his brow puckered up like a bed-quilt, lest he may accidentally lose the sale of his wears, or perhaps fail to see some body whom he expected would pay up an old score. Then you meet the hod carrier hurrying to his work, and sing ing Yankee Doodle, or whistling Dandy Jim, his head untroubled by a thought, and his pocket undisturbed by a dollar. Money will never bring happiness with out a clear conscience; but a comfort able home, and an agreeable society, will bring with it all the happiness that can be found on ear-tb. th oTig#n«I- i ___ __ pass through your brain; now wishing to accomplish deeds worthy a nook in fame, anon imagining life a dream that the sooner he awoke from the better. But he has lived the dream very hear through. The tirrie to awake is very near at hand; yet his eye ever kindles at old deeds of daring and the bands take a firmer grasp of the staff. Bow low the head, boy, as you would iu your age be reverenced. T he P jrinting O ffic e .— -There is an atmosphere iu the printing ofijee, which somehow or other puts notions into bo 3 's’ heads, into men’s heads too—an atmosphere which is very apt to make quick blood run quicker, and impulsive hearts beat higher, and active brains work harder, until those who were only intended to set up types for other people’s thoughts are suddenly found in sisting on having other people to set up types for their own thoughts.—R. C* Winthrop. ter of Life and their good rifles. Their^ hunting ground supplied them with food enough ; to them they can return.” This threat produced a sudden change in the Colonel’s mind. The defection of the great chief, he well knew, would immediately withdraw all the nations of the Red men from the British service ; and, without them, they were nearly powerless on the frontier. “ Well,” said the Colonel, “ if I must pay, I will.” “ Give me hard money,” said Tecum- sek.—“ DOt rag money”—army bills. The Colonel then counted out a hun dred dollars in coin, and gave them to him. The chief banded the money tq young Rivard, and then said to thd Co lonel, “ give me one dollar more.” It was given; and, handing that also- to Rivard, he said: ^ Take that, it will pay you for the time you have lost in getting your money.” an abandoned vineyard, among which entq we had become entangled, the young rogue slipped away witlrour.game and made off* either towards Malaga or An tequera ; at least we saw no more of him, or his burden, at that time. This was just ^bput tbo plosa of tho Lynn,’ OI?'Jn the Government of Novgorod, which abounds in forests, and'is much infested by bears, the peasants have a singular method of ridding themselves of their disagreeable‘neighbors. They find the young ones in tho spring, and, watching their opportunity, carry th( “ off in the absence of their parents. They then fasten them on a raft by nailing their fbet to it, and set them afloat on the river. The old bears bear their cries, and follow the raft down the stream ; a t length the young ones die, and their parents become furious and attack whoever they meet. But they are now at a considerable distance from tfaeirnriginal haunts, so that those who were the authors of their misfortune are not those - who suffer from their vengeaace. 0I/*A huge anchor lying high and dry on a hill three hundred feet high and one thousand feet from the'sea, at Sinope, fearfully records the terrific ex plosion of one unfortunate ship, while the half finished framework of a new Turkish corvette on the stocks, which escaped all damage during and after the action, forma a strai^e eontrast with ail this havoc and’ ruin. 0I?\TIie following advertisement is taken from the N. Y. Herald : A young gentleman, whose eye-sight has partially failed from\ over applica tion, wishes to make the acquaintance of an agreeable young lady, who will occasionally read aloiid to him. Ad dress Charles Wheaton, post-office. QI?* A young man was sent to State prison from Poughkeepsie, N. T., a few days since, while bis mother was get ting into a wagon to bid adieu to her un happy son, the horse started and she was thrown to the ground and her back broken. She Jived but a few hours af terwards. L ove op D isplay . —^The Boston Post says : “ We saw a female rag-picker, the other day with smeared fingers decora ted with no fewer than six gold rings. We don’t object to it all, but it seemed to us very much like running gontlUty into the ashes.” 03\ A cotemporary that is “ posted,” says a single sale secured by an adver tisement, has often paid for a whole years’ advertising, and all have realized profits many times beyond the outlay and made sales and secured patrons they would not otherwise have had.—:- In the language of a successful mer chant who has tried i t ; “ There is no better investment for those who are in business and wish to extend it, than the money expended’ in advertising.” 01?' Our “ devil” (foolish boy!) is ela ted with the hope that the time is com ing when “ female devils” will be as thick as “toads aftfer a thunder show er,? In view of that happy period ho says, “ he ain’t sorry he learnt the trade-.” IP?’ “ What ia shew thread, Aunt I” ksked Ikq was reading tfio Bible consecutively, and tearing flat the lea vet as be went adong, so as not to lose the place; “ what is shew bread I” “Why, Isaac,” «a|d Mrs* P # r tl*»te bread is that which thn 9tam ^ making shoes* There is plenty o f it in Lvnn.” A C o m p r e h e n s iv e P e t it i o n .— An eccentric beggar thus laconically ad dressed a lady: “ Will you, ma’am, give me a drink of water, for I am so hungry I don’t know where to stay to night ?” We doubt whether more mean ing could he embodied in so few words. IE?MeeUng a negro on th® road, with crape on hie hat*, a. traveler said s You hhve lost 8om«;of I see.” ' . *‘Yss, laasst,” “ Wa« it a near or distant relative?” “ Yes* putty distant—’bout tweolyf four miles,” was the reply. 97^ The woman, who undertdoif to scour th i woods has the fob* oiviog fo ih t high prio» o f soap audf • The last that ww hWMsi al her was skim wing the ^ IK?' Love miikas heatnw more Iieav- mdv end II7\ Nothing sets so wide a mark be tween a vulgar and a noble soul, as the respect and reverential love of woman kind. A man who is always sneering at Woman, is generally a coarse profli gate or a coarser bigot. jL? “ I thought you were born on the Jirst of April,” said a benedict to his lovely wife, who had mentioned the 2Ist as her birth-day. ' “ Most people might think so from the choice I made of a husband,” she re plied. IE?' “ Mother, can I go and have my daguerreotvpe taken “ No* my child. 1S W R isn’t vvort^ While.” then* you may let me havf s, tcAlh where.’*' C ? Nobody likes tn be nobody;; but ©veribody i t pleased to think himself Aomehody; and fiveryhody is ifoniehodyi hut when anyho% ^inks himself to be Aomel^ody, hp generally thiaks^ every body else |q be nobody. If?? The eredit that is got by a lie only liitf till the tr^tJi .comes out.
