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H E R K I M E R J O E M O O R iT . c . c . W I T H E R S T J N E , EDITOR AND FRODEIETO%* THE HERKIM ER DEMOCRAT Is. published ev e r y WKDKRSUATf M orning at Herkimer, Herkimer County, N . Yn and will be l e f t a t th e residence o f villag e subscribers for $2,00 per annum.. Mail subscribers, $8,00 per anntim, or $1,50 in advance, BATES OF ADVEETISING. O n e s q u a r e or less, one Insertion, > «.$1 00 Each subsequent insertion,.. . ......... 0 25 One square 2 months,. . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 GO One square 3 months, .......... .. S 00 O n e s q u a re 6 m o n ths, . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 00 • One square one yiS^r, . .............. .. 8 00 [j;;p=”A liberal deduction w ill be made to those tvho 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»nddispatch, and on reasonable te r m s THE OLD COTTAGE CLOCK. BT CHARLES SWAIN. d its chimes rang still the sw< iTwas a monitor, too, though its wdrc , Yfct they lived, though nations altered ; ‘And its voice, still strong, warned old and young, When the voice o f friendship faltered f “ T ick, tick,” it said—“quick, quick, to bed— For ten I’ve given warning ; tip, up, and go, or else you know,^ You’ll never rise soon in the morning !” Bssed the time ^ The wintry hours beguiling ; But a cross old toice was that tiresome clock, As it called at day-break boldly. When the dawn looked gray, o’er the m isty' way, * ' And the earlj'- air blew coldly, “ Tick, tick.” it said— quick out of bed, ?e given warninf You'll never have ! “ Tick, tick,” i For five I’ve given warning. You'll never have health, you’ll never get' wealth Unless you’re up sebtt in the morningt” ' Still houriv the sound goes round and round. With a tone that ceases never : While tears are shed for the bright days fled, And the old friends lost forever ! Its heart beats on-*-though hearts are gone That warmer beat and younger ; Its hands still clasped though hands we love Are clasped on earth r “ Tick, tick,” it said—“ to the cburch'-yat’d bed, The grave hath given warning— . Up, up and rise, and look to the skieSy And prepare for a heavenly morning P’ T E R M S - $ 2 A Y E A E . “ U b e ir t r , F r a terU ltT i a u d B q u a lltT ” ' l l 5 0 , I N A p V A N C E . TOLHirE-III. : . I. ■HERKIMER, ¥EDHE8MI:M0RMHG, JH IE '38, 1854^ ITJM-BER 48. U N C L E E ^ R N A R D ' 3 s t o r y . BY THE REV. DR. BKTHDNE. “ Oh ! Uimcle Bernard/’ cried all to gether a group of little people,’” i a story.” . Uncle IBernard, a white haired old man, whose easy chair had been drawn to a warm coruer-^for the winter*was howling against the vrindows—looked up from his large jirint Bible, and smil ed fondly on Iheir\^rosy faces. \A sto ry ! let me read you one out of the good book.” “ Oh, no,” said bold little Bob,- as he caught the olcf man found the heck, ” we know all tfoe Bible stories f tell us a fairy tale t’* “ Yes, yes, 0ncle Bernard,” said the vest, “ a fairy tale, s fair/ tale; you ’ have never told us a fairy tale.” “ No, deary, I have-Uever told you a fairy tale. Fairy tales are lies, and young folks like you should not love to hear lies, nor should old folks like to tell lies.” “ Oh ! but Unele Bernard, we'know that fairy tales ain’t true, but it is such fun to hear them.” “ Well, rny little petsf, I’ll t i / fo tell you a story that sounds like a fairy tale, and yet it is all true. Sit down and listen.” “ Once upon a.time, and sS great while ago, there lived in- a> wide wild wood a wild man, Whose nam^ was Sthenos. His father and' naothef had been keepers of a lo vely garden*, where they dwelt in peace with our God; but he, very early in bis childhood, bad wandered far off and’lost liirnself among the sliadows of the forest, where he soon forgot all the little he knew.- Not only his head and face, but alio Ms whole body, was covered with long, shaggy hair; his nails were like claws, and he could climb the frees- or swim the wafer as easily as walk the ground. Gigantic in height, his- shouiders* were broad, and his limbs sturdy.' Efe cbuld outrun the swiftest deer, hit with a stone the flying bird,|pd kill with his knotty club the fiercest beasts. He ate only what he won in the chase, with some pleasant herbs or fruits, or lioney, which he found in the hollow trunks and among the rocks 5 and he drank on ly water from springs, or the deep river which Rowed through the valley. He face. She spoke in accents of his early speech, which now came back to his understanding*, and said, Sthenos,•our good Go'd,- whom you haVe so long for gotten, has not forgotten you ; but, pity ing your loneliness and misbry, has shnt me to live With yo'u and be yodr friend. * Already 1 love you, and you must take me to your home and give* me your dove.” As she spoke# she bent down and^ wiped his forehead# from which she had parted his matted locks, looking with her clear blue eyes into his, until his whele being seemed drawn odt to her, and he laid her head with its bright golden curls on his broad breast, and be felt an ecstaey of inexpressible happi- Arrd now that I* *am to dwell with you, dear Sthenos, lead me to- your home.” ... . Homa!” -replied’he “ I • know not what you neeaU.” “ Where da you rest after the chase or amid darkness f Where do you eat your food, and where do you most de light to be? That is home.” “,1 have no home. All places ijj the |bre 9 t are alike to me, Where weari ness. or pigbt comes upon me, there I Me dpwji; when I have killed.the deer, then I eat. 1, never thought* of a home.” ' . * »* Come then,” aaid-she, sweetly, “ let us seek a spot where we will make a home for ou r s e lv e s a n d putting her slender hfind in his,-sbe led him on un til they came to a fountain gushing out frpm under' a high, rock, before which a sunny meadow spread itself.towards the southwest, blopinin^with harebells, daisy-cups and pansies, and many laore wild flowers., “ is it not charraiug?” said she. “ The spring, shall give us water, and the rock guard us from' the fierce north wind, and we can look out upon the .sup%ht and the shadows as they float, mingled together,' over, the grqen grass and the flowers that spring up through the verdure.”' “ Sthenos smiled, as though he could not understand' her meaning, and he felt a charm of Nature he had never before known, * ‘ . “ Now,” she said,' “ the sdn, though its light be pleasant,* looks dipwn too hotly upon us / and when the night comes the dews will fall, arid the winds chill us. Go break Off boughs from the, trees, and atrip the broad the decayed branches.” “ Tbi.? was* an eaky task for the vig orous’ maaj «nd the.M'eantim'e she gathered heaps of dry mosses, and the spicy shoots.from the -hemlocks, and spread ' deeply, over the leaf-covered ground. Then leaning the thick houghs against each other, and laying# by her directions, the curved back, overlapping ‘ in succession and continuous layers up on them, Sthenos s%w his .work a rude hut safe hut, and said, “ This shall be our home; I go for our evening meal and dashing into the forest, he soon re turned with wood-pigeons wnd' a yoUng fawn which l » ‘had killed, and casting thorn at the feet of his gentle wife, who had-already arrai^eddn the leafy cups the berries which sfae had* gathered from’ the meadow; »and Sthenos beheld wild flowers, mingled with long, trailing, deUcafe vines, adorning the. entranc# to their iiome, • “ The simple meal, soon prepared by her.skiHfu4 hands, Me thought more 8a- 'rory than he had ever hadj but’before she suffered him to partake, she pointed; in *a garden ‘with oUr good God, far motte beautiful than ttfe-one frrifti which you strayed a while ago.” ^. \Oh happy home [’’ replied Sth« “ I pan tMnk of ng higher bliss than that your loveline^ should be mingled vVifch'fiiy stretfgth, except that my strength shall be united forever to’yonr dear thoughts.”' .' ' - i . “ Say oiot'Sts, Sthenos,” ansiwered sl^e, looking up with a hply smile like morning light sparkling in ,tbe dew ; *^pur higher joy will be to dwell with oiir-God.” \• - - “ From that moment Sthenos earnest- ly«en,deayo»:ed tp,learn tlie hymns and prayers of Eiithymia. They*lived long in the forest, and children were born unto them i three noftS like theii* father, -vigorous; threei' daughters -like their mother, graceful. ..But one, fajr raorp: ing_ the father and mother came not from their chamber, (for the little hut had given place to a wide dwelling,) their children went anxiously in-to seek them, but.theyifound them not. Sthe- nos and Enthymia were gone to the garden of our good God. “ The children were Mute in wOrider ind sadness,, when sudden^ the cham ber was filled* with ravishing light and delicicriis odpts, and three radiant an gels hovered over- the bed; and the children could see far up into the skyj and saw a glorious being under the Tree of Life, before' the throne of God; and in the smiling countenance of the gforious beinK-they recognized, strange ly but sweetly mingled, the loye of both father-and mother. And .one of the angels said, (he was the tallest of the three,) “ I pointed out out the way to them and encouraged them to strivA arid feach the garddn.”^ ‘ ' ** * * * “ And I»” said-tpe second, on lyhose bosom 8 hone„ a« gem like a, golden a^i- cbor, “ bore them up on my wings:” “ And. I,” joyfully exclaimed the third, W’ho had eyes like the first spring violets washed* vVith rain, “ have made them both one forever.” “ Then turning .to her sister angels, she said: “ \Your tasks for them are over; but I go to fill their united be ings with immortal hap'pincss,” • “ Ah !* Uncle Bernard,” cried Ger trude, “ that is better than a fairy tale ; but what queer ‘names, Sthenos arid Enthymia; what do you mean?” “ I made them out of the Greek,” ftnawor^ed the old man, “ qnd hy Sthe nos, I mean man left to himself, when he would be a, mere savage; and by Fnthymia', I mean wisdom sent to him by pur good God, to teach Him how to live ou-earth arid prepare for Heaven. When man is transformed to holy wis- dbm, and uses his strength for wise ends, hb becomes all good,* and God takesliim up to the second Paradise.” ■ “ Yes/* said little Charley ; .“and the igel with the anchor is Hope.” “ And the tallest angel is Faith'” added Robert, \ for Faith gives pious people courage.” “ And the gentle blue eyed one must be. Love, for Love lives forever,” whis pered Gertrude in Uncle Bernard’s “ Bfess you, my dear child; you look like her,” whispered hack Uncle Ber- How TO TELLi S t o r ie s . —Jack was re lating how he hiad^ gone by the overland passage,to join the diip, then ih China. “ WeH, and what did you- see by the fshe suffered him to partake, she pointed; way ?’’ asked granny. “'Why#t we saw i upward, and, with clasped hands, sang ■ flying fish in the; Mediterr'anean/'r’* : praise to our good God, the giver; An j “ What! fish with wings?” “ Yes; ihour of deficate friendship stole away, [ and some of them flying away from the ‘ as hand in hand they looked into each' dolphins, feH ori oar decks.” “ Ah ! other’s eyes—thoughts he knew • not j Jack, f see youTe learned no good with how to speak, and she needed no Words all your travels, to come hack and make to'* utter. Then ariother hymn to our ame of your pppr old grandmother- own ^ood God, the sleepless preserver, ................ she.warbled from her lips of gurgling melody, and the pair sank to rest, “ Thtts sped on day after day,, and night after night. Gradually StheisoB lost his fierceness, save in the struggle of the chase. She had- fashioned for him soft ‘garments out of fawn skins ' ai!^ feathers, which now h'e wore less ' dfen of Israel crossed the Red Sek, in for need, than pride, and to please his • their flight from E ^ ’pt, she asked Mm, akillfttl friend. His shaggy hair was “ Well,'and w^iat did you see there?” smoothed into curling grace; the hut con- “ Oh I we'saw a lot of Pharaoh’s chayi- stantly receiving new convenienee and * ’ ’ ------ --------------------- -------- ... ornaments from his strong or her cun ning hatfd; and happy was he, after his toils in the forest, to return bearing .a rich honeycomb, or leading* a goat with full udders to his home, dear, be cause hers, » • “ On waking one dew/ morning, he looked foUdly in her loving face beam- ’ing witi fender, holy thoughts, and said 5 “ You call me Siijenojs, but hai slept in caves, or in the crotches of trees, lest the prowling beasts should oatoh him unawares. Yet, savage as he was, he had a certain nobleness and rough grace o f mein which distinguished him as superior to the brutes around him, and jiade them acknowledge him as theirTord. Thus he lived, lonely and unhappy, and, notwithstanding . his strength, full of fears. “ One day, as he was pushing through the thicket to reach the river, he heard singing sweeter than he had ever beard. He thought at first that it was a bird. . But he knew the songs o f -all the birds, and this was not like aiiy of them. He dashed on, and saw reclining on the banks of the river, a creature so io^^ely lhat he stood still in wonder, trotnblir^ with a new feeling that shot Hke fire through his heart and joints, lier form (the woodman’s eye saw*at o,n.qe that the delicate proportions w^re those of a female.) was sometbinsj Rke hia own, but fair and elegant, while his was brown and shaggy. Around her was cast a loose white robe^ apd about her shoulders floated a scarf as blue as the sky. While she sung sh.e Ipoked upward as if some one^ was hearing her, whom Sthenos could not see, and. thcriy she listened as if to a voice im-could not hear. Soon turning her eyes, upon fitm, she smiled with ravishing sweet ness and beckoned him nearer. Awe- struck, but drawn irresisfably on, hi . fe!I Bt her feet, gating gd her ieaA jful. ihall IcayO Uie fortsl tfi gO dwell Who ill their senses vyould pver .believe that fish .could Ay ?” ' Jack, finding that his trijth passed for a Ue, thought he would reVerse tKd order of ‘things, just to see wliether a ’lie might not be accounted truth. So when in the course of his story, he said that he had* been at Suez, and on the spot jvhere the chil- never told me the .name by wbwb .t am to call you,, my dearest,” * “ You kate just pronouncefilhename Have the best, except wb.en you call me your wife arid your friend, J have h,ud several names in the land whence 'I came to be near you; but that by lyhieh ijur good, God wished you to kuo.wr is Enthymia. • And, deaf ^henos, whenever you nre in trouble,, in need, or in d o # ! , call Enthymia to yocar side, and whatever loee can do I Will gUdly perform. With your strength and my affictionate'zeal, and tbp blessings of pur good Vre shall be happy as wo m.aSf in this wild wood i but the good God has promised me that 'when you shalP have learned to j- sing and pray witb' me, that our twO !0 beings shall be Mended into one, vri ot wheels, some of which came' in very hand/ for repairing the paddles of our steamer. Perhaps you don’^ hefieve that, granny I” “ Of course I do laid sh,e ; “ how can I help believing what is in the Bible ?” U aying E ggs ON S unday .-^These is. such a thing as carrying religion to an‘ extreme. *The following is a ludicrous case point. A lady residing in the city, who, by way, was one afthe strictest of evangel ical church member#, chari<»d‘ to go in to the country on a visit to her brother, who was also a deacon. On the first Bunday of her -visit,, a Ij.ttle sou. of her brother’s came running- into the bouse with. U couple of eggs, which be had just found in the h%n*s nest, ■ ** ‘•^^e, aunt/’ *he exclaimed, “ what our hens have laid to.-day.’* “ What 1”^ exclaimed the lady, lifting up her eyes ia hofror U porstblt. that p)vr faiMr^u. p k m dmconraildm M s o n dap 1” She took an early opportunity to re monstrate with her brother on th# sub ject. but whether the hens reformed iljelr ways hag not beca. •gcer.tained* ‘ echosmt . Harlc ! tKrough Nature’s Vast cathedral, Blended echoes -ever rise-, Sw e lling in d m i ^ t y a h ^ e m , . ‘ ' To itir over-a.fcning-'sk^A ’ Every bird that sings in summer, Every feoney-IadeneT-bee,.; , Every-squirrel in the forairiV' Every cricket on tbe-tfSe ; Every music-dropping fountain, Every softly murmurinf rill, Every daik and foaming torrent, Every water guided .m ill; Leave their echoes fac behind. The monster i-—but I 'will balk him. And that Braooth-fuced>'young widow*— 'to tell me only a day or tw o that she should ncver^inarry again. I-H soon put a stop to these fine‘doings.’^ “ But this isnot-all, Mrs. Garter, they have actually consulted Uf. Hoback, or s tfcat'-w^e'lfedfore. HYPecAQNilfiJAciSjcV A N O V E L C U R 'A T d R * I d '. BY K.' M. CAHlETON. . “ Good nforhiu\ friend Garter, how is your \wife this morniHg ?’* . “ Bad. as, ever, ! ?M .most discour- .aged, I assure, you.’-’ ; ,-.v - - . *“ Do you still have physician I” “ Yes,' but can do riothiugfo'r her.” “ But what doesTiC siiy ?” “ Fie says that a t k dhe most -awk^ ward case of hypoehondrtacism he ever met with. I aln coiripfetely wor^n out. She Insfsts'she is ^oing to die to-day, lind besought me itT the most piteOus accents to rfimain witlifheu but I have neglected my business | 0 o much lately, and Can no longer indulge hee with my presence, which only f l ^ e s her appear worse,”. • . rf - “ A hard ease indeed particularly for you, but what do you Intend to do ?” “ Do! J ckri’t iniagfue what, friend Bush, unless 1 becom&ftmane and take refuge in a mad*house.|* • * ■ “ Do not despair ; such cases are by no means hopeless.”' I have done with hope.” ‘ I- am^ no physieiao. Garter, but I have a plan in my head which I think cannot fail to cure h er/’'. “ Out with it,'at bhee. I am ready to grasp a straw if it points out the slightest ■“ Have voU: 0 good^arp axe ?” I ..believe so.” . , If you have not, purchase one by all means. When you return at noon, say as little'as possible tp her, but proceed deliberately to cut driwn the bedstead upon which she.lays.”; “ I did not think you would make my afflictions *a subject of mirth.” “ I never was mpre serious in my life. Do this, and leave the pest with me j but if you do not agree to it, I wash my hands of the matter.” “ Since */ou are serious I will agree to anything, however cidiculo'us.”^ “ It is a/oargalq, th^.?’’ It is.” , . . The* friends parted, Garf Cr proceed- •ed to bis store, whilC;Bush Hastened to the Vfesidence of bis- friend. ! As he was an intimate acijualntace, he was at once admitted? He*sent word to tbemvalid that he had something of tfie utmost importa-nce t 0 = cothtnuriicate'to her, and must see her without defay-’ Such a message roused tfie curiosity of the dying woman: as she termed her self,-and ^^he consented to see him. The nurse had.evjidontly'got her sue,forsh.e made an excuse forleaving him-, and- at once proceeded* down stairs.^ “ Good rilOrivfig, Mrs. Carter,'liow do you Teel P/ ' . “ I am dyirigf/’‘she saidi, faintly. “ Then F will not distm-b you-.” He moved towards the door* as if about to leave the room. . • - Do not leave’rae, Mr. Busli, to die' alone; besides, you gave me to under stand you had sometliing important to say to me.” “ TrueJ but it is an unpleasant,task to be the'messenger of evil tidings.” ' “ Evil tidings I What do /ou mean, Mr*. Bush ?” ' ' ' • 4 -“ T o distKcsa a feeble, foud wife with the irregularities o f ber huah^nd, is luoat repugnant to my feelings, ' I vvish-I had not come.” ' . . ' “ Speak,’*. said- Mrs. Carter, propping her head with ah additional pillow, let me know all.” “ When yoiir husband; left you this morning,, where did. he teli you .he wa^ going P’ “ To his store,, of course, should he.go ?” . \ . . “ Tniured woosan—-be deceived you; for bewailed at the house of the young Widmv Smith, where ho is a constant visitor.” “ You amaze me Mr. Bush!«’ The invalid had hastily thrust a shawl about her and was. fairly sitting up. . • “ Take care iiwFriot excite yourself, jAy dear madam. I Will not shriek your feeling any fprther. I was about to — but I cannot, dare not do it.’' “Proceed—tell me anything rather than allriw me to remain in this cruel .suspeftsB. Conceal. JiolMng, as you value my firiendsMp*!’ ^ . . “ I boUeve you »U injured woman, I will frankly tell you all, although it will surely cost me Carter*# friend ship, Ho is actually engaged to her:-- They will be married some six months after your death, which they have cal culated-wdi soon oecur,” —\ forflied them if your husband ebuhlsm ceed in cutting down all four posts of your bedatead, while you remained-in bed, you would not live four da^^’^s.” * “-Alopstroua ! but this talels xnefedi- Me*. t cannot believe it;”' ^ -V You shall have proof, for your hus band, will commence operations this noon, however foolish it may seem.” But I will not remain in the house to.be thus used* If 1 were not so ill I would return at oncri to my father’s.” “ Take my advicC, madam.' Rest quietly until he returns, but partake of all the nourishment you possibly.ean, and when he begins-his rile work, leave your bed at once and thus put an effec tual stop to his yil.Ipinous intentions.— I really caniiof remain, another pao- He left the. lady in a* terrible rage, who, while reflecting upon be'r wrongs, entirely forgot her illness. .The uncon scious Carter returned, and without wasting words began vigorously hacking at the' elegant mahogany bed-posts.— The ivife, with the fury of a tigress, leaped from the bed and completely overwhelmed the astonished man with, invectives and accusations o f the most bitter and vindictive character. Fie thinking her insane,fled from' the apartment, but she followed from room to room, giving her rage full scope and denouncing him and the Widow Smith as the vilest and most criminal of m^n- kind- After a long and most Iudicroi]iS scene of domestic commotion, m a tters were Where Once as Flay in Bed, f heard a light slew’tread, which quickly through me sped a sudden fear,*! know not howj-or Wh/,* as SluMbering heavily, - that soiind mysteriously fell upon my ear. The tread was.soTt and HgEi, yet froze my blood withfrighti omthat eventful night. I cOutd not' sBep I Tfie sound fell on my ear, low, yet distinct and clear ; so ominous and drear—^fearfully and deep. Andno*w I strained my sights peered deep‘d into the night. The darkness was profound, aiid -Jhrowed a pail around; and .naught; save that one sduSd I heaR, But hark I I hear a sud den tap-—a fearful ominous rap, upon an hnoirifit Bfap. against the wall. No breezse the canvass shook, and vainly did I look into, that fearful nook, to see it fall. It hung against the wall; it rattled not at a ll; it did hat sir, o riall; not eten move! ‘ My hair stood up—I spoke ; the fearful silence broke. Fear did my iterance-choke. I did not love to pfay,: had never prayed. Yet soiae- ''thing must be said, for silence only weighed, upcm .my heart... I tried to pray, and yet'my prayer I did fdrgeti and as the alphabet, J knew in part, I said it.: On a chair, the spirit of the air, rapped, when I came to r ; and so at that, 1 went on still, to see what the effect''would *be—it rapped at a and t ; thus spelling R-A-T !. My* case began to mend; sweet hope became my friend; my half which hmi stood on an end, from'very fear When first that-chilling rapi that-wild mysteriouAtap, upon that ancient map, fell on my ear, io ominous and dread, suggestive of the .deadi that F ^embled in' my bed, lay smoothly down. • It had before stuck out, and kept my head about a foot, (I do sot doubt,)^from off my round, white pillow. satisfactorily explained hy both parties. The lady was completely cured o f her fancies and became an excellent wife, but it was a long time before she for gave Bush. W h a t M.\DE a l l TU B tj^lPFEBEN C li.— A inercant wanted a boy in his store. It vvas a good place, and two boys were recommended to him. The first one came into the merchant’s eounting- rooha with his hat on, and with*an ■mi' of s e lf importance. ._ *“ Wh at is yourTiam e;'my lad?’^ The boy told his name. “ Have you a father living?” “ Yes.” “ Have you ever lived away frqm home?” “ No.” ’ After a-few more words the boy left, to call again when sent for. The other boy came—no 'stronger, not, better lookingj and. not so well dressed as* the firstt. As be-entered the merchant’s apartipent; he took off his hat, and modestly said, Mr. — — - told me to call and see “Oh, yes, you are Mr. - 3t?” are you not? ‘ Yes, rir*” ‘ And do you tlunk you would like to'work in a store?” • , / I cannot tell till I try, sir.” “ Well, you can stay, if you likej and we can soon dMermihe whether suit we each other.” * \ Good manners %vqn the^ place!— Youth's Penny Gcurei'te.. long sinqe.^Mrs. B., smelling smoko,* ran wp stairs to see fro:ip whence it name, a*nd on going into a front ropra, discovered her Ijttle hojieful-. standing on the hearth, watchii^ a hag of sha vings harning in the ^'qiplace, ^ “ Did you do this, Eddy said she. “ Yes, ma'am/’ was the reply, - Come with me,* sir,” said she stern**. - She. taking him* out of . the I’qom;, brought the strap with her. He com menced to say,,-*“ Motheri^-plea^ whip me quick. J want to see tfie fire.. Whip me quick, ma, whip me quickj-t’ , , (17“ A little girl of our acquaintance, after retiring to beA writh her mother,- “ Ma, Y want to pray/’’’ whereupon her'mother helped her out of bed, and she*^ got upon her knees ^and prayed thus; • . . “ Oh, Ctod, I wairt my fa-ther to quit chempg'tobacco,, for Chris’s- ssiei Amen !”«. ' ; . 3 ^ “ Is that the tune the old cow died of ?”^ asked an Englishmam'nettled at the industry with 'which a New Englander whistled Yankee Hoodie. “ No, beef,” repii^ Joaatban, “ that e’s the tune old JB ull died'of.” (17“ A kentlemaif was promenading fashionable street, with a bright little boy at his. side,, when the littid fellow called out—• ‘ ^ ‘ ^ “ 0 , Pa I thete goe# an edltorl” ' “ Hush, son,” said the father; “ don’t make sport o f the poor man—God* on* ly knows'what y©u may eorio tri y e t !” IF 7 “ A friend of o^rs kept his hands warm all winter, ftom/*mittens.” begot from the ladies. Ch/ap vrky fora sup* •ply o f comfortables, ‘ ' ^ 27'^ “ p h what a sofFseat,” as the hat said tbai reried on th<f dandy’s head. - T k l t KNOCKim JLike my rhyme, my anger rose sublime, in a very JJttle-.time, I.clutched a boot firmly in my right hand, then drew a pistpJ, and with .gesture of command, prepared'io throw or shoot, I fearless ly said,s’cat—I threw my boot and bat —annihilated the rat—squashed him I think! I then lay down in bed, com posed to rest my head, my fear entirely fled—slept like a.pink.- , SoLYiNO A biFFicuLTY.—A gra'ndsoii of the: Governor of Virginia, a child of four or five years, was,on a visit to his matemai;grandfather> 'Who is a! wealthy iand-holdey in Ohio.. One . day, . after hii a Sabbath ScHool, and being duly impressed with the religious. lessons taught, there, he took his-grandfather down on the fatm to Shovv -and gather Ihc friiit of a large walnut tree,- wiiich was ripe and ready for harvest. On, the way,.the little fel low, with the philosophy which ‘/reads sefraons in stones,” said, “ Grandpa, who do all these woods and fields belong to “'Why,” said the Matter-of-fact gen tleman, “ to me.” “ No, sir,” emphatically responded .the c h ild,{hey belong to God.” The grandfather said nothing till they reached the richly laden tree. When h e ’Said: “ Well, my boy, whom does this tree .belong to ?” . This was a poser,, and for a moment the boy hesitated; but casting a long ing look upon the nuts,- he replied,- “‘Well, grandfather, the free belongs* to God, -but the walnuts are oars.’t No*? QtTALiPiED,—A young law stu dent, WTO wrote a good, clear, round hand,- and--who Was* about finishing his sthdies, one day handed an ro^runient which he had just written off to his un-* ^cle,. a dry wag, who had called'in*to see him and inquire of his progress in his prolession. Tlie uncle .took the MS*., ;ahd after reading a few lines'of it, gave it back to.his nephew, stating, with- an arch smile pec«lla*r to hlroseW^ ■ “ You are not quite a lawyer yet,, Janies.*’’ ■ “ What do you find out of|hri way in- it?” asked the student in great aston- Ishmenk,. . ’ * . “ Why,”' returhed the Wagish’* old' critic,, “anybody can-read that writing.” II7\*If ''there • are '•sufferings; ^ whibh, however dr.qadfuf iU their eUdurance, -*’6 susceptible of ameliriraUbn, t%e sor- _jw a parent’s loss awakens-,, ie not among the num b erother Ilea niay fee replaced, other affebtirins* rimy he re stored, but, when death breaks thebond of filial love, nature, honoring the most sacred of her feeling^, forfeida a senti ment ICss* pure, leS# strong, succeeding to it;; dnd though the tear which sor row- sheds upon the parent’s graVc^may be idried by time, the loss Which bids that teaj{to.jSoW« can never be fepraced': b;^ tiuman tcndernesl 6'r human power. P retty -,—*4 little girl, of three and a half years, in the middle o f a moonlight night, awoke.her motlmr, very careful ly,.and bade her look'upon the floor,, -saying, at the same tliae,-ia- tbe -aw®et-= estyoice:-.,, ... .. “ Hee there,ma, themooadssft^/ug; carpet/ ” - . - ' A dRURCH SSSTON-.t “Splendid day ! We’ll have quite a turn-out, ^There’snothing like sunshine to draw an. audience.. It’s better than a -11 the popular preachers that ever irere born. Oh I there's my memorandum book ; Td Hke to have forgotten it, and .if them directions_ hadn'd: been ’tended to, most likely I should have \lost yny place. Let’s see. [Takes md a memo- randnnt and reads r) . “ By order o f Judge R., that woman who squin ts and eats eardaman^ sqqds, is not to Jbe put in the seat in front of him. “ By order of Squire the young man who ogles his daughter, and wears plaid pants, is to be put somewhere* on the other side of tbe church. “ By order of the wealthy Miss Pru dence Prim, 'the, young man Whose clothes smell of cigars and.brandy, shall not sit behind her. “ The request of Mr. A., a mechanfe, tha,t strangers be not shown to his pew —-to be attended to If convenient.’/ “ Quite a chapter, anyhow. But peo ple are beginning to streak in. There '0 two wonien waiting. Common sort o f folks, I guess. Gentility . don't come quite So early as (his. HaVg a seaf, marm ? She says, with a b’ow, ‘ If you please, sir.’ No matter, politeness's a cheap Article; it don’t cost nothing.— So here goes the twq women into one of the back wall pews. Here's two mote birds of the same feather; wool en shawls, straw bonnets, and cotton gloves ; wall pew, second from the door, good enough in all conseience. “ Aft ! here’s s bride. Satin, velvet, and white kids; fine broadcloth and white, vest. .Shall I have the pleasure of shovving yourself and lady some good seats ? They must have firsf-rate seats, for they are evidently somebody. What a difference there is in folks I “ Now, there’s a dress*maker and a school mistress, nobodies. Back seats good enough. Two young lawyers—* somebodies; I must find a pew in tlie middle aisle. A rich widow—some body-—middle aisle. A broken-down minister, eoat rather seedy, cravat rath- ercoarse—nobody—side aisle. Sixfash-* ionable boarding school girls'; some bodies, middle aisle, if possible. Rouged cheeks, but a splendid silk cloak—sqrae- body-r—middle aisle. An apprentice boy, debest looking, but a nobody-—side ' “ 'Who’ll say I ain't a judge of humss nature ? Don’t* I know who a man is th e minute I see him ? .'•Nrivv, there’s on© of .your seedy- coated old fellows coming. Don’t ! set him' down as nobody, and won’t he be glad to get'any sort of a seat? I'll show folks that I understand my busi*' ness. Have a seat sir ? , ; , * Confound my ill luck f Just as I was putting him into one of tbepoorest |>ews in the house, along cqmes Judge R., whpV sparing him, comes up, and says he, ‘Ah ! how d ’ye do. Governor B* ?— Take-a seat with me, s ir; my wife will be. rejoiced to meet you.’ Shaking ’hands with the seedy coat, he looked daggers at me, and I bet a four pence I’ve lost my place. WhoM havethQ’t the old fellow was an ex-Governor ?—► But that comes qf looking as meek as a school-master,, and dressing like a Wood-sawyer t Why won't folks, as ' ought to, hold up their heads and bo somebody P'—Boston True Flag. _ G ave him the M itten .—•“ Ah,'mou dieu! mori dieu !■” said Monsieur Me- lemdis to his’friend Hniffins, “m y sweet heart have give me de mitlen.” ^ Indeed ?—how did that happen ?” “ Veil, I tonght I' must go to make her yon viseet before I leave town ;• so I step ih ,de side of de roam, and 'dare I behold her beautiful pairson stretch out on von ‘'*A%unge- you mean.”' ' “ Ah, yes—on von'lounge. And den I make,von yer'polite liranch, and—” “ \Foil m'ean a polite bow.'’ “ Ah, yes —von bough. And den i .say I' vas ver sure sli^ would be x-otten, if I did not come to see herbefgre f-—” “ You said what ?” “ I said she would be rotten, if-r-”' That’s enough. You Imtd -*put your foot in it,’ to be sure.” “ No.-sarri. I put my foot out 'of it, for she say she would call her saere big brother, and fdek me out,- hsgar. I had intention.to say mortified, but I could not think of de vord, and mortify p d rot is all same as von, in my diction- We copy the following (says the Rochester-' American) from a late for eign-Review; “ A Dakotali Indian of fered himself for Baptism to some Bres- hyterian Missionariesr. On being ques tioned,- he said that he -had -several wives. He was told that he could not be baptised'wMle lie “had more irives than one. The - heatilen went away and returned in a few months renewing He was again questioned RT*\ A- lady, who Avas sifflering under a slight Indisposition, told her hpband it was with* the Jdfficst difiicalty she could brlethe, and the effort distressed, her es-ccediugly. ' i wonldn't-try, my dear,”goothirJ^U’ replied (he kind hurband. ■ ■ ‘ ^ the others' P ,f have 'eaten them, was thes-epiy.’- * Brigham Young, in bis address to Ms peoplo,«speaks thus of his-author ity : “ 1 have' no fears ivhatever of Fraiiklins^Pierce escasirig me .'from of- fflee arid .saying another man Sbail be Governor of this* -Territory. * Wc havo- not got 4 Territorial GovfemmehU and ■ I' airi and will be Qovernor,and'm pow er -can hinder it until the Lord- Al mighty saps, 'Brigham, you nesd-not U Governor m y longm’ ^^rid theft 1 am iVilihg to yield to anothfiK “'I have -told you the truth aboiit that.” ■* - Ip** Wealth is usualiy the result of well laid plafts carefully pursued^ * It seldom, reached by those direct efforts , which keep the mind constantly on the feather Chan on the means. ,1E7“ “ Gently the dewa are o-'er mo stealing/^ as the njah said whm m had ’ five dae billa fto. l/.tt ut- one time, ^
