Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 24 November 1853 — Page 1

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The Montgomery Journal

la published every Thursday, at $1,50, if paid in advance $2, within the year and $2,50, after the expiration of the year. No subscripion discontinued till all arrearages are paid

FOR ADVERTISING,

$1 per square of 12 lines Brevier, for three insertions. Each additional insertion 25 cents.

A reasonable reduction made on yearly adadvertisements. All letters must be post-paid to insure attention

BEN BOLT AND SWEET ALICE.

BY AMANDA MIN'NE DOUGLASS,.

"Oh, don't you remember sweet Alice Ben Bolt! Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown— Who blushed with delight when you gave her a smile,

And tnembled with fear at your frown!

In the^bhurch-yard in the valley, Ben Bolt, In a corner secluded and lone, They have fitted a slab of granite so gray,

And sweet Alice lies under the stone."

-Don't you remember? Are those three magic words—a key wherewith wo may unlock the floodgates of the heart, and send the sweet waters of the past over the plains and down

the hills of that fair land, known in

tour

hearts experience as by-gone?— Even so. There rises before us visions of a time when the bright, deep eyes of the young spirit gazed shyly at us from beneath the ermined mantle of winter—when the blue violets stole their first tint from the sky above when the cowslips of sunny May, and the golden butter-cups first jeweled the slender blades of grass and the hawthorn grew white with its blostoms when we roamed the woods the whole of that long, warm, loveablo June holiday, weaving garlands and listening to the concert of birds in that dark, mistletoe wreathed oaken forest. There was one in years agone that prayed—"Lord keep my 'memory green," and the clinging ten'drils of our hearts go ever back .yearningly to this prayer.

But green and fresh as the poet's sprayer had the heart of Ben Bolt been kept—from his early boyhood to the hour he sat by his old friend and listened to the song of by-gone •days. Not "through a glass, darkly," 'did he review those scenes of the •past, but it was the going back of the boy-heart to the other hearts of childhood.

There was the little old red school house with its dusty windows, and desks that had been nicked many a lime trying penknives its tail, stern Hooking teacher whose heavy voice, ^caused the younger ones to tremble •its rows of boys and girls, with their heads bent attentively downward to their books and slates. The wild winter wind sang and whittled without, and though some few childrens' hearts tried to find words for it* mournful notes, they were too young and happy to know that it carried desolation and heartr.che in its wail yrt did they learn it in after days.

Then there came a few light, round -snow-balls, so tiny that it must have been the sport of the storm spirits in their elfin revels,—changing by and by to feathery flakes, that danced about ever so gaily. How the chil

dren's

eyes grew bright a3 they look

ed at one anoiher. and thought of the merry rides down the hill, and the snow-balling that would make the tpl&y-ground ring again, again! The last lessons were said, books and .-slates put aside, and in place of silence reigned gay glad voices. Kate Ashley shook back her jetty ringlets, and laughed through her sparkling -eyes-, as she gave Jemie Marvin that 'bit of a curl for which he had teased sher so long, because she knew that (Jemie had the prettiest sled in the whole school." Ah, a bit of a coquet was that romping, genteel Kate and Sophia Dale, looking as demure -as a kitten walking from a pan of new milk, and as playful as a kitten, too, was she, in spite of quiet looks «nd the stately Elizabeth—Queen I3ess they called her, and I question if England's queen had a hadghtier carriage but apart from those who were eagerly looking for friends to take them home, stood Alice May— sweet Alice. Very beautiful and lovely was she, with her winsome, childish face, blue eyes, and soft, brown curls. She was so delicate and fragile, you might almost fancy her a little snow child or a fairy babe.

Nearly all the children had departed amid the joyful shouts and jingling of bells but yet the aweet little child stood alone, until a rich, boyish voice startled her by saying, "no one goes your way, Alice, do they?" "No, I guess not, Ben," she replied in her'fine, bird-like tones." "Well, the snow is too deep for you to walk,

I guess 1 will carry

you home." "Oh, no, I am too heavy to be carried so far," and she laughed low and evveetly. "Heavy, no, you are just like thistle down or a snow-flake, Ally I could carry you to England and back again, without being fatigued," and he tossed the little girl in his arms. "No, no, let me go the boys will laugh at you, Ben," and she struggled. "What do I care? They may laugh at Ben Bolt as much as they like," and the brave boy drew himself up proudly, and pushed the chestnut curls from his broad, fair forehead "but I did not mean to frighten you, Alice," he continued, as he, saw how the little girl trembled.

So she put on her bonnet and cloak, and- Ben took her in his arms $s if

T. W. FRY, Editor.]

she had been a bird, while the little, tiny thing nestled down on his shoulder, as he went stumbling through the snow, saying gay, pleasant things, that made the shy little girl laugh and when, at length he opened her mother's cottage door, he stood her on the floor saying—"There! Mrs. May, 1 brought Alice home, lest she should got buried in a snow-bank she's such a weeny little thing and beiore Mrs. May could thank him he was out of sight.

it was though! The boys built a great snow house, dipping the chunks of snow in the water to harden them so they might last longer, and they rolled large snow balls for a pyramid, till it was higher than the school house. They the brightest

like voice

that

prayed

snow-house grew thiner, and

shine brighter, and lent enchantment to the atmosphere of her existence. Then the long June, days came, en-1 circling the green earth with a crown of roses, and making it redolent with, perfume and in the noontide hourl the children strolled to the foot of the hill.jind clustering together, told ofj their childish hopes of the future.—,

Ben Bolt was

roing

ain Shirly,

generous, whole-souled

being as ever trod on deck,

take°him under

blue-birds. corned by The pyramid tumbled down, the! to chat of by-gones and it was

the boys|

indeed

The glad spring camewith its larks! as she thought of the broad ocean but and daisies, and one delightful day) when she looked so shyly at Ben that lace, as if they the children went a Maying. Katej morn, and saw how handsome he had back to life and Ashley was queen, and a brilliant grown, a heart sickness came over queen she was, too, but Ben Bolt her, and the sunshine fell but dimly gathered white violets, and braided on the grass at her feet. She knew them in the soft curls of Alice, and'she had hidden away in the depths of told her she was sweeter, dearer than a her pure heart a wild unearthly love, thousand May queens like Kate. Child: and she strove to put it from her, for a^ she was his words made the sun-! would he think of her now? So it

Some were lured by ambition some ing to the words falling so musically dreamed of quiet country repose,some from her lips—"And there shall be no of gay city life there was one

whose I

was to

his

shade of the old sycamore, and

But One day Ben came to Mrs. May's cottage to bid them good bye. Alice stood by the window, watchirig the stars, woflderifig what made them

moonlight and when he told her ever again how large she would be on his return, that he would not dare to call her his little Alice then as he looked back lingeringly, she laid a soft, brown curl in his hand, saying—"I have kept it for you this long, long fime, Ben ever since the day you brought me home through the anow—do you remember?"'

He did remember, and with one passionate burst of grief, he pressed the little girl to his bosom, and the brave hearted boy sobbed the farewell he could not flnd words for.

But five years are not always a life-time. True, it was such to the quiet, thoughtful Charlie Allen, whose large dark eyes had stolen brilliancy from his books and the laughing little Bel Accher—both were laid to sleep in the old church yard, where the night stars shone on their graves. Others went out to seek a future in the gay world, and some grew into minature men and women by their own sweet firesides but Alice May seemed still a child. Yet she was taller, and her slight form more graceful but there was the same angel looking through her eyes that had watched there in the olden days.— She staid at home now to assist her mother in sewing—their chief suport but she was the same shy, sweet Alice that Ben. Bolt had carried thro' the snow. ,f!v

Ben Bolt had come back. Kow

love and

next five years. There were excla-! heart, and the tiny hands of mations of surprise and sorrow from were folded in his, as she said very the children they sat down in the sweetly—1"If I live, Ben,

lis-!

N 1 0 N

VOLUME 6. CRAWFOEDSVILLE. INDIANA,-NOVEMBER 24, 1853,

strange that five years should have passed so quickly, and stranger still that this tall, handsome sailor, whose voice was so full and rich should be Ben Bolt. Kate Ashley was not thinking of the sweet Sabbath rest

the chimes of the church bell float-j breast as she prayed for those who ed through the village there she would soon be left desolate for she stood before her mirror, arranging knew that she was dying:'. It did not her shining curls, and fastening her startle her she had felt long ago that dainty bonnet, with its white ribbons the fair green earth would hold her and drooping blue bells, thinking if pulsing heart ere it had left the cloiashc could not facinate Ben with her.terof girlhood. Life was sweet and

What a brave, glorious show storm I sparkling eyes—it would be delight-j beautiful, jet in hei sinlessness death ful to have his chief attention during .'bad no agony, save her sorrow for his stay. those left in loneliness^ It was only

den-edged lashes shadowing cheek. He carried in his bosom a

He thought she did look very beau- a little way to the lan# of rest, and tiful, as he sat, before service, looking her feet had grown weary yet she on the olden faces—but there was a longed to look once more upon the fairer one than hers, he fancied, as flowers and have them1braided in her

worked bravely but' he saw the sweet face of Alice May, hair and so she lingered till the voice face and pleasantest! with half closed eyes and long gol- of spring was heard on the hill tops

the pale

voice among them was Ben Bolt's. Such rides as they had down the hill, and though the larger boys and girls said Alice May was too little and too like the one nestling so softly by her dim in glory of earJy morn, sweet cowardly to join them, because she! temple, and it was a talisman keep-j Alice stood on the threshhold of para felt fearful sometimes, vet Ben Bolt ling him free from the enchantment dise, and the golden gates were openheld her in his arms, and away they of other eyes. ed to the fair, meek girl. There went, merrily as any of the rest. 'j When the

curl

service

But the winter be^an to wane, and was surrounded by old familiar faces blessing for Ben Bolt, and her mot-h-now and then a soft°mi!d day would!—they had so much to say, many jer, giving radiance to the fair dead come, that lessened the pyramid and! things to speak of, so much joy to face and they braded spring lloweis snow-houae 'materially. "Such a'express at his safe return, that it. in her wavy brown hair. pity," but there was one little wren- well nigh bewildered him. It was 1 he churoh aid ben chimed soft

for violets and very pleasant to be so warmly wel-j to the years earth had claimed

Sabbath of

jested about its being in a decline, Bolt. till one day it disappeared—faded Sweet Alice! away, like so many of their childish weary the time hopes. Sometimes her. heart died within her

was no wonder she slender hand in her mother's and steal quietly from the joyous throng.

It was Sabbath eve—one of those balmy moonlight evenings of the young summer Mrs. May had gone to visit a sick neighbor, and Alice sat by the window with the Bible open, and her slender white finger.-? point-

night there and they need no can-

eye kindled and young face flushed! die, neither the light of the sun: for with enthusiasm, as he spoke of the the Lord God giveth them light, and sparkling blue waters, and the brave they shall reign for ever and ever. ship, that breasted them so gallant-! She looked tremblingly up ward in clustered together, only [y the moonlight, for close beside her I were left. Some slept in the tremu- j^en and reverently,

to sea. Cap-'knelt the manly form of Ben Bolt.—! lous ocean some in the jangle

There was told a sweet story ofjothers in

hope, not the less sweet

protection the being the language of every human there were who slept peacefully

Alice iuay seiuom joined uiein.—.j i" ,—-~-j ,, She was so delicate and timid, and! future. He was young and so full of: fond, yearning heart, only could the thought of Ben's departure filled vitality her eyes with tears so she would beating steal away alone fearful of the ridicule of her hardier companions.

so dim—never thinking of the tears beating heart, he replied— that dimmed her eyes, as Ben told ofj "God will be merciful to us who his hopes so joyfully. She could not love so dearly, Alice, darling. part with him there, so she walked She knew it, but she knew also that through the little door-yard, and God did not always answer the praystood beside the gate, leaking iikeajer falling from the hopeful lips, golden-crowned angel in the yellow Sweet Alice! Adown the future sho

Alice!

when five

the musical"murmur of "/Ip turn a second time—" He had heard from the hps Of that pleton's mill exchanged keepsakes, She did not finish it—it

was

and promised always to remember! finished. So they plighted their troth sleep beside her darling, how patient'

the merry, brave hearted boy whose that calm, holy Sabbath evening, and |and holy Alice had grown how she ,^ __ home would be the wide blue ocean. the buoyant heart of Ben, in its sun-1 had passed camly away in her saint-1

Alice May seldom joined them.— niness, pictured radient hopes forthc J.^e^beauty^ Jaf-

ever}'' pulse of his heart was gladly, and the coming five

years were more precious to him than all the past. "If we live, Ben God will havej us in his holy keeping," she said in I answer to his parting words but as he pressed her convulsively to his

How she watched the days in their p'assage.' She noted how the summer waned—how the fields of waving grain grew yellow in the sunlight—she heard the glad voices of reapers, and when the leaves' were falling the merry children went nut gathering in the woods then ,the noisless snow fell, and lay on the hillside as in the olden days, until the genial spring-tide sun melted it away and the violets and blue brells'Uotted the fields. So passed a year.

She was growing fairer and more beautiful—too brillant for anything earthly. Once she knelt at the. altar in the church, and listened to the words uniting her with the Savior's redeemed on earth, but it was onfy an outward form, for her heirt had long been in the keeping of angels. Again she watched the waning of thfe

looked tremblingly, and as she saw his father's travels in the western part the fragile form and spiritual face,! of Kentucky: with white lilies braided in the soft At the close of a day in midsummer, brown hair, her eyes grew dim with jyjr.

tears, for close beside the altar was lUp

the grave-yard. huts they had even seen. The winThey were not Wanting' who wondered at Ben Bolt's choice, and thought it strange he should take Alice May in preference to the fairest and wealthiest. Some there were who held their heads loftily when they passed her, but her heart was away on the blue waters, and she heeded it not.

Summer days, arid when the soft rode on to better quarters.

N I O N

winds swept over the silvery rye fields she thought of the ocean afar with its broad waves. All through the winter days she grew more spiritual in her beauty, and the slender white hands were ofteri.folded on her

One morning when viewless hands were gathering back their misty curtains of the night, and the tears grew

was closed, Ben I trembled on her hps a prayer and a

old friends, delightful the stainless soul of Alice May, as

joy to

Ben

Ah, how long and had been to her.—

they brought the coffin in little old church. How beautiful she looked in hei white burial robe too fair and sweet for death too holy, had there not been a resurection beyond.— Close beside her stood the friends1 of

her girlhood, gazing on that young

they laid Sweet Alice to sleep^in the old church-yard, and those that had looked coldly on her, took to their

should slip her led man, whose guiding star had been

the love of that sweet girl, came back

and laded in their pathway how of

ail the glad hearts of childhood had

the

for! the waving prairie grass. Some

the green old church yard, and among

id very these, the fairest and best was "Sweet

Alice."-.

years more have passed, and you re-! forgotten that.

Ah,

never' desolate mother, ere she went to

tate. Down in his heart, deeper than any earthly thing, had he lain them cherishing their beauty and geern-,

Many a

time

Years afterward they laid Ben Bolt to sleep by the side of Sweet Alice. Newark N. J. 1853.

NOT

POOR—Charles

arv an

E E N

sorrowing hearts a sweet memory of helpless infancy, her throbbing breast of the early dead.

1 here was agony too deep for ut- jn wayward, tetchy boyhood, she bore terance, when the strong, ardenrhear-

to find the cottage home desolate, and |,°n(1

Alice sleeping beneath a gray stone

in the church yard.

But God and time are meciful, and

as years passed away, he came to think of her as garnered in the golded fruitage of the Edenlaad.

This was the memory" that' h'3?

friend sang of, as they sent in the

summer twilight, years afterward,

and talked of the faces that glimered

''The old Woman."

Up lo

they

tsvo

the

in 10

he could never have

10 1

had the spirit of

of Sweet Alice risen before his eyes, in all the beauty of that far off land he saw so dimly, and he merged into immortality, he should meet her again.

Jarvis, the

artist, tells the following anecdote of

his companion rode

0 one Gf

the most dilapidated log

dow was Stuffed full of rags, and the cracks between the logs were par tially chocked up with the same articles. 'What an awful shaty this is! exclaimed Jarvis, as he rode up. 'It is evident they are too poor to accomodate us here.' 'Not BO poor as you mout think, stranger,' said ahead that showed itself among the rags 'for I don't own tins'place.' 'Have you anything in there to eat? said Jarvis 'any bread and ham?' 'Not & dmell! stranger—all gone every smitch: not a crust left!' Jf1® 'Have you any feed for our horse!' 'Not a corn, nor a£ oat, stranger— have'nt no use for none!' 'Well, can you accomodate us for the night?' 'Wall, we can't stranger. There is no floor to the house, and the straw is all out!'

'Why, 1 never heard anything like itj' said Jarvis, impatiently. 'What do you do here?1 'Putty well, I thank you,' said the Kentuckian, 'how's the folks down your way?" "'Y

That was enough for them—they

It was thus a few days since, we heard a stripling of sixteen designate little

may love when she has passed away —kind-hearted sisters, perhaps, or she who of all the world you choose for a

partner-—she

its sweet love. So

negg)

or anc

proWdent

forsakes or forgets! Speak gently,

your mother,

nd when you, too, shall be old, it

forest shade, & beneath jEhall in some degree, lighten

.. hi

the

know that never wantonly

have you outraged

A Striking Illustration. A company of individuals united

thertiselves together in a mutual beneThe Blacksmith comcs

eociety.

Gent emRri

I wish to becomo a

member of your association.'

Well what can you do?'

'Oh, 1 can shoe your horses, iron carriages, and make all kinds ofim-

P1®™"1"3-

'Very

Along comes the shoemaker and says, 'I wish to become a member ofj your society.' 'Well, what can you do?' 'I can make boots and shoes for you.' 'Come in Mr. Shoemaker—v\ must have you.'

So in turn, apply all the different trades and professions, till lastly an individual comes, and wants to be a member. ,• 'And what are your' 'I am a Rumseller.' 'A Rumseller and what can you do?' 'lean build jails and prisons poorhouses.' 'And is that alH' 'No I can fill them, I can fill your jails with criminals, your prisons with convicts, and your poor houses with paupers.' 'And what els6 can you do?' 'I tfan bring the gray hairs of the

aged.to the grave with sorrow

[J. KEENEST, Publisher.

commerily spoken, it jars upon the integrity, his industry in brief, ear and shocks the sense. An 'oldjgood qualities generally, (and veiy woman" should be an object of re-'good qualities are rarely found averence above and beyond almostjnaong the peripatetic venders of the all other phrases of humanity. Her dailies and the weeklies,) manufacvery age should be her surest

of life

mother, and even courteously—ten- f— a regular bngannish—pair of wfaisderly to her. But a little time and jkers, and a brace of merry, twinkling ye shall see her no more foreever!— optics that betokened a good heart Her eye is dim, her form bent, and!and

her shadow falls graveward! Others the street, and,

may love you fondly!

would fain call her never, again never while time is

never,

yours, shall the love of woman be to you as that of your old, trembling, weakened mother has been.

In agony she bore you! through

wa3

your safe protection and support

patiently

With your thoughtless rude-

and nursed you safe through a

cg on

roWj or

namc

jj|3 and maladies. Her

it was t}iat

bathed your burning,

moistened the

eye

nes3 Df

NUMBER 17.

Perseverance—its Value. About ten'years ago there news-boy—very little

the mother who b'dte hirri. By coarse age, which was fourteen years—who husbands we have heard wives so sold papers at the corner now occucalled occasionally, though in the pied by the Tribune building and its latter case the phriise is more often adjuncts. This boy, owing to his used endearlingly. At all

.cheerful countenance, his proverbial

1 tured friends for himself everywhere,

port to courteous consideration. The and particularly arhong publishers, aged mother of a grown-up-family He did a very good business as a needs no other certificate of worth.— news-boy, but his position did not She is a monument of excellence, suit him, as he one day confidentialapproved and warranted. She hasi'y informed us, and he was determinfought faithfully "the good fight," ed to abandon it. and come off cOricjueror. Upon heri 'That you can easily, said we go venerable face she bears the marks into, a store.' of the conflict in all its furrowed lines. I 'I can neither read nor write, said The most grievous of the ills

he, mournfully.

have been hers trials untold and un-j 'Apprentice yourself to some trade known only to God and herself, she

(then,'

was our advice.

has borne incessantly and now, irk 1 'I think I will,' he exclaimed, with a her old age—her duty done!

patiently

awaiting her appointed time—she '1 think I will,' and off he bounded, stands more truly beautiful than even We lost sight of him a short time in youth, more honorable and deserv- after this conference was held, and ing than he who has slain his

thou-j

sands, or stood triumphant upon the existed. proudest field of victory. About a week ago, an athletic, well Young man! speak kindly

to your

brightening eye and a flushed cheek

finally forgot that such a being had

!dressed young man, with a ferocious

the best

parching lips

many ars aa vvouia suflice

her ful y! reckless

she youp counse

of health, stopped us in

extending his hand,

called us by name. Not recognising him, we had recourse to the phrase of 'really, sir, you ha^e the advantage of me.' 'Not know the little news boy he cried, as if astonished.

Truly it was our little news-boy.— He had taken our early advice, and apprenticed himself to a machinist. 'Whore are you working ?'vve inquired. 'O, I. don't work now/ was his proud answer, 'I own a Saw-mill on Long Island, and am doing business for myself. I have been myownfow a year now. I bought out my con-

jeern with the savings of eight years,

that lightened up the dark- have a wife and two children and my

wasting nightly vigils, watch- |own cottage

lightly! for you cannot live so ly, but 'still'With art air of'tmimpb.

to thhnk'j That

house and garden for

man wil1 be

& impatient vouthja to yet. If we dared tell his name,

solace!—j hundreds would at once hail with

bright manhood she guides! rapture the news of the good fortune

step, nor even then of their persevering little friend who

re-

shall be yours for other

once supplied them with the Sun and Herald every morning. Perseverance—it is the grand lever by which the most astounding results may be accomplished. George Borrow, the author of "Lavengro," says:

the respect due to |"Perseverance and a dogged deter-

women." imination to conquer all difficulties, will invariably make a man ot the veriest doit."

Do you hear, boys No matter how poor

education.

well come in, Mr. Black-

smith. The Mason applied for admission into tile society. 'And what can you do, sir?' 'On can build your barns and houses, stables, and bridges.' 'Very well, come in vve can't do without you.'

how ignorant you may

be, perseverance, conjoined with virtue, will gain you both wealth and

LOAFER'S

loafer, whose iborne him to

I can

break the heart otlhe wife and blast the prospects of the friends of talent and fill your land with more than the plague of Egypt,:' 'Is that all you can do?' „,J 'Good Heavons!' cried the Rumseller, 'is not that enough?'

A good Quaker lady after listening to the extravigant yarn of store keeper as long as her patience would allow' said to him, 'Friend H. what a pity it is a sin to lie, when it is necessary in thy business.'

SoLii.oauY.—A poor trembling limbs had the door of a doctor's

shop, seemed to be enarmored of the 'slate which was hanging out for the reception of orders from the physician's patients. The lofer gazed up|on it, and still his wonder grevv.—

At last he saw the word "IN" cut into the frame, and this discovery seemed I to inspire him with dreams of other 'days. ••"IN," he soliloquized "yes, I jremeirib'er when I was in boyhood, with everything around to comfort me iii my father's house in health and in

blitheness of innocence in the affecjtions of family and friends and now turning over the slate the om'inous word "OUT" starred him full in the face, and he continued Yes, out, I'm out, indeed out of mony, out

of the innocent joys of Jlhe past out with father and friends out of my characther, out of cridit, out at the elbows, tiul of health. Let the ins take warning from the outs." And he tottered on in a repentant mtfod, doubtless revolving in his mind the means of reformation. There is always hope for a man who is not

d'dead to early impressions.

Gavazzi turned Editor. An Anti-Jesuitical weekly paper,

The Crusader, has been established in New York, to which Alexander Gavazzi is to be a regular contributor. Tfie Crusader's "platform" is

Incessant war against the system of

the papacy,

Religious & civil freedom at home and abroad. No persecutions nor inquisitions for diversity of opinions.

The maintenance of public schools at any sacrifice. Protection to ^American citizens abroad, and their rights respected in whatever country they may "be.

Equal rights to naturalized and native citizens. 7 The prohibition to Catholic trsHop's" s6 of holding in their hands the rtionop-

I oly of church property.

LAW OF

:f-

somebody•-besides

NEWSPAPERS.I

Subscribers who do not give express no tice to the contrary, are considered as wishing to continue their subscription. 2. If subscribers birder the discontinuance of their periodicals, the publisher may continue to send them until all arrearages are paid 3. If subscribers neglect or refuse to takO their periodicals from the offices to which they are directed, they are held responsible till they have settled the bill and ordered them discontinued.

MODKL DUN.-A

was a

for his

Pennsylvania Yan

kee publishes the following advertisement in the Doylestown Intelligencer. We copy it without charge

MONEY LENDER^ AND SPECULA

TORS!—I

want to pay my debts, and

as the only means I can devise to^get fe rtioney without sueing, I have resolved to expose to public sale, at the Court-House, on Tuesday, the 2d week of Court, (when there will be a good many politicians about) a largd number of Unsettled Book Accounts, and alike number of notes, of yarious dates and amounts. Many of thenv are against nice young men who wear_ good cloths, drive fast horses, and pay particular attention to the ladies* —arid are of course A No. 1. Som.Q are against men who think they doVtj you a favor if they buy your goodsr,^ and never pay for them—they are Nq. 2, Some'are against men who prom-' ise to pay to-morrow. They are notquite so good. But a full and com--plete printed catalogue of the names dates., and amounis, will be distributedon the day of sale. Conditions, cash. R.Thornton.

N. B. The above accounts will be open for settlement until day of sale.-'

AN UNTOLD ANECDOTE.—When

CALIFORNIA GOLD GREASE.—A

VARIETIES.

"Cato, what do yoil suppose is the reason that the sun goes towards the South in the winter?" 'Well, I don't know, massa, unles3 he no stand de 'clemency of de Norf, and so am 'bliged to go to de Souf, whar he 'speriences warmer longitude!' was the philosophic reply.

ONE.—-Ono

thet3~

Free Soil excitement was at its height during the session of the Legislature of 1848, one of the members changed his boarding place Being askedc by one of his fellow boaders the reason of changing, he replied, "Oh I have got tired of this eternal talk about sla%'.ery, the South, niggers, and so on the Delavan House is full of Free Soilers, and I heard nothing but higher law, dissolution of the Union, the poor slaves—I couldn't stand it any longer, and so I left." "But," -»r. said his fellow boarder, "I don't see ., as you have gained anything, as at Congress Hall are quite as many Free Soilers of the same stripe, and much stronger men here are Dr. Beekmen, John Van Buren, Lieutenant Governor Gardner, and a dozen others, who talk anti-slavery quite as much as those whom you have left." "Oh, yes," said the uneasy member, «but those foolish fellows down to the Delavan believe it."

Yan

kee down East has invented this specific for the use of gold hunters. The operator is to grease himself well, lie down on the top of a hill, and then roll to the bottom. The. gold, and "nothing else," will stick to him. Price $94 per box:

hour lost in the morrf-

ing by lying in bed, will put back all the business of the day. One hour gained by rising early, is worth a month in the year.

One hole in a fence, will cost teh times as much as it will to fix it at one: all

One unruly animal, will learn others in company bad tricks. One drunkard will keep a family poor, and make them miserable.:

One good newspaper, is a good thing in every family. ...

LADES' NAMES.—We

are amused at

the fashion the ladies have now-a-days of changing their names frhm Mary, Prisciila, Fanny, Rebecca, &c.t to Marie, Pollie, Priscillie or Sillie, Fannie, Beckie, &c. Even in marriage notices, we see these diminjitives given, instead of the names fho young ladies were christened by.— Doubtless the gentlemen will follow suit, and vve shall soon have Tommies, Jerries, Dickies, Eddies, Billies, Lennies, fec., just as our great grandfathers had. The generation before this, thought fliey had achieved a triumph of good taste in abolishing*, these childish terminations, but folly dies hard. Of course, we do not mean to object to^pet.names, tfsed towards and by suitable persons, and at a suitable time.

—It was not until Queen' Ann'e's time, in 1709, that the Londoners had the luxury of a daily journal—The I)aily our ant. Scotland had a newspaper in 1653 Ireland, in 1641 Germany, in 1012 the American Colonies, in 1704. The earliest country that had them is suppesed to be Italy.

SOLEMN THOUGHT-.—Whenever

fijj

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find our temper ruffled toward a parent, a wife, a.sister, or a brother, we' should pause and think, that in a few more months or years, they will be in the spirit land, watching over u's, or perchance we shall be there, watching over them, left behind.

—It is a proof of the influence of the London Times, that in one week after the appearance of an article in its columns, upon the exorbitant charges of the English hotel-keepers,' one thousand letters upon the subject,/ were received at the office.