{ title: 'Herkimer Democrat. (Herkimer, N.Y.) 1854-1855, August 02, 1854, Page 1, Image 1', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92061595/1854-08-02/ed-1/seq-1/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92061595/1854-08-02/ed-1/seq-1.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92061595/1854-08-02/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92061595/1854-08-02/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
Image provided by: New York State Library
HEEEIME^EMOeRAT. C. O. W t T H E f i S T I N E , EDIlOE, AUJ) PROPRIETOR. THE HERKIM ER DEMOCRAT Is pnblished every WBDjfESRAY MoENib'ft at Merkiffler, Herkimer Coflnty, N. and be left at the residence,of village subscribers for $2j00 per annum. Mail subscribdfs, $2,0d per annum, or $1,50 in advance, RATES Ot ADVEfiTlSlM^* Ope square or less, oneinsfirtioh, *• .$1 00 Each subsequent inseriibn, - ........... . 0 25 One square 2 months^ ...... . ........... ... 00 One square 3 months,,. OUe square 6 months,... .. 4 do ” 1 00 w iw advertise by the year. BOOK AND JOB PRINTING, in all its branches, executed with neatness •nd dispatch, and on reasonable term*. , Frem the Home Journal. THE PEOTEE’S PRINCES- BY JAMES N-ACE, \While slowly sauntering threugh the street, In mood half thoughtful and h alf merry, 1 chanced a barefoot boy to meet. Ragged, and very dirty—very I His brow was dark with grief, and dirt— Unknown to joy—-or Croton water; Yet nature made him fair and bright As any rich m a n 's son or daughter. S light fragm e n t o f h u m a n ity, fjiini.ti. ed by thy luckier brothersl T \v-.p l-: r w h a t th y lo t w ill be, \i!il its bearing upon others! Jus* n o w n ho glances at,thee half afrab , W o u ld th in k t h y toiudr a d e g radation. That simpering fop. more girlish still. Dressed up as for a world’s inspection No matter—thou hast mind and soUl Within thy form’s unsightly pfisoii; And ’^hese may urge thee not to rite, As many .a mighty man has risen. Do tvash thy face! 'so I may trace Some glimpses of tby future story; Who knows but fate may grace thee yet With youth and beauty, wealth and glory! That as it may— the httmblqst child I reverence, though in d irt and tatters, As equal, in the sight of God, With any prinCe whom fortune flatters< For YE are princes, little ohesl Heirs of the kingdom of salvation! Your heavenly birthright keep in view. No matter what your earthly station! fekimef T E . R M S -$ 2 A Y E A R . “ U S e r t y . S r a te r n l ty , a n a E ^ n a l i t y ” ^ 50 I N a d v a n c e . TaLUME III. lERKDIEE, WEDIESDAT l m r a t , AUGUST 2, 1854 lUMBEl 48. iars is a. good salary for a prudent, care ful young man.” “ For one who can do no better, it is very well,” “ Olerfcs are vain, notv-a-days, and over-estimate themselves,” -said Mr. “ Nonsen?o! lie will respect him self,’which every man mns; do, in order to keep himself honOst.*’ ” You ate a transcehdehtalist.” . \ I’m common sense. Ypu say you iannot afford to pay high salaries. Can ac^iu. xvaa . u a - u u u t ctuuru. lu p a y U ig t i aoriaixcs* Phogie, rebuking the complacence of. p u afford to have a semi-annual deficit S I X H U M D R E O A VEARl i OR ENGAGING A GEERS- BV O L IV K R OPTIC\. CH A P T E R X. ” Welt, Dixon, what is it^” asked Mr. Phogie ofhis assi.^slant boob-keepef,tvho had been patiently waiting for haif an hour in the private counting-room of the merchant, for an opportamity to speak with his erap!oyer< “ My second year in yoUr service Will begin to-morrow, sir ; and I have taken the liberty to request your attention to a matter, which, though o n ittle Conse quence to you, perhaps,- is of consider able moment to me.” The young man paused, as if to note the effect of his words upon his em ployer. “ indeed!” ejaculated the merchant,, not half liking the cool and dignified way the young gentleman had of intro ducing himselfi To his mind there was a lack of that cringing subservient tone and nsanner^ which bis old fashioned notion# had taught him to believe was a dangerous deficiency in a clerk. “ I refer to my salary, sir,” \ Well ?” There was a gathering frown upon the brow of the merchant. “ I have endeavored to serve you faithfully,” continued the clerk, rather discouraged by the coldness with which he was received. There was an awkward pause. Mr, Phogie’s philosophy did not permit him to speak, and the young man was too much embarrassed to proceed with his application. “ My salary for the year has been five hundred dollars,” stammered Dix on, when he found his employer was bent on holding his peace. “ Well,” said Mr. Phogie, who still provokingly refused to take a hint. “ The object of my present visit is rer spectfully to request you to raise it to six hundred,” continued D. more bold ly, as he began to appreciate the humor of his employer. Mr. Phogie stared aghast with aston ishment and horror, at the supplicant. Criukshanks or Johnstone would have act Minted the scene quite equal to that i;i iht- work-house, where Oliver Twist, in T I t i mportant matter, had the un- hr;ar l ..f presumption and impudence to ‘ ask for more.” Di.von. lost all hope; “ I trust, sir, I am not unreasonable,” said he, excusing his boldness, . “ Forty years ago, Dixon, when I was of your age,” began M r., Phogie, witfi solemn deliberatedness, “ I should have been glad to have received one-half of your present salary.” The merchant looked complacently at the clerk to note the effect to this as tounding declaration. Dixon ventured to suggest that times had changed. Mr. Phogie admitted it, but was quit© sure the change had been for the Worse. “ That is a matter of opinion, sir,” “ Humph !” “ It costs much more to live now, than it did then.” “ Young men didn't drive fast horses, then, nor go to the opera, nor board at fashionable hotels,” sneered Air, Phogie.. ” i am guilty of non© of these follies, sir,” replied Dlxoti, a little iadignant At the coarseness of the implicafroii. “ Perhaps hot i bt|l five hundred dol- his servant. “ I do not ask an increase of salary, sir, because I cgnnot lim on five hun dred dollars, but because I wish to ad vance myself, and if you will pardon my vanity, because I think my services are worth more.” I “ Very-well, sir, when young men get above their business there is no know ing where they will stop. I cannot ac cede to your demand,” and Mr, Phogie, to show his indifference, busied himself in arranging some papers on the desk before him, “ Then, sir,. I shall be obliged to give yon notice of my intention to leave youi? service,” returned Dixon, evidently re lieved that the interview was concluded, even in this unsatisfactory manner. Mr. Phogie paused iu his occupation and looked with surprise. It was doubt ful whether Dixon meant so. “ Got another situation asked he. < N o sir*” “ Nothing in view ” Nothing s if ; o f course I could not make'an arrangement till I bad consult- e*d y o u .’? Mr. Phogi© Was not pleased with the interview, Dixon was an honest, faith ful and devoted clerk, and the idea of bis parting with hin> was not agreeable. But to retract What he had hastily said, would be an indication ot weakness; besides, h© knew that any quantity of clerks could be obtained for four, or even three hundred dollars a y ear; and he reasoned with himself that he should be a fool to pay Pix;Qa six, when he could get one for three. Accordingly Dixon gave formal no tice of his intention ta “ quit.” But having already earned a reputation for integrity and fidelity* he could easily obtain a situation at the salary he had demanded of Mr. Phogie.. C h a p t e r i i . “ Dood morning, Mr. Phogie,” said Mr. WAmaw a liberal miiided merebant, as he entered the counting-room of the former, > « “ Good mdming sirj anything mew stirring ?” “ No; I called to see you about a young man who has been in your em- ploy-=-^t mean Dixon.” Phogie .was all attention. “ I want a book-keeper: and he has applied for a situation. How is he ?” Phogie did not yery Well like to say be was t competent man, honest, faith ful and ssealoua; he did not dare say he Was anything eisfe j so he was compell ed to compromise the matter tor a mo ment, by Saying nothing.- “ I was Very much surprised to hear from him that he had left yoUr service j anything unpleasant ?” “ N o .” “ Blot the books ?” «No.” “ Inaccurate V* “ No.” “ Off* too much “ No,- nothing o f the kind,”' “ But Be was always considered one of the most promising young men on the street.” “ Yes.” Wyman Was perplexed by the taci turnity o f the other, “ I don’t ask for idle ehriosity; I Want a book-keeper.’* Phogie was dumb. “ Has the young man any fault ?” and there were evidences of impatience in the tones and manner of the matter- of-fact merchant. “ No, not that I 'know of.’* “ Oh, you don’t want him 1”. “No—that is—yes—^but—” ” Exactly so ! 1” exclaimed Wyman, laughing. PhOgie laughed too ; he could net help l^ghing when he saw what a fig ure he was making; besides, a laugh is sometimes a great relief to a man in a quandary. “ If you must know, Wyman, I ’ll tell you. f gave him five hundred for the last year; he wants six for the next; I won’t give it.” “ No?” “ Yes; that is the whole story.” “ Wait a minnte till I have secured him, and then I will talk with you,” and Wyman moved towards the door. “ Give him six hundred,” asked Pho- gie, not a little astonished to find bis neighbor so eager to complete the en gagement. Yes, seven if he demands it.” “ I can send you half a dozen in an hour* who will engage for three.” , “ Will you give bonds for their integ rity and fidelity ?” asked Wyman, with a sneer. ; . Pooh I” Pooh ? 1'he fact is I have suffered enough from cheap clerks. Assure me that a young man is honest, and true to my interest, and I never wfll let him leave me on account of any reasonable difference ahoul salary* A^I Solo-, mon said about the virtuous woman, I believe in 'with regard to an honest and faiihfu! elerk,” “ I canno| afford to pay those big salaries; and a young man gets above bis business when you pay him tpo much*” in your cash account of three hundred do!lars-rbotched up with false entries, lying balance and the like ?” Mr. Phogie had never been troubled in that way, and there was no i^roba- bilify he ever should b e ; he looked Out for his business himself, and he should like to see the clerk that could bam boozle him. . Mr. Wyman thought otherwise, and took his leave, wondering at the stupidi ty ofhis friend- It occurred to him, as he left the counting-room, that it was not so very strange after all, clerks three hundred a year can drive 2-40 horses and go to the operq, three nights in a week; not very strange, either, that petty defalcations were discovered occasionally; and that young men on small salaries got ahead amazingly fast, CHAPTER I I I . . Wyman engaged Dixon; and Phe^ie procured the services of an ill-looking fellow for three.hundred dollars. The next time he satv Wyman he indulged in a little incoherent fUilery over the fact that he paid his new clerk but just half the salary Dixon received, and Phogie thought he was even a better book-keeper than Dixon-^-wrote a plain.- er hand, and could run up a column of figures quicker. As to the new clerk’s honesty, be had a testimfoninal as big as the invoice book ; and his maternal unci© was President of the Soap and CandleMaker’s Bank—of course he was honest. Thfngs went on swimmingly for six months.^ The new assistant wa-3 a jew el, and when Mr. Quilldriver, the head book-keeper, was taken with the rheu matism, which proved to be chronic, Mr. Phogie had so much confidence in the notable nephew of a notable uncle, that he, in the liberality of his big heart advanced his sa|ary,yto four hundred dollars a year. On the first of January, however, when Mr. Phogie called for the bs^nce sheet, it was not ready. The trial bal ance. didn’t come out right, and the profit and loss account -looked ” thun dering strange*” as Mr* Phogie classic ally expressed! it. Three days were hopelessly used up in “ taking stocks,” but the thing cottldn’t be figured-out. Mr. Phogie began to be alarmed.— The General—a noted expert in un snarling implicated and difficult ac counts was called in to examine affairs; but no sooner did the smart nephew of the President of the Soap and Can dle Maker’s Bank see the well known grey locks of the expert bqnt over the folios, than he stopped out to lunch, and by some singular oversight forgot to return. The upshot of the whole matter was that the General discovered an “ ab- si^uatttlation” o f some fifteen hundred dollars—just enough to keep the dap per little book-keeper in opera and 2-40’s during the past season. Of course the thing went up and down the street, and the little ragged hoys in State street bellowed it at the fops of their lungs into the ears of the passer-by. “ Why, Phogie, how’s this ?” said Mr. Wyman, meeting the supporter of the cheap clerk system. ^ Mr. Phogie used a very hard word, which only the ministers are permitted to use in stirring sermons. “ Pay ’em well Phogie, and thej* don’t steal j and when you get a faith- >ful servant don’t part with him.” Phogie scowled and edged off. “ By the by, Dixon brought, every thing out as square aS a brick. Trial balance, balance sheet, everything*foots up Without the variation of a pepny,’* continued Wymanj maliciously as Pbo- gie increased his speed. Poor, penny-wise, proud^ foolish mer chant 1 he leaped better after that. For the s.atisfaction of the reader, I may as well add that Dixon got a thou sand for his next year’s service, and that he is now engaged to bis employ er’s pretty daughter, with the .prospept of immediately becoming a partner in the concern. Y oung A merica in .W isconsin .— There is a fast boy out in Madisoir, the capital of Wisconsion, who if he gets no back sets, will scarcely fail to reach Congress or the Penitentiary one of these days. His school teacher, a young lady, was prosecuted by his parents for pret ty severely welting' the young rascal’s back for his badness. The casement up to the court, and thO verdict of the jury was in effect- “ Served him right,” We give one of the items of the boy’s testimony, the wit of which atoned for its rudenessi He asked her to \do a sum fbr him”—-which was to subtract 9 from 28i One of the counsel asked him if he could not do it withoui her assistance? Boy—“ I might, biit the arithmetic said I couldn’t subirdcS 9 from 8 Vitt* out borrowing 10, and Tdldn't know where in h^—1 to borrow Ik” . ffT* The man who undertook taru'w*- a breeze and fafied, eoniplains of th«f qualify of the soil. - : AIB AK5 Y35EAQISE- leiii ail; bdffi kreit a'nd atnally JBu( no reliefcouW SoAhen I thought health can’t he bough .Ffbm 'd]?ugs I’ll her 'stay another way— And forthT went, and felt content, The azure sky to see. T o watch the herds; to hear the birds That sing froqi tree to \tr^e. Poor men I met, midst toil and sweat, Yet gay, to my S u r p r ise i 1 think I know what. makes them so;— ^Tis air and exercise* , A park was near, With lo3ge‘and deer, And,-down the avenue'. Awhile I staid tb see the maid ■Wiio milked a cow oi two. Her rpsy face had not a trace Ofeare; ■ ' \ T<y)ne th Midst shrubs and flowers a manrion to were, And rears its lofty head; I walked In doors, and saw the floors \With richest carpeti spread. My lord has gout, and can’t go out; In bed my lady lies, A laggard Still, who heve^ will Take airiaind exercise. The drawing-room is ftiR o f gloom j The husbandman, at plough. Is full o f fife, and keeps his wife And children, Heaven knows how. } fed one goes to bed r and exercise. s wealth, Upon the deep the sailors keep . Their watch by night and day, With cheerful call, yet, after all, Perhaps get cast aWay. The soldier runs to face the guns, And wounds and:death defies; Yet men like these are brisk as bees. From air and exercise. The pauper’s child is wretched styled. When, barefoot and in tatters. He runs the street with nought to eat, And yet it little matter#* He never cares how had he fares: His sauce in hunger lie#? And any meat is good ta cat, Fiom air and exercise* Or, if you choose, wear w For'there’sn o carriageroad. Nor feaf to go in sleet or snow, For noble is the prize! ’Tis appetite and sleep faynigBt, From air and exercisa. ifgaih—it wmild Rdt b’e much of a fall anyhow—jgot a glass of beer of a matt, another of a woman, and another of two Small l)bys w i^ a ' pail—fifteen minute's elapsed, wheh I purchased some inore of an Indian ivbmati 4hd imUibed it through a straw ; it wasn’t good—had to get a glassf of beer to take the taste out of my mouth; legs began to tangle up, effect of the spray in my, eyes; got hungry and wanted some thing to ekt—went into an eating house, called for a plate of beans, when the plate brought the waiter in his hand I took it, hung up my beef and beans on a ttdil, eat my hat, paid dollar to a nig ger, and sided out on the step-walk, bought a boy of a glass of dog with a small beer and neck on his tail, with a collar with a spot qn the end—felt funny, sick—got some water in a tin .cup, drank the cup and placed the soda Oil the counter, Ahd paid for the money- full of pocket—very bad headache; rubbed it against .thie lamp post, and and then stumped along; station housb came along, and bald if I don’t go straight he’d take 'me to the watchman —tried: to oblige the station house— very civil station house, very—met a baby .with ah Irisb woman and a wheel barrow ih it, ©ouidtt’t get out of the way, she wouldn’t walk on the side walk, but instead on going on both sides of the street at once; tried to walk between her; consequence col lision, awful, knocked out the wheel barrow* broke the Irish' woman all to pieces, baby loose, court house handy; took-me to the constable, jury sat jon me. and the jail said the magistrate must take me to the constable ; object ed ; the dungeon put me in the darkest constable in the c ity; got out.'flhd here I am, prepared to stick to m j original opinion —Niagara unus humbug ! non 'sxcet'sus non indignui^ admiratconu \Yours unquestionably, E. P h y u a n d e r D o e s t i c e s , B. B. A D unning T rick .— Dr. Willcott, the celebrated Peter Pindar,; was an eccentric character, and had a great many queer notions of |iis own. A good story is told by one of his Ifojtem- ■poraHes of the manner in whiMiheonce tricked a publlsh6r. The latter,'wish- HIAGAEA FAll.S.-UOi!£T:elS OH A BlSlIih- D ear E ditor I have been to Ni agara, you know-^Niagara Falls—big rocks, water, foam. Table Rock, Indian curiosities, squaws, mocassins, stuffed snakes, rapids, wolves, Clifton House, Suspension Bridge, place where the water runs swift* theladies faint,scream, and get the paint washed off iheir faces; where the aristocratic Indian ladies sit on the dirt and make little bags ; where ail the inhabitants swindle strangers; where the cars go in a hurry, the wait ers are impudent, and all the small boys swear. <> When I came in sight of the sus pension bridge, I was vividly impressed with the idea that it was some bridge, in fact, a curiosity, and a considerable bridge^—took a glass of beer and walk ed up to the Falls—another glass of beer and walked under the Falls; want ed another glass of beer but couldn’t get i t ; walked away from the Falls, wet through, mad; triumphant, victo rious, humbug I—humbug! sir, all hum bug! except the dabJiness of every thing, which is a most certainty, and the cupidity of everybody, which is a diabolical fact, and the Indians and niggers everywhere, which is a Satanic truth. . Another glass of bCer—-’twas forth-* coming—immediate-^also, another, all of which 1 drank, I then proceeded to drink a glass of went over to the States, where X procured a glass o f beer —went up Stairs, foi' which I paid a sikpenee, over to Goat Island, for Which I disbursed; twenty-.fi^ve dents, hired a guide, to \vhpm T paid half .a dollar— sneezejd four times, at nine eepts a, sneeze—went up bn the tower for a quarter dollar, and looked at the Falls —dindn’t. feel sublime any, tried'to biit couldn’t, took some beer, and tried a- galn but failed—drank a glass of beer an^ began to -feel better—thought fhu wat era'1 were sent for and were on .a journey to the—— thought the place below was one vast sekbf beer— was going to jump down and'get Some, guide held me, sent him over to the ho tel to get a glass of beer, while I triefj to write some poetry, result as follows; O'^hoU fs'pi'^y 'in one ejre) awfiif, (sm a ll lohstdr id'right shoe) sublime (both feet wfet) master piece o f (jirame* ny what a lie) the Almighty. To^ribl©; and majcsticart thou in thy tremendous might—-Rwful (orful) to heboid, (cramp =n mr right shoulder)huge «xmt nicer Oh, thou that tumblest down ' add riseth ' up again ‘ ih* misty majesty to Heaven—thou glorlbUS pa rent of a-thousand rainbows^—What a huge, grand, awful* terrible,tremendou3, infinite, old swindling humbug you are; what are you doing there you rapids you— you know you’ve tumbled over the rocks and can’t get up again t o save yortr punV existence; you make a g » a t fuss dan’,t you? Mun. cam© hack with the beer, drank it tu the last drop, and wished there had been a gallon more-’- walked^ otti oil a rock to the ed^e,of Ybe fall,' Womain on shore very much frifihteaed—I Icdd; Ifer^ Uotio geieXcited if I fell over, as I would step fight up the publisher waa very anxious* to pUr-' chase, demanded .^GSOO. In reply the latter appointed a day on which he would call on the doctor and talk the matter over. At the day appointed the doctor received him in entire dis- habille.even to the nightcap; arid hav- iu^ aggravated the sickly look of a naturally cadaverous face by purposely abstaining from the use of the razor fof some days, he had all the appeal anee of a candidate for quick consump tion. Added to this the author as sumed a hollovv and«* most sepulchral cough, such as would excite the pity of even a sheriff’s officer,' and make a rich man’s heir crazy with joy; The publisher, however, refused giving m'ofh than JU200, till suddenly the doctor broke out into a violent fit of cough ing which produced an offer of £250. This the doctor peremptorily* refused, and was seized aimosl instantly with another even more frightful and lorn ger protracted attack, that nearly suf focated him—when the publisher think ing^ it impossible for such a man to five long, raised his offer ' and closed with him at £300. ‘ The old rogue lived 25 or 30 years afterwards.— Biographical Scraps. C oo U n E ss of D u E msts .—It is a sin gular coirteiderice in dueling, that in nine cases out of ten the challenger Is the unlucky man. The affair of honor which occurred in Charleston, between Donnavan and La Gree, was one of the coolest things eve^ heard of. * Donna van was the challenged party* The night previous to the duel he lodged at one of the hotels. The fete de combat was to come off at 6 A. M. A servant was dispatched to the room for the pur pose of waking him. He replied in a very unconceriied manner:* “ I am wearjf; Jet me sleep three qarters of ari hour/dottger., “ Six o’clock, principals and, seconds bn .the field. Second was abotit'giving Ihb word; when Dorina- vam discovered a little clump ©f grass neardiim, and by which he supposed La Gree could fine him; he*very de liberately drew his knilefrom hjs pock* et and cut down the grass; after‘which the second gave the word, “ Gentlemen, are you ready?” At this moment La Gree informed Mf. Donnavan he was not holiSig hfs pistol proper, , to which Donnavab replied coolly, “ Does .tfiat suit you, Mr, La Gree?” The second gave the Wbrd again, “ Gentlemen, are yod readv?’’! .which both fe* sponded iff thd affirmative. The words one, two, three, were given. La Gree shot before the word two had fully es caped the second’s lips, and missed his man.' DbttUaVaii returned the fire, arid La Greb fell a corpse, (p* A follow named ,Parfces week was caught in* the act of running off withJhia-neJgbhor’e wife and horse, the* WomariY bM^KelffhM off t h e horse: o It rains.itshiribs, iffsfiorf;i^ does: most eyerything but pay our bills. Sosifow foe THE DEAD... , The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be di vorced. Every other wound we seek to heal—every other affliction to for get ; but this wound we consider i f g duty to keep open—this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude.— \Where is the mother who would wil lingly -forget the infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang ? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender parents, tbdugh to re member be but to lament ? Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns ? Who, even when the tomb is closing over the remains of her he most loved, when he feels his heart as it were, crushed in the closing of its portal; would accept of consolation that must be bought by forgetfulness ? No, the love which sur vives the tomb is one of the noblest at tributes of the soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights; and when the overwhelming burst of grief i.«? calmed (nto the gentle tear of recollec tion ; when the sudden anguish and convulsive agony over the present ruins of all that we most loved, is softened away into pensive meditation on all that it was in the days of its loveliness —who would root out such a sorrow from the heart ? Though it may some times throw a passing cloud over the hour ofgayety, or spread a deeper sad ness over the hour of gloom, yet who would exchange it even for a song of pleasure, or the burst of revelry ? No, there iS a vioce from the tomb svveet- er than song. There is a remem brance of the dead to which we turn even from the charms of the living.— Oh, the grave 1—^the grave !—it buries every error—covers every defect—ex tinguishes every resentment! From its peaceful bosotu spring none but. fond regrets and tender reccollections. Who. can fook Cven upon the grave of an enemy, and not feel a compunctious throb, that he would have ever warred with that popr handful of earth that lies mouldering before him ? But the grave of those we loved-—what a place for meditarion ! There it is tfiat we call up in long review the whole history of virtue and gentleness, and the thou- sand endearments lavish&d upon almost unheeded in ’the daily intercourse of intimacy—there it is that We dWell up on the tenderness, the solemn, awful tenderness of the parting scene. The bed of death, with all its stified griefs—its noiseless attendance—its mute Watchful assiduities. The last testimonies of expiring love! The feeble fluttering, thrilling—oh, how thrilling!—pres.sure of the hand ! The faint, \faltering accents, struggling in death to give one more assurance of affection ! The last fond look of the glazing eye turning upon us even from the threshold of existence. Ay, go to the grave of buried love and meditate! There settle the ac count with thy conscience for every past benefit unrequited—every past en dearment unregarded, of that departed being who can never, never return to be soothed by thy contrition I If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow ta the silver brow of an affectionate parent—if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ven tured its whole happiness in thy arms to doubt ofie moment of thy kindness or thy tralh--nf thori art a friend, and hast ever wroripd,. in thoughLor word, or deed, the spirit that generously con fided in thee—if thou art a lover, and hast ever given one unmerited pang to that true heart that lies cold and stiff at thy feet;—then be sfure that every unkind' look, every ungracious word, and every ungentle action, will Come thronging back upon thy memory, arid knocking dolefully at thy soul—then be sura thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repentant on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour the una vailing tear; more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing. Then wave thy chaplet of flowers, arid strew the beauties of nature around the grave; console thy broken spirit if thou canst, with these tender, yet fu tile tributes of regret; but take warn ing by the bitterness of this thy con trite affliction over the dead, and hence forth be more faithful and affectionate in the discharge of thy duty to the liv ing.— _____ '■ B rbttv n e a r the M ar k .' —I vvas in soropany the other night, a number, of ladles being present, when a young man proposed a conundrum^ which be said he bad read in the papers. It was this; When is a Ddy not a lady ?”— There vvas a pause, “ Give it up,” said they all around, when, to the in finite horror'<?f the whole party, the querist exclaimed,- “ When she’s a- little buggy . N o b o d y laughed—some were demure, some indignant, and some no doubt iucUned fo scratch—^the querist’s face a little. He Was disappointed.— Fumbling ill his poeket he pulled p u t a t. paper, which consnlting for a moment he ejaculated, 0. I beg yom pajdon. ladies, I made a mistake. Thej.nswer is. .When, she is a little sulkyjf J krievv it was some' 'sort of a carriage.” There* is' ascertain kind b f vlc( that .soirie pefsona w ill shim if thby‘are ever so bad—that Is, ad-vice, * A LOFTY CATARACT- Capt. Walker, of the United States Surveying Expedition, gives the follow ing account in the San Diego Herald of a wonderful cataract which he discov ered in his explorations ; “ On the Upper Virgin Elver are two very remarkable faffs.. One of them, ^ o hundred miles from its mouth, is most stupendous cataract in the vvorld ; in an almost unbroken sheet, a distance of full one thousand foet I— The riverj some distance above, travers es a pretty timbered valley, and then runs through a close kenyon. Here the current becomes rapid. The moun tain seems to run directly across the river; At the fall, the stream is nar- fowed tor thirty or forty yards—while the kenyon rises on either side in al most perpendicular cliffs to a height of two hundred feet. The pent up stream rushes on to the brink oft the precipice, leaps over the falls with scarce a break into the vast abyss below. About thirty miles above there is an other magnificent faff. Here the river plunges over the cliff, falls a distance of two or three htriidred feet, and breaks into a myriad of fragments upon a pro jecting ledge, beneath. Although the fall is not so great as the other, it is more picturesque, from the multitude of smaller cataracts into which it is divid ed by the rocks.” T h e T r i u m p h o p a T r a v e l i n g M e s merist IN A D ippiculty .—The author of “ Sam Slick,’’-observes in the course of a work he has just published, that the trials to which traveling Mesmerists are put in America, are, at times, hu miliating, and painful enough, *al.beit they afford infinite sport to unbelievers. One poor follow, on arriving at a town in Detroit to lecture, was surrourided by several citizens who told him there was a rheumatic patient up stairs, who must be cured, or he himself must be escorted out of town, astride of a rail, with the accompanying ceremonies.— We had better give the rest of the story as it was related by the disciple of Mes-. mer himself. “ Up stairs I went with ’em, mad as thunder, I tell you; first at being tho’t a hunibng, and next, that my individoo- al sbaf-e of the American eagle should he compelled into a measure, by thun der. I’d a gin them a fight, if it hadn’t ben for the science, which would a suf fered anyhow, so I jest said to myself, let ’em bring on their rheiimatiz ! I felt as if I could a mesmerized a horse, and I determined whatez;er the case might .be, I’d make it squeal, by thunder! “ ‘ Here he is,’ said they, and in we all bundled into a room, gathering round a bed, with me shut in among ’em, and the cussed big onenlightened heathen that did the talking, drawing out an al mighty bowie-knife a-t the same time. ‘That’s your mail,’ said he. Well, there lay a miserable looking critter, with his eyes sot and his mouth open, and his jaws got wider arid wider as he saw the crqtvd and bowie-knife, I-tell you I ‘ That’s the idea,’ said old Big Rise up in that bed,’ said T, and_ I tell you what, I must a looked at him dreadful, for up he jumped on eend, as if he’d jest got a streak of galvanic. “ ‘ Git out on this floor,’ said I, with • a wuss look ,* and I wish I may be shot if out he didn't come lookin’ wild, I tell yel “ ‘ Now, -cut dirt, drot you !’ scream ed L and Jehu Gineral Jackson !-^if he didn’t make a straight shirt-tail for the door, may I never make another pass. After him I went, and after me they cum, and prehaps here wasn’t the or- fullest stampede' down three pair of- stairs, that ever occun’ed in Michigan ! Down cut old rheumatiz through the bar-room—out I cut after—over went the stove in the rush after both of us. I chased him round two square—in the snow at that— then headed him off, and chased him back to hotel agin, where he landed in a fine sweat, begged for his life, and said he’d give up the property. Well, I wish I may be shot if he wasn’t a feller that they were off ring a reward for in Buffalo ! I made him dress him- self-*-cured of his rheumatiz—run it right out him ; delivered him up, pock eted the reward, and established the science, by thupder!” T rue P hilanthropy . —“ I see in the world (says Jeremy Taylor) two heaps —one of human happiness, and the oth er of human misery. Now, if I can take but the smallest bit from one heap, or add to the other, I carry a point. If, as I go home, a child droppeth a half penny, and if by giving it another, I can wipe away its tears, I feel that I have done something. I should be glad to, indeed, do greater things ; but I will not neglect this.” A H int to the P assionae . —Dr* Caldwell, an American writer on phys ical education, contends that a well balanced brain cotributes to long life, while a passionate and turbulent one to abridge i t ; and if persons knew how many dangers in life they escape by possessing mildness of temper, instead of the opposite disposition, how eager would be the aim. of all men to culti vate it. (K?” A boarding miss deeming “ eat” _ word too vulgar for refined ears, de fined it thus; To insert nutritious pabulem into the denticulated orifice below the nasal protuberance, which, being masticated, preregrinates through the cartiluginous cavities of the larynx, a n d is finaffy domieiJated in the receptacle for dl- gestable particles, #U2?*“ Only learned men,” says Lord *Bacon, “ love business as an action dc- ;Wdirig tb nAture, as agreeable to health Wiaiud, as exercise is to health of body, taking pleasure in the action itself, and not in the purchase; so that of all men they are the most indefatigable if it ha towards any business which can bolder detain their mind,”
