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Two Yankees were strolling in tlie woods without
any arms in their possession , and observing a boar
ascend ing a tree, with ils large paws clasped around
the trunk , one of them ran forward and caught the
bear's paws, one in each hand. He instantl y called
out to his comrade :
'Jonathan , I say, go home and bring me something
as fast as you can , till I kill the varmint. Mind,
don't stay, for I'm in a fix. '
Jon athan ran ofi" as fast as he could , but was an
exceeding long time running. During the interval
the bear made several desperate attempts to bite the
hand of him who held it. At length Jonathan came
back.
'Hallow , Jonathan , what the deuce has kept you?'
Jonathan replied :
'Well , I'll tell you ; when at home, breakfast was
about ready, and I guessed it would be as well to
wait for it.'
'Here now , Jonathan ,' said his companion , 'come
you and hold it , and I'll kill the critter in a jiffy-'
Jonat han seized the bear's paws,and held the an-
imal while the other could kill it.
'Well , Jonathan , have yon got hold of him ?'
'I guess I have ,' replied Jonathan.
'Very well, hold him fast ; I guess I'll go to din-
ner.'
Poverty is the mother of arts. That accounts for
so many arts being very poor ones—they "take aftei
tb,eir mothers,"
Time About.
From among the reminiscences of "Scenes and
Characters in the Meeting House" we select the fol-
lowing. The first is a rebuke of what , on the score
at least of good taste, if nothing else, was always our
aversion :
"One Sunday, there, was a famil y in church from
the far city of New York. They had come up there
to visit some country relations, and two or three of
these gay city girls burst out laug hing in the midst
of the sermon. The cause was this : the old aunt
whom they had come to visit had stopped in at one
of the ne ighbors on the way to church , and had bor-
rowed some little yellow cakes called turnp ikes, and
used , I believe , for some purpose or other in baking
bread. She had thrust them into her work-bag,
wh ich she carried on her arm , and dur ing sermon ,
having occasion to use her handkerchief ,she drew it
fort h suddenl y, and out flew the 'turnp ikes,' roll i ng
and scampering over the floor. The city girls tit-
tered at this, as if it were very funny. Their seat
was on the side of the pul pit, so that the pastor did
not see them, or he would have brought them to or-
der by a look , or a blow on the desk, which would
have sent the blood out of their cheeks,throug h their
cheeks would have been red after that. But Joseph
Butler saw them,and rising in his seat,struck with
his psalm-book on the top of the pew ; the preacher
paused ; the congregation sat dumb ; the good elder
spoke, calml y, but with energy ; ir
Fhose young wo-
men will slop that laughing in the house of God !'—
They did stop ; the pastor proceeded ; Joseph sat
down ,and the city girls gave no occasion for the ex-
ercise ol summary church discipline during the re-
mainder of their summer visit."
The second is a picture of a personage not alto-
gether uncommon , we fear, in the country meeting-
houses of the present day. We remember of more
than one church gossip, such as is described below :
"1wish you could see old Mrs. SNiFPLE,the gossip
of the congregation ,in her rounds of absorption ,fast-
ening herself upon every one,to take in ,like a sponge
whatever they would impart ,that she might have the
sweet satisfaction of leaking it to others. Her Har-
vest time was at the close of the morning service ,
when the most of the people remained in their re-
spective pews to eat their dinner , which those from
a distance brought with them. This was the favora-
ble moment for Mrs. Sniffle's expedition , and
darting out of her own seat , she would drop in at
another, out with her snuff-box , pass it round , and
inquire the news. Staying just long enoug h to ex-
tract the essence of all the matters in her line to be
met with there , she would make all haste to the pew
of some one from another neighborhood , where she
would impart the information she had just received ,
with her own edify ing comments, pick up as many
additional fragments of facts as she could find , and
pass on to another pew, spend ing the whole of the
interval of divine worshi p in this avocation , and the
leisure of the week to come in spreading among her
neighbors these items of news, especially such as
come under the head of scandal. It is only just to
the people, however, to add , that Mrs. Sniffle was
a black sheep in the flock ; there was not another
like her ; and we may well say, 'Happy is that peo-
ple which is so well off as to have only one Mrs.
Sniffle !
"
Low-Headed Fruit-Trees.—By having low-
headed fruit-trees , the sun , which is, perhaps, in our
hot and dry summers, the cause of more disease and
destruct ion in fruit-trees than all other diseases to-
get her, is kept from almost scalding the sap, as it
does in long naked trunks and limbs. The limbs
and leaves of a tree should always effectuall y shade
the trunk and keep it cool. The leaves,onl y should
have plenty of sun and light; they bear and profit
by it. If trees were suffered to branch out low, say
within one or two feet of the ground , we should hear
very much less of "fire, blight ," "fi ozen sap blight ,''
"black spots ," and the like. The ground is always
looser, moister, and cooler, under a low-branching
tree than under a high one. Grass and weeds do
not grow a hundreth part so rank and readil y, and
mulching becomes unnecessary. The wind has not
half the power to rack,and twist ,and brea k the tree ,
and shake off the fruit—a matter of no inconsidera-
ble consequence. The trees are more easily r id o!
destructive insects , the fruit is much less damaged
by falling .and the facilities forgathering it are much
greater ; there is less danger in climbing and less
of breaking limbs. The trees require less pruning,
and scra ping, and washing ; and the roots are pro-
tected from the ploug h, which is too often made to
tear and mutilate them.
Gum FriOM Peach Treks.—Sometimes gum
runs from peach trees by reason of insects, as the
worm , for instance , eating around the tree, between
the bark and the wood,at , or just below the surface;
but gum often runs from peach trees from causes
not distinctl y known. Trees that seem perfectl y
health y in early spring, and are very smooth , and
apparentl y in a vigorous condition , are soon serious-
ly affected by the gum running from various parts
of the body and branches , which indicates a decline
or speedy death of the tree.
In this climate, the peach is far from its native
and peculiar home, if we regard its origin ; and it is
seriously affected by our cold or changeable winters ,
and by our cool springs, constantl y var ying in tem-
perature, or remaining constantl y cool and unconge-
nial to plants ori ginall y from a much warmer clime.
The best remedy for this evil is the same as we
should recommend for the potato disease which has
been named ; examin e carefully, and cultivate the
most hard y varieties of fruits and vegetables.
[Cole's New England Farmer.
A story is told of a hypochon driac gentleman o(
ran k and fortune in Ireland , who fanc ies one of hi s
legs of one reli gion and the other of another. He
not unfre quentl y puts one of his legs outside the bed
to pun ish it for its reli gious errors,
John Neal predicts that the time will come when
a man 's perspiration will be turned to account as
steam and drive him up hill like a locomotive,
|From the Boston Post.]
The re-union of tlie National nomoc-
racy on tlie Baltimore Platform.
In a former number we attempted to show the im-
perat ive demand now made,by the condition of pub-
lic affairs upon every democrat for the Lre-union of
the democratic party for thepreservation of the Union.'
This being a clear duty, how shall it best be per-
formed ?
All ex perience has demonstrated that this re-union
cannot be effected upon any national platform that
does not exclude entirel y slave agitat ion as a polit-
ical party test. The soundest and safest democratic :
statesmen have taken this view from the beginn ing,
and , so long as it was adhered to, it resulted in the
tr iump h of the democracy and the cohesion of the
Union. In the presidential election of 1848, it was
departed from by a considerable portion of the
northern democracy ; and the result then was a na-
tional defeat , the fruit of which has ever since been
fast ri pen ing into national disunion.
Let us trace the course of the democratic party, in
its nat ional organization , and see how completel y
this position has been demonstrated , and how exact-
ly the prophecies of democratic statesmen have been
fulfilled , touching the effects of slave agitat ion upon
the business of congress, the nationality of the de-
mocracy and the union of the states.
We go back to 1835, when , as has been already
stated , slave agitation first became a fixed element
in national politics , and was seized upon by the
whi gs to divide the northern and southern democrats
upon this conflicting sentiment and interest. The
democratic party were then obliged to take their
stand , as a national party, between northern aboli-
tionism and southern nullification. Geographical
lines were attempted to be drawn exclusivel y upon
this domestic issue, and to array the north against
the south , the south against the north. On the one
hand , Mr. Van Bure n, the democratic candidate ,
was arrai gned at the north as "a northern man with
southern princi ples " As vice president he had
taken the ground of excluding slave agitation from
congress, and had gone even further than that , by
giving his casting vote in tavor of prohibiti ng the
circulation of abolition publications through the post
office. A portion , and but a small portion then , of
the northern democracy suffered themselves to be
led aside by the whi g cry that Mr. Van Buron was
subservient to the south , and was untrue to t he
north on tho slave question. On the other hand , a
sout hern sect ion , at t he head of wh ich stood Mr.
Calhoun , (always formidable in opposition , from his
transcendent talents , bu t powerless in success, from
his extreme impracticability,) doubted and denounc-
ed Mr. Van Buren as not going far enoug h with the
south.
Such was the position of the party when the na-
tional convention was held in 1835. They had to
choose bet ween the t wo extremes of nort h and south ,
and they took tho safe ground , excluding both ele-
ments, and lay ing the basis of a national plat form
upon slave agitation which was amp le for t he whole
Un ion. The convention of that year passed no res-
olutions, bu t they adopted an address which was dis-
tinct and clear on this point. On the committee
which reported that address were Silas Wri ght of
New York , Andrew Stevenson of Virginia , Robert.
Strange of North Carolina , and Jared W. Williams
of New Hampshire. It would bo profitable to quote
the whole of this address on the slave question , for
it has alread y become history teaching by examp le,
but we must be content with a few quotations to
show its genuine spirit of patriotism , and the pro-
phetic wisdom with which it uttered the united voice
of the democratic nationa l convention of 1835.
Extracts from the Democratic National Address of
1835.
"We come now , fellow citizens , to another objec-
tion , and probably one of the most mischievous and
wicked that has ever been made against the peace
and happ iness of any country. It is the attempt to
create sectional pa rties and divisions, and to alienate
one portion of our country from the rest , by charg-
ing upon the supposed defects of our comp licate!
system the calamities which ev il men are themselves
endeavor ing to bring about. In different parts of
our country we see misguided men attempting to
wea ken the bond of union , by exciting the north
against the south and the south against the north. —
The peculiar differences in the social organizati on
of these two sections of our country is ever a read y
and fruitful subject to create these jealousies and
dissensions. It has ever been a fundamental article
in the republican creed , that these relations were
not by the constitution broug ht within the scope of
federa l powers, and that con gress has as little right
to interfer e with the domestic relations of master
and apprentice in Massachusetts , or master and ser-
vant in Virgin ia, as they have to middle with simi-
lar social relat ions in 'Great Britain , France or
Spain. So deeply rooted is this conviction , that it
is incorporated in the democratic creed , and consti-
tutes one of the broad lines of separation
^
betwee n
the strict constr uctionists of the Jeffcrsonian school
and t ho latitudinarians or consolo dationists , under
all the Protean colors. Thus repub licanism is the
safest guaranty of the stabi lity of our Union.
"Let then the republican party everywhere stand
firm and united , and trust ing to these princi ples
fear not. All wi ll be safe. And why shall not the
democracy of all quarter! * of our Union ,and the sev-
eral states , implicitl y conf ide in each other ? They
entered into this confederacy as independent states ,
with the ex press sti pulat ion that each state reserved
to itself the right of manag ing its domestic concerns
and social relations in its own way. The people of
no stale , therefore , can vio late that compromise on
wh ich the Union is based and call themselves re-
publican.
"Listen to the admonition of a man of the sound-
est and most experienced head and the purest and
most patriotic heart , James Madison, one,of the
most dist inguished founders of our constitution. —
'But this detestable effort to alienate one portion of
our country from the rest, and enfeeble-the sacred
t ies which now link together its various parts , can
never succeed. The people of Amer ica have too
much good sense to enter into the perilous and
"loomy scenes into which these advocates of disunion
would lead them. They will not harken to the un-
natural voice which tells them that , knit together ai;
the\ r are by so many cords of affection , t hey can no
lon»er live together as members of the same grn.it
famil y ; can no longer be mutual guard ians of their
mutua l happ iness ; can no longer be fellow citizens |.
of one great and flourishing empire. They wiH shutj
^
their ears against this unhallowed language. Theyt
will shut their hearts against the poison it contains, , i
TUe kindred blood which flows in their veins, the
ming led blood which they have shed in defence of
the ir sacred rights, consecrate their union , and ex-
cite horror at the idea of their becoming aliens, ri-
vals, enemies.'"
In conclusion , on this topic of slave agitat ion, the
Nat ional Address says—
"We call upon all , upon the ambitious as well as
the deluded , in their zeal of fanaticism and party, to
look , if they dare , at calamit ies that might rush in
and deluge this fair land if their efforts could suc-
ceed , and to pause before it be too late; to remember
that t he progress of disaffection is often insensible
and invis ible ; and that the mighty spirit which they
are attempting to excite, if once roused , can be al-
la yed neither by the cannon nor the sword , by law
nor by blood. It is, fellow citizens , against this
dangerous spirit of discontent and division , against
these unha llowed attempts to weaken the bands of
our glorious confederacy, that it becomes th e duty
of every wise man , of every honest man , of every
Amer ican to watch with sleepless vigilance. That
watc h can onl y be set in deep and abiding affection
to our hol y Union , u pon the preservation of which
depends not onl y our own liberty and ha ppiness,but much ,' said Ellen again ; 'that is to say •'
'Pshaw, Ellen ! I see very plainl y how the matter
stands with you ,' said Charles. 'You are in love
Wlth ne, I tell von."
'Indeed- 1am not , sir,' said Ellen , indi gnantl y.
'Indeed you are, my dear,' said Charles, 'over
lei»d and ears in love—but you don 't know it, and I
baPpose I must wa ;t patientl y till you find it out and
tell me so.'
'That will never be,' said Ellen.
I have not forgotten our bet, Elly : and when
y°tt reject your "ideal ," and tell me you love me, I
. ' expect you to present me with our wedding
InS i but should you marry your blue beard , I will
Present you with yours.'
^
'Very -well, sir,' said Ellen , 'I may meet with my
^
lueal" sooner than you think , though I am but a
' assie yet ;•• • an(j s)je toS!C(j jjei.rOguish little head
"cornfull y.
MISCELLANEOUS.
'Well , well, Elly, don 't be angr y ; remember on-
ly this , that you have one plain , honest hearted lov-
er, who will never forget you—and Elly, dear, let
me advise you to beware of those fancy lovers. Pi-
rates , bandits , and Spaniards are to be particularl y
guarded against , being, as all youn g ladies know ,
exceeding ly dangerous. '
CHAPTER SECOND.
Three years passed quickl y away. Ellen had
'come out ,' and bad gained , by her sweetness and
vivacit y, several sincere admirers ; but still the he-
ro, the "ideal" had not yet appeared. Charles was
sti ll detained abroad , and was not expected back for
another year at least. Could he have seen the joy
wit h which his letters were received by Ellen , and
known tha t the last was always kept in her bosom
and read again and again , he might have felt pretty
well assured of the state of her heart ; as it was, he
became at times rather despondent. But , unfortun-
atel y, abou t this time a personage who bid fair to re-
alise Ellen 's romant ic dreams appeared in society.
IIo was a Spaniard and a Count : he was also hand-
some and accom plished—and all the girls were in
love with him. Ellen heard of nothing but the
Count for some time before she met with him. She
saw him at last at a party—one of her young friends
pointed him out to her. As she looked towards him ,
she saw a tal l, noble-loo king man , very dar k , very
handsome , and , better sti ll, there was t he magnificent
beard. Soon afterwards , the Count was introduced
to her, and , after a little conversation , during which
he seemed much agitated—he told her she so strong-
ly resembled a very dear friend he once had,that he
could not look at her without emotion. The suppres-
sion of feeling on his part was so evident ,that Ellen 's
warm sympathies were excited at once. She be-
came interested in him , more especiall y as she found
that his conversational and intellectual powers quite
equalled his sensibility. Her own talents were call-
ed forth by his, and she could not but feel that she
was appearing to groat advantage to the pensive
stranger. But soon, sooner than she expected or
quite wished, he left her, and returned no more.—
Surely, thought Ellen , he will ask me to dance ;
but no—he returned no more that evening. Ellen
went home a little discontented and vexed. The
next evening she met with him again , but he merely
bowed and passed on. A few nights afterwards, they
met at a friend's house. Towards the end of the
even ing, after Ellen had seen him admired and flat-
tered by half the ladies in the room , she was rather
surprised when he came and took a quiet seat be-
side he. They soon fell into very pleasant conver-
sation. The Count had been a great traveller , and
Ellen soon discovered that he had been in South
America. She ventured , timidl y, to ask if he knew
Charles Somers.
'Yes, 1have met with him in Valparaiso several
times—a fine fellow and a great pet with the la-
dies.'
Ellen blushed.
'Is he a particular friend of yours?'
'Yes—no,' Ellen said , 'not a very great, not a
very particular friend ;' and growing very much em-
barrassed as she thought she saw a smile on the
Count 's face, she added hurriedl y, and blushing
deeply, 'only a slight acquaintance. '
The Count seemed well pleased with her answer.
He remained beside her some time longer , and af-
terwards asked her to dance. She could not of
course, but be conscious of the eclat of being the
partner of the handsomest man in the room—he
whose smiles all were seeking ; but thoug h pleased
and fla ttered , no mean feel ing of tr iumph over her
rivals entered Ellen 's gentle breast.
On the following, day (ho Count called , an d after-
wards they met constantl y and alwa ys, as by a mu-
tual impulse , they seemed to seek each other's socie-
ty. The Count grew more and more devoted. El-
leu was most frequentl y his partner in the fascinat-
in g waltz , an d he waltzed superbl y. He invited
her to ride and I confess those rides were dangerous
th ings. The Count rode even better than he waltz-
ed , and looked so noble on his steed. As they pas-
sed throu gh those beautiful , fresh , heart-warming
country scenes, and throug h those long, quiet , shad y
lanes , I will confess the time was perilous. Once in
particu lar , when Ellen 's horse was restive , and the
Count was obliged to soothe and encourage the
frightened girl , 1 will admit that her heart was in
great danger. But if the Count's heart was in equal
peril , he did not show it—he was always calm and
imperturab le. Ellen could not decide what his feel-
ings were , bu t she was almost sure he did not love
her. Sometimes , indeed , she thoug ht it quite possi-
ble he might; if she only knew , she would know how
to act.
CHA PTER THIRD.
One evening, after about two months' acquaint-
ance with the Coun t, Ellen gave a party. While at
her toilet , it must be confessed she consulted her
mirror with more than usual care. She could scarce-
ly make her dark hair smooth enoug h ; and she who,
generall y thought but little of dress, now wavered
and deba ted for half an hour , before she could de-
cide between her white crape dress and her pink
silk. The white was at last chosen ; and with a
white wreath around her gracefu l head , she certain-
ly looked very lovel y.
The evening advanced , but the Count did not ap-
pear. Ellen 's color rose an d faded every time the
door opened and closed ; but he did not come until
she had given him up. Ellen spoke to him almost
coldly as he greeted her ; but very soon she felt her
displeasure fading away under the charm of his con-
versational powers. His manner was so kind , so
deferential , so gentle to her , that her heart softened
to him almost tenderl y.
lie was called upon to sing, and as Ellen hoard
his rich voice, so full of feeling, and listened to the
impassioned words of his song, she felt a strange ,
wild joy in her heart. As he ceased singing, his eye
sought hers, as though he sung for her alone. She
replied by a glance from her eyes full of tears. The
Count was soon again by her side, and he contrived ,
after a time,to lead her through the parlor conserva-
tory into the garden. The night was soft and warm.
They both walked along in rather awkward silence.
At length the Count ,in a suppressed voice, said—
'Dear Miss Ellen , permit me to say to you one
word and ask you one question. '
Ellen wished to speak , but she could not utter a
sing le word. The Count went on—
'I would—I must tell you br iefly, but trul y, that
I love you , and ask if you can— if you do—love me
in return.'
Ellen was so agitated that she could scarcel y sup-
port herself. The Count , perceiving this , hastil y
threw his arm around her, as if to support her from
falling down ; then as quickl y withdrew it , and ,
rather embarrassed , offered his arm. Ellen strugg led
for calmness but she was also greatl y agitated. She
pressed her hand to her bosom , and felt there
Charles' last letter. She knew not how to do or
what to think. After a violent mental conflict she
said—
'You will think it very strange , but I cannot an-
swer your question ; I feel that I do not know my
own mind ; I cannot decide what I ough t to do.'—
She paused and trembled exceeding ly from nervous
excitement .
'Do not be agitated ,' said the Count kindl y, al-
most tender ly ; 'much as I suffer wh ile my fate is
undecided you shall not be hurried in making your
decision ; take what time you wish to know your
own mind ; permit me to ask when I can know your
determ ination. '
Ellen hastily named the next day ; and , escaping
from him , ran to her own room to endeavor to com-
pose herself before agaiii appearing amongst her
guests. When she returned to the parlor, the Count
was not there. Oh , how inexpressibl y dull and
tiresome the time seemed till the company departed!
Ellen passed a sleepless night: but when the
Count was announced on the following day,she went
down to see him with a calm and decided air ; but
when he came forward to meet her, with his fine
eyes full of love and anxiety, she felt her heart
sink, and she said quickl y, in order not to give her-
self time to relent—
'It gives me more pain than I can express to feel
that 1am disappointing so noble a heart as yours;
but , I confess to you—and I hope you will pardon
me for not sooner knowing my own mind—I feel now
that another , unknown even to myself, had my heart
before I ever knew you.'
The Count grew pale. Ellen went on in a falter-
in g voice—
'Believe me, dear friend , when I tell you that 1
have never known any one whom 1regard so high-
ly as yourself , save one—and I am sure that , had I
never known Charles Somers, I should love you.'
'Charles Somers !
' cried the Count , in a joy ful
tone ; 'ah, Elly, dear Elly, you are then my own
forever ,' and he clasped her in his arms.
'Dear Charles,' said Ellen , after she had recover-
ed from her surprise, 'how blind I was not to have
known you sooner, though you have so greatly
changed. But tell me—why all this disguise and
mystery !
'
'It was the groat change which had taken place
in my appearance ,'said Charles, 'which induced me
to play this masquerade. I remembered your old
wish for a hero lover , and I determined to see if I
could win you in that guise. You see I have now
most of the desired requisites—a tall figure, a toler-
ably handsome face, tthd best of all , the large
beard.'
'I see, my friend , you have lost none of your con-
ceit in your travels,' said Ellen.
'And could you , Ell y, after all , find it in your
hear t te give up this fine fellow and your countess-
shi p for your old lover Charles ? Ah , dearest,
sweetest little Elly, you have lost your bet, for have
not you told me to my face that you love me ?'
'Not before you told me so, Count , though you
were,' said Ellen.
'But I claim my wedding-ring—the forfeit ,' said
Charles.
'And I mine,' said Ellen , quickl y—she was going
to add— 'for I shall marry my ideal ;' but she stop-
ped and blushed.
Matters were soon arranged between the lovers,
and , friends consenting, they were in due time mar-
ried , as all such faithful lovers deserve to be. One
pecu liarity onl y marked the ceremony. After the
ring had been placed on the finger of tho bride , she
herself placed one in return on that of the groom.
Thus happily terminated 'the Wager.'
BARNSTABLE PATRIOT,
COMMERCIAL
"ADVERTISER,
PUB LIS HED KVERY TUESDAY , A FEW DOORS
YVI'ST OF THE COURT TIOUSK , BY
S. B. PHINNEY,
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
M, D. LEWIS PKIXTBE .
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