[Speaker Series, Number 8, | IEW SOR: BEADLE AND COMPANY, 6&8 WYLTIAMNS ST. Am, News 0 me 119 & 121 Nassau wi N.Y, BEADLE’S DIME POPULAR HAND-BOOKS ONE HUNDRED PAGES 18mo. DIME Book of ETIQUETTE. For Ladies and Gentlemen: being a Guide to True Gentility and Good-Breeding and a Complete Directory to the Usages and Observances of Society. Including Entrance into Society; on Dress and Ornaments; on Visits, Introductions, etc. Evening Parties, Dances, etc. ; Games of Cards, Chess, etc. ; on Conversation ; on Letter and Note Writing; how to Give and Receive Invitations ; on Entertain: ments ; on Personal Cleanliness, etc. DIME LETTER-WRITER. And Practical Guide to Composition. Embracing Forms, Models, Suggestions and Rules for the use of all classes on all occasions; also a List of Improper Words and oo together with their correct forms. And also a Complete Diction of Mottoes, Phrases, Idioms, etc.. By Louis Lkeranp, M.D. DIME Book of VERSES. pemrernns 7 cones for Albums; Mottoes and Couplets; St. Valentine Verses Bridal and Marriage Verses; Verses on Births and I cy; Verses to send with Flowers; Verses of Love and Affection; Holiday Versés ; Birthday Verses; Epi- taphs and Mourning Verses ; the Lover’s Casket. DIME CHESS INSTRUCTOR. A Complete Hand-Book of Instruction, containing all that a beginner can requiré to guide him to the entertaining mysteries of this most interesting and fascinating of games. DIME COOK BOOK. Or, the Housewife’s Pocket Compaston. Embodying ‘what is most Econ most Practical, most Excellent. By Mrs. M. V. Vicror. DIME RECIPE BOOK. A Companion to the Dime Cook Book. A Directory for the Parlor, Nursery, Sic Room, Toilet, Kitchen, Larder, etc. By Mus. M. V. Vioror. DIME HOUSEWIFE’S MANUAL. Or, How to Keep House and Order a Home; How to Dye, Cleanse and Renovate How to Cut, Fit and Make Garments; How to Cultivate Plants and Flowers’; How to Care for Birds and Household Pets, etc. A Companion to the Dime Cook and Recipe Books. By Mrs. M. V. Vioror. DIME FAMILY PHYSICIAN. And Manual forthe Sick Room. With Family Diseases and their Treatment, Hinte on Nursing and Rearing, Children’s Complaints, Physiological Facts, Rules of Health, Recipes for preparing well-known Curatives, etc., etc., based upon the au *hority of Drs, Wagken, Donna, Parker, and others, DIME DRESSMAKER. And Milliner’s Guide. A complete Manual of the art of Cutt; Fitting, aud Mak: ing up the Female Wardrobe, with full direetions for Choice o! Mate: Hints on Neglige Toilet, Traveling Toilet, Evening Dresses, etc., Dictionary of Techni Terms, etc., etc. By Mapame PULLAM. (4 The above books for set by all nowsdealers; or sent, post-paid, to any fress, on receipt of price, ten eash. BRADLE AND COMPANY Publishers, 98 William Street. New York. BEADLE’S DIME STUMP SPEAKER: FOR THE FIELD, THE SCHOOL STAGE, THE EXHIBITION, ETQ LARGELY COMPOSED OF EFFECTIVE AND DIVERTING COMPOSITIONS, EXPRESSLY PREPARED FOR AND EXCLUSIVELY USED IN THIS BOOK. NEW YORK: BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 98 WL1LLIAM STREET, Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by BEADLE AND COMPANY, Ia the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Unitea States for the Southern District of New York, CON TEN ES. Page. Hon. J. Moses Stubbs’ Views ‘Con the Situation.” Btichey Stubbs, 9 Ifans Schwackheimer on Woman’s Suffrage, - - Same, 12 All fora Nomination, - - - - Geo. Ef, Meeser, 14 Old Ocean, - - - - - - Rev. A. A. Willetts, 15 ue Sea, the Sea, the Open Sea! . - - Same, 17 The Star Bangled Spanner. Adapted fr ‘om the “Comie Monthly,? 19 Stay where you Belong, = - T. Dewitt Talinage, 22 Life is just what you make it, - - - - - ae 2 Where’s my Money? - “ ” = : . : - 26 A Stump Speech from the Constable, - - 27 A Man’s True Relation to Society, - - Henry Ward Beecher, 29 The Limits to Truc Happiness, - - - Same, 38 Good-Nature, what a Blessing! - —- : - = Same, 32 : Short Sermon from the Hard- shett Baptist ae aie" SO Tail-Enders, - $ - 0. ™ W. 34 The Value of Money, - - - tp - - 36 A Meteorie Disquisition, - “ 37 Be Snfe you are Right, then G0 Ahead, ee ze Dewit Talmage, 83 Be of Good Cheer, - . - Same, 39 Crabbed Folks, - = - - - - - - - 40 Taming a Masculine Shrew, - . - - - - - 42 Farmers, - - - - Wm. IT. Seward, 44 The True Gres atness of our Country, 9.0 ease Ese dg An) New England and the Union, - - - Geo. D. Pr entice, 46 The Unscen Battle-field, - a 47 A Plea for the True Republic, aes ~” Hon, Faward Fiver rett, 49 America, - - - = + Charles Phillips, 49 The "K ieht of Secession” a a Fallacy, - John Lothrop Motley, 50 Life’s Sunset, - ag eile te arn eR wg ES Human Natane, - cl AIG, Fee Fosgate cers? or bE Lawyers, srt = alte opti omit it oomph ROD 50 Wrongs of the Indians, - - art sue Story, 59 Appeal i in behalf of ‘American. Liberty, - - - Same, 60 The Miseries of War, - - a a Dr. Chaliners, 61 A Lay Sermon, - - - - - - = Js Sediliy 02 A Dream, - a. Rint Sh Ser TAS G Hi. Davenport, 13 Astronomical, - - - - - - 67 The Moon, - aoe ee Te - 69 Duties of American Citizens, ea P. W. Chandler, 71 The Man, - - - - - - "3 Te mptations of Large Cities, - - - Rio, Or ville Prewess; % Broken Resolutions, - - - - Henry Ward decaliet 16 There is no Death, - - - - G7 Races, - - Fyrom the “ Fut Contributor's” Fieay, 9 A fruitful Discourse, - - On - - Silas S. Steele, 80 A Frenchman’s Dinner, - - - - - - - he ag Be Unjust National Ac quisitions, - - - - Thomas Corwin, 84 Phaéthon, or the Amateur Coscieman, - . - Join G. Sare,- 87 The Cold-water M: WY og Pe me ee oe Sermey 5:90 Permanency of States, - “- - - - = = Webster, 91 Liberty of Speech, - oS EEE So ISB TS John Thompson’ s Daughter, - - - - - - = 2 98 House-Cleaning, - . ° ° “ 4 “Gus,” 95 It is not your Business Why, - Shaan de, Seen ne OO PUBLISHERS’ NOTE. The matter in this volume is chicfly new to the world of books. Those pieces marked with a star (*) have been prepared expressly for this issne— rome being entirely original, and others partially so. The design has been to render each piece uot only“acceptable to, young speakers, but equally so to their audiences, both in spirit and sense. The humorous clement pre- dominates because it is found that it is eagerly sought for by students and scbolars, and is popular with the public. The publishers offer the work, with confidence, to those seeking for a pleasing and available ‘‘ Speaker.” BEADLE’S DIME STUMP SPHAKER. *HON. J. MOSES STUBBS’ VIEWS “ON THE SITUA- TION.” —Stickey Stubbs, Esq. Freiiow-Cirizens, MALE AND oTnERWwIsE: By the spon- taneous acclamation of seven disinterested and enthusiastic admirers of the seven cardinal virtues—including one married man and a widow that is about to drop her weeds—I have been allured, from my hitherto modest obscurity, to fling my- self as_a sacrifice upon the altar of my country—that altar upon which so many have fought and bled and been elected to office. My loftiest ambition, hitherto heretofore, has been to develop the extraordinary virtues of my paring-machine— which I am now selling at the low price of one dollar each, warranted to peel down to the eye; but, the exceedingly com- bustible condition of public affairs makes it imperative that every man of “remarkable parts”—as that sublime poct, Mister Tupper, so beautifully phrases it—should assume his proper position and run for office—which I certainly shall do, pro-viding I can find some one to sell my machine in my ab- sence, and pay me fif-ty cents for each machine sold. Fellow-citizens: The state of the country in general— I don’t mean Major-General, nor Brigadicr-General, for neither _ of such amount to a nubbin’ of corn—the state of the Con- stitutional, Congressional, Supreme-Court and Starry-Banner country, which You nor I nor nobody knows Whither it comes or whether it goes, as Mister Dan Bryant, the great poet, elegantly expresses it— the state of the country, I say, is, laying aside all private pre- judices, alarming, sir; yes, sir, is undoubtably impecunious, portentous! Look at the dry-goods market and see how much _ it costs for a pair of suspenders! Look at the meat-market, 10 THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. - and see how much it costs for a soup-bone! Alas, what evil times have we fallen upon, when every door-knocker is changed into a bell, and every kitchen has to haye hot and cold water And this brings me to the consideration of another question: What business lad Columbus to discover America, any how? Why couldn’t he haye run his old tub in another di rection, and haye discovered somebody else’s farm besides Uncle Sam’s? What Pacific Oceans of trouble would we have been spared—what Rocky Mountains of Dred Scott, George Francis Train and suffering female sufferages would we haye escaped! Talk about impéachment! Why, Christopher} Columbus js a saint compared to Andy Johnson—no: I mean Andy is a saint compared to Christopher; and the foreigner, for sticking his nose into American affairs, as he did, deserved to be arraigned, tried, impeached, and made to pay a fine heavy enough to liquidate our public and private debts and to buy one hundred of my machines, at one dollar each, which | is very cheap. And that reminds me of another matter. If youll send me to Congress, fellow-citizens, I'll expunge this public debt by a very simple process. As everybody owes everybody, and the Government owes the balance, what’s to prevent everybody. from paying everybody and the Government, and starting even again? Is as simple as turning my paring-machine. Then, the debt will be extinguished, sir, utterly extinguished, and everybody will be as rich, or a little richer, than ever, for, in all swaps, you know, each one gets the best of the bargain, as certain as he would to buy one of my machines for a dol lar. Seems to me I heard some one laugh! Was it a sign of cold in the head or of incredulity ? It’s ali right, but T’ll say that I can lick any man, woman, or boy in this township, light-weight; so now don’t let me hear any thing but a-plause, . Again, fellow-cilizens, and those on the back-seats: We have all got constitutional rights, among which is to wear a ruffle shirt, and to go bare-footed. Now, what more beautiful sight in nature ora provision store than a beautiful foot ? Nothing, except it be a string of sausages, six links to the foot; and that, I hold, when a man is hungry, is overpowering. 4‘ ) on n, id HON, I. MOSES STUBBS’ VIEWs “ON THE SITUATION.” 11 But, what’s sausages got to do with a ruffled shirt, do you exclaim? That’s what /’d like to know when my machines are selling for one dollar each. And this brings me to the consideration of another impor- tant public question. -Iv’s a small thing for a man to know all about his own business, but a big thing to know all about everybody elsc’s business. Some folks are silly enough to at- tend only to their own concerns, but they don’t amount to much in the long run. It is people who spend six hours of each day in trying to find out what you eat for breakfast, and what you said to Smith’s wife, that keep things lively, and give the patriotic lawyers something to do. When I go to - Congress I shall propose a scheme—perfectly feasible, I assure you—-by which the man or woman who finds out the greatest number of faults and sins in the neighbors’ characters shall secure the honorary distinction of P. B. That used to mean Perfect Brick, but in this case it wouldn’t be mean at all; it would be Public Benefactor. TI feel sure, therefore, that I can count upon a good, strong vote in tds community, for yesterday I heard of one woman who had spoiled six charac- ters in one week. JI want such women to vote, and I’m for free suffrage except for the Democrats, but if Tye got to go to Congress by their votes, ’m blest if I hadn’t rather stay at home and sell my machines for fifty cents apiece; because, to tell the truth, I had an uncle who went to Congress by Demo- cratic votes, and he was drunk all the time he was in Wash- ington, as that was the way, he said, to represent Ais con- stituents. * And now, fellow-citizens, and those on the front benches: What if you have holes in the heels of your stockings, or haven’t got any stockings at all—which is more than likely —-don’t hesitate to do your duty in this crisis. The first duty is, when I am up for Congress vote for me ; the next is, don’t vote for anybody else; the next in order is, stand around the pollgsand punch every man’s head who don’t yote as you do, and lastly, hereafter please address me, in all communications, as the ZIonorable J. Moses Stubbs. Any man who calls me Mose Stubbs must provide-himself with a half-dozen bottles of Rad- Way’s Ready Relief; and any woman who won’t be proud to have her seventh child named Moses is no friend of her country 12 THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. in this crisis, and can not consistently expect me to bleed and die in her defense and scll her a machine for less than a dollar. I believe now, I have canvassed the whole subject; but, if I’ve omitted any thing, you can imagine what I'd say, and so put it in the report of this speech. Tl station myself at the door, where, as the audience passes out, Dll afford an oppor- tunity to all the pretty girls in the assembly to kiss me. The married women, with husbands along with thein, will please not stop—it might create some confusion, and the price of my machines hereafter, until further notice, will be one dollar, *HANS SCHWACKHEIMER versus WOMAN’S SUF- FRAGE.—Same. Fe.tLow Brersies: Shust vourteen years once in a while ago I vos marriet py a \umans, und vos axed py te briest vot for I goin’ to do mit myself, petter or vorser? und I axed him: “ Dooner und blitzen, if L£ pe marriet I ish vorser to pe sure.” Und so, das mooch. Anudder ting: I gets, vonce in a while, ven I yos done mit te schurch, sometings in my hett yot te Yankees calls tangle- legs; und den te goonstable he grosses te sihreet over, uné says he, “Schwackheimer, you pees trunk ;’ und den he axes me vill I keeps trunk, or vill I goes to pet in te shail? So 4 tinks I’se got as goot rights to te pet in te shail as nopodies vat pays te taxes; und so I goes to shail. Dat’s cause I’se peen marriet py a briest mit a yomans. Vell, den, Mr. Beebles, vat you tink? Mine frau she coomes mit te briest shust as it pe night, und says: “ Schwackheimer, you’s a peast ;” und te briest he says: “ Schiwackheimer, you’s a pig sinner.” Dooner/ Den I gits mat as ter pull, for, haf I not gif te briest one tollar und fattle mit a schoppen of lager? Yaw, one tollar und fattle schoost pecause he makes Katrine pe my vife. SoI pe as mat asa pull, und I hit te-briest on te coph, und he falls town like a gabbage, und Katrine she falls town.too. Blitzen / Den I feels pat—mooch pat, for Katrine she cries, und te briest he cries; und I cries d SS ee re iS Pe, eee, HANS SCIWACKHELIMER ON WOMAN’S SUFFRAGE. 13 like as noddinks. Den Katrine she kisses te briest, und te briest he kisses Katrine; und so I sthops erying, quick ; und feels patter all te time; und pooty soon, by’mby, I shoost slips out te toor und locks it hart, und puts te key in mine pocket, und valks away like a shentleman vat has shust peen sick mit te measles, und ish a preakin out, you see. Vell den: te goonstable he cooms along, und says he- “Schwackheimer, ish you soper?”’ -“ Very goot,” says I “ Now go home, Schwackheimer,” says he, “und pe a goot hoospant, und make your new yife, what is waiting for you, mooch happy.” So I says, “ Yao!” und feels so queer in te stomach ash mate me go right ofer to Yost Schimmelphennig’s inn, und eats two pounts sauer kraut und scheese. Vell den: in Yost Schimmelphennig’s inn I sees a —pill hangin oop, vat says te ships Rotterdam he sails for America in two tays, foon Iamburg; und so I schoost takes te key to te shail in my pocket und gits on te cars und goes to Ham- burg und feels petter all te vay; und dat is te vay I’se an American citizens ! Now, den, l’se not got marriet again pecause I ish an Amer- ican citizens; und yen it ish times to vote, I gits on te stoomp to speak sometings against te vimmens as asks to wear te preeches. Schoost look at me! I weighs only one hoondred und dirty pounts. As I drinks six quarts lager every day, I ought to weigh two hoondred and dirty pounts.. I ish tin schoost pecause I has peen marrict ;.und I goes town on fe- mule suffrage, as you calls it, to a man—dat I does, Fellow becbles, female suffrage is nix goot ; vimmens is nix goot. Mitout vimmens ter wonld pe no schildrens, und den schoost tinks how mooch would pe saved dat te schildrens cost. Den every man could have a parrel of lager in hees house, und te vorld ish petter right off. So everypody vote against te yimmens. Dat’s all! THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER, ALL FOR A NOMINATION.—Geo. F. Meeser. Six months ago, with little cash, In politics I made a dash, Resolving, though I went to smash, I'd have the nomination. I went to work with all my might, I called on friends both day and night, And oft I thought, “ Oh, I’m all right,” Til get the nomination. The friends that brought me in the field, Said, “now, my boy, you must not yield, For boldness is your strongest shield To win the nomination.” They also urged another course-— Insisted on’t with all their foree— That I should get a coach and horse And hunt the nomination, I yielded to their argument ; For coach and horse my money spent, And every day a-driving went, To seck the nomination. I drove through north, and east, and west, Through all the precincts (twas thought best), And gave myself and horse no rest, To get the nomination. My cards I hung on tavern walls, And ticket bought for all the balls, Fed Pat and Mike at oyster stalls, To get the nomination. And often, too, the “lounds” I'd meet, In dozens walking down the street; Of course the party I must treat, To get the nomination. My family was neglected too, I saw them not for whole weeks through, And all these things I had to do, To get the nomination OLD OCEAN. 15 My business, too, sunk very low, Fer cash I knew not where to go, I thought it would not long be so— Td get the nomination. Thus time rolled on, and so did I! Six months elapsed, my hopes ran high, At last the day and hour drew nigh, To make the nomination. My friends were promptly on the ground, And when my hopes seemed almost crowned, Alas! I to my sorrow found I'd lost the nomination. With health impaired and pocket dry, T'll rest till three long years roll by, And then again, perhaps Pll try To get the nomination. OLD OCEAN.=~—Rev. A. A. Willetts. My Listeners: I speak to-night [or to-day] of Old Ocean. I pay my devoirs to him as to a majesty to whom we owe many blessizgs—much of our pleasure, and not a few of the noblest impressions which the human mind has received from outward forms and language. The ocean has not only the charms of sublimity and beauty, but it is filled with the riches of beneficence to man. That man is indebted for all the beauties and necessaries of life, T nold to be a truth. Of course, those who are lovers of oys- ters, fish, shell-fish, and lobster-salad, with all the other etcet- eras, are deeply indebted to this part of nature. Some call the ocean a “ waste of waters,” which is as gross a slander as calling the earth a “howling- wilderness.” I know of nothing to give the latter its name, except it be those who howl in it. Look over the map of the world, and you will find three-quarters covered with water. This is not, perhaps, u natural, when we view this vast disproportion to dry land, a. ‘magine that it weuld have been better had this vast 16 IHE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. expanse been filled with dry Jand, and its immeasurable deep filled up and covered with fields and forests, and valleys and hills—covered with cities—instead of this vast desert of water, Instead of being an incumbrance, the sea is essential to life and happiness to the world, as the circwlation of the blood is to the health and happiness of man. Instead of its being a waste and desert, it is the very thing that keeps the earth from becoming a waste and a desert. It is, then, the fountain to the earth of life and beauty.. Aud. if this great reservoir should be taken away, and its depths filled wp with dry land, the forests and the hill-tops would wither away. All mate- rial objects would crumble away, and all the children of the earth would grow emaciated, deformed, and die off. All beauty would be extinguished. Every thing would become dry, silent, and dead. Water is indispensable to all life, both vegetable and ani- mal, But water has not only done great. things for naviga tion, but as a steady drink for nourishment to all living thing it is indispensable. It is as necessary to the cedar upon the mountain-top as to the ivy that clings to the wall; as neces- sary to the mastodon that pastures upon the forests as to the animalcula that floats in the ocean’s deep. All things are by it made to grow, to have life, and be crowned with beauty. - This water, to give all these things life, is supplied by the sea. All the waters in the rivers and fountains, and springs and lakes, all Come out of the sea. An impression has prevailed that the rivers filled the sea ; but it is just the reverse. It is the flow of the sea that fills the rivers. You hear or have read of orators exclaiming, “ Britannia rules the waves,” or of the quaint saying of the Yankee, that “ we have but to turn the Mississippi river into the Mammoth Cave, and the British navy would: be flounder- ing in the mud.” The rivers made the sea, but it is the sca which makes the rivers. All of the waters of the river have once been in the clouds, and clouds are but the condensation of the invisible vapor which floats in the air; and when all this vapor las been lifted into the air by the sunbeams, it forms into clouds, and the winds waft them over the land to refill the rivers and refresh the earth. This is the reason why l THE SEA, THE SEA, THE OPEN SEA. 17 the ocean never overflows the earth, because its superfluity goes floating off into the air to the same amount which the ocean receives from the rivers. For every Mississippi and Athuzon which flows into the sex, so to speak, another Mis- sissippi and Amazon run out of it. The “old ocean” is the nursing mother to all living things on the globe. ° All the cities, nations and continents—all liv- ing things—the trees and beautcous flowers which brighten this world, the trees on the hill-tops aud the delicate and many- tinted flowers by the wayside, all wait upon the sea for their Rurture and life. Thus it is made a generous giver to the nourishment of the whole world. Without it, all nature would return to dust. Bountiful and beautiful mother ocean | let man never forget what he owes to thee! TUE SEA, THE SEA, THE OPEN SEA -Same. What would become of us if it were not for the beneficence of the sea? The proportion of decay would soon make this earth’s surface one yast receptacle of corruption, whose stag- nant air would soon and swiftly breed. pestilence. But for the beneficial drainage office of the sea, such would be the result. The sca is as essential to us for carrying away the decayed matter as for bringing in materials of life. Nothing Could save us if the great deep did not act as a purifier of the Corrupt earth, And if: it is.asked if the winds are not a Mmeuns of purification, I answer, “ No;’ for there is no place tc deposit their burden, which will accumulate in their hands, aud fill all their breath with poisonous effluvia, aud carry de+ Struction into eyery part of the world at once. But the rains have come from the sea for the purpose of purifying the winds and emptying their hands of their burdens. The rain is ever Teady for this grand purifying office. The seca becomes the grand scavenger of the world. It is Not one of the Street Commissioners, who go on the general Principle as laid down in Dickens’ “ Bleak House,” where is Portrayed the “Cireumlocution Oftice,” in which the great « 18 THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. study was, “ how not to do it.” If we were left to the tender mercies of the sanitary officers, we should not, and could not, live in our cilies. The sea is the great purifier of nature, whicl: never betrays its trust. Where no sanitary company could go, no Street Commissioner would go, its million eyes are watchful, its million hands are ready, in exploring the lurking-plaices of decay, and to bear swifly away the danger- ous sediment, and hide it in the slimy bottom of the. great deep. One hundred billions of tons of the sediment of the earth are borne by the rivers into the ocean in a single summer, Let your little ready reckoner think and meditate on that with our national debt. Fill all the ships and use all the railroads in the world, and Jet all the men and all the women work together in this great sanitary toil, and they could not accom- plish what is thus done by the beneficent agent, the sea; and all is done so silently, so easily, and all working at once, as well as speedily and effectually; no caucuses, no decrees of legislature, stump speeches or clectioneering ; no excitements, run-drinking, newspaper-lying, bribing, lobbying or fighting ; no Tammany or Mozart Hall meetings. Thank God that the sea is not under contribution to man or politicians. The winds whose wings are weary, and their breath sick- ening with the malaria of the Jand, always go to the “ off- soundings” to recover their health. They evidently believe in water-cure. They are hydropathists. Here they rest when worn out and weary—rest in the vast swinging-bath of the ocean, And when they have been filled with health, and purity, and sweetness, they lift their wild pinions to the air, and move across the waters to the panting, dry, and sultry land. They strike pinions from the ocean, the sweet voices singing; “ We come, we come: for the boundless flight, With hearts full of love and wings full of might; Over mountains high and valleys deep, Our broad, invisible wings shall sweep.” we y THE S£AR bANGLED SPANNER. 19 THE STAR BANGLED SPANNER. — Adapted from the “ Comic Monthly.” Friiow-Crrizexs: Called upon by an overpowering force of friends, who have elevated me upon the platform, alto- gether against my own personal wishes, as you must know, Lam yet happy to present myself before this august assem- bly in December [substitute any oiler month proper]. The Occasion is one to inspire even a mannikiu—or, for that mat- ter, a woman-kin. We celebrate the glories of the flag of freedom, and he whose bosom don’t swell at the thought, hasn’t got any more bosom than a shovel. When the Siar Bangled Spanner floats proudly to the four winds of hieayen, at the midnight hour, and the soarin’ cagle above it, with golden, flapped-out wings, waichen our Old Hen, America, while her chickens slumber, and that immense emblem waven as never a flag like unto it a-wove before, so proudly in sight of the silvery moon that shines forth in all ils emulgency, surrounded by twinkling stars in the azure exparse of the blue creolean armory aboye—who, where, can be found the miscreant within American boundaries so svon “to be enlarged,’ who dare yell out unheroically, “ Cud 7a down !? “ Qut it down! /” Tell me, fellow-creatures, tell me, in the presence of that great Master Architect of the universe, who Wheels his thrones upon the rolling spheres, as he passes over the nations of the earth to call his rulers to judgment—-tell me, in Ilis name, who makes no time in rolling a borealis through the unfathomable regions of fiery hemispheres—thut such a being “ still lives,” existing in troosaloons or in petti- Coats, Norf, or Souf, who is in a hurry, to whistle at a rope’s end ;—then, fellow-citizens, will he be as dnglorious as the American Flag is gel-le-rorious—for he’ll have no equul / / “ Cut it down! !” Everlasting stars! Have you a child, even a chickea of this country’s brood, mean enough to do it? Then “shoot him on the spot,’ as General Dix said; and let him remember, by way of retaliation, that the Law Of our land defines conspiracy like unto a walking-chicken— & foul proceeding | “Oné it down/!? — Prodigions times are these! The- 30 THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. National fZerse has passed by, we hope for the last time! The big circus cavalry have dismounted, and the grand caravan of Peace is marching on, and marching on—a multitude in itself—while the American Rooster so blightly flaps and flaps his wings, “ co-joy-ously,’ and marshals his feathery dames around him, “ co-joy-ously,” again and again | “ Cut it dewn!/” Fellow-citizens ! hearken, hearken, from the Atlantic to the Specific Oceans! Providence sifted, ‘tis said, three mighty kingdoms to find seed to plant the United States of America, and I believe it; for Plato reasoned so, and a Galen sung! And hearken agin, ye bloody big fighters agin all Europe! I say, there’s distant thunder 1! For four se-verial years there’s been a roarin, and roarin ; and over the “big pond” there’s been a growl, too, like unto a caged hyena, over forty pounds of bloody bull-beef! The time is coming when chalk accounts must be rubbed out, and the day of reckoning be made holy !! It's going to take some stamps, too, out of JoAn Bulls wallet; and when he draws his leather in behalf of Brother Jonathan, it won’t be hundreds, nor thousands, but millions ; peradventure it might loom up toward the billions; peradventure, up “ one more round of Jacob’s Ladder”—and I guess that would be up pretty near heavyen—and away tothe tep// And when them “Jectle items” are poked into old Neuter Allity’s fuice—that old cuss, known to be “ first in crackers, first in cheese, and first in the pockets of his countrymen ”—he mustn’t squint over the “bill of expenses,” throw it back, and yell out, gruflingly, “ cud it down! 1 Long ago, didn’t us fellers make John Bull draw in his horns, when he saw our American Steers? And didn’t we play ZZodds with him, and Cup him, too? And ain’t we flung frem his owt mast-head the Goddess of Liberty’s Starry shawl, proclaiming to him,“ or any other man,” to the majes-4 tic air of the Star Bangled Spangler, that “ Britannia does not rule the waves?” And he dassen’t “ cut tt down | /” “ Cut tt down! /? That “illustrious individual,” too, who makes Liberty in France, like a pig swimming down a river With the tide and current in its favor, to cut its own thront, how has ie stood? Has he been one of ws? I mean, fel!oww-citi- zens, the sardine, who, like the ancient Evyptians, *): vs + a. int, | ae ae. THE STAR BANGLED SPANNER. 21 propensity for gambling, after deth, and who, to-day, smells like a bad sandwich, because he’s from a strong lam/ He, the sweet-scented geranium, who is like the legs of a pawnbrok- er’s counter—the counterfee(i)t of his Uncle—say, how duz he staid? I mean, fellow-citizens, he who, to-day, is like an old almanac-maker, for the prophecies of his future reign (rain) can not be relied upon; who will, ere long, find his Precious self in a bad box, like a through passenger in a rickety omnibus; he, the scion of a great man, who seems to love to catch pennies, like a half-starved organ-grinder, with an eye on the throne, and his organ hard on Rome; who is Hungary as a Bear; he who would like to devour Bull-beef, and even Eagle-flesh, if it were not too tough!! How does he stand? Does he loveus? Isn’t he a double-distilled anti- febrile aperient—anti-scorbutic-spasmatic thief—a French-Mex- ico-Maximilian robber of the first dip? who hates America, and calls us “ Yankee sacrilegious rowdies?” Who, some morning, will wake up from a Wap, any thing but a sovereign ! England and France, co-jointly, would to-morrow, if they dared to do it—* cut it down! |” : But, fellow-citizens, the greut Russian Bear keeps aloof— goes on his own hook, as the butcher said when he hung himself! although he don’t seem to like home-bred Turkey, or to be a favorite of English boys’ Tarts, or to stomach American Intervention Sauce!! But, fellow-citizens, the time 7s coming, when the American Flag will wave upon the walls of Jerusalem! Just as sure a thing to det on, as you can scare up—as sure to come as rain in Quaker-meeting time ! Ilearken! Yes, my fellow-citizens, to this my farewell appeal to you, ere I retire to my private flat-boat off the balmy shores of Cat Island! We are about to part; but, remember that Flag—for the time is near at hand, when the only dey extant will be forthcoming, that will eventually lock up all tyrants—and unlock the fetters that bind freedom—and that Key, {ellow-citizens, will be—the Yan-Kee / | THE DIME STUMP SPRAKER. STAY WHERE YOU BELONG.—T. Dewitt Talmage. The fact can but be admitted that there are thousands of persons in places where they do not belong. The bird’s wing means air, the fish’s fin means water, the horse’s hoof means ground, and just what would happen if the bird tried the water and the fish tried the air, happens when men get out of their natural element. In my watch the springs can not exchange places with the wheels, nor the cogs with the pivots; “Stay where I put you,” cries the watchmaker, “if you want to keep good time ;” and, my friends, the world is only a big watch, that God wound up, and the seasons are the hands, which tell how fast the time is going. “Stay where I put you,” says our great Creator. Tuman society is like a ship. Some are to go ahead—they are the prow-; some are to stay behind and guide those who lead—-they are the helm; some are to be enthusiastic, and carry the flag—they are the masts; some are to do nothing but act as a dead-weiglt—they are shoveled in as ballast; some are to fume and fret and blow— they are the valves. We are willing, Mother Nature, to take any of them except two. Please excuse us from being either the ballast or the valves. Our happiness and success depend on being where we be- long. A scow may be admirable, and a fifty-four-pounder steamship may be admirable; but do not put the scow on the ocean, or the fifty-four-pounder in a mill-pond. Fortune is not so unreasonable as sometimes represented to be. She is spoken of as an old shrew, with hot-water-spout and tongs pursuing the innocent; sometimes losing her tem- per. But she mostly approves of those who are in their spheres, and condemns those who are where they do not be long. How then, say some, do you account for the success of such persons as Elihu Burritt and Hugh Miller ?—the former a blacksmith, yet showing that he had unbounded capacity for the acquisition of language ; and the latter a stone-mason, and yet, as though he were one of the old buried Titans come to life, pressing up through rocks and mountains, until, shak- ing from his coat a world of red-sandstone, and washing from his hands the dust of millions of years, he takes the professor's Pe en ee ar STAY WHERE YOU BELONG. 23. Chair in a college. You say, I suppose, these men start- ed in the wrong business. No, they did not.’ Different men Want different kinds of colleges. The anvil was the best School-desk for Elihu Burritt, and the quarry-stone for Hugh Miller. Oxford and Cambridge and Yale are not what such hen want to develop them. Elihu Burritt, among th* ¢nders and herse-shoes, learned that patient toil which was che seeret of his acquisitions in the languages. Hugh Miller, from observations made while toil- ing with cliisel and crowbar, laid the foundation of his won- derful attainments, one shelf of rock being worth to him more than the hundred shelves of a college library. Not to say a lithe against colleges, some men find a way up to. their mis- Sion without passing under academic shades. It is strange to notice in what different ways different men are prepared for their occupations and professions. Some men get into an occupation below that for which they were intended. Excessive modesty keeps them from the po- Sition for which they are fitted. They have, then, a filty-four- pounder. in the mill-pond of which I have been speaking. They do not get along half as well as somebody with less brains and less capacity. An elephant would make wretcbed work if you set it to hatch out goose-eggs, but no more than a& man of great attainments appointing himself to some insig- nificant office. Ever and anon a great revolution throws some such man out of his hiding-place. | His moral strength would hever have been known had not necessity made him come up Gut of his insignificant position, But the opposite is generally the case. Men are ofien in the position a little above that for which they were intended. Now the old scow is out on the ocean. The weights of the Clock said, ‘' Come, come, this is dull work down here ; I want to be the pendulum.” But the pendulum shouted upward, “Tam tired of this work ; it does not seem that I make any Progress going backward and forward. Oh! that I were the hands!” Under this excitement the old clock, which had been going ever since the Revolutionary wat, stopped stock Sill. “ What is the matter, now, my old friend ?” says the 8ray-haired patriarch. For very shame, nota word was said Nntil the old man set it agoing. Then the striking-bell spoke THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. up, and said, “ Nothing; only the weights wanted to be the pendulum, and the pendulum wanted to be the hands !? “ Well, well,” said grandfather, “this is great work ;’ and the old man, losing his patience a little, gave the clove a gentle slap on the face, and told the pendulum hereafter to hold its tongue, aud said to the weights, “ You be hanged !” LIFE IS JUST WHAT YOU MAKE IT.—Same. Like most garments, like most carpets, every thing in life has a right side and a wrong side. You can take any joy, and by turning it around, find troubles on the other side; or you may take the greatest trouble, and by turning it around, find joys on the other side. The gloomiest mountain never casts a shadow on both sides at once, nor does the greatest of life’s calamities. The earth, in its revolutions, manages about the night; it never has darkness all over at the same time. Sometimes it has light in America and sometimes in China; but there is some part of the earth constantly in the bright sunlight. My friends, do as the earth does. When you have got trouble, keep turning round, and you will find sunlight somewhere. Amid the thickest gloom through which you are called to pass, carry your own candle. A consummate fret will in almost every instance come to nothing. You will not go to such a merchant’s store, nor employ such a mechanic, nor call such a minister, Fretfulness will kill any thing that is not in its nature im- mortal. There is a large class of persons in constant trouble about their health, although the same amount of strength in a cheerful man would be taken as healthiness. Their diges- tion being constantly suspected of unfaithfulness, finally re- fuses to serve such a master, and says, “ Hereafter make way with your own lobsters,” and the suspicious lungs resign theit office, saying, “ Hereafter blow your own bellows.” He shoots so vigorously at his liver with blue pills, that the contest has got to be as fierce as Lecompton and anti-Lecompton. For the last twenty years he has been expecting every moment to LIFE IS JUST WHAT YOU MAKE, IT. 25 faint. THis nerves make insurrection and rise up against. his - head, saying, “ Come, let us seize upon this armory,” Tis face is perpetually drawn as though he cither had a pain or expected one. You fear to accost him with “ Tow are you ?” for that would be the signal for a shower of complaints. He is always get- ling a Jump on his side, an enlargement of the heart, or a Curve in his spine. If some of these disorders did not actually come, he would be sick of disappointment. Ie challenges €very apple that passes through his mouth as though it were 8 S yracuse Abolitionist going down to Harper’s Ferry. Ht you ‘should find his memorandum-book you would discover in it receipts in elderly female handwriting for the cure of all styles of diseases, from softening the brains in a man down to the botts in a horse. Ilis bedroom shelf is an apothecary’s in- fantum, where medicines of all kinds may be found, from large Vottley full of headwash for diseased craniums down to the smallest vial full of the best preparation for the removing ‘of corns from the feef! Thousands of men are being de- Stroyed by this constant suspicion as to their health, No physical constitution that was ever created could endure such an exhaustive process. Others settle down into a gloomy state from forebodings of _trouble to come. They do not know why it is, but they are always expecting that something will happen. They imagine about one presentiment a week. A bird flies into the win- dow, or a salt-cellar upsets on the table, or a cricket chirps on the hearth, and they shiver all over, and expect a messenger speedily to come in hot haste at the front of the door, and rush in with evil tidings. They build a pigeon-coop and hang it up, for troubles to enter and make their nests, if they come anywhere near that region. = Away ! away ! with all forebodings as to the future, Cheer © Wp, disconsolate ones. Go forth among nattre. Look up to- ward the heavens, insufficiently bright by day, or at night, When the sky is merry with ten thousand stars joining hands Of Jight, with the earth in the ring going round and round, With gieam and dance and song, making old night feel young again. Go to the forest, where the woodman’s ax rings on the trees, and the solitude is broken by the call of the wood. ‘THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. sparrow, and the chewink starting up from under the huckle berry bushes. Go to where the streams leap down off th ~ocks, and their crystal heels clatter over the white peb bles. Go to where the wild flowers stand drinking out of the mountain brook, and, scattered on grass, look as if all the oracles had cast their crowns at the foot of the steep. IJark to the fluting of the winds, and the long-meter psalms of the thunder! Look at the morning coming down the mountains, and evening drawing aside the curtain from heayen’s wall of jasper and amethyst, sardonx and chalcedony! Look at all this, and then be happy. eH WHERE'S MY MONEY? Ay, where’s my money? That’s a puzzling query. It vanishes. Yet neither in my purse Nor pockets are there any holes. ’Tis very Incomprehensible. I don’t disburse For superfluities. I wear plain clothes. I seldom buy jam-tarts, preserves or honey ; And no one overlooks what debts he owes More steadily than J.. Where is my money ? I never tipple. Folks don’t see. me staggering, Sans cane and castor, in the public street. I sport no ornaments—not even a bagne (ring). I have a notion that my own two fect Are much superior to a horse’s four, So never ‘call a jarvey. It is funny, The longer I investigate, the more Astoundedly I ask, Where is my money ? My money, mind you. Other people’s dollars Sohere together nobly. Only mine ‘ Cut one another. There's that pink of scholars Von Doppledronk, he spends as much on wine As I on every thing. Yet he seems rich, He laughs, and waxes plumper than a tunny, While i grow slim as a divining-switch, And search for gold as vainly. Where’s my thoney ? . A STUMP SPEECH FROM TITE CONSTABLE. 3? I can’t complain that editors don’t pay me; I get for every sheet one pound sixteen ; And well I may! My articles are flamey Enough to blow up any magazine. What’s queerest in the affair, though, is, that at The same time I miss nothing but the one. He That watches me will find I don’t lose hat, Gloves, fogle-stick, or cloak. ’Tis always money. Were I a rake, I’d say so. Where one roysters Beyond the rules, of course his cash must go. Tis true I regularly sup on oysters, Cheese, brandy and all that. But even sol What signifies a ducat of a night! “The barmaids,” you may fancy. No, the sunny Loadstar that draws my tin is not the light From their eyes, anyhow. Where then’s my money ? However, apropos of eyes and maidens, I own I do make presents to the sex— Books, watches, trinkets, music too (not Haydn’s), Combs, shawls, vails, bonnets—things that might perplex A man to count. But still 1 gain by what I lose in this way. ’Tis experience won—eh ? I think so. My acquaintances think not. : No matter. I grow tedious. Where’s my money? ASTUMP SPEECH FROM TUE CONSTABLE.— Original. Frvuer-Citizens: IT am a candidate for popular sufferinks, Tam—that is, I am runnin for the responsible office of Con- Stable, It ain’t every man that’s fitted for that office—not by a jug-full! In the fust place, ’'ve got courage, I kin say there ain’t & man this side of Hackensack that is afraid of me. So that’s established. In the other place, I've got no responsibilities. When a Mhan’s got snugly to bed, and some one comes along for him to serve a process or to arrest 2 mule-factor, why, if there is THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. responsibilities in the case—a wife, do ye see—and she says to the party of the first part thumping at the door, “Just go long "bout yer business,” why, ye see, i's sure tc interfere with the due progress of justice; and it thereupon follows that a man with a responsibility isn’t fit to be run for Constable. Sv, that’s so | In the next place, 2m good on my legs, and that’s very important in runnin for office. A Constable, sir, may be called upon to do some tall pegging. If its a fugitive from the Justice of the Peace’s custody, who is making tracks for the township line, it’s ad/-important that the Constable should be fast, sir, fast. JI kin make a mile in eight’ minutes. So that settles that question ! And then, I’m very tender on the feclins. I kin levy an execution so slick-like, that the poor devil as is executed will actually enjoy it. If the wimmen-folks blubbers, I kin make ’em feel at home at once jest by my overpowerin manners and address, and that is all-important. Alas, alas, how many hearts has been broke by rough executions! So, now, that’s conclusive. IL kin read, write, and cipher like a summer school-marm, and kin figger up costs like a miller takin toll, All office- holders kin do that, I know, but I kin do it by simple addi- — tion, which isn’t half so bad as to do it by multiplication. Every office-holder understands the Pala rble to perfection—as you all very well know. And again, I ain’t afraid of impeachment— the tee on which Andy split—because, first, 1 know how to keep my temper, and, second, because I don’t care a tinker’s cup for the Presidency, and that’s what was the matter. No, feller- cilizens, ’m not going to run my head into a honey-hive, for there might be some bees there which would sting awful, and I would resign before anybody should charge eleven high crimes and misdemeanors against me. Now, I've made a clean breast of it, and I ask for yoar sufferages as the hen would gather her chickens under het wing. [kin promise peace and prosperity, and a relief from ‘the terrible burden of national taxation, to all who will vote for me, providing Pm elected, and my constituents subscribe liberally to the electioneering-fund. If I have to pay the —_ A MAN’S TRUE RELATION TO SOCliTY. 29 whole shot assessed on the constabulary, I don’t see as I’ve eft much of a fortune in being the nominee of the Great Reform Party; and yet, I'm willing to serye my country; and so, again offer myself, without reserve, for your suffer- ages. A MAN’S TRUE RELATION TO SOCIETY. — Henry Ward Beecher. L Man is a creature of society. What he contributes to so- } ciety will determine what influence wiil come back to him from society. Lay this down as arule almost universal, what you carry to men you will receive back from men. He who carries temper will find anger. He who carries pride finds pride, Ile who carries selfishness finds selfishness. He who carries benevolence finds good-nature. He that carries good- ness reaps goodness.in return. He who keeps saying that this is a wicked, wicked world, J think a very wicked, Wicked man. ie who judges every thing hypocritical may be judged as a hypocrite himself. Good men, we generally find, carry thefr goodness with them. The community reccive and pay back just what you give them; what you blazon, that they repeat. One of the main springs of happiness grows out of the soil which men enrich or impoverish by their own hands, . A man, if he shapes true manhood and royalty of. charac- ter, lias contributed to the good of society. Evyenif he should do nothing more, he has already so far contributed much to the community with which he is identified. Me who raises children well receives the thanks of those about him; and he who raises well a virtuous family, brings around about him the sympathy, kindly regards, and best fecling of the community wherein he dwells. Do not be ashamed of home,and if you have to go out of it, go cheerfully, go boldly ; and if you are driven out, calling it paradise eyen then. The rearing of a virtuous homestead has elements for the production of happi- ness to the community in which you live. He who makes the community happy with the light of kindliness, is always borne in heart and mind. His smiles are ever sources of en- joyment, and his hearty laughter makes all things bright. He that plants trees, plants a home for the birds that fill ita = BO THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. boughs, and affords a shelter for the poor man that comes by the way. Iie who spreads beds of flowers, spreads them for every one, who thus receiyes the refreshing odor which arises. from them. Was it selfishness that prompted Michael Angelo to build the church of St. Peter? Did he not build it for ali ages, and for the race? and when he painted his masterpiece of the Transfiguration, did he paint it for his own self or for the joy and glory of his race? He who builds a homestead, and replenishes it with love and virtue, surrounds it necessa- rily with happiness and prosperity. He does not rear this so- cial monument for selfishness’ sake! He that owns a large estate, and so administers it that the whole community are blest in its use, is a public benefactor, And when men so live and so rear their households, they are beautifying and decorating the communities in which they dwell, and they can not fail in meeting with a rich reward of happiness. THE LIMITS TO TRUE HAPPINESS.—Saime. It is important that we should know within what limits and bounds we are to seek for happiness, lest we shall miss by not knowing what to aim at. Eyen with the wisest rules, and with perfect self-restraint, men can not be perfectly and entirely happy. There is a work of pain and suffering in human life, since pain and suffering are the very factors of happiness. An artist can not make his picture stand out in its lights, except by introducing shadows. It is just as plain that in this per- fect development pain is an element so important that for the most part to withdraw it would be equivalent to giving up the education of men. No man learns any thing except by a long series of experi- ments, each involving patience, disappointment, suffering, cha- grin, to say nothing of anger and fear, which are eminent factors of human conduct. No man inherits knowledge. No man starts in life with the sins of his father on his head. One man is born sinful-minded. Another one blind, or deaf, or speechless. Some are born with a taint of insanity, others with an appetite for strong drink (this is hereditary). Some THE LIMITS TO TRUE HAPPINESS. 81 men are born with fiery nerves, that sparkle and burn with the slightest excitement; others are born lethargic, cold, al- most congealed. Some overrun, some lag behind. Some are surrounded with society that depraves and hinders every thing. Some are met on the threshold by love, and yirtue, and picty. : Few things are given to all in the universal disparities of organization and condition. In one theory all are alike—the best and the worst, the highest and the lowest—they enter upon a life of unfolding, of training, and training in this world is by conflict. Men are started into life not perfectly sym- metric, but every man comes into life with a bundle of raw elements, which he is to learn how to organize into character. How truly, no man finds himself at birth. On the road men find themselves, if at all. And out of the very night it is mysteriously inspired to the best, “It doth not yet appear what you shall be.” Now it is this universal necessity of growth, construction, and reconstruction which iakes happiness equal, uniform, and continuous. To search for it is vain... As there can not be any temper given to metal without beating, so God tempers -men by pain. Suffering is the mother of fortitude, of patience, . of faith and of hope. Suffering deepens every affection, con- verts materials into principles. Let men look back and re- count the things that have most favored them in life. All the things that were sweetest in the fruition are forgotten, and men that are men will remember that they were made by their rug- ged experiences, — It was the discipline that enabled them. to bear as a good soldier. It was worth setting themselyes against nature, and apparently against Providence, to win the battle, Every man who is a man, and has battled his way up, can say to men, if you were to take out of the expcriences of my life, all the pains and suffering, I should be left pulpy. A man without pain is a man without a bone in his body, The very first step toward happiness, then, consists in the tight conception of its limits. THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. GOOD-NATURE, WHAT A BLESSING !— Same. Good-nature—what a blessing! Without it a man is like a wagon Without springs, it has the full benefit of every stone and way-rut. Good-nature is the prime minister of a good conscience. It tells of the genial spirit within, and good-na ture never fails of a wholesome effect without. Good-nature is not only the government of one’s own spirit, but it goes far in its effects upon those of others. It mani- fests itself on every street; it humanizes man; it softens the friction of a business world. Good-nature is the harmonious act of conscience. Good-nature in practical affiirs is better than any other; better than what men call justice ; better than dignity ; better than standing on one’s rights, which is so often the narrowest and worst place to stand on one can find. A man who Jacks good-nature is like a long, lean, bony ma, silting on an oak bench, without any thing under him— while a good-natured man is Jike a fleshy man who always has a cushion under him. Ile can sit down anywhere and be comtortable. A man who Jacks good-nature is always quar- reling with somebody. It is impossible for him to agree with any one, and he is always losing his temper. This want of good-nature made a certain President’s road a hard one to travel. He might have seen better days had he known how to regulate his temper. A man who knows how.to hold on to his temper, is the man who is respected by the community. And one who has a good nature, successfully trayels about as does he who goes upon the principle—little of baggage, but plenty of moncy¥ ! A man who is armed with hopefulness, cheerfulness, and a genial spirit, is one who is going to be of practical and bene- ficent usefulness to his fellow-man. ‘There are no things by which the troubles and difficulties of this life can be resisted better than with wit and humor. And let the happy person who possesses these—if he be brought into the folds of the church—not allow conyersion to deprive him of them. God has constituted these in man, and especially when they are so salient in mecling good-naturedly the trials of this world, they should be used. Happiness, at last, is dependent upon a soul that has holy communion with its Creator—-“ for in Him we ~ — A SHORT SERMON FROM THE HARD-SHELL BAPTIST. 83 have life eternal.” Men also fail in happiness because they Tefuse to read the great lessons found in the great book of nature. Happiness is to be sought in the possessien of true Manhood rather than in its internal conditions. A SHORT SERMON FROM THE HARD-SHLLL BAP- TIST, “There's nine men a-standin’ at the door, and they all said they'd take sugar in thern.” Sich, friends and brethren, was the talk, in a worldly cents, Wuns common in this our ainshunt land; but the dais is gone by, and the sun runs dry, and no man can say to his nabor, hoo art thou, man, and will you take eny mure shoogar in your kaughphy ? 3ut the words of our text has a diffrunt ani a more per- tickler meanin than this. Thar tha stood at the doar on a cold winter’s mornin, two Baptists, two Metho.lists, two Pres- byterians, and three Lutherans, and the tother one was a publican. And tha all with one vois said thay’d not dirty ther feet in a dram shop, but if the publican wood go and get the drinks thay’d pay for’em. An’ tha all cride out an’ evry man sed, “Pl take mine with shugar, for it won't feel good to drink the stuff without sweetnin.” So the publikin he marched jin, and the barkeeper sed: “ What want ye?” And he ancerd and sed, “A drink!’ “ How will ye have it?’ “Plane and strate,” sez he, “ for it’s no use wastin shu- gar to circumsalivate akafortis. But there’s nine more a-standin at the door, and tha all sed thay’d take shugar in thern.” Friends and brethren, it ain’t only likker and sperrits that is drunk in this runderbout and underhand way, but it is the likker of all sorts of human wickenis, in like manur. Thar’s the likker of malis, that many of you drink to the dregs, but yure shure to sweeten it with the shugar of self-justification. Thar’s the likker of averis, that some of you kéeps behind the curtin for constant use, but you always has it well mixt With the sweetnin of prudens and econimy. Thar’s the likker of self-luvy. that sum men drinks by the gallon, but tha all THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. puts into it lots of the shugar of take keer of No.1. And thar’s the likker of extorshun, which the man sweetens ac- cordin to cireumstances. If he’s in the flour line, he'll say the poor’ll be better off eatin korn bred; if he’s in the clothes line, he'll say its a good thing to make ’em lun to make clothes to home; if he’s in the lether line, ivll Jarn *em the needcessity of takin better keer of ther shoos. “ And that’s nine more a-standin at the dore, and tha all sed thay’d take shugar in thern.” But, friends and brethren, thar’s a time cummin, and a place fixin, whar thar']l be no “standin at the dore,” to call for “ shugar in thern,” but thay’ll have to go rite in and take the drink squar up to the frunt; and the barkeeperll be old Sa- tan, and nobody else; and he'll give ’em “shugar in thern,” you better believe it, and itll be shugar of Jed, and red hot led at that, as shure as your name’s Conshuns Dodger. And yowll be entitled to your rashuns three times a day, if not more’ frequientlicr, and if you don’t like it you'll have to lump it, and so may the Old Nick close down on all your silk perlaverin around all the plane old pools of brutherly luv and ginirosity and feller-feclin and fair play. *TAIL-ENDERS.—0, J. W. I talk of Tail-enders. Don’t be alarmed, for it is not a disquisition on crawfish, nor yet a treatise on the refuse of a ship’s cargo. Nor do I refer to the peculiarly exquisite or- ganism of the polecat, by which the tail-end is made to dif. fuse odors that would have conquered even the Augean sta- bles. Tail-ender, in fact, is neither an anomaly nora lusus nature, for it implies what lives, moves, and has a being in our social, political and religious world, evermore—what is in every community, and is to the civilization of to-day what a float is to a fish’s tail—sometlting to keep the fish from div- ing too deep or swimming too fast. In the more common parlance, tail-ender is a conservative. He is as far behind as he can be, and claim relation to the body. A tail-ender is generally kuown by his switch. - When TAIL-ENDERS, 8 the head resolves to go through a musketo swamp, the tail- ender strikes violently toward the head, and cries, funaite / hot-headed ! blind! zealot! ‘Tail-ender is furious, for, in spite of himself, he is made active; so he whips both the insects and the body with the same blow. Tail-ender is full of abu- sive words against the heart, forgetting he is a less “ comely part.” The tail-ender, calling himself by a name as definite as a piece of chalk, to cover up his real character, is not an original thinker; is not a reformer of systems and men; is not the man who will get the curses of the wicked, nor will he die a martyr. Ile looks on while the battle rages hotly, and curses and abuses the reformer until he sees the victor perching high and gloriously, when he all of a sudden finds himself, as he sup- poses, a great champion. THe tells us he was always of this opinion. This last may be true, but he has not the courage to say it or act it. His conservativeness was such that he was as dark as night on the subject to others, excepting as he joined in the shout of ridicule, while the conflict was ter- rific and undecided. Now that all is clear before him, he comes along because he sees that his popularity is in danger, if he stays any further behind! We have these tail-enders in some of our churches—tail- enders on Sunday-schools, missions, Bible-cause, education, and on many other subjects. They got their religious and intellectual growth when they were about thirty years old, and about twenty to forty years ago. They see no sense in the new-fangled notions of the present day. They, however, find that they must move a little or part with society, so they drag on after the body, declaring they will never go any fur- ther. They think just so, but will go after the body. They are not going to unjoint the posterior region. As long as the Vitality of the body is sufficient to keep the appendage a little Warm, and the fanatical head take the idea of having a fight With old-fogyism, these conservative tail-enders will move too, and come in at last. THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. THE VALUE OF MONEY. Obscurely I had passed my life— A wretched ignoramus— Till I, like Byron, woke and found “ Myself, one morning, famous.” All darkly had life’s weather been, Though now so bright and sunny ; But then, the change is not so strange—= Tve lately had some money ! Where’er I went, folks ran away, As if from burning lava! I seemed a living emblem of The “ Poison Tree of Jaya!” Tis not so now—for all, I vow, Flock near, like flies round honcy ; Oh, magic change of Fortune’s wand! Tve lately had some money ! I used to say some funny things, At least, I dared to think so, But dead upon the ear they fell, And all away would shrink so. My mouth I never open now, But all I say is funny ; They'll even bring hysterics on ; I’ve lately had some money ! Though young and handsome, once I thought That I should ne’er be wedded ; Mammas their daughters kept from me As from a scarecrow dreaded ! The ugliest girl I could not move; Nor her with hump and one eye: But “angels” now run after me: Y’ve lately had some money ! On any subject in debate, If I an idea started, j aie A METEORIC DISQUISITION. 87 I xe’er was listened to, and none Cared how in scorn I smarted, My slightest whisper now is heard— No more their ears are dummy ; They can not act without my views: Tye lately had some money ! *\ METEORIC DISQUISITION.—Highly Original. LApics AND GENTLEMEN: The wonderful progress of Science, by concatenation of propitious instramentalities, ren- ders it among the intellectual impossibilities for one under- Standing to comprehend and assimilate the universal whole, But we students, by devoting our energies to specific studies, Make gratifying advances into the mysterious regions of the arcana of knowledge; and that you may realize how admir- able is that advance, under the benign sway of our teacher's eye, I will demonstrate to you the present status of meteoric Phenomena and meteorological science : When the melofygistic temperature of the horizon is such as to calorocise the impurient indentation of the hemispheric Analogy, the cohesion of the borax curbistus becomes sur- Charged with infinitesimals, which are thereby virtually de- Prived of their fissural disquisitions. This effected, a rapid depolarization is produced in the thoramoumpter of the gym- Paticustus palerium, which causes a convacular in the hexa- onal antipathics of the terestrium aqua verush. The clouds then become a mass of dephlebotomized specule of ceremocu- lar light, which can only be seen when it is visible. Corrus- tant atomic entities haye been centralized by the concurrent Afliux of the gravitable and ctherealized qualities of combus- Uve gener ; but, if is not yet demonstrable that circum. ambient processes involving the refracticability of the tangen tal forces can precipitate or decrystallize the peripatetizonce Mena of the infinitesimal cosmic capuscule around us. Hence, §& p corollary, and deductively demonstrable certainty, shoct- ing stars are combustive corks blown out of Aolic beer-botties, 8nd meteoric stars are fragments of said beer-bottles whic Couldn’t stand the pressure. 2 THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. LG SURE YOU ARE RIGHT, THEN GO AHEAD.—T7 Dewitt Talmage. We mnst stay exactly in our place—not an inch above, not an inch below. But how shall I tell if I stand in my exact appointment, not a particle above, not a particle beneath ? Vis is the test:—If you can perform your duty easily, wiih- oul being cramped ot exhausted, that is the right piace. That nui is in a horrible condition who is ever making prodigious efforts to do a little more than he can do. It is just -as easy for a star to swing in its orbit as for a mote to float in the sunbeam, Nature never sweats. The great law of gravita- tion holds the universe on its buck as easily as a miller swings ovet his shoulder a bag of Genesee wheat. The winds never run themselyes out of breath. The rivers do not weary in their course. The Mi ippi and the Amazon are no more fired than the meadow brook. Himalaya is not dizzy. Poets talk about the waters of our great cataract being in agony, but I think they like it. Dow they frolic and clap their hands miles above, as they come skipping on toward the great summersault, singing, “ Over we go, over we go !” When the universe goes at such tremendous speed, and the least impediment might break one of the great wheels, is it not a wonder that we do not scmetimes hear a prodigious crash, or thunders bang loud enough to make the world’s knees knock together? Yet a million worlds in their flight do not make as much noise as a honey-bee coquetting among the cloyer-tops, Every thing in nature is just as easy. Now, if the position you occupy requires unnatural exertion, your only way out is either to take a step higher up, or take a step further down. | Providence does not demand that you should break your back, or pat your arm out of jsint, or sprain your ankle. If you can only find out just what you are to do, you can «lo it perfectly easy. Young man, be sure you begin right. It is dangerous work, this changing occupation or profession. Not once in a thou- sind times is it done successfully. The sea of life is so rough that you can not cross over from one vessel to another, except at great peril of falling between. Thousands of men have fallen down to nothing between the mason’s trowel and the YUL oh »pt ve (he yon 7 ies 7 BE OF GOOD CHEER. - 39 Carpenter’s saw ; between the lawyer's bricfs and the author’s pen; between the medicine-chest and the pulpit. It is no Casy matter to switch off on another track this thnndering express train of life. It takes about ten years to get fairly Started in any business or profession, and I tell you we have Not got many decades to waste in experiment, BE OF GOOD CHEER.—Same. Things will never go right unless we try to maintain a Cheerful disposition. This would not be mentioned except in the belief that our disposition is much of our own making. We admit there is great difference in natural constitutions, Some persons are born cross. See that man witha long face, that never shortens into a laugh. ‘Tell me, did not his mo- ther have trouble with him when he was small? Why, he never was pleased. Did he not make riots in the nursery among looking-glasses and glass pitchers? Was his nurse ever able on her knee to jolt down his petulance or shake up his good-humor? Did he not often hold an indignation Mecting flat on the floor, his hands, his head, his feet all par- licipating in the exercise? Could not his father tell youa Story of twelve o'clock at night, with hasty toilet, walking the floor with the dear lite blessing in his arms? A story that Would be a caution to old bachelors ? Then there are otbers who, from childhood, while they Are not at all petulant, yet show asad and melancholy turn Of mind which seems ineradicable. Although their lot may be comfortable, they haye, all their life long, the appearance Of having met with afflictions, Others are from infancy light §1d happy. They romp, they fly. You can hear their swift Cet in the hall. Their loud laughter rings through the house, in the woods bursts into a score of echoes. At night you Qn hardly hush their glad hearts for slumber, and. in the Morning they wake you with their singing. Alas! if then \cy Ieave you, and you no more hear their swift feet in the all, and their loud laughter ringing through the house, or in © woods bursting into a score of echoes; if they wake you THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER, no more in the morning with their sweet song; if the color go out of the rose and its leaves fill; if angels for once grow jealous, and want what you can not spare: if, packed away in the trunk or drawer, there be silent garments that once fluttered with youthful life, and. by mistake you call some other child by the mame of the one departed! Ah me! Ah me ! But while we may all, from our childhood, have a certain bent given to our disposition, much depends upon ourselves” whether we wilt be happy or miserable. i You will see in the world chiefly what you look for. A farmer going through the country chiefly examines the farms, an architect the buildings, a merchant the condition of the niarkets, a minister the churches ; and soa man going through the world will see the most of that for which he especially looks. Tle who-is constantly watching for troubles will find them stretching off into the gloomy wilderness, while he who- 4 Watching for blessings will find them, hither and_ thither, éxtending out in harvests of luxuriance. 7 CRABBED FOLKS.—Zviract from a popular Lecture. Of all the ills that flesh is heir to, a cross, crabbed, ill-con- tented man is the most unendurable because the most inexcus- able. No occasion, no matter how trifling, is permitted to — pass without cliciting his dissent, his snecr, or his growl. His good and patient wife never yet prepared a dinner that he liked. One day she prepares a dish that she thinks will par- ticularly please him. Iie comes in the front door, and says “ Whew! whew ! what dave you got in the house? . Now, my dear, you know that Inever did like codfish.” Some evening, resolving to be especially gracious, he starts with his family to a place of amusement. Ile scolds the most of the way.. He can not afford the time or the money, and he does not believe the entertainment will be much, after all. The music begins. The audience are thrilled. The orchestra, with polished in- struments, warble and weep, and thunder and pray, and all she sweet sounds of the world flowering upon the strings of Se) eae - 4 —squawk! The evening was wasted. CRABBED FOLKS. 41 the bags viol, and wreathing the flageolets, and breathing from the lips of the cornet, and shaking their flower-bells upon the tinkling tambourine. Ie sits motionless and disgusted. He goes home, saying, “Did you see that fat musician that got so red blowing @hat French horn? THe looked like a stuffed toad. Did you ever hear such a voice as that Jady has? Why! it was a perfect ” And his companion says, “Why, my dear!” “ There, you needn't tell me-—You. are Pleased with every thing. . But never ask me to go again!” He goes to church. Perhaps the sermon is didactic and argu- Mentative. Ile yawns. Te gapes. Te twists himself in his Pew, and pretends he is asleep, and says, “I could not keep awake. Did you ever hear any thing so dead? Can these dry bones live?” Next Sabbath he enters a chureh where tlle minister is much given to illustration. Le is still more displeased. He says, ‘ How dare that man bring such every- day things into his pulpit? He ought to have brought. his Wustrations from the cedar of Lebanon and the fir-tree, in- Stead of the hickory and sassafras, Ile ought to have spoken of the Euphrates and the Jordan, and not of the Kennebec and Schuylkill. Ile ought to have mentioned Mount Gerizim Instead of the Catskills. Why, he ought to be disciplined. Why, tt is ridiculous.” Perhaps afterward he jeins the church. Then the church will have its hands full. He grow]s and groans and whines all the way up toward the gate of heaven. Te Wishes that the choir would sing differently, that the min- ter would preach differently, that the elders would pray dif- ferently, In the morning, he said “the church was as cold 48 Greenland ;” in the evening, “it was hot as blazes.” They Painted the church ; he didn’t like the color, They carpeted the aisles; he didn’t like the figure. They putin a new fur: Nace; he didn’t like the patent. Ile wriggles and squirms, and frets and stews, and worries himself Ife is like a horse that, Prancing and uneasy to the bit, worries himself into a lather Of foam, while the horse hitched beside him just pulls straight 4head, makes no fuss, and comes to his oats in peace. Like -*hedge-hog, he is all quills. Like a crab, that, you know, al- Ways goes the other way, and moves backward in order to go Tward, and turns in four directions all at once, and the first THE DIME 8TUMP SPEAKER, you know of his whereabouts you have missed him, snd when he is completely lost he has gone by the heel—so that the first thing you know you don't know any thing—and while you ex pected to catch the crab the crab catches you. : So some men are crabbed—all hard-shell and obstinacy and opposition, I do not see how he is to get into heaven unless he goes in backward, and then there will be dangel} that at the gate he will try to pick a quarrel with St.. Peter | Once in, I fear he will not like the music, and the services will be too long, and that he will spend the first two or threé years in trying to find out whether the wall of heaven is ex actly plumb, Let us stand off from such tendencies. Listed for sweet notes rather than for discords, picking up marigolds and harebells in preference to thistles and coloquintida, cultul ing thyme and anemones rather than nightshade. And in 4 world where God hath put exquisite tinge upon the shell} washed in the surf, and planted a paradise of bloom in 3 child’s cheek, and adorned the pillars of the rock by hanging tapestry of morning mist, the lark saying, “I will sing sopra) no,” and the cascade replying, “ I will carry the bass,” Jet us) leave it to the owl to hoot, and the frog to croak, and the beat to growl, and the grumbler to find fault, é : TAMING A MASCULINE SHREW.—Zrom the Michigat \ 4 State Republican. p | John was sitting, sad and weary, in his’ parlor, dark and} dreary, Sary Ann was in the kitchen, making fritters by the score ; When he called her from her labors, in a tone that roused thé neighbors, Telling her to bring his Bitters, as she’d often done before ; When to his astonished vision she appeared within the door; Echoing, “ Bitters?” Nevermore. “Ah, you little angel beauty, tis your sworn, your bounde? duty To obey your thirsty husband, as you’ve always done before! me TAMING A MASCULINE SHREW. 43 So, by Heavens! get the bitters ! leave those everlasting fritters, y Leave them there to’fry and crackle, though the lard is boil : ing o’er—” i Whien she gasped to him in whisper, “ Cease your orders ever- more, y T'll obey them—ncyermore.” n — at, _ “Won't you? then, by zounds, I'll take you, to the prison, where M they’ll make you, ¥ Where your friends will all forsake you till my pardon you implore.” a 5 “Ah! indeed,” she said, replying, and she seized the fritters r frying, ls And was fiercely at him flying as he rushed without the door ; w) And as fiercely him commanding, “ there to enter nevermore’— i Most emphatic, “ Nevermore /” e ®| Soon he saw how much mistaken, and how wrong the course ng he’d taken, par ) So he begged like one forsaken, “ Sary, please unbolt the door ; us Sary ne'er should go to prison, all was hers and naught was eal his’n,”— Some new light had in him risen, never shining there before; Sary’s rights, the Light of Reason dawned when thus without ; the door, q Light to guide him evermore. anh 3 2 ~ Now most cosily together, they can pass this wintry weather, i — Not a breeze to moye a feather, in discourse as heretefore ; 0) When he wants his hat, tis “ Sary, please to bring our hat, my f dearie,”— 5 And of this he ne’er grows weary, swears he will not ever: th more ; Bary makes his Law and Gospel, and shall make it evermore ; ; *Guinst it he’ll rebel no more. ol; | de? rei THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. FARMERS.— Wm. HZ. Seward. Farmers planted these colonies—all of them—and organ ized their governments. They were farmers who defied the | British soldiery at Bunker (il, and drove them back from Lexington. They were farmers—ay, Vermont farmers, whoiy captured the fortress at Ticonderoga, and accepted its capitie| lation in the name of the “ Great Jehovah and the Continental | Congress,” and thus gave over the first fortified post to the cause of the Revolution. They were farmers who checked British power at Saratoga, and broke it in pieces like a pot ter’s vessel at Yorktown. They were farmers who reorganized the several States and the Federal Government, and established them all on the prin- ciples of equality and affiliation. In every State, and in the | whole Union, they constitute the broad electoral faculty, and by their preponderating suffrages the vast and complex mia& chine is perpetually sustained and keptin regular motion and operation. That it is in the main well administered, we all | know by experienced security and happiness; that it might be better administered, our perpetual and intense passion for change fully proves; that it is administered no better, result8 from what? From the fact that the electoral body, the farm ers, intelligent and patriotic as they are, may nevertheless be come more intelligent and more patriotic than they now aré The more intelligent and patriotic they become, the more ef fective will be their control, and the wiser their direction of the government. Is there notroom? Nay, is there not need for more activity, energy, and efficiency, on their part, for theif own security and welfare ? In the Federal Government commerce hus its minister and its department, the law its organ and representative, and they arts their commissioner and bureau. But the yast interest of agriculture has only a single desk and a subordinate clerk Wy the basement of the patent-office. It is scarcely better in the States. An empty charter of incorporation, with a scanty] endowment, constitutes substantially all that has been any} where done for agriculture. Gentlemen, I like not that it should be so. Our nation is rolling forward in a high career, exposed @ D ~~ THE TRUE GREATNESS OF OUR COUNTRY. 45 Shocks and dangers. It needs the utmost wisdom and virtue to guide it salely ; it needs the steady and enlightened direc- tion which, of all others, the farmers of the United States can best exercise, because, being freeholders invested with equal powers of suffrage, they are at once the most liberal and the Most conservative clement in the country. THE TRUE GREATNESS OF OUR COUNTRY.—Same. Behold here, then, the philosophy of all our studies on this grateful theme. We see only the rising of the sun of empire —only the fair seeds and beginnings of a great nation. Whe- ther that glowing orb shall attain to a meridian hight, or fill suddenly from its glorious sphere—whether those prolific seeds Shall mature into autumnal ripeness, or shall perish yielding no harvest—depends on God’s will and providence. But God's Will and providence operate not by casualty or caprice, but by fixed and revealed laws. If we would secure the greatness set before us, we must find the way which those laws indicate, and keep within it. That way is new and all untried. We departed early—-we departed at the beginning—from the beaten track of national ambition, Our lot was cast in an age of revolulion——a revo- lution which was to bring all mankind from a state of servi- tude to the exercise of self-government-—from under the ty- Yanny of physical force tu the gentle sway of opinion—from Under subjection to matter to dominion over nature. It was Ours to lead the way, to take up the cross of republicanism ‘and bear it before the nations, to fight ils earliest battles, to Cnjoy its earliest triumphs, to illustrate its purifying and ele- Vating virtues, and by our courage and resolution, our modera- tion and our magnanimity, to cheer and. sustain its future followers through the baptism of blood and the martyrdom of fire. A mission so noble and benevolent demands a generous and Self-denying enthusiasm. Our greatness is to be won by bene- ficence without. ambition. We are in danger of losing: that holy zeal. We are surrounded by temptations. Our dwel- lines hecome palaces, and onr villages are transformed, as if meinieiaitiaitea THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. by magic, into great cities. Fugitives from famine and op- pression and the sword crowd our shores, and proclaim to us that we alone are free, and great, and happy. Ambition for martial fame and the lust of conquest have entered the warm, iving, youthful heart of the Republic. Our empire enlarges. The castles of enemies fall before our advancing arniies ; the gates of cities open to receive them. The continent and its islands seem ready to fall within our grasp, and more thal fabulous wealth opens under our feet. No public virtue can withstand, none ever encountered, such seductions as these. Our own virtue and moderation must be renewed and fortified under circumstances so new and peculiar. Where shall we seck the influence adequate to a task so arduous as this? Shall we invoke the press and the desk ? They only reflect the actual condition of the public morals, -and can not change them. Shall we resort to the executive authority? The time has passed when it could compose and modify the political elements around it. Shall we go to the Senate? Conspiracies, seditions and corruptions, in all free countries, have begun there. Where, then, shall we go to find the agency that can uphold and renovate declining public vir- tue? Where should we go but there, where all republican virtue begins and must end—where the Promethean fire is ever to be rekindled, until it shall finally expire—where mo- tives are found and passions disciplined? To the domesti¢ fireside and humble school, where the American citizen is trained, NEW ENGLAND AND THE UNION.—Geo. D. Prentice. Glorious New England! thou art still true to thy ancient faine, and worthy of thy ancestral honors. On thy pleasant valleys rest, like sweet dews of morning, the gentle recollec- tions of our early life; around thy hills and mountains cling, like gathering mists, the mighty memories of the Revolution 5 and far away in the horizon of thy past, gleam, like thy own bright northern lights, the awful virtues of our Pilgrim sires ! But while we devote this day to the remembrance of our na tive land, we forget not that in which our happy lot is cast We exult in the reflection. that though we count by thonsands ™ mF the miles which separate us from our birthplace, sti!l our © Country is the same. We are no exiles mec¢ling upon the banks of a foreign river, to swell iis waters with our homesick tears, Here floats the same banner which rustled above our boyish heads, except that its mighty folds are wider, and its glittering Stars increased in number. The sons of New England are found in every State of the broad Republic! In the east, the south, and the unbounded west, their blood mingles freely with every kindred current. We have but changed our chamber in the paternal mansion ; in all its rooms we are at home, and all who inhabit it are our brothers. household gods are all the same. Upon us, then, peculiarly devolves the duty of feeding the fires upon that kindly hearth; of guarding with pious care thoss sacred household gods. We can not do with Jess than the whole Union! to us it admits of no division. In the veins of our children flows northern and southern blood ; how shall it be separated ? who shall put asunder the best affections of the heart, the noblest instincts of our nature? We love the land of our adoption ; so do we that of our birth. Let us ever be true to both ; and iy always exert oursélyes in maintaining the unity of our country, the integrity of the Republic. Accursed, then, be the hand put forth to loosen the golden cord of union! thrice accursed the traitorous lips which shal] propose its severance ! THE UNSEEN BATTLE-FIELD, | 47 To us the Union bas but one domestic hearth ; its TITE UNSEEN BATTLE-FIELD. i There is an unseen battle-field In every human breast, Where two opposing forces meet, And where they seldom rest. That field is hid from mortal sight, Tis only seen by One, Who knows alone where victory lies When each day’s fight is done. One army clusters strong and fiercem= Their chief of demon form; THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. \ His brow is like the thunder-cloud, His voice the bursting storm. His captains, Pride, and Lust and Hate, Whose troops wateh night and day, Swill to detect the weakest point, And thirsting for the fray. Contending with this mighty force Is but a little band; Yet there, with an unquailing front, Those warriors firmly stand. Their leader is of Godlike form, Of countenance serene ; And glowing on his naked breast A single cross is seen. His captains, Faith, and Tope, and Love, Point to that wondrous sign ; And gazing on it all receiye, Strength from a source Divine. They feel it speak a glorious truth, A truth as great as sure, That to be victors they must learn To love, confide, endure. That faith sublime, in wildest strife, Imparts a holy calm ; For every deadly blow a shield, For every wound a balm. Andavhen they win that battle-field, Past toil is quite forgot ; The plain where carnage once had reigned Becomes a hallowed spot. The spot where flowers of joy and peace Spring from the fertile sod, And breathe the perfume of their praise, On every breeze, to God. AMERICA. « : 49 A PILEA FOR THE TRUE REPUBLIC.—ZHon. Edward everett. War may stride over the land with the crusking step of a giant. Pestilence may steal over it like an invisible curse, reaching its victims silently and unseen, wnpeopling here a yil- lage and there a cify, until every dwelling is a sepulcher. ~ Famine may brood over“it with along and weary visitation, until the sky itself is brazen, and the beautiful greenness gives plaice to a parched desert—a wide waste of unproductive des- Olution. But these are. only physical evils. The wild-fower Will bloom in peace on the field of battle and “above the crushed skeleton. The destroying angel of the pestilence will retire when his errand is done, and the nation will again breathe freely. And the barrenness of famine will cease at last—the cloud will be prodigal of its hoarded rain, and the Wilderness will blossom. ; But for moral desolation there is no reviving spring. Let the moral and republican principles of our country be aban- doned——let impudence, and corruption, and intrigue triumph over honesty and intellect, and our liberties and strength will Gepart forever. Of these there can be no resuscitation. The “abomination of desolation” will be fixed and perpetual; and as the mighty fabric of our glory totters into ruins, the nations of the earth will mock us in our overthrow, like the powers of darkness, when the throned one of Babylon became even as themselves—and the “ glory of the Chaldees’ excellency had gone down.” AMERICA.—Charles Phillips. I appeal to history! Tell me, thou reyerend chrenicler ef the grave, can all the illusions of ambition-realized, ean all the wealth of a universal commeree, ean all the achievements of suecesstul hervism, or all the establishments of this world’s wisdom, secure to empire the permanency of its possessions ? Alas! Troy thought so once ;"yet her hundred gates have erumbled, and her very tonibs are but as the dust they were vainly intended to commemorate! So thought Palmyra— Where is she? So thought the countries of Demosthenes and: 50 THE DIMI STUMP SPEAKER. the Spartan; yet Lacedemon is trampled by the slave, and Athens insulted by the servile, mindless, and enervate Ottoman In his hurried march, time hag but looked at their imagined immortulity ; and all its vanities, from the palace to the tomb, have, with their ruins, erased the very impression of his. foot- steps! The days of their glory are as if they had never been ; and the island that was then a speck, rude and neglected ‘a the barren ocean, now rivals the ubiquity of their commerce, the glory of their arms, the fame of their philosophy, the ela- quence of their senate, and the inspiration of their bards! Who shall say, then, contemplating the past, that England, proud and potent as she appears, may not, one day, be what Athens is, and the young America yet soar to be what Athens was! Who shall say that, when the European column shall have moldered, and the night of berbarism obscured its very ruins, that mighty continent may not emerge from the horizon, to rule for its time, sovereign of the ascendant ! THE “RIGHT OF SECESSION” A FALLACY.—Jdohn Lothrop Motley. The men who had conducted the American people through a long and fearful revolution, were the founders of the new commonwealth which permanently superseded the subverted authority of the crown. They placed the foundations on the unbiased, untrammeled consent of the people. They were sick of leagues, of petty sovereignties, of governments which could not govern a single individual. The framers of the con- stitution, which has now endured three-quarters of a century, and under which the nation has made a material and intellec- tual progress never surpassed in history, were not such titlers as to be ignorant of the consequences of their own acts. Phe constitution which they offered, and which the people adopted us its own, talked not of sovereign States—-spoke not the word confederacy. In the very preamble to the instrument are in- serted. the vital words which show its character: “ We, the people of the United States, to” insure a» more perfect union, and to secure the blessings of liberty for ourselves and our ae ” THE “ RIGHT OF SECESSION ”’ A FALLACY. . §1 posterity, do ordain and establish this constitution.” Sie volo, sic jubeo. It is the languaze of a sovereign solemnly speak- ing to the world. It. is the promulgation of a great law, the nerma agendi of anew commonwealth. It is no compact. * A compact,” says Blackstone, “is a promise proceeding from us. Law is a command directed to us. The language of a compact is, We will or will not do this; that of a law is, Thou shalt or shalt not do it.” And this is, throughout, the language of the constitution. ‘Congress shall do this; the President shall do that; the States shall not excercise this or that power. Witness, for example, the important clauses by which the “sovereign” States are shorn of all the great attributes of sovereignty—no State shall coin money, or emit bills of credit, nor pass ex post facto laws, nor laws impairing the obligations of contracts, nor maintain armies and navies, nor grant Ictlers of marque, nor make compacts with other States, nor hold intercourse with foreign powers, nor grant titles of nobility ; and that most significant phrase: ‘ This constitution, and the laws made in pursuance thereof, shall be the supreme luw of the land.” Could language be more imperial? Could the claim to State sovercigniy” be more completely disposed of at a word ? How can that be sovereign, acknowledging no superior, su- preme, which has voluntarily accepted a supreme Jaw from something which it acknowledges as superior ? The constitution is perpetual, not provisional or temporary. It is made for all time—“ for ourselyes and our posterity.” it is absolute within its sphere. ‘ This constitution shall be the supreme law of the land, any thing in the constitution or laws of a State to the contrary notwithstanding.” Of what value, then, is a law of a State deelaring its connection with the Union dissolved? The constitution remains supreme, and is bound to assert its supremacy till overpowered by force. ‘The use of force—of armies and navies of whatever strength—in order to compel obedience to the civil and constitutional au- thority, ds not “ wicked war,” is not civil war, is not war at all. So long as it exists the government is obliged to put forth its strength when assailed. The President, who has taken an oath before God and man to maintain the constitution and laws, is perjured if he yields the constitution and laws to THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER, armed rebellion without a struggle. He knows nothing of Siates. Within the sphere of the United States government he deals with individuals only, citizens of the great republic, in whatever portion of it they may happen to live. Le has no choice but to enforce the laws of the republic wherever they may be resisted. When he is overpowered, the govern- ment ceases to exist. The Union is gone, and Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Ohio are as much separated from each other as they are from Georgia or Louisiana. Anarchy has returned upon us. The dismemberment of the commonwealth iscom- _ plete. We are again in the chaos of 1785. ) But it issometimes osked why the constitution did not make . a special provision against the right of secession. How could it do so? ‘tiie people created a constitution over the whole ¥ sand, with certain defined, accurately enumerated powers, and among these were all the chief attributes of sovereignty. It was forbidden to a State to coin money, to keep armies and navies, to make compacts with other States, to hold intercourse with foreign nations, to oppose the authority of the govern- ment. To do any one of these things is to secede, for it would be physically impossible to do any one of them with- out secession. It would have been puerile for the constitution | to say formally to cach State: “ Thou shalt not secede.” ‘The constitution, being the supreme law, being perpetual, and hav- ing expressly forbidden to the States those acts withoutwhich se- ay cession is an impossibility oould have been wanting in dignity had y a used such superfluous phraseology. This constitution issuprenie, whatever laws a State may enact, says the organic law. Was it necessary to add, “ and no State shall enact a Jaw of seces- sion?” To add to a great statute, in which the sovereign au- thority of the land declares its will, a phrase such as, “and be it further enacted that the said law shall not be. violated,” would scarcely seem to strengthen the statute, 4 It was accordingly enacted that new States might be admit- ted; but no permission was given for a State to cecede. LIFE’S SUNSET. 53 LIFE’S SUNSET. Where are you going so fast, old man, Where are you going so fast ? There’s a valley to cross and a river to ford, There’s a clasp of the hand and a parting word, And a tremulous sigh for the past, old man, The beautiful, vanished past. The road has been rngged and rough, old man, To your fect it is rugged and rough; But you see a dear being with gentle eyes, Has shared in your labor and sacrifice; Ah! that has been sunshine enongh, old man, For you and me, sunshine enough. How long since you've passed o’er the hill, old man, Of life o’er the top of the hill ? Were there beautiful valleys on Vother side ? Were there flowers and trees with their branches wide, To shut out the heat of the sun, old man, The heat of the feryid sun? And how do you cross the wayes, old man, Of sorrow the fearful waves ? Did you lay your dear treasures by, one by one, With an aching heart and “ God's will be done,” Under the wayside dust, old man, In the graves ‘neath the wayside dust ? There is labor and sorrow for all, old man, Alas! there is sorrow for all; And you, peradventure, have had your share, For cighty long winters have whitened your hair, And they’ve whitened your heart as well, old man, Thank God, your heart as well. You're now at the foot of the hill, old man, At last at the foot of the hill; The sun has gone down in a golden glow, And the heavenly city lies just below ; Go in through the pearly gate, old man, The beautiful, pearly gate. THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. *TIUMAN NATURE.— Original. This is a queer world, and we are a queer people. Wisely hath the great poet said that “life is a drama and men and women players ”"—(to say nothing of babies and children, who were probably too few in his day to assume special no- toriety.) To us comedy appears to have usurped the boards, and not often are we called upon to shed tears when blood and broken hearts close up the scene. Not that tragedy is a distinct passion and action from comedy-—far from it. If men and women will violate right, and shed blood, to} be suxe we do not call it funny, and laugh, but rather shud- der and weep; yet, after all, aside from the mere com- mitment of the action, it is queer that man, puny as he is, should arrogate to himself so much of power, when the Evil One sits ever ready to cut off Ais short-lived glory. Nay, it is laughable, even through tears, to behold his assumption of superiority and consequence, when his own feet are sinking in a quicksand that shall bury him so deep that the very He sands shall forget the pressure of his lands. Wy Then our thesis is good: life is but a comedy, and men and women but the actors. Children are the spectators, fill- ing the pit, and boxes, and galleries, according to the clothes upon their backs ; and remain spectators until their litle souls swell into sufficient consequence and wisdom; then they are placed upon the background of the stage, and taught the “ phi- y losophy of life” by aping and imitating their elders in all pers things, even to smoking cigars and chewing tobacco. And then, when their little hearts have grown into embryo heroes, the law sets them loose, to carve out their own destiny ; pre- cocious in all things, amid the “noise and confusion” they succeed in carving out—precocious graves! Oh, most potent social usages !—most reverend lnwgivers! How must the selfcomplacent Lucifer chuckle over your handiwork, when, in your vain strength, you assume a sphere of action as des- tiny that drives you far away from heaven and the simplicity of nature! Another step and we are upon general principles; too Iroad and grand for our little heads and hearts to grasp in their resolution; and we, who have tamed the elements and HUMAN NATURE. _ 55 Coqucited with matter, must content ourselves with imitating the humanity of the past, nor dare to assert the nobleness of the sou. as God's property, over the grossness of action which this life seems to demand so sternly as a prerequisite to “ suc- Cess.” Initators, then, as we are, a commendable pride keeps us from, recrimination and abasement.. We pattern after, the most perfect of what has been given us in the pust for imita- tion, and in the present we ape only the veriest apes! Would you haye the particulars? Ifuman nature should blush at reading its own epitaph, but luman nature does mot crimson its check at its weaknesses. Look"down into your hearts— read every impulse and emotion either of ambition or affec- tion, and see if you are not, to a surprising degree, the crea- tures of custom. If you love, etéquette lias prescribed the degree of its strength and the form of its manifestation. If you hope, it is according to rule. If you eat, it is the same. Uf you drink, it is exactly ws others drink. If you sleep, it is at times and on beds that others prescribe. If you laugh, you squeeze your lips into the a@-la-mode contortion, and imauke just such a sound as is becoming suchamouth. If you sigh, or weep, or faint, you have precedents to do it genteclly. Now, dare to rebel against the onmnipotence of public opinion, how easily are you whipped into obedience by the scorn of the public eye ! ‘ Americans! you are fond of political dogmas, and stick to them with a faith worthy of martyrs in a good cause: why not create an American cliquette, at once so simple and dem- ocratic 23 to permit every person to be their own guide in taste and habit? Confess that you have among you persons whose heads are as full of the pride and pomp of aristocracy as riches can make the ignorant and the weak. Confess Ulat you have those in your midst who despise equality and fra- ternity, though they have sprung from the loins of Cobblers and hog-drovers. Confess that many of your own daugbters and wives scorn. the poor creatures whose weary fingers wrought the things of their pride; you dare not tuk of de- mocracy in etiqguetie—you repudiate the lowly condition of your fathers, and accumulate money—all for the power it gives you to gird yourselves around with magnificence, and of i t | THE .DIME STUMP SPEAKER. of keeping you above and aloof from the society of those from whom you sprung. Well are you deserving of shame who preach democracy and practice the rigid and ungrateful reserve of the aristocrat! Well are you deserving of contempt who forget the peasant blood that flows in your veins, and the duty you owe to the men wlio have filled your coffers by their daily contributions.» Well are you deserving of scorn who make brotherhood with the mustachiocd foreigner, yet turn away from. any companionship with suffering and want at home! Oh! all have sins—fearful sins to mourn for, but you, men and women of the world, who ean mold. public opinion to tolerance or intolerance, must ans‘ver-every pro- test that goes up to heaven for your unchristian pride and uncharitable hand, Was fit ous bc *LAWYERS.—One who knows. My Tiearers: Did you ever go to law ? — Tlave you never enjoyed the felicity of being sued or brought into court—of appearing as plaintiff or defendant on a term list ? If not, you are a noyelty—an oddity. You can’t be any- body. You must be classed with women and idiots, who, irresponsibles, are not supposed to have sense enough to vote. If you do maintain the right to vote, and vet never have footed a lawyer's and sheriff’s bill of costs, your claims to the fran- chise are questionable. He must, indeed, be an obscure individual, who has escaped the hawk-eyes and eagle talons of that specially created class, calied Lawyers ; and not to have been made to contribute to their substance, is a taint on the social and commercial es- eutcheon which they see You cart hide it from them. Their lynx-like instincts will scent you out; sooner or later their grapple will be on you, and then—woe to you! As well might the sheep, run down by dogs, expect merey —as well might the coon on the gum-tree have resisted Crockett’s call to come down and surrender its hide, as for one amenable to “ the law,” hope to escape its “ practition- eS." : If error, mistake, peccadillo, or wrong committed, however unintentional, can be made into a “ case,” the cormorants of the LAWYERS. 57 court—whem—the “legal profession !’—will so quickly trans- form your character and blast your peace of mind that you will fulry believe yourself a villain, and wonder that so long you have gone unwhipped of justice. And when the end finally comes in the shape of abill of costs, you pay the con- scientious man of law as cheerfully as if he were a dentist Who had extracted all of your teeth. A conscientious Jawyer! Ha-ta/ «And you, too, laugh at the paradox. A man, ever so conscientious, When he enters upon “ practice” ties up his conscience with red tape, labels it FORECLOSED MORTGAGE, and files it away to be used only upon rare occasions when, perhaps, there is a pretty woman in the case, or a confiding client las made his attorney the trustee of a large estate—in which cases the conscience is given an airing, just enough to keep it from moths and must, In ordinary practice, a tender heart and impressible con- science woul be highly unprofessional—as much to be avoided as fixed principles of conduct and action. To espouse the Cause of the weak from chivalrous motives is as rare ip Jegal experience as first-class pearls in Jersey Clans, and he who hopes to see the day when a lawyer will espouse only the just cause, can have no excuse for making his will—he must live for many a generation. It may be that, like the public debt, or war, or pestilence, a lawyer is a necessary evil, but we are inclined to think he is one of those dispensations of Providence which can be dis- pensed with to Providence’s great satisfaction. Show me the good that springs out of this infliction, and we will waive a point in favor of the arguinent of a public necessity for the lawyer, asaclass. Physicians heal the sick and soothe suffer ing; ministers of the gospel, in a self-sacrificing spirit, con- serve the good and true; the artisan, by his handicratl, is use- fal above all others ; but the lawyer—he is a begetter of strife, the instigator of law-suits and differences ; he is the matcon- tent in politics, and the office-seeker by instinet ; he plays no part that were not better unperformed, and in the long cate- gory of human joys and sorrows he, of all men, is credited With the fewest marks of good import. Is this severe? Alas, itis! Is it true? Alas, who can Brove it otherwise ? THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. *THE SAME. Why is it that our courts of Jaw have become a source of terror to all—to innocent and guilty alike? Why does the word “ court” no longer imply a tribunal of justice, and the word “ judge” no longer excite the sense of reverence ? It is because the mockery of mendacity is there in the guise of practitioners at the bar; and ignorance and political partisanship are on the bench in the guise of the judge. Where once Livingston and Jay, Hamilton and Henry, plead, now swarms a crowd with Whom legal lore is regarded as supererogatory, and the pert talent of the tongue is considered the sole requisite for the arena. Where once sat the fathers of our jurisprudence—learned, sedate, conscientious men, now sits—who? Why, ore who represents the faction by whom he was elected—a man, popu- lar with his party, not because he is good, and ble, and wise —far from it! but because he is a “ good feller,” a “ bunkey chap,” a “ brick,” a friend of his constituents, a strong parti- san | That is why the court of law is no Jonger the intellectual arena that it used to be; that is why the beach is no longer the dispenser of justice. The moral atmosphere which should prevail in the court. room, has in it the taint of vice; the men who assemble there haye a certain impress of viciousness in their mien and lan- guage; the vicinity of the court-house is redolent of oaths, tobacco and obscene stories. Go into the room to watch the progress of a trial, and the fact most painfully present to the observer is the evident zatent of certain men to consummate a wrong. Witnesses are most shamefully insulted and brow- beaten ; every conceivable subterfuge is called into requisition; jurors are snuggled into the panel for a purpose: to all of — which the court is simply indifferent because it is the usual mode of procedure. As a consequence, law is now under stood not toanean the enforcement of justice, but the enforce- ment of sharp practice; and his case is most successful who employes the shrewdest or most unprincipled (in court prac- tice) lawyers. This, litigants of experience well understand ; and he who goes to. law because he knows his cause to be ene WRONGS OF THE INDIANS. 59 just, is, like poor old Pickwick, in the hands of Dodson and Fogg, sure to go to the wall. The case of old Pickwick, in- deed, though a seeming fiction, every experienced observer of public matters and morals knows to be a representative one, having its counterpart in every court in the land. It may be that lawyers are a public blessing; but, let us question this as we we would question all disagreeable things, or all warped ideas of right. Who believes that even gdod law is conserved by lawyers and the modes of practice now prevalent ? or that justice is promoted by the deliberate uncon: scientiousness of practitioners? An edict which should avol- ish the profession as a profession, and give to wise and dis- creet judges, judges not chosen by popular clection—-the de- termination of cases upon hearing of evidence educed by the parties litigant, would be, indeed, & great blessing, saving im- menscely in costs and time, and insuring the greatest possible approach to justice. If this is infeasible, by reason of the very number and power of law practitioners, then let us look for relief from the impositions which the Jatter-day codes of courts and modes of practice inflict, by revision of these codes and mod- ification of these modes, to the end that a court-room may not be the terror of witnesses, nor the arena where lawyers shall convinee the spectators that, in becoming lawyers they ceased to be gentlemen and Christians. WRONGS OF THE INDIANS.—Judge Story. If the Indians had the vices of savage life, they had. the virtues also. They were true to their country, their friends and their homes. If they forgave not injury, neither did they forget kindness. If their vengeance was terrible, their fidelity and generosity were unconquerable also. Their love, like their hate, stopped not on this side of the grave. But where are they? Where are the villages, and warriors, and youth ? The sachems and the tribes? The huntersand their families ? They have perished. They ure consumed. The wasting pes- tilence has not alone done the i ightv work. No, nor famine yey eo THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER, nor war. There has been a mightier power, a moral canker, which hath eaten into their heart-cores—a plague which the touch of the white mar communicuted—a poison which be- trayed them into a lingering ruin. The winds of the Atlantic fan not a single region which they may now cal] their own. Already the Jast feeble rem- nants of. the race are preparing for their journey across the Mississippi. I see them leave their miserable homes, the aged, the helpless, the women, and the warriors, “ few and faint, yet fearless still.’ The ashes are cold on their native hearths. The smoke no longer curls round their lowly cabins. They move on with a slow, unsteady step. The white man is upon their heels, for terror or dispatch ; butthey heed him not. They turn to take a last look of their deserted villages. They cast a last glance upon the graves of their fathers. .They shed no tears; they utter no cries; they heaye no groans. There is something in their hearts which passes speech. There is something in their looks, not of vengeance or submission ; but of hard necessity, which stifles both; which chokes all utterance; which has no aim or method. It. is courage ab- sorbed in despair. They linger but for a moment. Their look is onward. They have passed the fatal stream. It shall never be repassed by them—no, never. Yet there lies not between them and us an impassable gulf They know, and feel, that there is for them still one remove further, not distant, nor unseen. It is the general burial-ground of their race. APPEAL IN BEHALF OF AMERICAN LIBERTY.— Same. I call upon you, fathers, by the shades of your ancestors, by the dear ashes which repose in this precious soil, by all you are, and al! you hope to be; resist every object of dis- union, resist every encroachment upon your liberties, resist every attempt to fetter your consciences, or smother your pub+ lic schools, or extinguish your system of public instruction. T call upon you, mothers, by that which never fails in -—- paisa THE MISERIES OF WAR. 61 es woman, the love of your offspring ; teach them, as they climb a your knees, or lean on your bosoms, the blessings of liberty. - Swear them at the altar, as with their baptismal vows, to be true to their country, and never to forget or forsake her, L T call upon you, young men, to remember whose sons you - are; whose inheritance you possess. Life can never be tos short, which brings nothing but disgrace and oppression, Death never comes too soon, if necessary in defense of the liberties of your country. I call upon you, old men, for your counsels, and your pray- , ers, and your benedictions. May not your gray hairs go down in sorrow to the grave, with the recollection that you have lived in vain. May not your Jast sun sink in the west upon a nation of slaves. No, I read in the destiny of my country far better hopes, fur brighter visions. We, who are now assembled here, must soon be gathered to the congregation of other days. The time of our departure is at hand, to make way for our chil- dren upon the theater of life. May God speed them and theirs. May he, who at the distance of another century shall stand a here to celebrate this day, still look round upon a free, happy F and virtuous people. May he have reason to exult as we do. ‘ May he, with all the enthusiasm of truth as well as of poetry, exclaim, that here is still his country. TITE MISERIES OF WAR.—Dr. Chalmers. Oh, tell me, if there be any reJentings of pity in your bosom, how could you endure it, to behold the agonies of the dying man, as goaded by pain, he grasps the cold ground in con- yulsive energy; or, faint with the lossof blood, lis pulse ebbs low, and the gathering paleness spreads itself over his coun- tenunce ; or, Wrapping himself round in despair, be can only mark, by a few feeble quiverings, that life still lurks end Jin- gers in his lacerated body ; or, lifting up a faded eye, he casts on you a look of imploring helplessness for that succor which no sympathy can yield him ? q It may be painful to dwell thus, in imagination, on the if 62 THER DIME sTUMP SPEAKER. distressing picture of one individual; but, multiply it ten thou- sani times; say how much of all this distress hus been heaped together on a single field; give us the arithmetic of this ac- cumulated wretchedness, and lay it before us with all the ac- curacy of an official computation, and, strange to tel’, not one sigh is lifted up among the crowd of eager listeners, as they stand on tiptoe, and ‘catch every syllable of utterance which is read to them out of the registers of death, Oh, say what mystic spell is that which so blinds us to the suffering cf our brethren! which deafens our ears to the voice of bleeding humanity, when it is aggravated by the shrick of dying thousands ;. which makes the very magnitude of the slaughter throw a softening disguise over its ecruelties and its horrors ; which causes us to eye, with indifference, the field ‘that is crowded with the most revolting abominations, and ar- rests that sigh which each individual would, singly, have drawn from us, by the report of the many that have fallen and breathed their last in agony along with him. A LAY SERMON.—J. R. Mw. We know very little of ourselves in any phase of our be- ing. Science gathers its little shells upon the shore, and strings its pretty pearls from the great deep, while the vist ocean of truth stretches away into Jimitless eternity under the sunlight of divine glory, and we bear but now and then the faint echoes of the sounding surge, and feel the fresh air of the far-away sea. In mind and matter we are the imerest tyros of knowledge, clinging with uncertain clasp to the apparent realities of life, and learning by constant experience how precarious are the developments of what we deem truth. We do not know our frame of mind or body. We trace by laborious investigation the lesser mysteries o£ our being, and grow superficially wise in the developments of human char- acter; but the subtle and recondite realities of life are in the far ocean of futurity, and the wondrous. possibilities of our existence are slumbering down in the depths, where no keen scrutiny can detect them, and where no prophetic foresight can 63 A DREAM, antedate their coming. We study out the minor develop- ments of this physical frame, and weave our experience into a code of laws, and predicate upon them the prophecies of life and death ; yet we know nothing, afier all, of the myste- ; rious coalition of the heavenly ond the earthly, the angelic | and the brutal, the nicely-adjusted harmonies of mind and matter, the delicate chords of the thousand-stringed harp, the worsarous powers of assimilation and transmutation, the myr- iad of things that make the sum of a being so “ fearfully and wonderfully made.” We do not know our frame, the hights } to which we may rise, nor the depths to which we may de- scend. Yet God knows it all, and scans with an unerring gaze the many intricacies of our being and the possible de- velopments of human destiny through all the ages of eternity. « Infinite wisdom alone can bring out the hidden harmonies of the human soul and make our being glorious. Tle alone “ who knoweth our frame,” can” bring it to its destiny, and develop from the darkness and decay of matter the beauty and the bloom of immortal youth. “ [fe knoweth our frame,” and in him we have our being. 2 THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER Its gloomy folds it shronded all the world That slumbering lay in silence still as death, Amidst the dismal horror of the scene I seemed alone—the only living thing— And a chill terror through my shivering frame Crept over me. A suffocating sense Of some impending ill, some strange, unknown And dreadful thing oppressed my struggling soul, Which sought, but vainly, to cast off the pall, And rise above the fearful gloom profound. I gasped for breath and seemed about to die, When suddenly a blaze of light on my Astonished vision burst, and the whole scene Became one vast, insufferable sea Of flame, whose fierce, intolerable glare Blinded and scorched mine eyeballs ull they seemed To burst. My sight became confused, and then Was taken from me, and T felt myself, By some mysterious power, borne quickly up To a high eminence that overtopped The clouds and penetrated heaven. There I Received once more my sight, with power to gaze Unharmed on all around; and looking up, Beheld a sight of such surpassing glory That still I stood, transfixed with wonder, while A glowing rapture stole through all my frame. For never mortal eye such glories saw! All heaven itself seemed open to my view, And high upon a throne of living flame Sat the Almighty, whose refulgence shone With dazzling splendor through the boundless space Of hisillimitable kingdom. From Ilis beamy countenance shot glances fraught With life and death. A flaming sword within Ilis hand he held. On either side there sat The Son, and Holy Ghost, in equal glory, While from the Three combined there issued one Transcendent ray of brightness, so intense That, had not some miraculous, divine And holy attribute unto my sight A DREAM. . 65 Tmparted been, mine eyes had never borne The awful splendor of that glorious sight. Around them I beheld a glittering throng Of angels clothed in radiant garbs of bright, Transparent texture, pendent in the air, With golden harps on which, at times, they played Entrancing strains most ravishingly sweet, That trembled on the heavenly strings, and through The pure ethereal atmosphere of heaven Floated vibrations till the whole vast space Was filled with the celestial harmony. Anon they burst into some lofty song, Or choral anthem, symphony sublime, ¢ Or grand triumphal hymn of praise,.that rung Through the bright halls of heaven, reéchoing loud. Ob, had I but the inspiration which I felt that moment as I gazed Upon that glorious sight, or could I now Give life 1o my remembrance of the scene, And sing of it in a befitting strain, Then might I sing in strains that would outyie The loftiest strains of that celestial choir. But suddenly a dreadful trumpet-blast Through all the spacious heayens reéchoing rung, And instantly all sounds in heayen ceased ; And gathering around the august Throne The irradiant, hosts awaited there in silence What that dread summons should impart. Then spake The Almighty Father, through the Son, in tones That reached the uttermost extremes of heaven, “Aud hushed to silence all the listening throng: The hour hath come! Go, sumpon to my presence All nations of the earth, thagel may judge them, Aud to them give rewards or punishments As they deserve! and thus my Word may be Fulfilled !”. Then rising from his throne, he shone With such surpassing glory that mine eyes, Though strengthened with divine assistance, scarce Could bear the sight. All hesven seemed ablaze With indescribable splendor; and down S THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. Through yielding skies in all directions flew The obedient legions of bright angels, who, Upon their golden trumpets, blew a blast That to the startled world announced its doom. Then TI beheld the gathering of all The mighty nations of the earth, in one Dense crowd close huddled, and T saw Upon their mingled faces all their thoughts Expressed in various characters. Some were With doubts and fears oppressed, and some with hope, — \ But all alike awaited anxiously y Impending fate, till by some mighty power They were drawn upward through the opening skies Into the presence of Almighty God, And there, with tremblings and suspense, they stood Before the Judgment Seat awaiting judgment ; Whilst I, myself, with anxious fears disturbed, Guzed on the scene and waited the result. I heard an awful, a terrible crash That shook the whole vast firmament of heaven From center to circumference, and through The trembling skies reverberated long ; And, looking downward, saw a sight at which I stood aghast with horror and amaze ; Earth in one dire explosion now had burst Into innumerable fragments, and i Seemed all aflame, while crash succeeded crash With inconceivable rapidity, And hurled with forceful fury through the elias The hissing fragments rushed, each part again Exploding into lesser parts that still Again exploded, till the whole became One indistinenishablé Mass of fire. An inexpressible terror seized my soul As I beheld the voiling flood beneath Me roaring, bellowing, seething furiously 1 I felt the eminence on which [ stood Begin to shake and tremble, swaying to And fro with fearful motions, as if it Would topple over in that burning lake. ASTRONOMICAL, 67 My hair stood straight. Cold chills crept over me, And on my clammy brow huge drops of sweat Stood out, whilst I, o’ercome with terror, sought To cry aloud, and then awoke to find It all the frenzy of a midnight dream. *ASTRONOMICAL.— Adopted from the Cincinnati Times. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: The progress of astronomical science is so rapid that only the newspaper reporter, riding by express trains, or using the telegraph offices, can keep up with it. TIlence, the newspapers are the best sources of informa- tion, if lightning can be depended upon, and I think it can— us the miller said, when a thunderbolt ground him to powder. As I am a reporter by the fast line, and have lately been around some, among the telescopes and bakeries, I consider myself well qualified to treat—not to “stand treat,” mind— upon the sun, moon and milky whey, which last is good for the measles, and the first is good for a shine. We shall make our observations from the carth, partly be- cause it is the best point yet known from which to observe things, but mainly because of the imperfect facilities at pre- sent afforded for getting upon any other planet to observe. This will be observable to the most obtuse intellect. The sun is the largest planet that we have any knowledge of. Tle is a particularly crafty planet, hard to get around. It takes the earth, veteran though she is in crafliness, three hun- dred and sixty-five days and six hours (working nights and Sundays), to get around the sun. The greatest distance from the earth to the sun is ninety- six millions of miles, and the least distance something over ninety-four millions of miles. It would be well to bear this fact in mind, whenever a railroad is built between these two plancts, as a saving of two millions of miles would very ma- terially shorten the time consumed in running, besides reducing the expense. Any railroad man will tell you that. It wouldn’t surprise us much to see the Atlantic and Great 68 . THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. Western Railway Company, who seem determined to mono polize the railroad business, applying for the right of way tt the sun. What bills they would get out! © Great Broad Gauge route to the sun! No change of cars! No dust Through by daylight,” ete. The sun gives light to millions of worlds besides the earth. Ile is yery prodigal of his light; a sort of a prodigal sun, in fact. The sun is the only one of the heavenly bodies that main tains a private conveyance. It is called the Chariot of the Sun. The other planets, we suppose, patronize a livery. The moon must have been in the livery business at one time, ac cording to Shakspeare. The gentle Juliet says of the moon’s livery that it is “sick and green,” a brief and comprehensive statement of the condition of the horses and the color of the equipage. One day a fast young man, named Phatton, took it into his foolish head that he could drive the chariot of the sun. Ile lad been to the Hippodrome and observed the chariot-races there, and, besides, had achieved some success and notoriety in managing a two-in-hand on the trotting park. Scorning to cramp his genius within earthly bounds, he was ambitious to extend his track, . ; “ Far as the solar walk or milky way.” Ile was warned of the danger attending the attempt. to manage the ficry and untamed steeds of Phoebus in their diurnal flight around the celestial race-course, but he continued his importunities until the mad request was granted. The horses were trotted out, gorgeous in silver-platcd har- ness, cach one bearing a red ribbon, which indicated that they had taken the first premium at the State fair, Scarce heeding the warning voice of Phebus, who wasan old whip, the ras youth jumped into the chariot, seized the ribbons, and yelied “ eit” The first part of the way was very seep, but he put them through on the gallop, and soon reached the zenith, making noon come about nine o’clock in the morning, to the intense consternation of the inhabitants of the earth—who in that manner were cheated out of their eleven o’clock lunch. Phaéton found driving down-hill a different matter, The toe THE MOON. 69 horses became unmanageable and, leaving tne accustomed Course, they dashed off into unknown regions of the sky, now Up in the high heaven, now down almost to the earth, and at such a pace that Phagton, who was crazed with fear, couldn’t read the names on the signs of the zodiac, or tell the trezic of cancer from the tropic of capricorn, without consulting a saneer doctor, The speed increased until the north pole ard the south pole didn’t seem to be any further apart than a Couple of telegraph-poles. Ile dashed in pell-mell among the “ Stars,” causing many of them to break engagements made with man: wers for the ensuing season, greatly to the relief of the public. Ile over- — took comets, and fairly “ distanced” them on their own race- _tyack. The fiery breath of the horses caused the sea, with its thotisand sounds, to “dry up,” and the earth to crack ; mountains were melted down like sugar-loaves, and great cities perished with their walls and towers; Jupiter was obliged to administer a thunderbolt to the frantic young man, which he did in his usual efficient manner; and Phaéton, “ with his hair on fire,” as the ancient chroniclers say “Hough it is probable that he was only red-headed—fell headlong to the earth like shooting star. Nobody but old “Pheb » has altempted to handle those horses since, Ilaee fubula docet : don't drive fast horses nor know more than your daddy. This will conclude my lecture on the sun. *TOE MOON.—Same. Laptes AND GENTLEMEN: Luna is my theme to-night, r 9¢ lunatic, for Tam not in that line; I leave that to those wiio advocate woman’s suflevage and a dog-law. But the moon— “dear Luna,’ as I heard a very beautiful maiden sigh, one Nighi, as she stood leaning over the balusters and I stood down against the lamp-post. Ah, perhaps that’s why I have CLosen the moon for my theme. (Sighs and pauses.) Well, then: This planet borrows its light from the sun, Lat is never known to pay it back. Like all people who live 3 a i a 70 THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. on borrowed means, the moon is reduced to its“ last quarter” rather frequently—once a month, at least. It is a disstpated old planet, up a good deal at nights, “ filling its horn” and running it “high” When the moon is observed. to diminish in size, it is said to be “on the wane.” It would be natural to infer, when it was “full,” that it was “on the drink.” | We often hear the weather-wise (and pound-foolish) speak of a“ dry moon,” and it is a noticeable fact that drinking-peo- ple get dry oftener than anybody else. It has long been a subject of speculation among mea whether or not the moon is inhabited. The only evidence we have that anybody ever did live there, is the nursery rhyme about the “man in the moon,” who “ came down too soon,” making inquiries concerning the best route to Norwich. But there is nothing to show that he ever went back again, ile might have been the only man there, and “ come down too soon” to have any progeny through whom to perpetuate the race. : He probably wasn’t greatly struck with the moon, ot “ moon-struck,” as the books have it, and hurried away. But how did he get there in the first place? There must have been a time when the moon was much nearer the earth than itis now. So near, infact, that a cow of tolerable agility could jump over it. The nursery rhyme makes mention of one who accomplished that feat, to the inspiring music of * Tigh-diddle-diddle, The cat and the fiddle.” If a new milch cow could jump over it, how easy it would have been for a man to haye jumped upon it. Some crusty old bachelor has said that the reason why sen- timental misses are so languishing in regard to the moon, so fond of lookirg at it and quoting poetry about it, is because there is @ man in it. If it wouldn’t be unfair to make an in- vestigation, you would find that the man wasn’t in the moon, nor near so far away. More likely he is close by her side, with an arm around her waist, gazing at the moon’s reflection in her love-lit orbs, or walking arm-in-arm with her beneath the whispering leaves, through which the moonlight steals. -Catch a young woman sighing for the man in the moon, while there are so many that are “on earth.” DUTIES OF AMERICAN CITIZENS. ra It isn’t necessary to visit that distant planet, either, to be forgotten by the fickle fair. A mile or two, or even a few squares, will answer the purpose. Lovers must not. be away “too long. ‘The Philip Rays, who are at hand, always win, in the long run, over absent Enoch Ardens, This is “ under the palm,” mind. The moon has been the especial delight of lovers from time immemorial, and moonlight nights and leafy bowers are in- separably associated with Love's whisperings. We don’t know why this is so, unless it is because love is a sort of lu- nacy, and inasmuch as people who enjoy their senses shun moonlight, lovers and other lunatics court it. The moon is supposed to influence the tides, causing them. to ebb and flow. ‘The ocean tide is affected by the moon, and there is also a dog téed in a yard adjoining where We are, who is also affected by it, for he is alternately howling plaint- ively and barking viciously at the moon. . It is an illustration of the “moanings-of the ted” that we dont altogether relish. The volcanic craters supposed to exist in the bosom of the moon doubtless are old cancers not quite healed; or it may be some fellow has been boring for oil and struck Java in- stead. 3ut, the theme is too suggestive for further consideration. (Pulls out his watch.) 1 have another gas-post appointment, and have to say, Good-night ! DUTIES OF AMERICAN CITIZENS.—P. W. Chandler. The motives to moral action press upon the American citi- zen with unusual force at the present time. Upon us the hopes of man are resting in every part of the world. Wherever humanity toils for a scanty subsistence; wherever the iron hand of oppression falls upon the people; wherever liberty is dead— “rom the burning plains Where Lybian monsters yell, From the most gloomy glens Of Greenland’s suuless climes, 48. + THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER, To where the golden fields Of fertile England spread Their harvest to the sky,” “the voices of the past and the future seem to blend in one sound of warning and entrealy, addressing itself not only to the general but to the individual ear, calling upon us, eech and — aj}, to be faithful to the trust which God has commited to our hands.” Let the American citizen feel the responsibilities of his po- silion, with a determination that the hopes of the world shall not be disappointed. Nor let him mistake the nature of his duties. Many men acknowledge our evils and our dangers, but seek in vain for the remedy. They are ready for any — sacrifice, but carnestly inquire when and where it is to be made. We eagerly seize upon any excuse for the non-per- formance of duty. “ Give me where to stand,” cried the an- cient philospher, “ and I will move the world.” “ Find where to stand!” shouts the modern reformer. ‘Stand where you are,” is the voice of reason and religion. It is not upon some great-and distant enterprise that our duty will callus. It is not in the tented field that our services will be needed. The battle-ground is in our own hearts; the enemy is in our own bosoms, And when the passions of men are subdued ; when selfishness is purged from humanity ; when anger is entirely restrained ; when jealousy, hatred and revenge are unknown —then, and tlren only is the victory won. Let no mau merge his identity in the masses, nor forget his individual responsibility to his country and his God. Is his position lowly and obscure? Let him remember that every one exerts an influence for good or for evil, and no one is so lhumble as not to need the protection of a good government. is he called to places of responsibility and trust? Let him bear his honors meckly but firmly, yielding nothing to the blandishments of power, or the acclamations of the multitude, He may be hurled from his station by those who placed him in it, and the voices of praise, which were once sweet music to his ears, may be changed into execrations. Let him lay down his power in dignity and silence; as he has filled a high place without pride, he may fill a low without bumilia- tion. And if, in the performance of duty, sterner trials await hin | viet bra dat - fice | pla fey THE MAN. % | him; if misrule and lawless faction should select him as a | Victim ; let him calmly die, remembering that the best and the avest, earth’s noblest children, have drunk the cup of degra- dation to the dregs, and better men than he have been gacri- ficed to popular violence. In whatever position he may be } Placed, wherever his Jot may be cast, let him maintain the in- fegrity of his soul. This above all: to thine own sclf be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.”? THE MAN. Ts there a man a whit the better For his riches and his gains ? For his acres and his palace— If iniis inmost heart is callous, Js a man a whit the better? And if a man’s no whit the better For his coffers and his mines, For his purple and fine linen, For his vineyards and his vines, Why do thousands bend the knee, And cringe to mean servility, If a man’s no whit the better. Is a man a whit the worse For a lowly dress of rags ? Though he owns no lordly rental, If his heart is kind and gentle, Is a man a bit the worse ? And if a man’s no bit the worse For a poor and lowly stand, For an empty, even pocket, , And a brawny, working hand, . Why do thousands pass him by With a cold and scornful eye, If a man’s x0 whit the worse? | 4 THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. TLMPTATIONS OF LARGE CITIES.—Rev. Orville Dewey: Tuw many are there, alas!—and must we say of both xes -—who came from their native hills, pure as the streams feet push forth at their side; and have found in our city, al lurement, enticement, pollution, poverty, disease, and prema+ ]- ture denrh. Look at that young man, if, indeed, vice and misery mve eft him yet young; look at bim as he stands in the early morning, perhaps, at the entrance of some porter | house or grog-shop, pale, irresolute, destitute, friendless, not knowing waere to go or what to do; fix your eye, ay, and 4, compassionare eye, upon him for a moment, aunt walt tell you @ his history. q A few yeexs only have passed over him, since he was the cherishea member of a happy country- -home. It was ab | that period that nis own inclination, or family straits, led him | to seek his fortune abroad in the world. What a moment is] that, when the firs» great tie of nature is broken—the tie of home. The long pent-up and quiet tenderness of family a i fection swells in the eye of the mother, and trembles at het — {id ; heart, as she busies nerself with the little preparations neces he : sary for the departure of her son: her charge till now, from infancy, At length the day comes for him to bid adieu to the - scenes of his early life. Amidst the blessings and prayers of | kindred, with many precious words spoken to him, he turns. o away, himself moved to tears, perhaps, as he catches the last glance of the holy roof of, his childhood. Te comes to the | great city, and for a time, probably, all is well with him | Home is dear to his heart, and the words af parental cautiol — and of sisterly love are still in his ears; and the new scen@® | seem strange and almost sud to him. But, left alone in th@ | city throng, he must seek companions. ae And here, alas! is his first great peril. Could he havé | fi u c ee ee a been acquainted with but two or three virtuous and agreeable | ; families with whom to pass his leisure’ hours, all might still have been well. But left to chance for his associates, chant | is but too likely to provide him with associates that will tempt him to go astray. Their apparent honest wonder at his coum try simplicity, their ridicule of his fears, their jeers a his a TEMPTATIONS OF LARGE CITIES. 7 -duubts and scruples, ere long wear off the first freshness of virtue. A He consents, for experiment’s sake, it may be, to take one step with his evil advisers. That step sets the seal of ~ doom upon his whole after career. ‘Now, and from henceforih — eyery step is downward—downward—downward—till, on earth, there is no lower point to reach. And what though for a whise he maintain some outward decency! What though he dress well and live luxuriously, and amiass wealth to pam- per his vices! It is bnt a cloth of gold spread oyer the fatal gangrene, that is eating into his vitals, and his very heart! But, often, instead of that cloth of gold, are the rags of beggary, or the garb of the convict. Vice is expensive and wasteful. It wants means at the same time that it is lox ing credit. It must, without a rare fortune, descend to beg- gary and crime. How often does it find both mingled in its bitter cup! How many are there in this city who have de- ‘| scended franr the high places of honor and hope, to a degrada- va tion which once they never dreamed as possible ! Alas! how sad is the contrast between what that man ‘| is, and what he once was! But alittle time ago, and he knew gentle nurture, and the music of kind words, and the holy se- renity of nature, and quiet rural labor; the pace and plenty J of sweet and solemn prayer rose each morning and eyening, t y berhaps, beneath the venerable roof where he dwelt; and now f ‘| —in the prison or the poor-house, or in some dwelling more } desolate, pent up with stifling filth and squalid wretchedness, “a amidst oaths, and blows, and blasphemies, he is pursuing his f | dark and desperate way to a graye that already yawns to re- , | ceive him! es _ And when he is buried—* his pale form shall not be laid ‘0 With many tears” beneath the green fresh sod of his native i | fields; but he hurried and huddied into some charnel-louse, | unwept, unhonored, unblessed, even there, “ where the wicked 00 | Gease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.” pt a. i a is | of a courtry home were around him; and a mother’s gentle tone, and a sister’s kind voice, were in his ears; and words oe - %6 THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. ’ é BROKEN RESOLUTIONS.—Lenry Ward Beecher. Resolutions should not, cither, be hastily cast aside because they lave been broken. If a man should start to carry wa- ter to wounded soldiers from a spring afar off, and if, owing to the inequalities of the road, he should spill the water om one side and on the other ull one-half of it was gone, what would you think of him if he should say, “I have spilt, and spilt, till it is half gone, and I won’t have any of it,” and throw it down in a moment of vexation? It would be very natural in a passionate man; but how foolish and@liow inhu- man it would be! When he was just within hearing of the fecble voices of men who cried for water, would it be any reason why he should throw away what he had, because ib was less than he meant to bring? If he had not enough to give them each a swallow, le should have saved what he had, that he might have at Jeast put one drop on the fevered lip of each. There are many persons who form resolutions and break them; and rene them and break them again, and again renew them and break them; and at last say, in yexa- tion, “I will have no more of them; it is of no use for me to resolye.” But a résolution that is comprehensive will be broken. No man ever made a comprehensive resolution and — earried it straight through life without nick, or flaw, crack, A resolution does not imply perfection. No man can be perfect ina moment. If a man has been addicted to lying, and he resolves that he will lie no mere, the resolution should stand; but it is sure that in thought or word he will break it, |- for a man accustomed to lying can not in a moment rid him-_ self of the habit. A man resolves that he will refrain fr om the use of intoxt cating dyink, and holds out fora month, and then fuils, and says, “ Ll have broken my pledge, and it is all over with me.” It is not all over with you. You have stunibled, but you are — not destroyed. When a man, on a journey, fdls by the ways he gets up, and resting a little, starts agnin; and if he fall? | again, he is sorry that he has fallen, but that is not a reasot why he should give up. Many persons carry themselves far across the stream of ee Cd ek ae eae oe ee eae” ee THERE IS NO DEATH. V7 difficulty, and then, on meeting some impediment and check, swim back again; whereas, the same effort, the same thought and feeling, would carry them to the other side. What if a man, having proposed to Jead a higher life, finds that he has come far below it? Certainly he has done more than if’ he had formed no purpose at all. What if.a man says, “Lam determined to avoid bad associates,’ and does. for a time, and then consorts with them again ?—it is reason for sorrow, but it should be no reason why he should. throw away his reso- ution. Tlaving tried once, we need to try again. Resolu- tions are much like leaky boats, that, when they have been £ bailed out, leak again. Resolutions are mueh like imperfect arms in the hands of a hunter. If, when he fires at the game | before him, he miss it, he keeps firing till he has hit. Reso- jutions are much like adulterated medicines, which, when tuken once or twice, seem not to produce the results of leul- ing, but the use of which is to be followed up until a cure is effected. ; Make resolutions, if you break them. Make them, only make them wisely, with a strong will, and with practical wisdom. Try them on every day. Do not forget them; if you do, renew them. And even if, when renewed and tried, they are much abused and much neglected, cling to them. — It is better to have an imperfectly-kept resolution than to drilt toward damnation without hindrance or let. Told fast to 4 ideals of good and to purposes of amendment. It is better / to have a good purpose, even though you may not fulfill it to _ your satisfaction, Do not be discouraged because the way seems long, and perfection seems to delay in coming. THERE IS NO DEATH.—Anon. There is no death! The stars go down To rise upon some fairer shore ; And bright in heaven’s jeweled crown They shine forevermore. There is no death! . The dust we tread Shall change, beneath the summer showers, THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. To golden rain or mellow fruit, Or rainbow-tinted flowers. The granite rocks disorganize To feed the hungry moss they bear; The forest-leayes drink daily life From out the viewless air. There is no death! The leaves may fall, The flowers may pale and fade away— They only wait, through wintry hours, The coming of the May. There is no death! An angel form Walks o’er the earth with silent tread ; He bears our best-loved things away, And then we call them “ dead.” Te leaves our hearts all desolate— He plucks our fairest, sweetest flowers ; Transplanted into bliss they now Adorn immortal bowers, The birdlike voice whose joyous tone Made glad this scene of sin and strife, Sings now, in everlasting song, Amid the trees of life. And where he sees a smile too bright, Or hearts too pure for taint and vice, He bears it to that world of light, To dwell in Paradise, Born into that undying life, They leave us but to come again ; With joy we welcome them—the same, Except in sin and pain. And eyer near us, though unseen, The dear immortal spirits tread ; For all the boundless universe Is life—there is no death ! j *RACES.— Adapted from the “ Fat Contributors” Essay. My Hmarenrs: Ilaving exhausted all the other sources of knowledge, we can turn with never-failing pleasure and profil to the contemplation of the complex yet simpie problem of races, (Ahem.) My hearers, the science of ethnology is bul in its infancy. We are children, you know, of circumstances -——that is to say, we don’t know our progenitors ;, hence it may pe said we are mere babies in the lore of ages—which the philosophers tell us means, knowing what others didn’t know several geological strata ago. But, if we are infants in this respect, we are full-grown on the races, simple and composite, as I will proceed to demonstrate : The two leading races are the race of man called the hu- man race, and the horse-race, which some consider inhuman. The Indian race is yery nearly run. -A mill-race or a race to a “mill” occurs when a prize-fight is announced. Of all the races that have been upon the tapis recently, the black race attracts the most of public attention. Congressmen make speeches upon it, clergymen preach upon it, and Wendel) Phil- lips is ready to bet his money on it. I flatter myself that I know something of the horse-race. I had a passion for horse-racing when a lad, and used to run horses witha neighbor's boy in Tompkins’ lane. How vividly do I recall my last race. T rode the governor's grass-fed mare, a sorrel roan, if I remember correctly, with two white feet and a star in the forehead. She was a little foundered in one eye, but, with the exception of something like a water-mclon on each knee, her intellect was unimpaired. Neighbor's boy rode a cream-colored chestnut, with a spring-hait to harness. On the home-stretch, I was a neck und half a shoulder-blade ve- hind, gently encouraging the old mare to do her level best by the application of a corn-cutter to her aged ribs. The limp which she had in her eye prevented her tuking a clear view of a heap of cobble-stones in the lane, and when she struck them there was a tumble, clatter of stones, and old bones, and the old mare was wrecked, and oo insurance. I was picked up bleeding and insensible, and I made the home-stretch on a stretcher, coming in under one blauket.. The race was decided in. my favor.” The judges allowed, although I was a. ueck é ‘ THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. behind when ihe old mare tumbled, yet, as I escaped without my neck being broken, I came out “a neck ahead.” The scientific features of this agreeable subject, T sce, must be postponed. You are inclined to levity, and I should du injustice to my own feclings to arrest: the smiles which I be- hold acing around the room like champagne corks at a charity ball collation. Ata more propitious season we will resume, as the wild-eat bank-director said toa polite and happy throng svliciting entrance at the front door. A FRUITFUL DISCOURSE.—Silas §. Steele. ‘* A little more Cider, do.” BreEppVERN AN’ StstERN: I’se gwine to gib you what I hope will prove to you a fruitful discoarse—de subject am dat ob aprLes. “Dem ob my hearers dat only look upon de apple wid an eye to apple-sass, apple-flitters, apple-pies, apple- dumplins, an’ apple-toddies, will hardly be able to compre- stand de applecation ob my lectar—to dem I leab de peelins, an’ direct de seeds ob my discoarse to such as hab souls above apple-dumplins an’ taste above apple-tarts. Now de apple, accordin’ to Linneus, de Phlea-botanist, am a Fruit originally exported from Adams’ apple-orchard in de Garden ob Eden, an’ made indeggenous in ebry climate ’cept de north pole an’ its neighboren territory de Rolly bolly alis. De apple, accordin’ to those renowned Lexumcographers, Samuel Johnson, Danuel Webster, Jimuel Walker, an’ Docter Skeleton McKensie, am de py-rus molus, which means “ To be molded into pies.” Well, you all know dat de apple-tree was de sacred vege- table ob de Garden ob Eden till de siy an insinuvatin’ sca-sar- pent crawled out ob de river on Friday mornen, bit off an apple, made “ apple- jack,” handed de jug to Eve, she took a sip, den handed it to Adam—Adam took anoder, by which bofe got topseycated an’ fell down de hill ob Paradise, an’ in consequence darof, de whole woman race an’ human race fell down casmash, like speckled apples from a tree. i@ a stormado, Oh! what a fall was dar, my hearers, when you an’ me, an’ I, A FRUITFUL DISCOURSE. an’ all drapt down togedder, an’ de sarpent flapped his forked tongue in fatissaction. 4 But arter all, my hearers, dat terrible fll was not de fault 4 ob de fruit ob de apple, but de abuse ob it; for de apple am a very great wegetable, corden as we use it or abnse it. De upple las been ‘de fruit ob great tings, an great ‘tings hab been de fruit-ob de apple. It was an apple dat fust suggested to Sir Lumphrey Gravy Newtown de seeds ob de law ob grabi- tation, dat wonderful, inwisible, an’ unfrizable patent leber principle by which all dem luminous an’ voluminous planets turn round togedder, all-apart in one Z pluribus unum ob grab- ity ; hence de great poet Longfeller, in de fifty-leventh canto ob Lord Byron obsarves— a ‘Man fell by apples, an’ by apples rose.” Sir Humphrey Gravy Newtown was one day snoozen fast aslecp under an apple-tree, when a large-sized Kentucky Pip- pen grabitated from de limb, struck him-in de eye, an’ all at once his eye was suddenly opened to de universal law of grab- itation. Tle saw the apple downwards fell, Iie thought, ** Why not,fadZ.up as well,” It proved some telegraphic spell, Pulled it arthwise, I wish he’d now come back an’ tell Why apples RIsE, so high to a half-peck in de bushel. But, my hearers, to come to de grand point ob my larned disquisition on apples. Reasoning ap-priori, I proceed to dis grand fromologico-physiological phreenomennon, dat eber : since our great-grand-modder Eye an’ our great-great-grand- ¢ fader Adam fust tasted apple-juck in de orchard ob Eden, de entire human race an’ woman race in particlar, has been ims pregnated wid de spirit ob de apple, an’ dat all men an’ wo- men, an’ de rest ob mankind, may be compared to some Genus ob de Arprup. Dar’s de Philanthropist, he’s a good meller pippen—always ripe an’ full ob de seeds ob human kindness, Dar’s de Miser, he’s de “ grindstone ? apple—rock to de very core. Daz’s de Bachelor, he am a rusty-coat, an’ like a beef- steak widout gravy—dry to de very heart. Dar’s de’Dandy, he’s a long stim, all peelen. Dar’s de Farmer, he’s de cart: 82 THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. horse apple—a-leetle rough on de peelen, but juicy wid feelen. De Fashionable gent am a French pippen, an’ de fashionable young lady am. de Bell-flower—an’ when two sich apples am joined togedder, dey become a pear, (pair.) De »Pollytician’ am a Specked apple—little foul sometimes’ at de core.’ De young Misses am de “ Maiden’s Blushes.”. Dé Widder she am a Pine-apple—pine-en an’ sprouten in de dark leaves 10 blos- som once more. De good Wife-she am de Balsam apple ob human life; an’—an’ in finis,de—de old Maid she am (bitterly,) a CRAB APPLE—a fruit never known in de apple-orchard ob Paradise, an’ only fit for Sourland—put her in de cider-press ob human affection, an’ she'll come out fortyleventh’ proof VINEGAR, enough to sour all human creation—evyen as de loud thunder ob de heabens sours de cow-juice in de milk-house. Lastly, and to conclude, Brederen’ and Sisteren, let it be our great aim, howsomever we may differ in our varions.apple species, to strive to go in to de great cider-press ob buman (rial widont a speck in de core or de peclen, so dat when de juice of our mortal vartues am squeezed out, de Angels when dey fust put dar lips to de cider-trough, may exclaim wid de poet, * A Jeetle more Cider, do.” A FRENCHMAN’S DINNER.— Anon. . A Monsieur from the Gallic shore, Who, though not over rich, wished to appear so; Came over in a ship with friends a score— Poor emigrants, whose wealth, good lack ! Dwelt only on their ragged backs, Who thought him rich, they'd heard Adm oft declare so, For he was proud as Satan’s self, And often bragged about his pelf, And as a proof—the least That he could give—he promised when on land, At the first inn, in style so grand, To sive a feast / The Frenchmen jumped at such an offer, Monsieur did not forget his proffer ; A FRENCOMAN'S DINNER. But at the first hotel on shore, They stopped to lodge and board, The Frenchman ordered in his way, A dinner to be done that day, But here occurred a grievous bore; _ Monsieur of, English knew but liitle, Of French, the lrost knew not a tittle; In ordering dinner, therefore, ‘tis no wonder, That they both should make a blunder. For all that from the order he could trace, Was—‘ Monsieur Bull, you lette me haye, 1 say, Vich for vid money, I sall you pay : Fifteen of those vid vich de sheep do run!” From which old Tapps could only understand, What Monsieur desired with air-so grand, Was, jifleen legs of mutton / They scemed a set of hungry curs, And so without more bother or demurs Tapps to his cook his orders soon expre ‘ And fifteen legs of mutton soon were dressed ; And now around the table all elate, The Frenchman’s friends the dinner doth awaib ; Joy sparkled in each hungry urchin’s eyes, When they beheld, with glad surprise, Tapps quick appear with leg of mutton hot, Smoking and just ejected from the pot! - Laughed, stared, and chuckled more and more, When two they saw, then three, then four / And then a fifi / their eager-glances blessed, And then a sth / larger than all the rest! “ Mon Dieu! Monsieur, yy for you make Dis vera great blundare and mistake ? Vy for you bring to me so several mouton legs Tapps, with a bow, his pardon begs— “Tve done as you. have ordered, sir,” said he, “Did you not order jifleen legs of me ? Siz of which before your eyes appears, And nine besides are nearly done dowa-stairs | Here, John !” THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. “Sacré/ You Jean! you fool! you ass! You one great clown to bring me to dis pass; Take vay dis meat for vich I shall no pay, I did no order dat /” “What's that you say?” Tapps answered with a frown and with a stare, “You ordered fifteen legs of me, Pll swear, Or fifteen things with which the sheep do run, Which means the same; Tm not so easy done!” “Par blew! Monsieur! vy you no comprehend ? You may take back de legs unto de pot; I tell you, sare, ’tis not de legs I vant— 3ut dese here littel tings vid which de sheep do trot [? «Why iang it! cried the landlord in a rage, Which Monsieur vainly tried to assuage, “JIang it!’ said he, as to the door he totters : “ Now after all the trouble that I took, These legs of mutton, both to buy and cook, It seems, instead of fifteen legs, You merely wanted fifteen poor sheep's trotters |” “ Oui, Monsieur !” the Frenchman quickly said- At which John seemed very much dismayed, And to the kitchen, he with horror totters, To blow up cook about the jifleen trotters, _UNJUST NATIONAL ACQUISITIONS.—Tihomas Corwin. The uneasy desire to augment our territory has depraved the moral sense and blighted the otherwise keen sagacity of our people. Sad, very sad, are the lessons which Time has writicn for us. Through and in them all I see nothing but. the inflexible execution of that old law which ordains, as ecter- nal, the cardinal rule, “ Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods, nor any thing which is his.” Since I have lately heard s0 much about the dismemberment of Mexico, I have looked back to see how, in the course of events, which some call “ Providence,” it has fared with other nations who engaged in this work of dismemberment. UNJUST NATIONAL ACQUISITIONS. T see that in the latter half of the eighteenth century, three pewerful nations, Russia, Austria and Prussia, united in. the dismemberment of Poland. They said, too, as you say, “ It is our destiny.” They “ wanted room.” Doubtless each of these thought, with his share of Poland, his power was too strong ever to fear inyasion, or even insult. One had his Cali- fornia, another his New Mexico, and the third his Vera Cruz. Did they remain untouched and incapable of harm? Alas! no—far, very far, from it. Retributive justice must fulfill its } destiny, too. A very few years pass off, and we hear of a new man, a Corsican lieutenant, the selfnamed “armed sol- dier of Democracy,” Napoleon. Ile. rayages Austria, covers’ her land with blood, drives the Northern Cesar from his capi- tal, and sleeps in his palace. Austria may now remember how her power trampled upon Poland. Did she not pay dear, very dear, for her California ? But has Prussia no atonement to make? You see this same Napoleon, the blind instrument of Providence, at work there. The thunders of his cannon at Jena proclaim the work of re- tribution for Poland’s wrongs; and the successors of the Great Frederick, the drill-sergeant of Europe, are seen flying across the sandy plains that surround their capital, right glad if they may escape captivity and death. But how fares it with the Autocrat of Russia? Is he secure in his share of the spoils of Poland? No. Suddenly we see sir, six hundred thousand armed men marching to Moscow Does his Vera Cruz protect him now? Far from it. Blood slaughter, desolation, spread over the land; and, finally, the conflagration of the old commercial metropolis of Russia closes the retribution: she must pay for her share in the dismem- berment of her impotent neighbor. SAME. A mind more prone to look for the judgments of Heaven in the doings of men than mine, can not fail, in all unjust ac- quisitions of territory, to see the providence of God. When THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. Moscow burned, it seemed as if the earth was lighted up, that the nations might behold the scene. As that mighty sea of fire gathered and heaved and rolled upward, and yet higher, till its flames licked the stars, and fired the whole heavens, it did seem as though the God of nations was writing, in characters of flame, on the front of his throne, that doom tlrat shall fall upon the strong nation which tramples in scorn upon the weak. ~ And what fortune awaits him, the appointed executor of this work, when it was all done? He, too, conceived the notion that his destiny pointed onward to universal dominion. France was too small—Europe, he thought, should bow down before him. But as soon as this idea takes possession of his. soul, ke too becomes powerless. His Terminus must recede too. Right there, while he witnessed the humiliation, and, doubtless, meditated the subjugation, of Russia, He who holds the winds in his fist, gathered the snows of the North, and blew them upon his six hundred thousand men, They fled— they froze—they perished. And now the mighty Napoleon, who had resolved on uni- versal dominion, he, too, is summoned to answer for the vio- lation of that ancient law, “Thou shalt not covet any thing which is thy neighbor's.” Tow is the mighty fallen! He, beneath whose proud footstep Europe trembled, he is now an exile at Elba, and now, finally, a prisoner on the rock of St. Helena—and there, on a barren island, in an unfrequented sea, in the crater of an extinguished volcano, there is the death-bed of the mighty conqueror. All his annexutions have come to that! His last hour is now at hand; and he, the man of destiny, he who had rocked the world as with the throes of an earthquake, is now powerless, still—even as the beggar, so he died. , On the wings of a tempest that raged with unwonted fury up to the throne of the only Power that controlled him while he lived, went the fiery soul of that wonderful warrior, an- other witness to the existence of that eternal decree, that they who do not rule in righteousness shall perish from the earth He has found “room,” at last. And France, she, toc, hag found “room.” Her “eagles” now no longer scream along the banks of the Danube, the Po, and the Borysthenes. They PHAETHON, OR THE AMATEUR COACHMAN. 8 have retuened home, to their old aérie, between the Alps, the Rhine, and the Pyrenees. So shall it be with yours. You may carry them to the lofliest peaks of the Cordilleras; they may. wave, with ir#o- lent triumph, in the halls of the Montezumas; the armed men of Mexico may quail before them ; but the weakest hand in Mexico, uplified in prayer to the God of Justice, may call down against you a Power in the prescuce of which the iron hearts of your warriors shall be turned into ashes! PHAETHON, OR THE AMATEUR COACHMAN. —Joha G. Saxe. Dan Phatthon—so the histories ran— Was a jolly young chap, and a son of the Sun Or rather of Phoebus—but as to his mother, Genealogists make a deuce of a-pother, Some going for one and some for another! For myself, I must say as a careful explorer, This roaring young blade was tiie son of Aurora, Now old Father Phebus, ere railivays begun To elevate funds and depreciate fun, . Drove a very fast coach by the name of “ The Sun ,” Running, they say, Trips every day, (On Sundays and all, in a heathenish way,) All lighted up with a famous array Of lanterns that shone with a brilliant display, And dashing along like a gentleman’s “ shay,” With never a fare, and nothing to pay ! Now Phatthon begged of his doting old father, To grant him a favor, and this the rather, Since some one had hinted, the youth to annoy, That he wasn’t by any means Phocbus’s boy | Intending, the rascally son of a gun, To darken the brow-of the son of the Sun! “ By the terrible Styx !? said the angry sire, While his eyes flashed volumes of fury and fire, THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. “To prove your reviler an infamous liar, I swear I will grant you whate’er you desire 1” “Then, by my head,” The youngster said, “TI mount the couch when the horses are fed !— For there’s nothing Vd choose, as ’'m alive, Like a seat on the box, and a dashing drive !? “Nay, Phatihon, don’t— T beg you wowt—- Just ‘stop a moment and think upon’t! You're quite toc young,” continued the sage, “To "tend a coach at your early age! Besides, you see, Twill really be Your first appearance on any stage! Desist, my child, The cattle are wild, And when their mettle is thoroughly “ riled)? Depend upon’t, the corch will be “ spiled "— They’re not the fellows to draw it mild! Desist, I say, Yow'll rue the day— So mind and don’t be foolish, Pha !? But the youth was proud, And swore aloud, Twas just the thing to astonish the crowd-—— Tie’d have the horses and wouldn’t be cowed! In vain the boy was cautioned at large, He called for the chargers, unheeding the charge, And vowed that any young fellow of force Could manage a dozen coursers, of course ! Now Pheebus felt exceedingly sorry He had given his word in sueh a hurry, But having sworn by the Styx, no doubt Ile was in for it now, and couldn't back out. So calling Phaéthon up in a trice, Ile gave the youth a bit of advice :— “ Parce stimulis, utere loris |” (A “ stage direction,” of which the core is, Don’t use the whip—they’re ticklish things— PHAETON, OR THE AMATEJR COACHMAN. But, whatever you do, hold on to the strings }) Remember the rule of the Jehu tribe is, “ Medio lutissimus this,” As the judge remarked toa rowdy Scotehma mm, (Who wa So mind your eye and spare your goad, 3e shy of the stones, and keep in the a ! Now Phatthon, perched in the coachmaa’s place, Drove off the steeds at a furious pace, Fast as coursers running a race, Or bounding along in a steeple-chase | Of whip and shout there was no lack, “ Crack—whack— Whack—cerack,”’ Resounding along the horses’ back! Frightened beneath the stinging lash Cutting their flanks in many sh, On—on they sped as swift as a flash, Through thick and thin away they dash, (Such rapid driving is always rash !) When all at once, with a dreacful crash, The whole establishment went to smash! And Phaétlion, he, As all agree, Off the coach was suddenly hurled, Into a puddle and out of the world! MORAL, Don’t rashly take to dangerous courses— Nor set it down ia your table of forces, That any one man equals any four horses! Don’t swear hy the Styx }— Iv’s one of Old Nick’s Diabolical tricks To get people into a regular “ fix,” And hold ’cm there as fast as bricks 1 going to quod between two watchmen !) THE DIME STUMP SPHAKER. THE COLD-WATER MAN.—Same. - There lived an honest fisherman, I knew him passing well— Who dwelt hard by a litile pond, Within a litue dell. A graye and quiet man was he, Who loved his hook and rod; So even ran his line of life, His neighbors thought it odd. For science and for books, he said, He never had a wish ; No school to him was worth a fig, Except a “school” of fish. This single-minded fisherman A. double calling had— To tend his flocks, in winter-time, In summer fish for shad. In short, this honest fisherman All other toils forsook ; And though no vagrant man was he, He lived by “ hook and crook.” All day that fisherman would sit Upon an ancient log, And gaze into the water like Some sedentary frog. A cunning fisherman was he; Ifis angles all were right ; And when he scratched hig aged poll You'd know he'd got a bite. To charm the fish he never spoke, Although his voice was fine ; He found the most convenient way Was just. to “ drop a line.” And many a “gudgeon” of the pond, If made to speak to-day, Would own with grief, this angler had A mighty “ taking way.” PERMANENCY OF STATES. 91 One day, while fishing on the log, He mourned his want of luck— When, suddenly, he caught a bite, And jerking—caught a duck ! Alas! that day, the fisherman Had taken too much grog ; And being but a landsman, too, — He couldn’t “keep the log.” In yain he strove with all his might, And tried to gain the shore ; Down, down he went, to feed the fish He'd baited oft before! The moral of this mournful tale To all is plain and clear: A single “drop too much” of rum May make a watery bier. And he who will not “ sign the pledge,” And keep his promise fast, May be, in spite of fate, a stark Cold-water man, at last ! PERMANENCY OF STATES.— Webster. Mr. Presiwent: It has always seemed to me to be a grate- ful reflection, that, however short and transient may be the lives of individuals, States may be permanent. The great corporations that embrace the governments of mankind, pro- tect their liberties and secure their happiness, may have sone- thing of perpetuity, and, as I may say, of immortality, For my part, sir, I gratify myself by contemplating what in the future will be the condition of that generous State which hag done me the honor to keep me in the counsels of the country for so many years. I see nothing about her in prospect less than that which encircles her now. I feel that when I and ail those that now hear me shall have gone to our last home, and ufterward, when mold may have gathered upon our mem- ories, as it will have done upon our tombs, that State, so early 92 THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. to take her part in the great contest of the Revolution, will / stand, as she has stood and now stands, like that column which, near her capital, perpetuates the memory of the first great battle of the Revolution, firm, erect, and immovable. I believe, sir, that if commotion shall shake the country, Shere will be one rock forever, as solid as the granite of her vills, for the Union to repose upon. © I believe that, if disasters arise, bringin clouds which shall obscure the cnsign now over her and over us, there will be one star that will but burn the prighter amid.the darkness of that night; and I believe that, if in the remotest ages (I trust they will be infinitely remote !) an cccasion shall occur when the sternest duties of patriotism are demanded and to be performed, Massachusetts will imitate her own example; and that, as at the breaking out of the Revolution she was the first to offer the outpouring of her blood and her treasure in the struggle for liberty, so she will be hereafter ready, when the emergency arises, to repeat and renew that offer, with a thousand times as many warm hearts, and a thousand times as many strong hands! LIBERTY OF SPEECH.—Same. Important, sir, as I deem it to discuss, on all proper occa: ~ sions, the policy of the measures at present pursued, it is still more important to maintain the right of such discussion in its full and just extent. Sentiments lately sprung up, and now growing fashionable, make it necessary to be explicit on this point. The more I perceive a disposition to check the free- dom of inquiry by extravagant and unconstitutional pretenses, the firmer shall be the tone in which I shall assert, and the freer the manner in which I shall exercise it. It is the ancient and undoubted prerogative of this people to canvass public measures, and the merits of public men. It is a“ home-bred right,” a fireside privilege. It hath ever been enjoyed in every house, cottage, and cabin in the nation. It is not to be drawn into controversy. It is as undoubted as the right of breathing the air, or walking on the earth, Be- longing to private life as a right, it belongs to publie life as 93 JOHN THOMPSON’S DAUGHTER. a duty; and it is the last duty which those whose represent- ative Iam shall find me to abandon. Aiming at all times to be courteous and temperate in its use, except when the right itself shall be questioned, I shall then carry it to its extent. I shall place myself cn the extreme boundary of my right, and bid defiance to any arm that would move me from my ground. This high constitutional privilege I shall defend and exer- cise within this house, and without this house, and in all places; in time of peuce, and in all times. Living, I shall assert it; and, should I leave no other inheritance to my children, by the blessing of God I will leave them the inher- itance of free principles, and the example of a manly, inde- pendent, and constitutional defense of them. JOIN THOMPSON'S DAUGHTER.— Anonymous. A fellow near Kentucky’s clime, Cries “boatman do not tarry, And I'll give thee a silver dime, To row us o’er the ferry.” * Now who would cross the Ohio, This dark and stormy water ?” “Oh, IT am this young lady’s beau, And she’s John Thompson’s daughter. “We've fled before her father's spite, With great precipitation, And should he find us here to-night, Td lose my reputation. “They’ve missed the girl and purse besides His horsemen hard have pressed me, And who will cheer my bonny bride, If yet they will arrest me ?” Out spoke the boatman then, in time, “You shall not fail, don’t fear it ; Til go; not for your silver dime, But for your manly spirit. THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER. ‘And by my word, the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry, For though a storm is coming on, Pll row you o’er the ferry.” By this the wind more fiercely rose The boat was at the landing, And with the drenching rain their clothes Grew wet where they were standing. But still, as wilder rose the wind, And as the night grew drearer, Just back a piece came the police, Their trampling sounded nearer, “Oh, haste thee, haste!” the lady cries, “Tt’s any thing but funny, Tl leave the light of loving eyes, But not my father’s money.” And still they hurried in the face Of wind and rain unsparing ; n is, a : John Thompson reached the landing-place, His wrath had turned to swearing. For, by the lightning’s angty flash, His child he did discover ; One lovely hand held all his cash, And one was round her lover! * Come back, come back !” he cried in woe, Across the stormy water; * But leave the purse and you may go, My daughter, oh, my daughter !” 'Twas vain—they reached the other shore, (Such dooms the futes assign us), The gold he'd piled went with his child, And he was left there, minus. WOUSE-CLEANING. ; 95 HOUSE-CLEANING.—* Gus.” “The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year.” Of cleaning paint and scrubbing floors, and scouring far and near. Heaped in the corners of the room, the ancient dirt lay quiet, < And spiders wove their web secure from fear and din and riot ; 3ut now the carpets are all up, and from the staircase top The mistress calls to man and maid to wield the broom and mop. Where are those rooms, those quict rooms, the house but now presented, 5 Wherein we dwelt, nor dreamed of dirt, so cozy and con- tented ? Alas! they’re turned all upside-down, that quict suite of rooms, With slops and suds, and soap and sand, and tubs and pails and brooms; Chairs, tables, stands, are standing ’round at sixes and at sevens, While wife and maid fly about like meteors in the heavens. The parlor and the chamber floor were cleaned a week ago, The carpets shook and the windows washed, as all the neigh- bors know ; But still the sanetwm had escaped—the table piled with books, Pens, ink and paper all about, peace in its very looks— Till fell the women on them all, as falls the plague on men, And then they vanished all away—books, papers, ink and pen, And now when comes the master home, as come he must at nights, To find all things are “set to wrongs” that they have “set to rights!” When the sound of driving tacks is heard, though the house is far from still, And the carpet women are on the stairs, that harbinger of ill, He looks for papers, books or bills, that all were there before, And sighs to find them on the desk or in the drawer no more, 96 THE DIME STUMP SPEAKER, And then-he grimly thinks of her who set this fass afloat, And wishes she were out at sea ina very leaky boat ; He meets her at the parlor door, with her hair and cap awry, With sleeyes tucked up and broom in hand, defiance in her eye; Tle feels quite small,-and knows full well there's nothing to Le said, : So holds his tongue, and drinks his tea, and sneaks away to bed. It IS NOT YOUR BUSINESS WILY. Would you like to know the secrets Of your neighbor's house and life? How he lives, and how he doesn’t, And just how he treats his wife ? Ilow he spends his time of Icisure, Whether sorrowful or gay, And where he goes for pleasure, To the concert or the play ? If you wish it I will tell you— Let me whisper to you sly— If your neighbor is but civil, It: is not your business why. In short, instead of prying Tnto other men’s affairs, If you do your own but justice, You will have no time for theirs, Be attentive to such matters As concern yourself alone, And whatever fortune flatters, Let your business be your own, One word by way of finis— Let me whisper to you sly— If you wish to be respected, You must cease tu be a pry. THE END. BEADLIOS DIME SOHOOL AND TOME HAND-ROOKB, Courtahip, Debt, Hosea Biglow’s opinions ’ DIME STANDARD ‘Tho world we live in, Woinan’s clains, Authors of our liberty, The real cong ueror, The citizen’s heritage, Italy The mee! hhanic, Nature & Nature’s God, The modern goad, [adu, Ossian’s address to the} Independence bell —1777 Jolin Burns, Gettysburg, No sect in Heaven, Miss Prade’s tea party, Hon. J. Moses Stubt viewson the situation. mae Schwackheimer on 1ap’s suffrage, all for nomination, Old ovean, [sea, The sea, the sea, the open Thestar bangled spanner Stay where you belong, Life is what you make it, ‘Where’s my money! A speech from ahr at e, A man’s relation to soc’ A boy’s philosophy, Hoe out your row, Bix-year-old’s protest, The suicidal cat, A valediction, Popping corn, The editor, The anine, in rhyme, iry shoemaker, was learned, Press on, The horse, fhe snake in the gr a A tale of the tro Broinley’s speech, ho dame, second extract The fisher’s child, A ShnXsperian scholar, A maiden’s psalm of life A mixture, A ploa for skates, Comm tsimple manner, for S« DIME HUMOROUS SPEAKER, B How the money goes, Hun-ki-do-ri’s Fourth of July oration, 1 Megn no, Say no, » Bows ov leap year, Lay of the henpecked, Lot Skinuer’s elegy, Be atrimony, your own y on “Araby’s daughter,” The power of an idea, ‘The beneficence of the Suffrage, [sea, Dream of the revelers, How Cyrns inid the cable The prettiest Paradoxical, ale neck, foggy thoughts, The ladies’ man, Life The idler, The unbeliever, cod-pature a blessing, A sermon froin the hard- Tail-enders, {sheli Bap’t| The value of mot A meteoric disquisition, Be sure you are right, Be of good cheer, Crabbed folks, [sh Taming a masculin Farmers, y ‘he true greatness of our - England & the Union} The unseen battle-tield, Tho limits to happiness,| A plea for she Republic, |The man, DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER, No. 9, Playing ball Ah why! Live for something, Lay of the henpecked, The outside dog - olf and La on in lov rogs asking for a king, Sick lion Country xnd town mice, tit d woman, or, e lotus planter, Little things, A baby’s soliloquy, epentance, A plea for eggs, Humbug patriotism, Night after Christmas, Short legs, Shrimps on amusements heol ing, with eleme teuder age Compiles wed urranged by Geonenr C. Little Jerry, the miller. \ w |Mise {country, | 4 ——< Poetry run mad, Right NAMES, clentific lectures, inysterious guess, AEP, Che it Seryeaot ‘ f *y ronkon: The feather’s quarrel, Che Hamerican Vood- f popping the chuck question, as ki rp of a thousind Wat! wo pala? t he, gs, Vank -doodie Ailsdés. leat of the sarpi ue, The warch to Moscow, ie 13. SPEAKER, No. 7. ‘The two lives, jTh he Bible, The tre 'The purse ‘and the ewor Judges not intali My ae Fanaticism, ve, ‘True moral courage, fity of suceeseful VS nae is wart ‘The modern puritan, |lmmortality of the sop /Gernpation, fercisin and daring, 'Avshot at the decanter DIME STUMP SPEAKER, on 8. : America, acy, Demnptations of cities, “vight of fe! easton ° Bro sn resolutions, Life’s » |There is no death, i Human nature, | Races, | Lawyers, |A frnitful discourse, |Wrongs of the Ind \A Frenchuran’s dinner, Appeal in behalf pjust national acqui’m amateur couchman he cold-water man, | Pormanency of States, {Liberty of speech, John Thompson's daw - House-cleaning, Tt is vot your business, Astronomical, |The nie |Duti 2 of American ei How the raven becatie Nothir to do, best policy, black, A 1K her’s work F tor the fields, [Fashion on the brats, JOn erate JA sini! {A little fone good x dream, pig [another, Ftoaiutiite soup, iNose and eyes, ruse tobacco, | Malt, {come, aic j|A hundred years te Tbe old bachelor, {The an nis Prayer to light, Li aioe rinona, Little Jim, Snuffies on electricity, Angelina's Lament, The two cradles, JohnnyShrinips on boats! The ocean storm, Merey, . |Do thy litle—do it well, c : of hours, ie ittle Poor Richard's sayings, | Base-b [fevor, Whe killed Tom Roper, i Prescription for apring THE DIME SCHOOL MELODIST. ining the masic nnd words of familiar and beauti Dueta, Trive, etc., arranged ta suited to children af the most he ee NA ee oe ae. BEADLE’S DIME HAND-BOOKS FOR YOUNG HUPULR. BEADLE’S DIME BOOK OF ETIQUETTE. Evening Party, the Dinner Party. CE INTO SOCIETY.— ese 5 how to treat them. L AND ORNAMENTS.—The vul- garity of ‘flash ” attire; simplicity in dress a mark of good-breeding, i N VISIIS, INTRODUCTIONS, Ere. — The law of politeness a law of kindness; when| visite are proper introductions, presentations, etc., and EFENING PARTIES, DANCES, iquette at the ball- -roorn, for the same. us OF CARDS, CHESS, Ere,— When pro- nd how conducted; geueral rules ofthe eill-breeding if betting or bragging. Confidence ys. Ere,—The et- ; general directions kindness va, rudeness; the bores Vor Ladies and Gentlemen ; being « guide to true gentility and good breeding, and a eomplots di. rectory to the usages and observances of society. Including etiquette of the Ball-room, of the , the Card and Chess Table, of Business, of the Home Circia, otc, Prepared expreesly for the “ Dime Series,” by a @onumittee of Th Tes. CONTENTS. resu alts 5 how to comport yourself; for it. N LETTER AND NOTE WRITID prieties and improprieties of the sar ral directions for a good letter, HOW TO GIVE AND RECE TIONS.—G ral usage in all ce ON ENTERTAINMENTS.— E: table; how to serve a gui served ; special directions, oN PERSONAL CLEANLIN’ direction it, and how ta ESS—A word tw the laborer; on religion and respect for age; on theaters, promenades, ete. ; on love, court- ship and marriage; the laws of home etiquette; specia) advice to Indies ; general observations and closing chapter. ok C DNV ERSATION.—Its usefulness and good} DIME LETTER-WRITER, And Practical Guide to Composition , embracing of al) classes, on all occasions; also a list of im correct forms; and also a complete dictionar, @nann, M.D. CONTE! COMPOSITION.—Tho secret of a good letter; directiona to a novice; the rules of composl- tion, ete, GENERAL ADVICE LETTERS OF BUSIN pee O# PLEASURE AND FRIEND- SHIP. LETTERS OF LOVE.—Hints and suggestions; a declaration , answer; a briefer declaration of attachment; aunts real love-lettera of emi- nent personages, & LETTFRS OF UT ¥, OF TRUST, Erc.— What they are and how to write them; forms, ete. ; sdvice from a lady to her friend; = complaint LETTER-WRITERS. forms, models, Firat and rules for the use iproper words and expressions, together with aes y of mottves, phrases, idioma, etc. By Louis Lu- NTS. at“silence; communicating distressing news; to parents, informing cf thelr eon, ete, LETTERS OF RELATIONSHD. Fatally cor- respondence ; its sacred apetecee and proprie- ties; examples of real letters, LETTERS OF VARIOUS GCCASTONS.— A certificate of character; another, for 9 meld; another, for a clerk; application for a school- teacher's place ; soliciting a vote; declining s nomination; a a girl applying for & place; en- other ; application for a governess’ situation, ete, WRITING FOR THE PRE: IMPROPRIETIES OF EXPRESSION, PHRASES, MOTTOES, IDIOMS, Ero, OF DREAMS. DIME BOOK heir Romance end Mystery accredited aour-es for the “ INTRODUCTORY, THE ROMANCES, OF DREAMS.—Embodying dreams of al ds and characters, with the constraction plowed upon them by the most em- Anes authori! 9, and narratives of the extraor- dinary fulfillment of them, THE PHENO} ENA OF DREAMS.—A physl- cian’s views om the subject, giving @ rational solution of the phenomena, with instances cit- ed in proof, SRS. CATHARINE CROWE’S TESTIMONY. DIME BOOK with » complete I Time Suries,’ conn: at Te Rhymes, fe and Mottoes, for Lovers and Friends; Verses, Birthday Lin es, and poexy for Bridals, CONTE: VERSES FOR ALBUMS. MOTTOES AND COUPLETS, 81. VALENTINE VERSES, BRIDAL AND MARRIAGE VERSES. VERSES ON BIRTHS AND INFANCY. VERSES TO SEND WITH FLOWERS, VERSES OF LOVE i AND AFFECTION. FOLIDAY VE RIRTADAY Vv URSRS. nterpreting Dictionary. Compiled from the moat “NTS. —Favoring the supernatural nature of dreams, and a belief in their revelations. DICTIONARY OF DREAMS,—Comprising the most complete Interpretation-Dictiona: prepared, embracing the whole Alphabet of subjects, t@r It is a volume full ot interest even to the general reader, being, in that reapect, sore thing like Mra. Crowe’s “Night Side of Na ture,” and Robert Dale Owen’s “| Footfalls oo the (the Bohindary of Another World.” OF VERSES. Valentines, Album Teces, in Births, Mourning, Epitaphs, etc, EPITAPHS AND MOURNING VERSES.--For all ages and classes, THE LOVER’S CASKET, QP This little volume is a veritable roe com. panion, It is everybody’s poet. It ia - = occasions, for old and young, for male and male, It will be treasured ike o Lecpake: and used like s dictionary. BEADLE'’S DIME SUHOOL AND HOME HAND-BOOKS. DIME AMERICAN SPEAKER, No. 1. Young America, Birthday of Washingto: Plea for the Mae law, Not on the battlefield, The Italian straygle, fadependence, Dur country, The equality of man, Charmeter of the Revo't VThe truits of the war Lhe sowing -tuachive, Trae mavhood, The mystery of life, Tho aps and downa, DIME NATIONAL SPEAKER, No. Union and Ite results, Oar country’s future, The statesiman’s labors, Let the childless weep, Our country’s glory, Union a housebold, Independence bell, The scholar’s dignity, A Christmas chant, Btability of Christianity The true higher law, The one great need, The ship and the bird, Tecumseh’s speech, je truly great, ly retiring and ris’g, Ward’s or | True nation jOur natal day Th la iIntelligence basia of: : ry Liberty iCharye of light brigade, lAfter the ete (The glass railroad, ‘ M iThe iatitc ay ‘5 syren, Territorial expansion, Martha Hopkins, The bashful man’s story The matter-of-fact man, | Rich and poor, Seeing the eclipse, Bea 3 of the oe Ge-lang gl gi The rats of li Creowning glory of U. 8. Three fools, Washington Our great inheritance, \Eulogium on H’y Clay, jJ- Jeboom's oration, ee Powe © Philosophy appliedy Penns yound fool’h True cleanliness, turd’y night's Mioy’ 8, In # just cause,” Yo peace with oppres- sion, kagiving sermon,| tof riches, {Great lives inperishable {Ohlo, \Oliver Hazard Perry, |Our domain, {Systems of belief, |The Indian chief, The independent’ farmer] (ris Grammar’s ball, |How the money conies, |Future of the fasbions, Our country first, last, and always, British influence, Defense of Jefferson, National hatreds, The prophecy for the y4 Untinishe| problems, Honor to the dead, imme rtality of patriota, Webst’s politi’! system, A vision in the foram, The presa, Woman's righta, Kight of the Govern’t, My ladder, Wotan, Alone, ‘The rebellion of 1861, Disunion, 2. Murder will out,~ Strive for the beat, Early rising, Deeds of pieahars Gates of sleep, The bugle, The Hoodich gem, Purity of the struggle, Old age, Beantiful and tras, The worm of the still, Man and the Infir dte, Language of the agile, Washington. DIME PATRIOTIC SPEAKER, No, 3. America to the world, Love of country, Right of Our cause, (tion, A Kentuckian’s appeal, Kentucky stendfust, Timidity ts treason, The alaram, pril 15th, 1861, the spirit of °61, The precious heritage, Klebcyergoes on the war! Age bluntly cousidered,! Barly rising, The wasp and the bee, Comic graunmar, No. 1, Tm nota single man, A. Ward’a advice, Buzfuz on Pickwick, ore and Juliet, tappiness, be Sronce, L CIA self-preserva- Christy's ap PRINCIPLES OF TRUE ENUN MON.—Faalts tn The Trish element, (Train's speech Let me alon Brigand-ier-General, \The dratt, Union Square speeches, The Union, Our country’s call, The story of an oak-tree L-e-g on my leg, DIME COMIC SPEAKER, No. 4, Pr on? A Texan eulogium, How to bea fireman, The United States, Practical phrenology, Beartiful, Cabbage, pie pesrle hat is 4 bac! rune y folka, eOp.%, elor .\ket lPagtexcoodaboninnelWom pound inlareek History of our flag, T. F. Meagher’s address We owe to the Union, Last speech of S, A. pies a8, Lincoin’s message Great bell Roland, The New Year ‘and the Union, King Cotton, Battle anthem, \ A song of wo Ward's trip ry Richmond! Parody, The inountebank, |A sermon on the feet, {Old dog Jock, ir he fishes’ toilet, [Brinn O'Linn, Crockett to office-seekers {Who is my opponent? DIME ELOCUTIONIST, No. 5. Raunctanon ; how to a them ; Saree Rover and Observances ; Compleimentery Rules. Section HI, THE ART OF ORATORY.—Sheri- dan’s List of the Passions; Tranquillity, Cheerfalness, Mirth, Raillery, Butfoonery, Je Delight, Gravity, Inqu Porplexity Vexatl p, Despair, Fear, Shai Boasting, Pride, Obet manding, scoving, Acqnitting, ardoning, Arguing, Granting, Dependence, Veneration, sire, Love, Respect, Forbiddir g, Difference, Agreeing, Exhorting, wiry tien, Mod Pity » Grief, Melanch ine, Remorse, Courage, inacy, Authority, Com- PETG, Denying, magiag, Ap-! Condemning. Teaching, Dismissing, Refusing, Hope, De- iziving, Wonder, Adioira- ton, Gratitade, Carica Porsueaion, etc. Pore en ih Fr IRATION,— ei =“ w *, Precision, : Length of Sentei Strength, Figures of the Narration, the Pri sand Phrases, via: The ends of peace. Freedom the watchword Crisis of our nation, Duty of Christian py triota, ere Dan’s oration, A fearless plea, The onns of slavery, A foreigner’s tribute, Catholic cathedral. The “ rpeculatora,? |Political stump speec! Comic grammar. No. 3 Farewell ts Thobotiion® ‘The cork | The snack! D school, Slick’s definition of wifo, Tale of bat, The deb:.ting club, A Dutch sermon, Lecture on locomotion, Mre,Caudle on umbrellas fae 18 COMPONENT ELEMENTS -Rules of Composition, Purity, As applied to Sencences, pies, Clearness, Unity, Speech; the Kxordiam, ‘oposition, the Confirma- tion, the Re: futation, the Peroration, ty, ly, |Sectiox 1V, REPRESEN [ATIVE EXERCISES PROSE AND VERS Plea for the Ox; Falatat's So IN the Buria! ¢f Lincoln, the Bay vnet Charge; Bugle; the Bells; By Dagger; Hamlet's & Look Crees Kip Keron ¥ OBSERV. Sai THORIT LES. | is E.—Transition, A Wloqny on Honor; the Call and Responso History of a Life; the ron; Macbeth and the ete Old Things; m Rofus ; etc. TONS OF GOOr AU _BEADLE’S DIME FAMILY HAND BOOKA DIME DRESS-MAKER. e CONTENTS. . INTRODUCTION, “ WORK MATERIALS AND IMPLEMENTS THE CORSAGE, WAIST OR BODY. PURCHASE OF MATERIALS. THE SLELV aS, DICTIONa ”” OF MILLINERY AND DRESS MOURNING, MAKING. WEGLIGEE TOILET, TECHNICAL ae IN ,DRESSMARKDNS BBO. 5 AND MILLINERY, yELING TOILET. 3 ND EMBROIDERIES. CLOAK-MAKING. i BONNETS, ‘ RS, 5 ¥F Ere, PATTERNS FOR CUTTING OUT DRESSES, |CORBEJLLE DE MARIAGE. BEADLE’S DIME HA ND-BOOKS OF GAMES. DIME CHESS INSTRUCTOR. & compiers hand-book of instruction, containing all that « beginner can requlre to guide him to tos entertaining mysteries of this most interesting and fasciuating of games. Purt | comprises, in ¢ highly comnact yet perspicuous form, all the introductory siements of the game that can be im erted by berks, Part IJ contains the very cream of a lurge and valuable chess library. Part thr contains brief, brilliant, entertaining and instructive gates. By Minow J. Hazeurinn, Eade, Chess Editor N. ¥. Clipper. It is especially adapted for the ose of learners; and yet has, inf Parts 11 end II, much matter for the amateur and professional player. DIME BOOK OF CRICKET, A donirable Cricketer’s Companion, containing complete instructions in the elements oi BowHng, Batting end Melding; also the Revisea Laws of the game; Remarks on the Duties of Uiuplroe the Mary-le-Bone Cricket Club Rulea and Regulations; Bers, etc., ex. By Hanny Cmapwicn, anthor of Base-Ball Player.” DIME GUIDE TO SWIMMING. Embracing all the rules of the art for both sexes. Miustraved. By Captain Pano Priersmn. The following is the contenta: \ Aavisory Instructions ; Rules upon entering the water; Temperature of the water; Temperature of the body; Time forthe swiin; the Start; Learning the Haw Bere ; Learoing the Ley-Stroke; General Directions for Attitude; Management of the Breath; Plunging; the Hesiter ; Leaping a Height; a Shallow Dive; Deep Diving; how to come tw the surface; swimming on the ; Floating; Hand-over-hand Swimming; swinining from # Hoat: Precan- lu of Danger; the ‘ Washing-t “Creeping”; Sea-batbing—bow w manage the waves, the tides, etc.; a Chapter tor the L Bpecimer Female Swimmivg-Schoo) ; bow to manage cases of Drowning; Dr. Franklin's ‘ for Swimmers ; Concluding Remarka, ~~ . DIME HAND-BOOK OF CROQUET, A completes Guide tothe Princlples wud Practice of the game. By Komonn Houtixper, Giving. 4220, the rales prevorsd by varion. American writers on the game, ILiLcetkaTup. ——— GUIDE TO CURLING AND SKATING. 4 Complete Manual for the Ice; giving all the laweof the popular ame of “Crriing,” wit H exy-licit lastructione for Skating, wit) s @uica to al) tho “ Lgeves"’ ates, abu embracing also the Inwaof the Akster’s Clubs of New Tork Malitiod by Heory Chadwick. | | | LONG LOOKED FOR, COME AT LAST! TO THE 100,000 Patrons, and 500,000 Regular Readers OF OUR UNRIVALED PUBLICATIONS WE NOW INTRODUCE A HALE-DIME PAPER Original and Entertaining Literature, Containing EIGHT PAGES of the popular size of “Chimney Corner,” ‘ Harper's Weekly,” etc., etc., and at the popular price of FIVE CENTS. (e7" All who now take a weekly paper, will also take ‘‘\ THE SATURDAY STAR JOURNAL,” and those who never took a weekly, will want tt. None wiit% be without it. A BAKER’S DOZEN OF REASONS WHY The Saturday Star Journal WILL BECOME THE FIRST OHOIOE OF READERS OF POPULAR LITERATURE, Ist. Because it is published by BrapLhz anp Company, who know what the pubilé want, and who have unexcelled means of providing for that want. 2d. Because all who have ever read one of their publications (and who hasn't 7) will know that what is promised will be fulfilled. 3d, Because it is a.well-known fact that they do not allow any thing that is impure or immoral in their pages, and, therefore, that even boys and girle may read what they publish, with Pleasure and Profit. H 4th. Because it will embody the right idea of a popular paper, by not having too much of any thing, but enough of every thing. 5th, Because it will contain the Best Serials, 6th. Because it will ever offer the Best Complete Short Stories, “th. Because it will be supplied with Narratives of Adventure from Pens that never fail to command attention. 8th. Because it already has secured tle services of one of the finest wits in America, 9th. Because in its department of ‘* Hints and Helps,”’ ‘* Novelties of the Week,” etc., etc., it will furnish a great fund of Interesting and Valuable Information. 10th. Because each issue will contain a new Popular Song (BzrapLE anD ComPaNnY having the exclusive right to publish the words of the copyright Songs of our leading music- Pann . Because, taken all in all, it will embody more matters of pleasure and profit than any of the weeklies, + Becauge it sells for the Popular Price of Five Cents, and aux can afford it! BEADLE AND OOMPANY, Publishers, 98 William St., N. Y.