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‘9 ‘ r 7 mummies nineteen. ~.~Wmm~m )rg JAMES LANGSTAFF, I Richmond Hill- lune. 1857. g.1-wy- fr- JOHN GRIEVE. ERK THIrtD DIVISION COURT. ' I. Oliice, Richmond Hill. tlune. 1857. g'l‘w-V' f, JOSEPH KELLER. ‘ . F Second and Third _DIVISION Ageldi't. Office. Richmond Hill, ,June, 1851- g'l'WY' G. A. BARNARD, . MPORTER of British and American Dry Goods. Groceries. Wines. Liquors, Ollfl. ‘Pnints. &c.. &c. gJ-wy. P. CROSI3Y, Richmond Hill, June. 18W. RY GOODS. GROCERIES. @ Wines. Liquors, Hardware. &c. ' Richmond Hill. June. 1851. gJ-wy. THOMAS SEDMAN, Carriage, “'aggon & Sleigh MAKER. Opposite the White Swan Inn. , Richmond Hill. June 10,1857. g.l-w_\ . SMELSER a BOWMAN. Licensed Auctioneers! FOR THE TOWNSHIPS 0! Markham 8; Wliitclinreh RESIDENCES zâ€"aHenry‘ Smolser. Laskay. King : Thos. Bowman, Almira. hlaikhrirn. October 15.1857. gl9-l JAMES MCCLURE, NNKEEPER. Licensed Auctioneer for the Counties of York, Ontario and Simcoe. Corner of Youge and Bradford . streets. Holliriid Landing. November. ‘36, 1857. g‘l5-tf .JOIIN HARRINGTON, JR., » ‘\\'0 Miles North of Richmond Hill, , dealer in Dry (imth Groceries, «Neilltiqnors, I'lairlivarc. Glass, Earthenware, &c. illiâ€"> Also, Licensed Aucrioioer. September. 23. 1857. y gill-1y _ CALEB 'LUDFOBD, Saddle and Harness Maker, THORNHILL. ‘ ‘Thor'n‘hilli Nov. 16. 1857. I git-tf A. GALLANOUGI‘I, EALEII in Groceries. Wines and Liquors. Tlironhil'l. C.'W. " “ ' ‘ Choice brandoofTeas. Sugars and Coffees on hand. genuine” lm varied. . An asso'rlnfeiit of read. Biscuit and Cakes. «constantly «on hand Thorniiill. Sept. WELLINGTON HOTEL, EAR tho‘ 'Il’iiilroad Station. Aurora. Careful Hustlers always in attendance. C. CA-‘E. . Proprietor. January 1-1. 1853. “ i'.‘ _MANSI‘ON HOUSE, HARON. Attentive Hosilors always in alto n dance . J. KAVANAGH. P l-t . ropr t or“! 25. i857. gl'lâ€"lv 9 A, b January 14, 1859. MESSRS. J. St W. BOYD, Barristers; &c., N0. 7. WELLINGTON BUILDINGS. KING S'I‘.. TORONTO. refine en. 1857. CLYDE HOTEL, rim; STREET EAST, minim. 00D Stabling and Attentive Hustlers T JOHN MILLS. l'roprictor gal-ivy. g.3-wy. June, 18.37. ~Bottled Ale Depot, 65. YORK STREET. TORONTO, C. W. M. MORRISON. Agent. 'Toronto. June 12th. 1657. gl-iiy. ROBERT J. GRIFFITH, , LAG. Banner and Ornamental Painter. I Elizabeth Street. Torotlto.â€"â€"(.)ver W. Grif- fith’s Grocery Store. ll? Coats of Arms, and ei'orydoscripiion nf ’Ilerald Painting. executed with dospatclimuil at treasotiable charges. June, 1857. J. VERNEY, yoot and Shoe Maker. PPOSITE A. LAW’S. Yonge street. R.ch- rnond Hill. Ladies’ and Gontlemeus' Boots and Shoes. .made aner the latest styles. August 6. 1857. .80] CHAS. POLLOCK, 0g] MPO RTER ofBritixh. French German and American, Fancy and Staple Dry ‘Goods. No. 80. City Buildings. King Sire -t East. apposite St. James' Cathedral. Toronto. C. W Nov. 5. 1857 . g22â€"tt‘ WILLIAM HARRISON, Saddle and Harness Maker, Next door to G. A, Barnard'S. Richmond Hill. June. 1857. g.l-wy. JOHN COUL’I‘ER, Tailor and Clotlrier; Yonao St. R‘ l ' lune. [857. ° ' 'c mwud “Inigo-m. gQ-Gni. Tâ€"“fifiâ€" GLORcr. DODD, i A Veterinary Surgeon. Lot 26, 4th Con.. Vnughau. "HORSE t't: FARRIER“ INN. gl5 HENRY SANDERSON, Veterinary Surgeon, AND .-.AUCTIONEER. Corner of Yougo and Centre Streets, RICHMOND HILL. June. 1857, g Livy, J. N.REID, HYstCtAN a suaocon Corner of Yongo and Centre Streets. Thorn hill. \uzuat [4. 1857. 2104! ROACH’S HOTEL, ORNER ofFront and George s'reets, one block east of the Market, Toronto. JOHN noacn. Proprietor. l39 March 5. l858 . l l ~WAWV«¢NW.<M ‘r AND YORK RIING." GAZETTE. AW~C \,~w "V‘le WITH OR lVITHOUT OFFENCE TO FRIENDS 0R FOES, ‘m« I SKETCH YOUR IVORLD EXACTL Y AS IT G0ES.â€"J3ijr0n. "rue n! ooonwlr! sannar. England weeps ! she weep- with grief: Tear-drops stain her cheek’s bright hue; Faded in her rose’s leafâ€" hDimmed her eyes of Saxon blue. England weeps ! and tear-drops foll On her shoulder tressos fair. Darkening to a shadowy pail, Her bright shades of Saxon hair. England weeps ! and drear her wail Filful flits in sobs of woe ; \Viudeor's towers and Avon's Vale. Hear them. as they come and go. Through the towns she takes her way. Sighiug to the good and wise, Showing where the foril courts lay. Tear stained cheeks and swollen eyes. Through the country lanes she goes, Where the peasants starve and fret. Weeping forth her bosom's throes, With red eyes and lashes wet. In the gilded mansions high. Scalding tours of pride she weeps ; In the darklow hovels nigh, Sorrow’s shower her bosom steeps. One tear fell on pauper’s bier. \Vliile she sobbed a mournful moan. Startling up that church-y ard dreor, But the chill damp turned it stone. One tear tell where vseiiates meet. England’s woes and wrongs to listâ€" Fell it at the speaker’s foot. Their that tear dilsolved iii mist. One tear fell on trader’s board. ‘ln the mart of fashion’s whirlâ€"- And the trader thanked the Lo.d â€" - And then sold ital a pearL 0- e 'ear on the poet’s breast Alro fellâ€"a glo:iuns curse ! Grieved he much. but did his best Whod he rhymed it in a verse. Other tea's fell fast and long. Like full showers of Heaven's rain. Sweet in sorrow,as sad songâ€" When the bard dies in a strain. Ono tear tell where gallows stand. 7 A And that tear dark with woe; One tear was a drop of blood. And it fell at Peterloo ! Fell those tears as from the sky. Falls the fastly»corning shower. Ere the thunder booms on high. And the lightning glen-us in power. And as birds fly to and fro. While as yet the tempest sleeps. By sign.- taught ofcorning wooâ€" : Mark the sign when England weeps! Deepe~t sorrow comes from ill. Retribution follows years. And the times their signs fulfilâ€" Englaud’s woes and England's tears. .. . . , -â€"lutt’s Mag/mm. be. ADVENTURE \VlTI‘I A MAN- IAC. i l’ctcr Vi'intcr “as one of the car. l_\' bold, hardy munâ€"made ijtist such stuff as is necessary to the conquering and subdning of a new and wild country. His cabin was close by . settlers Of Arkansasâ€"a titc proved treacherous, and he ,movcd back again without tasting food. As he gained the chimney cornci' he drew a bottle from his pocket, but it was empty. ‘Drank the last drop just afore I came in,’ he said, his utterance be- coming more thick. ‘Givc us a tip of your own bottle. Pete.’ ‘ Havn’t got a drop for you, John.’ ‘Not a drop of whiskey l' ‘ Not a drop’. ‘ Singc a painter, old boy !’ What are ye comin’ to l’ Peter made some careless reply, and then urged the poor fellow to b0 and lie downâ€"He saw that he was growing more stupid every mo- ment, and that he would soon fall from his chair. After a while the man consented to go. and his host led him to a place in one corner, where a buffalo skin was hung up for a screen. and behind which was a bed of bear skins. asleep. and Peter returned and fin- ished his supper. John was soon John Armstrong was a good hun- tcr ; ‘a firm friend ; ready to help in the time of need; and “death on lnjuns.’ He lived no where in particular, but found a home any- where. A week or two would be spent in huntingâ€"then he would carry his skins to the nearest settle- ment and purchase rumâ€"mud then came a spree which lasted l’tlllle he could gc‘. fuel for the fatal flame. \Vlicn l’clcr got ready to go to guest, whom he found just as he had left him. " It’s too bad !’ he said as he came ' Out. '“TWliat ‘a‘ Home TeIlOleié-is when he’s himself. How a man can do so is more than I can under- stand.’ “ Poor Jolin,’ murmured Susan. Armstrong had ever been a warm friend to herself and husband. and illud. on two occasions, saved them the Indian tomaliawk and So they loved him from scalping knifc. even now. The hunter arose with the first :dawn of day. and ere be dressed ‘ himself he went to see how his guest fared. John was still sleeping soundly, though the scattered skins told that he had been very uneasy ’ during the night. ‘I must go out and look at my traps,’ said Peter, after he had dressed, ‘ and if John wakes up be- fore I get back. you’d better fix him up some warm drink, and get him to Ilic White River, and etc many years he had a broad piece oflrind smiling under the influence of sue-1 ccssful cultivation. His time was about equally divided between the field and the forest, though he had more liking for the latter than the, former, the rifle being a morc‘ agreeable companion than the. plough. His family consisted ofliisl wife and two children. Susan “Fin-- tcr was not yet 35, and though liv- ing in the Wild wood, yet she was fair and modest, and p053csscd a fund of sound sense that would have done credit to better education. Andrew. a bright, apt boy, was six years of age, while littlc Lucy. the laughmg, romping girl, was only four. > One evening Peter and his family were at supper, the door opened, eat ifl-ic can. If he wants whisky tell him he must wait until I come. Ishall not be gone more than an hour ; so you may have breakfast ready by then.’ The husband tonk his rifle and went out, and shortly afterwards the wife called up her two children and (ll‘CSSCLl them, and then pro- ceeded to build her fire. Aftei'this she cut some steak from a quarter of venison which hung near the door, and tlicn began to think what she should fix up'for her unfortu- nate guest. After the expiration of about halfan hour John Armstrong got up and came out. Susan was on the point of speaking to him, but when she looked at his face she started back in alfright. She had never before seen :1 face so pale and deathlyâ€"she had never seen eyes and a large powerfully-built man entered. ‘ Ah. Johnâ€"is this you l' said Peo er, as he recognized his visitor. ' Yes,’ answered the new-comer, in thick tones, at the same time recl- ing towards the fire-place. ' What'lâ€"druuk again, John I’ resumed the hunter, in a reproach- ful tone. ‘Been drunk a fortnight, Pcte,’ grumbled the man, looking up with “V0 “me ones' and the" lumed ‘0 She staggered a few steps forward. a vacant leer, evidently unable to see distinctly.-â€"‘ Give us a bed, old feller.’ thing to eat first I’ said Susan. ‘Ehâ€"Suke \Vintcr! I will cat.’| [Io sat up to the table, but his appe- glare and sparkle so, nor look so wild and panther likeâ€"she had nev- er heard a man’s teeth grind and grate as his then. ‘ John !’ she finally ‘ what is the matter 7‘ He glared at her, and then at the children, but spoke not a word. ‘ Don’t you want something to cat, John l’ He glared again from her to the uttered, the door and Went out. ‘ Don‘t be afraid, Andy,’ the mo. [her said: as the Children clung to where he first stood. with little Lucy ‘Certainly you shall have a bcdthr dreSS-â€"‘J0lm Is a good manâ€" lcrushcd between his huge knees, l I John. But won't you have some- he W0“ t hurt you. He’s only sick i while the boy was held by the long now.’ ‘ But he looked at me so, mammo. Oh, how sick he must be. RICHMOND HILL, bed, he went in and looked at his. 'J’H‘Sl, and thcroff WHICSjâ€"O‘urlil" ‘ Before Susan could make any rc~ ply to her boy the door opened, and Armstrong re-entcred the cabin. He had a long hunting knife in his right hand, while in his left he car- ried a piece of rope, or halter cord. He stopped near the threshold and glared around the roomâ€"there was but one room in the place. His 0 yes were wild and burning. his lips bloodless and compressed, anl his hair standing up like quills over his huge head. ‘ Yc’Ie afcard 0’ me, ch '1' he whispered, in a shuddering, shiver- ing tone, at the same time throwing the cord upon the floor, and grasp- ing his knife more firmly. ‘No. no, John,’ uttered Susan, as . plainly as she could speak. with her heart thumping and leaping as though it would burst its bonds. 'l’m not afraid, for I know you would not harm me. You love me too well for that, don’t you, good John T ' ‘ Love yel’ he echoed, with a sharp, grating hiss. ‘ Ifl loved ye less 1 might let ye stay in this cus- sid world. ButI'm u goin’ to send you out ofit, Susan Winterâ€"you and your children ! I’ve got to do it! Ye must die lâ€"dielâ€"dic 1’ There was specks of white froth upon the rnadman’s bloodless lips, and his whole face had assumed a look perfectly Satanic. Susan \Vintcr had been at first almost powerless but when she first realiz- cd that her little ones were in dan- ger her mother’s love begot a 1'0 li- tudc. The terrible truth burst upon her that Armstrong was labouring \under a fit of ‘ mania a potu !’- She had heard of such a thing, and she knew how dangerous it was. She knew that the rum maniac would turn his direst Irate upon those whom he loved best. when sober. She clasped her children to her side, and shrunk away into the extreme corner of the room. ‘ Ye must die !‘ growled the mad- mun.â€"‘l‘vc been commanded to kill ye l’ ‘No. no, John. kill us.’ ‘Not kill yet Why. a shame to see sich cussid vaI'mints as your'n n livin’l You'd kill me quick enough. wildcat! Don’t I know how you’ve plotted agin mc‘l Don’tl know how you’ve held a knife at my throat for years: Git out, you she devill Give me the whelpsl I’ll take their heads off 0, you would not what As Armstrong ceased speaking be advanced towards the frightened group. Susan cast her eyes about her but there was no way ofescapc. There was but one door, and though the maniac had left that open, yet he was between them and it. The windows, three in number, were small, and set high from the floor and were guarded by crosszars at that, to keep wild animals out. Nor was there any weapon at hand with which to defend herself. Butt ofdcfcncc she could not think. for John Armstrong was one of the most powerful men in the country. ‘ Devil,’ he hissed from betweell his tightly-set teeth. As he SPOke ,he aimed a blow at her breast with ‘ his left- liand. but though she dodged: and received the blow upon her shoulder, yet it sent her reeling to the floor. But the brave woman thought. not of pain then. The cries of her children. sounding shrill and loud, mingled with the curses of the mad- man, aroused every spark of cour- age a mother can feel. She looked Upon the scene before her, and while a stifled cry of more than mortal anguish burst from her lips, and there stopped. The maniac was by the open door tangled curls of his head. The little fellow in his struggles had raised his hands, and Armstrong -~wM-»VWs---V ..\,\. ,r - . \. s~ .»,\,\,. n c: 3:: a f9 FRIDAY, APRIL 30, 1858. had them both firmly clutched with the hair. When the mother first looked, lh,_boy’s head was bent back- the white throat upturnedâ€"â€" and the gleaming knife raised for the fatal stroke! In a few mo- ments more the woman would bcl childless. ‘John l' she cried, in a tone of such exqursite agony that even the madman stayed his hand and looked up. The mother knew that the respite could be but for a few short seconds. Great drops of that thick foam were gathered upon the madman’s lips, and his eyes burned more fiercely than before. lfs'ne moved towards him, the blow would surely fall ; and ifshc did nothing, it must fall. A gloom of hope shot through her soul. With a mighty effortâ€"an ef- fort such as men sometimes make to seem calm in the face of doomâ€" shc assumed a pleasant look, and smiled upon the murder-minded man. ‘ John,’ she spoke, as calmly and honestly as though she were calling him from peaceful quiet, ‘you can- not do it 50. Let me hold the boy, and then you cut his hcad off! Wouldn’t that be the better way 'l’ ' Egad, it would,’ the man return- ed with great satisfaction. ' Ohl don't kill me, mzinimrt l’ the poor boy shrickcd. The girl was so crushed that she could not speak. ‘ You must (lie. Anilrewl’ the mother returned with a cold look, but with n pang :i'. the heart that gave her pain for months. ‘ New. hold him tight 1‘ the man said, passing the two little purple hands out for Susan to take. ‘ Never fear’, she replied. She said no more. Armstrong stood with his back to the open door, and as he released his hold upon the boy’s hands she gathered all her rc- served strength for the 'cfl'ort, rind leaped against him like a bounding panthcr. With her bowed head and with her clenched hands she struck. him full in the pit of the stomach. and he fell backward upon the broad stepping-stone like a gnarled log. In an instant Susan shut the door. and in another instant she had shoved the stout oaken bar into its place. The mother gathered hcrchildi'eni to her bosom and bore them to her bed. The boy was almost senseless from fright, while the girl was to- tally overcome by crucl pressure Wliamensuhjecmdto.%3ut ere Susan could bestow further care upon them the madman had revived, and commenced to kick at the door. He cursed and swore, and kicked with all his might, but the stout burl withstood all his efforts. The trem-I bling woman dared not speakâ€"she could not. At length Armstrongi gave up the effort and went away. ‘ Susan ran to one of the windows. and saw him go into the shed. ‘ When he came out he had an axe in ‘ his hand. And now the maniac swore that“ every head should be split Opt'n if' the door was not unbarrcd. Susan. Winter spoke notâ€"â€"shc only prayed to God that her hUSband might come. Scon the blows ofthc sharp axe began to fall quick and hard upon the door.â€"~The mother shrank away to the side of her children and listened. At length large splin- ters fell upon the floor of the cabin -ariothet‘ hlowâ€"anotherâ€"and an- otherâ€"and the bar was cut in twain. As the door flew Open the frantic woman uttered one wild. piercing shriek, and sank upon the bed. gath- ering her children beneath her b0- som. Butharkl What sound is that" The heavy tread of the manure-â€" then another tread, light and boundâ€" ingâ€"then a dull sound, as of ii’ heavy blowâ€"and then a quaking of the cabin. as a pondcrous body full to the floor. ‘ Susaul Wife.’ ‘transferred from their aqueous abode ,ite satisfaction of the little Sklppct‘,,‘ . the delicacy of the fish caught in that .mczins l' and So it was arranged that pale and cold, without power, with- out life, and sank upon his bosom. He laid her gently upon the bed, and then, with the cord which was still upon the floor, he securely bound the arms and ankles of the inanimate maniac. When little Andrew could speak, he told his father all he could re- member ; but on: long Susan reviv- ed sufficiently to relate all that had transpired. Atfirst Peter Winter determined to ride Armstrong ofi'to guol ; but upon second thought he concluded to watch by him till he had recovered. And he did so. On the third day the poor incbriatc was sober, andirbic toâ€"wallrundTor having told him all he had done, Peter opened his door and let him pass out. John spoke not a word, but with his head bowed, and his hands clasped upon his brow, he walked away. Just one year from that time. as Peter Winter and his family sat at supper, the cabin door was pushed open, and a hunter entered. The children cried in terror, the boy clinging to his father, while the girl sought the protection ofhei' mother. ‘ John Armstrong,’ uttered Peter, gazing up into a bold, frank. manly face. ‘ Yes, Peter,’ the new-comer re- turned, while a convulsive shudder shook his heavy frame. ‘It is old John ; but if you can ever love me again, tell your children not to fear me. Tell ’em John Armstrong hasn’t put liquor to his lips since the day they saw him last. And tell e’m, too, that he never wlll again, while ,he has life and sense. Tell ’em that, Peterâ€"tell ’cm that. On the next night John Armstrong sat by the blazintfire, and the chil- dren were upon his knees. Their mother had told thorn how ‘uncle John’ had twice saved her own and their father’s lives, ~i‘dthcy forgot the terrible hour of its madness in gratitude for his former goodness, and in the confidence which his pre- sent manhood inspired. " POSTI’ONING ” A GOOSE. BY A. rassnxocn. Having business at Mobile, some time since, and being in no particu- lar hurry to transact it, I determined to taka passage in one ofthe packet ships that run between that city and New York. the Rover, and was commanded by a sharp little fellow, a part owner, and who was therefore interested in mak- Shc was called how madly the vessel pitched and tossed amidst the turbulent waves. As this somewhat approximated to a daring act of horsemanship, tho name of Centaur was considered to be a very approximate one. and with Centaur listened with profound at- tention, and, noting carefully upon the tablet of his brain Jimmy‘s di- rections, started from the galley, highly elated. The affair was, of course, kept a profound secret, and I would not have spoiled the expected joke for the world. Dinner timc arrived. and Centaur certainly won honors for himselfhy the style in which he served the fish. both boiled and fricd. Dish after dish had disappeared, and when 'cvcry one supposed the meal to be concluded. another dish was placed , before the captain. who, on remov~ ing the cover, to his great suSprise and indignation, discovered the goose! llis wrath was not to be suppressed, even in the presence of the passengers, and, in a towering passion, he shouted : ‘Send that confounded cook aft Ilii‘ectlv.’ Poor Centaur entered the cabin. very greasy and good-humored, hav- ing no suspicion of anything wrong. which the negro was by no means displeased. After the passengers had agreed to the fish dinner, I chanced to be on the fore-castle, not far from the galley, when the cap- tain came forward, and looking in, sung ottt : ‘ Centaur l' ‘ Aye, aye, so I’ replied that per- sonage. ‘Cook a large mess of fish to-day the cabin passenger's’ dinner ', and, dye hear. postpone that goose.’ Such were the captain's directions to which the cook replied : ‘ All right, sa 1’ Afterthc captain’s departure, poor Centaur seemed to be greatly trou- bled, aud searched his wool in the most vigorous and determined man- ner. I overheard him asking him- self: ‘ What de dcucc he mean by cook. ing dc fish and postponin’ dc gooscl Ibcu on scbbcral voyages, if not moreâ€"I hen in big hotels and little hotels, man an’ boy. for cbcr so long, if not longer den dot, and by golly dis do first time I shot hccrd 0b postponiu’ a goose. Dcrc’s pickin’ a goose, I know, and drawin’ a goose, and Staffing a goose, and roastin’ a goose, an’ baking a goose â€"yes, and boiling a goose, too ;but postponing a gooseâ€"don’t belebc dat cbcn Mrs. Glass, do great cook dcy talk about. eber hcerd ob. It must be done, dough, or dis child ’ll git some kicks. sure- \Vonder if Jimmy Ducks ebcr heerd obit! 'fic knows most cbcryting.’ Jimmy Ducks was one of the crew â€"a real tookney, and, like every one born within the sound of Bow Bells, considered himself to bc a sort of walking encyclopedia. If he didn't know, he at least pretcndcd to do so -â€"-and too often, I am sorry to say, pretence is permitted to pass curâ€" rent. Just as Centaur concluded his ru- minations, Jimmy and one or two others of the crew passed the gal- lcv door, and the bewildered cook rushed out and anxiously inquired of the oracle if he knew how to post- pone a goose? Now Jimmy was somewhat sensi- tive, and probably thought for the moment that the term goose might apply to himself, and that there was “INC "IFS “swfil‘fb‘leas Pesslblgr’a CW” joke inflic remark, for h The passengers were not long in making this discovery, for, as a gen- eral thing, a meancr table was never provided in the meanest of third- class hotels, or even in a cheap New York boarding house. It happened that during the pas- sage we were bccalrned one day upon a part of the coast which was known to be excellent fishing ground, and the captain, with a view, of course, of saving a dollar or two, ordered the men to bring out their fishing- tackle and try their luck; This was soon donc ; and sure enough, a large quantity ofthc tinny tribe were soon to the deck of the ship, to the infin-. and the no small delight of the pas-1 scngcrs, who anticipated, for that day at least, a pleasant change of diet. In the course ofthc morning the, captain took occasion toenlorgc unon‘. locality, and closed by asking : ‘What say you to a fish dinncr tc-day, ladies and gentlemen .7’ Everybody said, ‘ 0, by all’ the bill of fare that day was to com-i prise fish only. Now, attached to the ship was a negro cook, a sleek. oily, and rather good-looking nogin, who was callcrl Centaurâ€"a name which he obtained» in consequence of a curious fancy he She started up and saw her hus~ hand. She putforth her arms, and, had of sitting astride of the bOWSpt‘ll whenever it blew hard, and fearless- wus evidently taken aback. and his face began to flush. Centaur, how- ever. explained : ‘ Dc case is dis, you see. Cap'n says to me jis now, says he, ' Cook a large mess ob fish for do cabin passengers’ dinner to-day. an’ post- pone de goose.’ Now, dot is jis what this nigger can’t git through his wool, no how, what postponing a goose is !’ '0 !‘ said Jimmy, seeing through the affair, and winking at his com- panions, ‘that is easy enough. I thought every fool krcw that.’ ‘l t’ought so, too.’ said Centaur, innocently ; an‘ so I says to myself, Jimmy Ducks’fl know.‘ ‘ Well, you sec,’ said Jimmy look- ing very serious, ‘ it isn’t a common or a very usual way of ‘cooking your gonsc,’ but when it is served up after fish, and nothing to follow, at the nobiliiy’s dinners, or at the Lord Mayor‘s banquets, then they ‘ postponc’ it. Now, this is the mode of doing it :~â€"-First pick the goose as clean as possible; then, with a piece of lighted paper, burn the stumpsof the feathers. After drawing the bird. you will stuff it with a mixture composed of hard- boiled eggs, chopped very fine ; oni- ons ditoo; apples ditto; of a fish previously Dl‘0\\'lit‘rl tin; fire. You will then put the Linux. into a poi, anti boil it for int : hour; then put it on your spit, roast it until done. and you will serve it .jt ll ly retaining his position, no matter with prepared gravy.’ and was couiderubly startled by the question -. ‘ What do you mean, you scound- rel, by this disobedience of ordersl’ ‘ ’Beyed orders, sa ; done jis what you said, so,’ he staminered out. ‘ Ohcycd orders, you rascal ’l’ said the captain, greatly astounded ; ‘ didn’t I tell you to postpone the goose l’ Centaur looked perfectly amazed. ‘ Course you did, so ; an’ I did it.’ ‘Did what l’ shouted the captain. ' Postponed de goose, sa, ’cordiri’ to directions.’ The passengers hero began to scent the joke. and burst into aloud laugh. Even the little captain was somewhat molliffcd, and requested Centaur to explain himself. ‘ Well, sa,’ said he, ' you ordered Inc to cook do fish an’ipostporie do goose. Now Inebber postpone one in all my life, an’ ob course didn't know nothin’ ’bout it; but Jimmy Docks ’lighted me on de sujeck, an’ I follcr 'zactly his 'scription. By ginger, I had trouble enough ; don't want to postpone anoder. .nohow.’ Everybody laughed heartily at Ccntaur’s explanation, and even the captain could not help smiling. ,‘ Be off, you black blockbead l' he said, ‘and send Jimmy Ducks here.’ The darkey was off in a twink- ling, and there being some curiosity as to this new style of cooking, we tried the goose ; but for the life of us we could not tell whether we were eating fish, flesh or fowl.â€" Jimmy soon afterwards appeared, and was compelled to repeat the di- rections he had given to the cook. forgiveness being extended to him only on condition that he should eat the whole of the goose ; and I was appointed a committee of one to see the sentence daily carried out. The punishment, however. did not seem to be very severe, for in fifteen minutes nothing but a skeleton re- mained of that much-abused goose. ‘ My heyes 1’ was his ei‘tclamation, when he had completed the task, ‘ if that’s a postponed goose, I wish the captain ’ud' have one postponed every week. The dressin’, how- ever, might be varied, so as to be a lectle more palatable.’ GIWHIMaâ€"Tswaâ€"Iflcducation is the great bucklcr and shield of human liberty, well developed indus- try is equally the buckler and shield of individual independence. As an unfailing resouce thrOugh life, give your son, equally with a good educa- tion, a respectable trade. Better any trade than none. though there is a field for the adoption of every inclination in this respect. Loam- ed frofessions and speculative em- ploymcnts may fail a man; but an honest handicraft trade, seldom or neverâ€"ifits possessor choose to ex- ercise it. Let him feel, too that honest labor crafts are honorable and noble. The men oftradcsâ€"the real creators of whatever is most essen- tial to the necessities and Welfare of mankindâ€"cannot be spared ; they are above all others, in whatever fight they may be held by their more fasitidious fellows, and must work at the car of human progress, or all is lost. But few brown-handed trade: workers think of this, or appreciate the real position and power they compass. Give your son a trade, no matter what fortunes he may seem likely to inherit. Give him a trade and an cducationâ€"atany rate a trade. With this he can always battle with temporal Wantâ€"Cult al~ biscuit , pounded into small bits. and portions . ways be independent. i . _ ,, ..., wvr: *‘ numb int, brought snow- and t.- .» ‘7. ‘_ u .,....,) . ers of trouble upon our heads, of sorrow in our lclugerl lllt‘ world. opened springs hearts. and st) r