The Wabash Courier, Volume 25, Number 14, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 22 November 1856 — Page 1

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WABASH COURIER

PUBLISHED SATURDAY MORNINGS

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When we Husked Corn. October scorching fires the trees, And naked lies the shivering vine! While dimly o'er the distant seas

The faiding lights of summer shine, Along the lawn the negro blows Deep summons on bis noon-day horn, And homeward troop the girls and beaux

From husking of the corn-

I mind me well that autumn day, When five and twenty years ago, We turned our labor into play,

And husked the corn for neighbor Lowe. Ah! wife, we were the blithest pair That o'er to wedded lovo were born For I was gay and you wore fair

A husking of the corn.

O! how we sang and how we laughed Our hearts sat lightly on our lips, As we tho golden cidor quaffed,

And passed the bowl with rustic quips, And when sly hints of love went round, Vou glancod at mo with pouting scorn, Yet smiled, tho1 you fain would frown,

A husking of the corn.

Then when 1 found the scarlet ear, And claimed the old traditioned kiss, You bade me not approach too near,

And pleaded that, and pleaded this Away you fled, audi pursued. Till all too faint you wero to warn, And—know not how woll I wooed

A husking of the corn.

MATCH-MAKING.

Early

in beautiful morning' in tho r»f Juiuv tKe nrfltty little

... ,,, •I,J,UV tiv? nrpttv lit .. village of Alderfield wits nil astir, two or three gigs and other vehicles were already drawn from their respective depositories and preparing for service, and now and then a fair face peeped from an upper window, and was almost instantly withdrawn, irradiated with a smile of pleasure at tho favorable appearance of the weather. Well might peaceful little AlderGeld 5)0 awako and alive, for this was the appointed day for Mrs. Weatherhill's picnic party, which had formed tho theme of the village gossip and conjecture for the last ten days at least. T© be suro, only a select few of the villagers were invited, but those who wero out were naturally anxious to know who wero in and those who wore not going had risen thus laudably early to watch the movements of those who were.

Mrs. Weathcrhill, the promoter of the present festivity, was generally considered by herself and others as the principal personage ia AlderGeld, inasmuch as she

Secidedly

assessed an independent property, and took the lead in society on all occasions. Her house was the largest, her dress the most fashionable, and her barouche the only one in the village.— She had no children, aud was not in the least impeded in the exercise of her will by a little fat gouty husband, who seldom spoke at all, and when he attempted to do so, was talked dewn at ouco bv his lady. His own fortune was small she had in* herited a large one at an early ajre and why she had married Mr. WeaUiorhill, nobody could surmise, unless it was to show her entire independence of opinion, and her perfect freedom of will.

She was a stout but very comely dame of forty-five or thereabout, with* oleasant voice and smile, a merry laugh, and a manner peculiarly attra«tive from its warmth and heartiness. She was a great patroness of "young people," especially young ladies, fond of "having them with her, 'and devising pleasures for them, sometimes not over judicious in their charac-

1

ter. "What did girls go from home for, but to enjoy themselves?" she would often remark as if home were a place des titute of enjoyments, instead of forming the centre of the very best and purest pleasures. So, when she had young friends staying with her, which was very frequently" the case, she took good care that they should neyer "lose a day" she would have considered twenty-four hours' respite from the pursuit of pleasure as so mweh lost time. What with parlies at home and abroad, by land and by water. drives to the county town, and viaits to ATiry exhibition that might happen to be Btattooed there, she contrived to keep her gvests in a very undesirable state of exoitement from their arrival to their departure. At the time my story begins, she had two very pretty girls for her Inmates, And it was principally on their account that she had planned an «xeurskn to liston Abbey, a fine old ruin some senen or eight miles from Alderfmld. A vecy wet season had marred several nrerioua projects of the krad, therefore Mrs. Weather^ hill and her invited guests looked forward with no little anxiety to the day, and. ^watched the barometer with intense interest, Upeat was Uw joy of all concerned

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when a cloudless morning gave promise of some hours of equally cloudless enjoyment, and all prepared with alacrity to set forth. Mrs. Weatherhill had private reasons, also, for wishing her plan to prosper. She considered this party of much greater importance than as a mere matter of amusement, and had anxieties and hopes on the subject as yet only known to herself. She unfortunately delighted in that mischievous and unwarrantable interference in the affairs of others called match-making, and she hoped on this occasion to lay the foundations of two marriages at least. Two gentlemen, whom she asked to join her party, seemed to her precisely suited to her young guests, who were neither of them, as far as she knew, pre-engaged and so far from suspecting that there was anything improper in her designs, she gave herself great credit for planning two such eligible unions. She was sure Arthur Bonnington must want a wife. He must be dreadfully lonely in his rumbling old house, with nothing but his books to amuse him and with his large fortune, it was aburning shame that he did not marry. Could any woman be found more sure to suit him than Lucy Austin, who was as quiet, and almost as fond of books as himself very pretty, well born and bred and supposing she had no fortune, what could that signfy to a man so wealthy as Air. Bonnington Marj' Gran by, her other protege, was a very different girl from Lucy but she would therefore be more likely to please the fancy of young Scarborough, the surgeon, newly settled in (the county town,) who, as Mrs. Weatherhill said to herself, must marry somebody at any rate, 'fhe meant to get into respectable prac tiee. Mary was a handsome, shrewd, showy girl, active and cheerful, and well ablo to take a prominent place in society -—no small merit in the wife of a medical mon aiming at popularity. Moreover, she had, or rather was to have, a thousand pounds, the legacy of her godmother, but at present in her Cither's hands he having been executor to the old lady in question. Mrs. Weatherhill, who, uo one knew how, had a very intimate knowledge of the private affairs of all heracquaintinces, was aware that Mr. Scarborough had also some property independent of his profession and the match seemed in every way so cqunl, that alio thought it would be an actual sin not to try to bring it about. Anxiously, therefore, did the foundress of the feast'.' anticipate her picnic to llston.

Isine o'clock, the appointed hour of assembling, had arrived, and Mrs. Weatherhill's barouche was .._d Mr. Nvealiiermu siuki^ uestowed one corner of it. Then the j-oung ladies took their places, and Mrs. \N eathorhill followed, having first seen divers well stocked baskets and hampers, and sundry cloaks and umbrellas, packed into a light cart, which was to attend them to the Abbey. Then came a family jaunting-car, wiih its family load—father, mother, and three or four grown and growing-lip daughters then Dr. Derwent'sgig, bearing the worthv rector and his lady *and lastly Mr. Sanderson, the attorney's vehicle, occupied by its owner, a sturdy old bachelor, accompanied by his maiden sister. Thus the procession moved off, but did not by any means include the whole party for many were to join it on the road, and several stragglers from remote quarters wore to meet the main body at the Abbey.

Certainly Mary Granby looked very stylish in tho smart silk pelisse and gay hat which Mrs. Weatherhill had recommended her to wear on the occasion and Lucy Austin never was prettier thau ill tho simple white dress and straw bonnet, which her own perception of the fitnes? of things had taught her to adopt. And Mrs. Weatherhill thought, as she looked on them, that never were two damsels more captivating, or more sure of conquest tho only fear that shadowed her pleasure being, lest by any dire mischance, either of the beaux should fail to keep the appointment lest Arthur Bonnington should have b^eu seized with a fit of shyness or low spirits—no uncommon occurrence or young Scarborough called away to attend to some brokenlimb.or case of sudden illness. But her apprehensions proved groundless for when the party from Alderfield arrived at llston, the two young meu wore already there and it seemed a good omen to Mrs. Weatherhill that they had poiutment.

WiMM

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been punctual to their ap-

Mrs. Weatherhill was now in her glory. Before the loiterers of the compny arrived, she had mauaged to establish Arthur Bonnington as the temporary guardian of Lucy Austin, and to fasten Mary Granby on younff Scarborough's arm and the group had soon dispersed among the ruins, or wero tracing the little winding paths of the neighboring woods, with that quickly-increasing friendliness which grows no where so rapidly as on a rural excursion, such as this whereof I write.

It would take up too much space to detail all that was said or done ou that momentous day. Suffice it, thai it was unmarked by serious accident or unfavorable change of the weather, which circum-

stances will occasionally mar the delights of a party of pleasure that Mw. Weatherhill's schemes seemed to thrive beyond her utmost hopes and that, before bidding them good-night, she had engaged both Arthur Bonnington and young Scarborough to dine at her house early ia the following week. The readiness with which her invitation was accepted, she took as an excellent omen of the impression already made on the minds of the gentlemeo in question by tho charms of her (air visitants.

From that evening to the day of her dinner party, Mrs. Weatherhill, when alone witn Lucy and Mary, talked of little

UXi

except the two young men, who, she maintained, had paid them sucli marked attentions and whilst Lucy, with native delicacy, shrank from her rallying on the subject of Arthur Bonnington, Mary, whilst deprecating Ctr more loudly the jest respecting Mr. Scarborough and herself, evidently enjoyed it. She laughed and listened, and did not listen heedlessly.— She was by no means so much attached to a country home—in whose neighborhood eligible bachelors were anything but plentiful, where she was under the guidance of rather homely parents, and expected to take an active part in the management of six younger brothers and sisters—as tin object to leave it, if a tolerably good opportunity for doing so offered* Besides, having arrived at the age usually called that of discretion, she was exceedingly anxious to get possession of her "own thousand pounds," which, as we have said, were at present in her father's handg. Her marriage would be an event, she thought, after which he could have no possible pretext for retaining it and incited by these considerations, and Mrs. Weatherhill's representations of the advantages of the match, she boldly resolved that, if Harry Scarborough did propose for her, she would accept him. If he did not, she was not yet desperately in love with him,and there wasuo harm done

Full of these thoughts she dressed herself in the most becoming style she could devise, resolved that Mr. Scarborough should not find her less charming in a drawing-room than in the ruins of llston Abbey and so effectually did she cany out her intentions on the occasion of their second meeting, that Scarborough, during his long solitary ride from Alderfield to owned to himself that she had impressed him as no woman had ever done before. He had been for some time thinking of looking out for a wife and hearing from Mrs. Weatherhill an account of the "high respectability" of

Miss Granby's connexions, accompanied by a judicious hint of her forthcoming thousand pounds, a few more visits to the enchantress decided his course. He proposed, and was duly accepted and Mrs. Weatherhill thanked heaven, while she applauded her own foresight, for the favorable termination of one of her plans.

That her other project respecting Arthur Bonnington and Lucy Austin was likely to end as much to her mind, she was still doubtful for though there was many symptoms which she deemed auspicious, there was little appearance of progress in the affair. To any close observer, indeed, it would have been evident that Lucy was anything but slightly its pure, young, untriod affections, was already the prize—alas the unsolicited prize—of tho quiet and somewhat melancholy studert. He evidently preferred her society to that of any other member of Mrs. Weatherhill's circle, and listened to her music, and pointed out the beauties of his favorite authors, and talked to her by the hour together in a low earnest voice, as ho did to none beside. But it was not of love—not of marriage. He was pleased to find one so gentle and intellectual, who would listen unwearietlly to the revealingsof his romantic imagination and somewhat morbid sensibilities and this, which in fact was but refinod egotism, poor Lucy received with love and gratitude, as proofs of his affectionate contidenfe. It might have been so—she might soon have grown necessary to his happiness in this very character of patient' and sympathizing confidante—''-and with her unselfish and devoted nature, they might have been, married, and lianpy.— But Mrs. Weatherhill unfortunately took it into her head that she could expedite matters by enlightening Mr. Bonuington's mind as to her own view of the case. She was convinced his modest diffidence alone stood in his way at any rate, it was her duty not to permit Miss Austin's affections to be trilled with. Accordingly, having contrived a tcte-a'tete with the tardy lover, she introduced the subject by naming the approaching marriage of Miss Granby to Mr. 5^nrDorongll. From that it was easy to allude to the party to llston, and thence to glide to the topic of his own supposed attachment to Lucy.— Mr. Bonnington heard her, first with surprise, then with evident vexation. "You really distress me, Mrs. Weatherhill you are laboring under some strange delusion. I consider Miss Lucy Austin as a most excellent and estimable young lady, but 1 have never for a moment thought of her in the light you allude to." .v -J*

W

VOL. XXV. NO. 14, TERRE HAUTE, 1 \!.».. NOVEMBER 22" '1856.

f?

"Then why, in the name of wonder, Mr. Bonnington, have you acted in such a manner^towards her? Why have you paid her such marked attention ever since your first introduction' to her I am sure Henry Scarborough has scarcely showed a greater preference for Mary than vow for Miss Austin and now you tell me thai it all meant nothing." "I told you no such thing, Mrs. Weatherhill. I said, and still say, that I respect and esteem Miss Austin I consider her in the light of ode of my most valued (Heads but I have never given her to suppose that I wished to engage her regard in any more serious character. You forget also, that a great portion of what you call attentions. I could not avoid paying to the lady, dictated as they were by yourself '4 "By me, Mr. Bonnington "Certainly. Did we vuik, you bade me escort her did we dance, you solicited me as her partner: and soon through all our intercourse. 1 will not say that 1 did mt prefer these arrangements, bat

and deserted 1" exclaimed Mrs. Weatherhill "that gentlest, most affectionate creature, to be wounded so deeply and fatally. Oh, Mr. Bonnington 1 you hare deceived us all!" "You use strong language, madam. I connot accuse myself of having ever wilfully deceived any one, and there can be no desertion in a case like the present.— In one point, I both hope and believe you are mistaken. I am sure Miss Austin has too much good sense to bestow her affections unsought least of all, where there could be so little inducement to du 30. I am sorry, very sorry, this misunderstanding has occurred, as it must, for some time at least, deprive me of the pleasure of Miss Austin's.society."?,

So saying, he arose, and bidding Mrs. Weatherhill good morning, abruptly quitted the house. [CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK.]

Hear "Getty Gtiv" Talk of

I look tipon the hoop as the greatest invention of modenrtimes, and one of the signs of the times, too, in fact a proof that the strong-minded of my sex have not worked in vain, aud their speechifying, and big furs generally, have not been without effect in bringing a larger sphere for women to move in. So much for thai.

There are many men who tlnnk themselves mighty wise, and pretend to know what is going on at Washington, who do not know one-half that transpires in their own homes. It is the eyes of such men that I mean, if possiblo, to open. I know I run great danger—-but who cams? it'. Utiters 1 ireM'*"li0AWHfciternc^ quainted with tho rise of stocks than the decline of their ladies' affections. Others who know the aspects of the planets, their eclipses, their distances, their long tails, and longer travels of the comets, more intimately than the expression of the faces that love them, their shades of sadness—and the lines that indicate their sinking hearts, that are continually seeking rest and finding none.

Others there are—but no, I will enumerate no more, for there is no end to the blindness of man—it is only equalled by their conceit but little as they deserve it, I pity them, and liavo resolved, if possible, to open their eyes.

Oh 1 ye lords of creation 1 there area thousand things yc do, not knowing what ye do, that

ye

I mean to tell you something about these gigantic delusions that will astonish you, when I have confidence in your secresy.

No person can remain long in tlicm and retain their sanity they create a "craving void which drives people mad, one way or the other, 'fhe only way to prevent oneself from going mad outfight under such circumstances, is to go very mad on some one subject. Some go mad on the subjedt of music, others .on that of poetry, painting or dress.

One makes an idol of a dog, another of a monkey or squarrel, que of an opera dancer or singer, and one lady of a crazy reformer—and so on. You see the sweet influences of home, with its soul-nourish-ing, heart-filling occupation must be supplied one way or the other.

I know one of those hotel ladies who worships a dog, and who has a husband, too, but the dog lias gained the ascendency. 1 met the husband tho other evening leading the dog down to the Battery, for the benefit, of its health 1. Pray, Mr. •, what are you doing out with your dog so late 1 irfquired.

Why, you see Getty, the pool1 thing ha** been eottU din the hotel all

good to have an

prudence wonkl probably have made me| lovely and intereatice. who lives less exclusive in

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them but for your owui in one of these ja*b tue pi.io anuj

W W W s.iT '.' JEl Ik JUi5fi:'* o3»,§» t^-Wii'isV ,j-«i tlsfl m!

Hoops aud

Hotels.

Editor

(Getty Gay) thus talkslo the of the New York Dispatch: Now, I suppose you would like to know who I am I know you would—you men always do want to know every thing about a woman am I young, pretty, rich, married, single, a widow, or an old maid, or neither the ono nor the other.

Well, one of these days I will enlighten you on all these points, that is, if you are very good, and publish all 1 write in a good place in the paper, and don't mako any mistakes with those funny little types in setting up what I jot down Perhaps some day I may call upon you? if you promise to have your sanctum set to rights, the head of the old barrel dusted, the piles of old newspapers removed, to give me space enough to swing my hoop, for I do wear a hoop, in spite of all your unpoetical, stiffly dressed, funeral looking male bipeds—bifurcated specimens of humanity, that you are—can say against them.

day,°and Mrs. G. thought 'twould do it^ points of dUTr-'etire, hut, at length, th* in A

iiig/'

"But did you 1 ite Mr& Th all atone to go out with th" i? »g Oh, no, Caf i.iin II., aicaasui of her s, from the South, who had just called in, will remain with her till I get back/*

Another fair one, who is in every w.t

way!

If.jtt'.ricos, and

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atrcn*ri3avd hm

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l5¥fi ten3yi ,ws

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married life," determined, heverthe]essj* not to die and ltyive the world no copy,' has had about a hundred daguerreotypes taken of herself atin hung about her room. Haying nothing else to worship she adores herself.

But how much better is this than Miss conduct, who weiit distracted on

the subject of horaesi and from loving' her horse suffered her affections to decline oh the hostler of a neighboring Hv?ry stymie, and actually ran away with him. She hits awoke from her madness since her marriage to find herself the most wretched of women.

I have seen foils and boxing-gloves in the room of a certein unmarried beauty, in one of our family hotels. '~'a

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Many who live in this maimer become stage-struck and one dear, sweut young lady friend of mine has suffered this sort of life to have such a morbid effect upon her mine, that she has addicted herself to the study of poisons.. Whetlier she intends to outdo Palmer, and poison all the inmates of her hotel, or all the drinkers of Croton, "at one fell swoop/' I cannot say

But certain it i3, that she is to be found poring over ponderous and musty volumes, drawing "conclusions most forbid deu" from day to day, and week to weck.^

But I will "have done with my instan ces, as I only wish to show the fruits and workings of the system. It isthe-origi-nators—not its victims—who are at fault. I will have you, my dear-Editor, to draw your own moral from these facts. Getty's forte does not consist in moralizing, but in gossipping.

I should speak, of the effect of this hotel system upon gentlemen, but I have not time now but do not let them flatter themselves that I mean to spare them. I saw something go inte the St. Nicholas the other day. What do you think it was It was the most splendid mirror I ever before beheld, large as the side of a house, and cost, as I have been told, $1,400. I thought, of course, it was designed for the ladies' saloon,—but no—-it went into the bar-room, and there sit the Adotiiscs before it, drinking cobblers and smashes, admiring themselves between drinks.

"Nothing is proof against the general curse of

Vanity that seizes all below," Excepting, Yours truly, GETTY GAF.

Senrch the Scripturcs.

"Sunm Cinque" sends us this relic:—one of the Rev. Mr. Spurgeon's 'slamming sentences,' which you quoted in a recent num. ber of the Home Journal, ^eminila^e"^ fiT.jPjeRIrS0ago'! by a famous minister, in bly,"to Ins"audience, w!lh'quite

effect.

had better leave undone.

When ye built, or caused to lie built, beautiful palace, after palace, furnishing them with royal magnificence, but calling them hotels, ye contemplated these proofs of your skill and affluence with no little vanity and admiration and when vou left your homes for them, or.instead of making homes of your own, took up, as too many have done, your abode within their walls, you were justified in your own eyes. But what are they, after all 1 Splendid jails, gorgiotis prison-houses the waiters are the keepers, and the proprietors the head goilera. 1 do not exaggerate, but will prove my words*„

His text was "Search the Scriptures.' and after enforcing it in a variety of ways, he clinched his argument by the following narrative, of which I omit and qualify some portions, as somewhat toa homely for your cclutns: "My denr brethren, God works in a mysterious wny, and aint abovfe using the humblest means to bring his critters to their

senbes,

when he sees them slothful in busi­

ness, and gojnjjdown to hell with their eyes shut andliere'S a case in point, which affords solemn warning to all who neglect this great duty.

Some time ago, I knew man down at Marblehead Point—a fisherman—a desperate, wicket! man," a profane swearer, a drunkard, who never darkened the doors of the meetin' house, or took delight in holy things.

He had a family—a wife, three sons, and two daughters—all bad as himself all a goii.' straight down" to hell as fast as their legs could carry them. Dut at last they were all brought to their senses in this wise, and from limbs of satan, transmogrified into children of light.——

Once upon a time there was great trouble in the heads of this family. It was a long time since they had been mowed or raked, and so to speak, there was varniin in the grass. They all got desperate uneasy, and to come to the point at onca, there was aloud cry for the fine-tooth comb. But, my friends, nobody knew where it was. It couldn't be found! And so it went on frotn bad to worse. Scratchin' was or no tw—'tw«» too bad for scratchin'. Lookin' wouldn't do 'twas loo bad for lookin". They ransacked every chest and drawer, and from cellar to garret. They ransacked every closet and every drawer, but it couldn.t be found.'

Here the preacher paused, and looked around then went on in a low, solemn and earnest tone—"At length it was found. Who found it I don't know but it tcas found. To the great joy and everlasting ealvation of all that family. And, my frietldt, where do you think they found it!

Along pause—'They fuundit in the old family Bible, [sotlo voce-]TheV found it in the old family Bible.[cr*ynft )They-found it in the old family Bible,(t'n a Voice of thunofer,)And ihe dust lny «o thick on it that you might havo written damnation on the kiver. Therefore,[in atone of detptmotion,) my beloved brethren,

TOBESS"

SSARCU THE

Scarr-

Many yearn ago when the new sects In New England began to brake down the good old Congregatiohaj barriers, and make incursions into the aheep£»id of the regular clergy, a reverend divine, whom I well fcoeir—a roan, at once, o! infinite eccentricity, good sense and good humor—encountered one of, these irregular practjtion *rs at the honse of one of his flock They had a pretty hot di«awion on their

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terloper, finding more than hi# match at nolereira, wound off by Mjing— "Well, doCt»r, yott*U at least allow that »l wa« commanded to preaelr the Gcwpcl to every rriUer." «Tru tfte doctor,"hrtte enough. But tWn neter. did hear that it wen

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single rh*p«td,.

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critter td preach the go*-

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directions." who lacking the sweets of h-me, and llaif witted people have a talent forj mmU-ire** to death if tbey ha«l mo war"Then my poorX.i. is tobe decciveTthim urain^ "mnVpilti&kHW o£j(aSftinf ty*5*v -*l ^met- •H-n* bi "U±

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oT .2o& e'iisiW ,hlf*w fci4l ct m»l •»i $nj «rbti& ,»Uf ggbirsJ

JC? aia mt'ii ttnbuha? IO -n*i ij1 satoscrj bL'cw $yr ^y^ls.

^Voudcrful Instance of ^JSn^aclty in-

Dop

We ta&e tfte following from the Trinity California) Times. ft records one of tho most remarkable instaoco? ever hcitrd of canine sagacity:. ^William Diedgev lives abcut five miles from towrr, at the base of the moun tains which tower'iiorth of us. A sliort time after midnight on tho morning of Wednesday last, he was roused froni lMS slumbers by the howl of a menace on his. part could riu hun «f tlie presence of the strange intruder.— The dog continued to walk around the cabin, still repeatuig his dismal myaniug and howling, occasional)* making.efforts to effect an entrance through tlie closed doorway. Surprised and somewhat alarmed at this singular -demonstl«S«i,'!ffri Dredge nt last hastily dressed himself and unbolted the door,when alargomas tiff rushed in. The dog at once caught hold of his trousers, ,andemployed every gentle means to induce the man to accompany him outside. Dredge's first impression was that tlie animal was mad, and yet so peculiar and earnest were the dumb entreaties, that he finally yielded and proceeded without the cabin, A joyful yell was the result, and the delghted brute, now capering and wagging his tail before him, and returning and gently Seizing him by the hand and trousers, inducod Dredge to follow him.

Mr. Dredgo immediately conveyed the child to his cabin, arousing some of his neighbors, proceeded again to the mountain to secure from the attack of wild beasts tho person of tho unfortunate Woman. Her body was buried the next day '-The child and Dog have been dopted by this good Samarhan but as yet he has been nimble to obtain any light

T"*un

the dismal

mountain side at such an unfortuato hour. The child is doing well, and is truly a beautiful boy."

Danger of Wenrinjr Hoops in Illgh Wind. During tho wind on Saturday afternoon, and while the dust was circulating so thick that no one could see more than the length of an eye-lash in front, a lady, dressed in the most elegant style, in coming round one of the coruers, was lifted off her feet by tho force of the wind acting on the great expanse of surface which she presented to it. The wind, unfortunately, did not Set her down in the same position in which she was before being taken up, but turning her gently.on one side, it laid her eudwise on the sidewalk, where she commenced a series of astonishing gyrations, rolling over and over on the hoops of the skirts, and exhibiting a spocics of locomotion which is not yet generally appreciated, and which may come into fashion with high winds and large circlets of light material. As the lady thus rolled over «id over, several per sop were knocked down and passed over by tho lady and the hoops, without ever knowing that anything had bent them. Fortunately for the lady, tho dust and the astonishment of the people out of doors permitted but a few to witness this new method of getting along in a stiff breeze and keeping up fall w*il nt the same time. As we came round a corner we found the lady wedged between a lamp post aud a hydraut, and immediately assisted her to an upright instead of a recumbent position.—Detroit Advertiser.

Wjrrv.—Clergymen frequently administer personal rebukes from the pulpit.— The best that we can remember was that of an Irish curate, whose Christian name was Joseph He had been promised .1 Irving by a member of the great Butler family previous to his^omin^ to the title and the estates. The promise was nonredeemed and, on the first opportunity the curate had of preaching before the powerful nobleman he ^selected for his text the conclusion of the fortieth chapter of Genesis—"Yet did not the chief butler remember Joseph, but fdfgol him.'# The Irish Joseph speedily obtained the gift of a very valuable lif ing.—-Eighth Payer.

"There he goes again," said Mrs. Partington in the Legislature, as a member stood up for the fifth time to speak on a nofestion/ "There he goes like a. soda fountain, and just as fluidly as watoi*.— Now, Isaac, mind him, and. see if you can't become a speaker of the house of reprehensible* sometime. I declare V' couthmed she, as a new burst of eloquence reached her ear, "it does seem as if the rar:*'epiece of Daniel Webster had onto Liu, he is so bright/'

I4A Tnir DREW.—An exchange paper, under ad of"Goti.! Advice," advi#es young men tu wrap them^ves up in cotemporary Well »ay*

virttfe. A

iffiflifCO SET

SI K'al

WHOLEt'NO." 1261

rw»-i

a8»lvcr

... Enropet

its

practical

s-

England and this country while ft very great proportion of those at all elevated above downright poverty, or living from hand to mouth, invariably save something. But of late years, what between the rise in prices ana good crops, the German peasants holding on with grim tenacity to the "proceeds." hove accumulated large sums, oil in silver. For, as the correspondent in question remarks our fear both gold and paper peasants money, exchanging them as soon as possible for silver, and fill their chests with solid fivefranc pieces and crown-dollars, which seldom leave them unless to purchase from a neighboring farmer an adjacent piece of land.

It Is very possible that this greed of fii!* ver may be a fnr from important cause of tho scarcity—added to the far greater drain of the East. Those lamilinr with the European pensantry know that with themi as with our Indians, an antipathy often becomes very parehtly Iittie reiraoir. nut tub

•"•"3

Jfi^OO HBis31

JR513T

Til

To jh(?ge from the fefjofts Which at pres^ ent reach us

from

Europe

or.fe

that the mercantile

mig!

suppose

World

was there involved,

in a crisis which could only clear away with the result of tnakihgiilv^r nfrdgdld change places. Silver is ho longer regarded on the Continent of Europe as a material.for small change it is bring treated in the East as the main portion

oi"

the circulation

o{

of

Value

•,

Their course was up the precipitous side of the mountain, and soon they were forcing their way through a snow-drift that had settled in one of its numerous fissures/ Here comes the wonder. I'pon the snow lay the body of a woman, who had evidently perished from cold and exhaustion. Her" limbs were already stiffened in death but what was the surprise of Mr. Dredge to see that faithful dog ferret out from a bundle of clothing that lay by the side of the womau a young child, about two years of age, still warm and living. A little iuspectioD, aided by the starlight and brightness of the snow, enabled him to discover that the person of the woman was nearly naked. -With a mother's affection, she had stripped her own person, in order to furnish warmth to her exposed infant. The Dog had completed her work of self-sacrifice.

ihe circu­

lating medium—its. scarcity alone has enhanced tlie-dertiahd. Apart from political excitements in France, and the panic pre* vailing extensively ir» all part's

of

the Conti-

heuti especially in Brrlin, there isa paratg cause

trouble in the great sc. crity of silver

fcrhich scarcity alone seems to have the effect of" unduly inereasin the popular estimate

of

Thus in Paris, where Ihe bank daily pays out 1,700,000 francs,in five franc gold pieces,and where silver is rapidly disappearhfgVthef multitude are beginning to f«r

SsH

oo iboy

once in by gone days feared assignats. One of the cSiftscs of this scarcity of silver iS well known. The revelation of the Chairmatl of the East India Company shows that, in the 13 years from 1836 to 1854, not less than forty-three millions of pounds sterling of European silver were changed, in the mints of Calcutta, Madras and Bombay, to rupees, and were absorbed in East India traffic. So great has, however, been the increase very recently, that during the first nine months of the present year, 8,758,000 pounds in silver were sent from England to the East, while during tha last quarter of a year alone this export amounted to 8,624,000 pounds silver.

East India, China, and Russia—all hard money countries—are the three greatsponges which at present suck up the world's silver. But the German correspondent of the New York Abendzeitungspeaks of anothercause of thescacrity of silver which has not hilhcrttf excited much attention. This is the incredible extent to which silver is hoarded up, without regard to interest, by the agricultural population of Germany. Poor as this class inav bc^ they are by no means so very poor as they are popularly represented to bo

OUU\H,, nn-

crease in quantity of gold should produce among them a fear that it might become a source of loss, is, though not reasonable, at least natural, especially when we remomber thntsymptoms to this effect have once or' twice shown themselves on a trifling scale in our more intelligent community. A community, however, Which looks upon tlio precious metals as a medium for investment, or promoting exchanges^and lives rather in the spirit of active business than of old timtf hoarding, will hardly b^ likely to stow away silver in that popularly adjudged receptacle-' the old stocking.—Phila. Bulletin. ...

An linpnticnt Jury main

An Arkansas correspondent of the rfetf Orleans Picayune gives tho following

as

authentic You are all fond of crackiilg jokefl at tho expense of Arkansas now here is one ort your State, absolutely true. got it from an eye witness.

The district court in one of your nortlierff parishes was in session—'twas the first day of court time, after dinner. Lawyers and others had dined

and

were

Bitting

out before

the hold, and a loftg lank, unsophisticated countryman came up and unceremoniously made himself one Of 'em, and remorked, "Gentlemen, 1 wish you would goon with this court, for I want to go home—I loft Betsv a Ibokihg out." "Ah!" said one of the lawyers, "and pray, sir, what detains you ot court!" "Why, air/' said the countryman, "1'nt fotclicd here as jury, snd tliey Say if I gO home they will have to find me, and they moutr^t do that o» I lire a good piece." •What jury are you on!' asked a lawyer. •Whatjurvl' •Yes, what jury. Grnai! or travers juryi 'Grand or travers jury? dad-fetchcd if I know.'

Well,' snid the lawyer 'did the jttu'go charge yon!' 'Well, squire,' Said he'that little fellow tlint sits up in the pulpit and kinder bosses it over the crowd, gin us "n talk, but I don't know whether he charged anything or not.*

The crowd broke up in a roar of laughter, and tho sfieri/T calfcd court.

.rfi

MVTVALLT EMBARASSIJtCi QCESTIOSS.—

When Sir Clias. Napipr recently visited St. Petersburg, the Grand Duke Constantine after showing him the arrangements and the entire, strength of Crunstadt, asked him In a chuCfeTing sort of manner: "Wefl admiral, why did yon not come in!" To which Sir Charles replied "Prir why did your imperial highness Como out!" 7

There is a Presbyterian church in Northampton County, Pa., Composed entirely of lodies. They are iwenty-two in number. There is not a single mole member among them, and ofcowse ag they have no eldership, they are not properly an organized church) ut tjlic„ ladies hoping almost agiinst liope. ftaVe persevered in tbeir sisterhood, and they ha/c actnaty Tnci'easedin member* more than many churches with a settled pastor acd the regular administration of the sanctuary. The Church is called -'Holmes Church," after the lato Dr. Holmes, of Pbtladelpha, who was a liberal' Contributer toward# its erection. *To PRESERVE Arri.Es FUK VVISTEJJ.— tMek thcrn carefully, and put them in barrels without brusing then head tlrcm upand keep in

a

Many of thera

cooffdry shed till th?j are inr

danger of freezing then remove to the? cellar, aud give lhem a cool, airy place until tiqrdcJ u"C .* jf

§a

m-