Many proverbs admit of contradiction, as witness the following:--"The more the merrier." Not so--one hand is enough in a purse. "Nothing but what has an end." Not so--a ring has none, for it is round. "Money is a great comfort." Not when it brings a thief to the gallows. "The world is a long journey." Not so--the sun goes over it in a day. "It is a great way to the bottom of the sea." Not so--it is but a stone's cast. "A friend is best found in adversity." Not so--for then there is none to be found. "The pride of the rich makes the labour of the poor." Not so--the labour of the poor makes the pride of the rich. THE OHIO DEMOCRACY.--123. The _Cincinnati Commercial_, in a report of a Vallandigham meeting at Carthage, Ohio, sets down what it calls "the barometrical register" of the meeting as follows:--"Nine a.m.--Invitations to drink are freely offered and accepted. Ten a.m.--Sober, but drinking. Eleven a.m.--Noisy and demonstrative; liquor becoming effective. Twelve a.m.--Generally 'tight;' pugnacity rising. One p.m.--Rather drunk; fights freely offered. Two p.m.--Quite drunk; black eyes in abundance--holders not very firm. Three p.m.--Very drunk; hacks and furniture-cars in demand. Four p.m.--D--cidedly drunk; too far gone to fight." A NICE GIRL.--124. There is nothing half so sweet in life--half so beautiful, or delightful, or so loveable--as a "nice girl." Not a pretty, or a dashing, or an elegant girl, but a _nice_ girl. One of those lovely, lively, good-tempered, good-hearted, sweet-faced, amiable, neat, happy, domestic creatures met within the sphere of home, diffusing around the domestic hearth the influence of her goodness like the essence of sweet flowers. A nice girl is not the languishing beauty, dawdling on a sofa, and discussing the last novel or opera; or the giraffe-like creature sweeping majestically through a drawing-room. The nice girl may not even dance or play well, and knows nothing about "using her eyes," or coquetting with a fan. She is not given to sensation novels--she is too busy. At the opera, she is not in front showing her bare shoulders, but sits quietly and unobtrusively--at the back of the box most likely. In fact, it is not often in such scenes we discover her. Home is her place. Who rises betimes, and superintends the morning meal? Who makes the toast and the tea, and buttons the boys' shirts, and waters the flowers, and feeds the chickens, and brightens up the parlour and sitting-room? Is it the languisher, or the giraffe, or the _élégante_? Not a bit of it--it's the nice girl. Her unmade toilet is made in the shortest possible time; yet how charmingly it is done, and how elegant her neat dress and plain colour! What kisses she distributes among the family! No presenting a cheek or a brow, like a "fine girl," but an audible smack, which says plainly, "I love you ever so much." If I ever coveted anything, it is one of the nice girl's kisses. Breakfast