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^ f ^ 1 DEVOTED 1 ? >. * | VOLUME I, ,1 _i?! THE (LANCASTER LEDGER IS PUBLISHED EVERY JWEDNESDAY MORNING. ~w e R. 8. BAILEY, fcblTOR AND PROPRIETOR. TERMS: Two Dollars per year, if paid in ad' Vance; Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, il t. |>nid in six month*; or Three Dollars, il payment is delayed until the end of tin year. These term* will be rigidly ad' hered to. * .7 Advertisements will b? ?onspieuousl> n inserted at scvonty-fiv? cents per square ? of twelve lines, for the first insertion, and thirty-seven and a half cents for each subsequent insertion. A single insertion , One Dollar. Nothing will be counted less than a square. Advertiser* arc requested to state, in writing on their advertisements, the number of times they wish them inserted; 01 they will be continued in the paper until orderod out, and charge* 1 accordingly. The Law of Newspapers. 1. All subscribers who do not give ex) V press Notice to the contrary, are considV-j ered as wishing to continue their subcripVI tions. 2. If subscriWrs order the discontinuance of their papers, the publishers may ^ continue to send them until arrearage* 1 are paid. 3. If subscril?crs neglect or refuse tsk ing their papers from the offices to which v they are sent, they are hehl responsible till their bills are settled, and their paper? ordered to be discontinued. 4. The Courts hare decided that refusing to take a newspaper or periodical from th? office, or remoring and tearing it uncalled for, is prima faci* evidence ol (INTENTIONAL PHAVD. ALL KIYB8 OF JOB PBHTING EXECUTED WITH NEATNESS AND DESPATCH At this Office. I SmJIS Calfs. 7 MY SWEETHEARTS 6H08T, t DT WILLIAM NORTH. Tins i? not a tale of spiritual rapping*, 1 in-vcr heard any. Possibly I am not worth a rap, being an artist. My tnbh does not hop, or rear up, or fly. Itetw ceti you and tnc, it is lucky it does not. If il did, the claw would come otf to a dead certainty. I think it right to mention this, and to warn nny playful young ghost 01 ghostcsses of the fact, how to my tale, ' Aurelia Garford and I loved one another passionately, ao passionately that at the , age of seventeen we resolved to marry.? Itoth our parents opposed the scheme.? We had neither of us any money, and though I tfiought myself a Titian, the portraits I daubed were poor things even for sign-painting. Itut wo could not wait.? We grew desperate. We determined to run awajr into the yvide world. L The wide world! How narrow it is, afj ter all! A gimlet eight thousand miles long would bore a bAle right through it And what is eight thousand miles! Less than most people walk in a couple of ^ year*. "What is anything compared to a everything?" as the editor down east observed. K Amelia's parents lived in Two-hundredand-twenty-second street Their house is near the corner of Fourth Avenue. It is a long way "up town." 801110 say there is no such street. Hut that of course is i nonsense, because I know Aurelia lived in . it. Many jHJople, no doubt, have started (off in the car* to look for the street, and never found it. It ir not eaajr to find; though aa it ia the next street to Two-hundred-and-twenfy-first street, it is not so difficult after all. Hut I kuow the street like m a book. There was only one house in it, and that was only half built, owing to the owner's want of funds. I need not add that that house was the house of Aurelia's 1 parents. was a Isry gcrdsc to the bo?'*e, T l'eople can afford space for gardens in Two-hundred-and-twenty-second street? A* It was a very nice garden. Only one > thing grew in it, and that waa grass, But | give me grass to walk on. Trees are all I very well for climbing, and timber is useful for building. Fruit is a capital tiling If you want to eat, and flowers are very pretty if you care to look at them Hut > Aurelia and I only wanted to walk about; W and we preferred grass to trees, as we did 1 not want to climb like squirrels, or build like carpenters. We valued grass even sore highly than flowers, because we preJ * - 1 Jl..: j- i. ?J i ? * - *? ?? HHiiig (WWII U|MI II, BDU IUOKIDW iato one another's eye*, to gazing at all the roaea and tnagaoliaa in creation. And as for fruit, we seorned to think of earthly Mediae or apricots, when our lipe could be ao much more sweetly occupied in ex* changing celeetial kiaaea, of which no a" * mount could possibly giro oa a surfeit. It la tny deliberate oonriction that the garden of Eden waa a gram-grown bit of land, with a good high fence around it to caat a abode in hot weather. The reat waa lore, which makaa n paradiac of any place. We reaolrod to run away. And wa I r did. We met one afternoon behind the V w TO LITERARY, wall of the grass-grown garden, and made (br the caret As we went aloog I summed [ up the items of my happiness, drew a iitie, and calculated the total. The items were: 1. An angelic disposition. 9. The softest black eyes in the world; silken tresses to match. 3. A complexion as pure as the whiteness of a peal. 4. A mouth which beat all the Greek . statues to fits. C o. a nock and shoulders of human though quite equal to vegetable ivory. 0. A slender, graceful figure, that would ! have destroyed St. Anthony's saintship to > a dead certainty, and so much the better for hiiu if it had tempted him. , 7. Love (or a certain individual, (who, like Mr. Ferocious in "Tom pepper," shall ' be nameless,) carried to toe confines of ? hero-worship, i Total: Aurelia Oarford. , I was in a state of tremendous cxhileraI tion. My soul cut capers and tlircw up its hat insido my breast; at least so I conjectured from the thumps I felt against the ' walls of that portion of my body. Aure. lia and I took one long-drawn, champagn, ish sort of a kiss, just beforp we turned the corner of that, to many, apocryphal Two-hundred-and-twenty-second street, and in another minute wo were at the railway station. So was old Garford! lie had come home two hours before his time from his office down town, where he was supposed to make money some how. Not that he ever made any. His wife had a small income of her own, and i that supported the family. Mr. Garford, at least eo it ap|)cared to ine, was allowed to play at business just to keep himself out i of mischief. s "Uollo, young people!" he c.ied, jovial? ly, "taking a walk, hey! Where are you off to? and what docs my pretty Aurelia ' carry in that confoundedly bugly basket ; "Oh, papa!" cried Aurelia, whose self possession was up set by the sudden rencontre, and the dear girl burst into a pas sionate flood of tears; tears of disappoint-, mcnt and vexation, I conscientiously believe. 1 "Hollo! what's this, what's this, young gentleman?" said old Harford sternly, ' smelling a rat for the first time. "Why sir," said I, perhaps stupidly impelled by an irrcsistable impulse, "if you had not met us so unlucky, we should have run away and got married." "Hum!" said old Garford, looking at me fiiedly; "is there any particular rea, son for your getting married in such a hurrvf" "Yes sir," said I. "And pray what is it!" said old Gar, ford, severely." I "We love one another!" said I, looking > him Ktldly in the face. i "Oh, is that all? Very well. You wed , not run away. I have not the least obI jection to vour being married." , "Oh, sir", " "Stop a moment. I h'tvt a great ob, jection to your marrying without any . thing to live on. Much as I was attached > to Mrs. Garford, sir, I should never have . dreamed of marrying her unless we had . had between us sufficient to suppv|rt a re| spec table establishment, sir." 'ltut sir " "Hut, sir," resumed Mr. Garford, who evidently took a pleasure in playing his pari ol heavy lather in tlie drama; "but, air, you perhaps imagine that I can give my daughter a fortune. You anticipate "Not at all, air," I interrupted, eager to diaclaiin all interested motives. "1 know ' very well that you cannot give your daughter anything.n "Indeed, air, imietdf And pray how do you know that I cannot give my daugh ter n fortune! Are you aware, air, that the business I am engaged in ia one by which some of the largest fortunes in this city have lieen realized, air!" To use a somewhat worn, hut expressive phrase, I had hit my intended fatherin-law "in the raw," and all attempts to conciliate proved fruitless. Nor did a hint from Aurelia, that "pa|ia knew very well he had not paid the rent of his office for the last two years," at all mend matter*. Finally, Mr. (iarford positively forbade my farther visits or correspondence with his daughter, until I could show him that I was worth five thousand dollars clear, and making an income of at least two thousand a year. Thus we parted. I made several at* tenijw to aee AureJia, but failed. In the end I resolved to set to work to make the required sum and income with the least possible delay. Luckily I made friends with a very clever painter, who undertook to put me in the right way. I had to begin again.? The fact was, I had a tolerable dexterity in the blending of color*, but I drew like a Chinese, or a Yankee as I was. My master was a Frenchman; he had studied at l'aris under Delarocbe. Ue opened mv eyes. I was nuick. In a few months, with considerable labor, I could produce a portrait at anv rate tolerablv correct in outline Mid perspective. "fbia at once raised me above the majority ofmy rivals, and I soon procured considerable custom. I bad iust laid the flnt stone of my for. tune iu the shape of a hundred dollars doposited in a hank, when an overwhelming blow destroyed the whole edifice of my hopes. I received a letter announcing the death of Aurelia from bar father. She had been dead three weeks when the news reached me. My friend the painter was prison t. He saw nee turn pale and cover my face with my hands. -What is Hr* he asked, kindly. ULawie COMMERCIAL, LANCASTER, C. H? SOUTH i "She is dead!" I replied, in a shaken voice. He knew my history, and needed no farther explanation1 threw myself on a sofa and wept convulsively. AVhcn 1 had exhaustwl the first violence of my grief, my friend approached me, and in a grave smvpathy asked me of what I was thinking. "Of death!" I replied. "Of suicide!" said he. I made no answer. "Do you not possess her portrait!" said he. "Yes, a daub of my own, but which reminds me at least vividlv of tlio orii/innl. I have also a daguerreotype, but daguerreotypes have always a cold, ghastly look.'* "You should paint her." "l'aint lierl" "Yea, paint her as an angel of heaven; realize your memory of her beauty on the canvass. Leave a monument of your love and talent behind you. Then diCj if you please." The artist's suggestion pleased me. No youth of eighteen is in a violent hurry to die, even for love. I resolvod to adopt my friend's idea, and a gloomy sort of ambition seized me to make this work a work of art worthy of its model. Nay, I even dreamed of posthumous fame; of going down the stream of American art-history, as the man who painted a real angel, and then pursued its prototype into the world of angels. I commenced my task that very day, and labored as long as the light allowed, without cessation. My master aided me by his counsels, and when the work was complete, he laid his hand affectionately on my shoulder and said, "Truly you are a pupil worthy of a greater master?" W e had the picture framed and sent to the exhibition of the Academy. On the very first day my triumph was unquestionable. "An Angel" was decidedly the attraction of the exhibition. The same afternoon an offer to purchase it for a large sum arrived from one of tho richest merchants of New York. I sat with this letter in my hand trying to read it by the already waning light in my studio, when 1 heard the door open and somelody enter. Supposing it to Ik: the painter, I did not look round. Presently I raised my cj?es, and behold to my horror a shadowy figure in white, with a face of unearthly pallor. The face wan Aurclia's. I confess that fear seized mc. My shattered nerves, my roeent ovcr-cxcrtion, my fasts and vigiis, had increased my nervous scnsihility to an alarming degree. I tried to reason with myself, and account for the vision on grounds of mental delusion, when I was startled out of all reasoning by the figure saying in a low but distinct tone: "Frederick! do you not know me?" "Yes, 1 know you," was my solemn answer. "And you still love me?" "Now and forever?" "Then why do you not embrace me?" said the figure, gliding nearer. "Can ghosts embrace?" I cried, rising dubiously, and gazing more assuredly at the pale phantom. "Try!" said the ghost. And I did try, but it was no spectre, it was a living, breathing angel I folded in my arms. "What is the meaning of this? I thought you dead!" "And I believed you buried. They told mo so at homo. I have had a fever in consequence; see how pale aud thin I am!" "But I am alive; so are you?" "That is evident." "What could have l>een your father's motive for such conduct and such falsehood?" "An insane wish to marry me to liis partner, Mr. Sraithson." "His partner?" "Yes; he has caught a partner with money, as mamma says, and slie thanks God she will not have to pay the rent of the office out of her own income any longer." "But how did you know I was alive?" "l>cad men do not paint pictures." "Then you know)" "Ye*, I have teen?oli! you flatterer!" "Flatterer? not at all. Hut look at (hit ?an offer of seven hundred dollar* for the picture. An hour ago I would not have *old it for tcventy thousand, ltut now, auppoee we take the seven hundred dollars and run away at oncet" "It Is not njcoasary; irv father give* hi* consent?and here he is." Old Garford entered. "Well, sir," said he, "I congratulate you on your success. We shall Ce happy to see you at Two-hundred-and-twenty-seoond street this evening, if you are not otherwise engaged." Shortly afterward I was married. As soon as Aurelia and I were alone in the carriage that bore us from the church, I said to her, smiling, "Mr dear littlo ghost, I sincerely trust you wiU haunt me to my dying day!" "I will trv," said Aurelia, looking full at ma with beautiful and fathomless eyes, "to be your ghostly comforter as long as I live." It is iny opinion thai a ghost is very much improved by having a body attached to it.?KnUktrbocktr Magazine. Till Soya! Agricultural Society of England often one hundred pounds sterling and the gold medal of the Society as a prise for the discovery of a manure whose fertilising properties shall equal the Peruvian guano, and which can be delivered in unlimited quantities to the English farmer at a eost not exceeding ?5 per ton. 0 ?^ * .*.< mB AGRICULTURAL CAROLINA, WEDNESDAY MORI Til EE URNING SH I Y~[ AN INCIDENT AT SEA. t f HY KKbU. . TRYHAlL. li Is tho year 1845, I was in Livcrjmol jn without a ship, neither was I in nnv loir- j' ry to obtain one. Willi plenty of n.o- . ney in my pockets, ami a great. number ?i ol acquaintances, L managed to pa>.-> away t tune rather agreeably, without '^kiukjng v of the morrow.' Une afternoon ijstroiled ; a down towards the docks to see what was j going on, not with the least idea of ship- a ping, for 1 had not squandrcd all my ! ji money, and of courso did not feel like s going to sea just then. c I stood leaning against one of the k spiles, watching the confusion attendant lj upon the departure of the New York fi and Liverpool packets. Freight was piled n up on her decks, emigrants' baggage ji strewed around in admirable disorder. I was awakened from my reverie by a stout, & well dressed man, asking in a quick, sharp tl tone:? ti 'Well, my man, do yon want a ship?' h 'No, sir, not to-day,' 1 replied. v 'How long have you been to sea?' n 'Five years, sir.' d 'What made you leave your ship, and n who was master of her?' he asked in a quick, off handed manner. . I 'She was sold?Captain Johnson com- I inanded her,' said I, answering both of t; his questions at once, without using any u superfluous words. h My reply appeared to please l?iin, for he gave me a quick glance, and then e said:? 'I am in want of a second mate for the l. Sturdy, the packet ship before you. Would c you like the berth?' I was almost bewildered at the sudden ii prospect before me. Not twenty years old, and the idea of getting a second n mate's billet on board a fine litu r, was great luck. v 'I am afraid I nm hardly qualified, sir,' I I replied, at length. c *1 will risk it. If you are willing and r quick, we shall get along. When can you d come on board?wo sail to-morrow lore- a noon.' d 'In an hour's time I can have tny traps in the ship, and be ready for duty.' * 'l)o you want any advance!' v 'No, sir, I have a few dollnrs left,' I a nswered. o 'Then come with me to the American tl Consul's and sign the articles;' and with- a out more words lie strode along, I follow- c ing as close as possible. I In a few ninnies 1 had signed my name v and found myself enrolled as second mate on Isiard the Sturdy. s 'Now, Mr. Trysail,'said Capt. Hardy h ?for such was his name?I expect you h will lie on board this afternoon, before p sundown.' . i 'I shall lie on board before that time, v sir, i answered, as I took iny leave. | ii Punctual to my won!, 1 hud my clothes j <] on board in an hour's time, and com- i incnced my duties. I am not going to s enter on a long digression to show what j those duties were?hut one thing I will t say, the man who goes as second mate J( does not have much time to devote to idle <1 purposes. 5 The next day we hauled out, took a steam tug, and before sundown we were v forty miles from Liverpool, dashing down h the Irish chauuel with studding sails set h on the starboard side, and four hundred .1 sick steerage passengers. ii The captain was called a Tartar, y?t I * thought him a pretty easy sort of man. 1, If I made an occasional blunder, he was e always ready to overlook it without any s cross words. In fact I got along with | hiin much better than the chief mate, who' 1 for one or two reasons, did not stand very ,, high in his good graces. We had Is-en out five days. Fortune h had favored us with fresh winds, and plenty of them, until on the evening of the a fifth day, tho weather moderated, and by v eight P. M., the wind had died away to a three knot breeze. It was my first watch from eight to twelve. I paced the deck, thinkuig of home, and listening n to tho loud laugh of the cabin passengers, r< as tbey paced the dock, smoking their cigars and spinning long yarns, until ti towards four bells, one by one dropped n off to their berths, and I was left alone. J I leaned over the rail and watched the y stars and cloudless heavens, and then glancing along the horizon I was startled g by beholding a bright light a l?out two points to our starboard bow. I waited a h few minutes longer, but instead of de- ft creasing it grew larger. |, 'Light off the starl>oard bow, sir,' shout- ft ed the lookout, suddenly waking out of a ft short nap. a 'I see it,' replied I, and then stepped into the cabin to give the captain a call, ft The 'old man' turned out, hurried on tl his clothes, and in a few minutes was scrutinizing the light through his night ft glass. 1 'What do you think it is, sir?' I asked, C1 after, he had had a good look. ft The captain did not answer for a few moments, but appeared to be meditating. At last ho replied:? ^ ' If IWA ll'OSA Aft ittA IvaiiIr a/ Mfhalo^ ? ii w uic via IIIV imvR ?M w unicin i should think it was one of them 'trying . out,' but m this is no place for whflks, 1 J am afraid it is a vessel on fire.' I thought with orror what our aituation would be in case of fire, with so many " passengers on board. 'Brace the yards, and then luff* about tc two points,' the captain continued,'we'll see what we can make of her.' tl By the time the yards ware braced, a in numWr of the passengers had assembled tl on deck, conversing in low tones. In ai half an hoot's time we had drawn near vj enough to make out that it was a ship on g, * *" g * * * * ,, GENERAL AIs XING, JANUARY 26, 1853. ire not more than two miles distant. In rain we whistled for a breaze to take lis I o the relief of the stranger; the wind grew I nintcr and fiinter , until at last we scarce- I y moved through the water. < 'This will never do,' said the captain, I ifter taking another look at the tire.? < Wo shall n<>t reach the vessel for an hour I >r two at this rate. Clear away the | I jtiart? r hunt. Mr. Trysail, jiiuin in, and ake live good men with yon, and see ] < dint yon can do towards saving the lives ; nd property of the crew.' I needed no second command, and in I short time was dancing ??ver the water, < >ropcllod by the stout arms of five good s ailurs. The nieu did not need any en- 1 onragement to exert themselves; they ] new that the lives of human beings must i e in danger, and that is always a snf- i cient excttsc for a sailor to strain every I erve to afford all the assistance in his i ewer. As we ncared the burning ship, I could 1 ee that the fire was mainly confined to > lie masts and rigging, the hull being not uucli injured as yet. In a quarter of an | our'a time after leaving the Sturdy,| we I rere within ten yards of her, when the I ten lay on their oars and I hailed, not aring to go along side, for fear of the 1 lasts falling and crushing the boat. I There was no reply to my first hail and, < began to think the ship deserted, when I heard a faint voice begging our assis mice. We pulled under the ship's stern i ml an old, gray-headed man put up his ? ead out of the cabin window. < 'jump in tl:o t>oat, old man,' I sliout- ) d, 'you have no time to lose.' 5 'I cannot come without my daughter,' I c answered. 'There is nobody on board i xcepting her and myself.' 1 'Then lower her into the boat and get ' i yourself,' I replied. > 'Alas, sir, I have not the strength, and < iy daughter is insensible.' There was a moment's hesitation. To 1 cnture on hoard a vessel halt consumed < y tir?; was not a very trifling affair, espc- I ially when there might be a few kegs of i owder in the run. It was no time to ! leliberate, however. Some one must go 1 nd risk hisown life to save the father and ; aughter. ! 'Throw a rope to us from the tatfrail, I o we can get on lioard,,' I shouted, for it I ras with diflieultv I could he heard. ' The old man Jisappeared, and in spite { f the great heat, forced his way aft and lirew the rope. One or two of the men ppeared anxious to have the glory of res- , uing the strangers, hut grasping the rope, rapidly worked my way to the cabin ( windows and entered. , The cabin was already full of smoke, till not so dense hut what a person could ' reathe. My tirst care was to find the ( idy. Seeing a state room door near mc , > ?rtlv opened, 1 entered, and saw the lady , dnif m. ilu. 1.1,. t w:.i?. ! .... Iivt'i , n llll?MIL j lasting a moment's time, 1 grasped her . 11 my anus, and bore her to the cabin winlow ?. , 'Stand ready, men, to take the lady,' I ^ homed. Kvery man jumped on his feet, aid with outstretched arms stood ready 0 catch her. Watching my opportunity is the shin settled down from the effect >f a heavy swell, I let go my hold, and he fell sefely into the arms of the men. My next care was to find the father, 1 ho I had not seen since I had been on { oard. Already had the tire made much ' lendwav, and as I attempted to reach the j. lee'; I found myself driven back hv the 1 iitcnsc heat. There was no help for it, o I sorrowfully prepared to retire to the out. As the men began to grow impati- ' nt, swinging myself down by the rope, 1 afely landed, and found the lady had party recovered fr- m the swoon. ' Where is the father, sir?' asked one f the men. I don't know, I have soon nothing of im.' 4 My father?is not my father safe?' sked the lady, starting nj>, and gazing rildly at the burningship. ' I hope he is, hnt lie has not been seen j it some time,' I replied. Oh ! do not for Heaven's sake go until ~iy father is safe?he is rich, and will well sward you for saving his life.' At this instant a form appeared at the tffrail, with singed hair and clothes humt early to a cinder. lie oast a look of esnair Jt those in the boat, and appeared ndecided w hat to do. ' Jump!' weshouted with startling ener- ' y; 4jutnn it is your only chance.' 1 He paused a moment, then raising bis ' ands high aliove his head, leaped boldly ' oni the rail There was a hissing scund ) card as iiis body struck the water, and ] i another moment lie rose within a few 1 of tlie boat, and was aafely drawn in ' nd place! Inside liis daughter. 4 Now, men, give way and let's get a- ' oard as soon as possible,' and as I spoke * le masts came crashing over tlio side, 1 Hiding the sparks high in the air, and f laminating the ocean for miles in extent. * cast a hasty glance around and saw the fl Id Sturdy within a quarter of a mile, x eading directly for us. f Tlie men bent to their oars with hearty ^ ood will, and in ten minutes time wo ere alongside, and im<1 the boat hoisted p, while our doctor paid every atten- ( on to the wants of the lady and her ( tther. 4 Did you find nobody else on board Mr. rysail V said Capt Ilardy. ^ 'No, sir, the boats and crew appeared 8 > have left before we got there.* * * I can hardly think thero are people in t lis world so cowardly as to leave a wo- t tan on board a burning ship,* muttered f te captain, 'load one or two of those guns a ad fire them so that if they are in this v icinity, they can stand some chance of s siting on board.' t A * ID LOCAL INTJ By this time the tire began to grow fainter anil fainter as the flames reached [he water mark, and after one or two efforts to brighted up, all grew dark. Wo " Uncharged three or four guns and sent un half a dozen rockets, and then waited nntil laybrcak, but could see nothing of the fwvits, and for a long time nothing was ] :card of the crew, but at last information Mine that they had been picked up and an icd to France, and from thence they all irrived home in safety. In a few days the old gentleman and lis daughter were well enough to come I >11 deck, and I w as one of the happiest i lecond mates to be found in the world, t a hen I came to look at the beautiful i poung girl I bad boon the means of saw t tig. 1 >ark eyes, fair skin, white teeth, ind such a smile; and when she came up t to tne, and put her little white soft hand J in my huge hard paw, and thanked me t ivith tears in her eyes, 1 though 1 should t like the priviligc of taking her in my arms i igain. I have novel been able to this t day to recollect what 1 said to her in re- i ply. I suppose she saw that I was con- i fused, and so ceased to bother me with her t thanks. \Yc then found out how they came t<> ' L?c left- The foresail of the ship had ta'u u < tire, and when the captain saw in< mean* I jf saving the vessel, he had ordered the > two boats to be lowered, but while Mr. I Whitley (such was the old gentleman's 1 name) had gone into the cabin for his i laughter and a few articles, the crew push ] ?d off, not thinking about tliose on board. He had left Liverpool two days before the \ sturdy, hound for New York. Mr. AYhitey was returning to America, after having f nude the tour of Europe for the benefit of t lis daughter's health, w hich was now quite I esiorcu, nut t no oia gentleman vowed it thould be the last time he would set foot on salt water if he arrived safely on shore. When we got to New York Mr. Whit!y gave each of the boat's crew a hundred Jollars ; to me he did not offer anything but his thanks, and I considered myself amply repaid by them ; but when the Stuidy was ready for sea I found that I was promoted to the rank of chief mate, and one quarter of her bought and paid, for in my name. Three voyages after that I took command, and then?well, the fact of it is, Miss Whitley has l?ecn my wife for four years, and I have never rcjjreted rescuing her frotn the burning ship. Iiusii Editous.?There are few journals more interesting than those published in Ireland ; they give a never-failing supply of laughable-humorous, or horrible-iutcresting tacts. The worst of the matter is, you never feel quite certain who made the pun, or who did the murder?the editor or the person assigned. You cannot dismiss from your memory the old story of the Irish editor in the hotel :?The printer's devil enters. "They want a small paragraph to fill out a column, sir" "JIow ong?" Mr. savs about ten lines, nr." Well, let me see?! tell him to burn a child to death at Water ford." An old farmer, about the time that the temperance reform was beginning to exert a faithful influence in the country, ? silifl !f> 1?W vii'vvlv 1??? ? < 1 ?non* "Jonathan, I did not think to mention, when I hired you, that I think of trying to do my work this year without rum?"? How much must 1 give you to do without . it:" i "Oh," said Jonathan, "I don't care much 1 il?out it, you may give me what you please." "Well," said the. farmer. "I will give , you a sheep in the. fall, if you will do 1 without." "Agreed" said Jonathan. The eldest son then said: "Father, will you give 1110 a sheep if 1 will do without rum?" "Yes, Marshal, you shall have a sheep if you will do without." The youngest son, a stripling then said: "Father, will you give me a sheep also, if I do without rum." "Ye# Chandler, you shall have a sheep ?lso, if you do without rum." Presently Chandler speaks again: "Father hadn't you better take a sheep W 1 ?1 t Tiiomas Hambi.ik, Esq. the thcatical ] liatiager, who died in New York on Sat- t ir.lav evening, fell a victim to brain fever, ? which lie was attacked the Monday pre- j nous, lie has lieen the manager of the v Bowery theatre for the last twenty toe fears, with tho exception of a few short ntorvftls. The Bowery was filled with a arge audience at the moment of his death, >ut immediately on its announcement the < >erformance was suspended, and all quiet- j y retired. The Bowery Theatre, which t le mainly owned, was destroyed by fire ? liree times during his possession of it, 1 md any less elastic and indomitable man t vould have been prostrated by such a r erics of calamities. But Mr. llamblin al- l ways rose superior to misfortune, and in a t ew months had his theatre re built. t About a fortnight ago, the sum of 350,- j, )00 was offered for the Bowery theatre, t ind refused l?y Mr. llamblin. He was v *>lo owner of the property, which is unin- f, lumbered with the exception of a small j, nortgage of some 15,000 or *20,000. ? JtW An old toper complained to a doc- n or that the ardent failed to exhilirate his p pints. The doctor, knowing the inordin- a ito nature of his appetite, told him he had etter trv aaua fortin. A short time *f erwards he was surprised by another visit rom the individual, who told him that iquH fortia did very well at first, but it rasn't strong enough. "I say, doctor," a aid he, "don't you think a little aqua jif- tl itt would about fix it?" o ' '0 y 5LLIGENCE. NUMBER 50 I>tuiitflt| HUnfring. Thoughts for tho SeasonThough the festival of tho Epiphany be past, yet it is well for us to let our minds iwell for n while upon that which that Jay commemorates: the first few handfuls jf the great harvest of the nations. Then ive, w ho are by nature aliens from God, md strangers to the covenant of promise, X'gan to draw nigh to Him; for llo who ivas to make botli one by breaking down lie partition which was between m, was is on this day manifested forth to us "by lie leading of a star." At the birth of our Lord, the two ex romes ot lite met together, to testify to Jim as the promised Messiah. Ilis first witnesses were the humble shepherds? he first messengers of these glorious tidugs, uneducated men, versed in noknowl>dge but that which related to their callng. But others, far dififcrent from them n character and position, were to unito with them. From the distant East came Ilis second a itnesses. From that land of dim and jhvamy tradition, which had l>cen the untain of all the wisdom and philosophy ji those days, selected from the most Earned class existing in that country, they A cre led a long journey by miraculous means, and all, it would seem, for the solo purpose of testifying to the truth of Christ. IIi us, poverty and wealth, ignorance and wisdom, united at this particular crisis. Beautiful indeed was this exhibition of iiilh in the Eastern Magi, and therefore lie Church has held them in remembrance >y this festival, as week after week sho elebrates the manifestation of Christ to he Centilos. It was no hasty impulse, nit a calm and deliberate conviction, vhicli could bide the test ot time and tho Lccomplishmont of a wearisome journey. Vnd the very gifts they had prepared were ntcrpreted by the ancient fathers as bcng significant of their faith. They offer lim, say these early writers, incense, at heir God?gold, as their king?and nyrrh, as typical of a human body, suboct to suffering and death.. Yet more 'allied in Ilis sight than any thing their and could furnish, was the unseen offering hey brought, more pure than gold, more Vagrant than frankincense, more precious han myrry. It was the offering of a maple faith, a humble mind, and'n holy icart, which resigns the wisdom of this world as foolishness w ith God. Such then was tho Epiphany?tho revelation of Christ to the Gentiles. These ivcrc the first fruits of those countless thousands who were shortly to be gatherjd into the fold of Christ. For soon the \postles overpassed the barrier which separated Jew and Gentile, and proclaimed o the latter the Gospel hopes in all their ullncss. And then for three centuries the aith went on?to the farthest bounds of lie West, and the shores of almost unknown Britain. It penetrated through the brests of the North, and was wafted in he anthems of numberless disciples over he plains of Asia. And when shall wo igain see these triumphs, and as of old, 'nations be born in a day?'' When there s a revival of apostolic zeal and self-deniil, and the Church becomes what once it ,vas, a missionary of Church. But has the star of Bethlehem faded iwav into the dark night, and left nothing n its place to guide the tired wanderer? Is there no substitute to whose leading wo ;an commit ourselves, knowing it will conluet us to the shrine where alone our worship should be paid? Yes; there is a nobler light than that star of old, which was but the morning star of thoNew Pispensation. It heralded the rising of tlio Sun of Righteousness, and its beams now rest not only on Bejhlehem, but also on the mount of Calvary. It discloses to us, pot an infant king, but a suffering, dying ?aviour. It summons us to bow before hat, llis only earthly throne?to prostrate >ursclvcs before a King crowned with horns, with the purple robe in mockery :ast about llim, and the reed in derision daced in llis hand. Yet let us have the aith of the eastern wise men, and we hall look beyond this oiuward drapery in vhich our Ixird in His humiliation arrayid Himself, and recognize Him aa "the \tlwr immiprlol n - uviiai UllU 1IIVIAIUIV. J iit'II, wo, lie Day Star shall arise* in our hearts, and iround ns Rlmll be breathed the atmoe>hero of heaven?a foretaste of the bliss vhich one day the just shall enjoy forever. Worshippers of the 8un. I he worship of the sun, under the name >t' Baal, was once well nigh universal in \sia. And it demands a doubt, whether he race of worshippers of the sun hasbe:onie wholly extinct, even in Christian ands. For we have in our Christian coranunities, a large class of people who take 10 part in the public worship on the 8ab>ath, oxcepting when the stm shinet. If lie skies are overcast, their duty seems to e veiled from their view?if a small mist ? falling, or if there is a moderate rain, Ar he main element and attraction of their rorship are gone, and they are absent rom the house of worship. Whether this ustifiea the inference, that the sun is their rod, or that fair weather is their Ood, the eader will judge. But it has been comion, to call them fair-weather worshipers. But tnn-uforthippert could bo easier bd as truly spoken.? Puritan Rteorder. Influence of ? Zewepsper. A school teacher who has been engaged long time in bin profession, and witnessed he influenced of a newspaper upen the lunda of a family of children, writes to % IP ^