FRAZIER, Publisher. VOLUME li. uriiittoo givectorg. DB. E. L BLAKESTYP., 71:11 . SICIAN AND SITILGEpr i U Im..na ecunty, L. D • mch be my be tsvoretl. Offlce et L. M. itafeilmic 1 , •.•1cn. July 10, 18e.5.—ri• Du. E. L. GARDNER, - D B YSIOILN AND SITROtON Montrone, Pa. °Mee over L Webb'. More. Boar& at Searle ' . Rotel. ~s trose , June I. 1846.-tf GROVES REYNOLDS, EmSIIIONARLE TAILORS. Shop over etioullerl more, Yohlk Avenua, Mourne., June I. 1863. Da. CHARLES DECKER, r , Pail arenatoalltL. which he mar be favored art tio promptnenaand attention. d rv-idence near orange liott'a, Esp. ardvnle, Snag. Co.. Ps, Mn! 29.1565.—tf. JOHN BEAUMONT, CARti Eli, Cloth Itresser, and Itanntacturec, .t the otd tuna, it" Smith's Cardin, Machine. Terms made .n the work 3 brough t, ...I.lar"b in 63. DR. G. Z. DIAIOCS, Fi sald SURGEON, MONTROSE. Pc Office o • . nreeC opposith th e R,ffinu.docle OIDn. Bra.-da Fk.ruarT 6th. 166.5.-Irp C. 3L CRANDALL, )[ L'FACTUR. Ell of Linen-wheels, Woot.evberle, Wheel !Pc, Wooldturnlng done to order, and • . • eat , . 'usenet . . Tnerdree Shop and Factory Sayres . .• ststrs. January 5011, ISen.-t1 BENTLEY, JR., NOTARY PUBLIC, 3.10. N TFLOSIG. YA..,, rlt • KES Act n .aledgroent of Ikeda, Mortgages, Sc., for any l' lied States. Pension Vouchers and Pay Cer • -s• ..tard t•efore him do pot rt,ulre Una certlll=te of the Montrose, Jan. 2, 10t.5.--M, CHARLES HOLES, npc..ER IN CLOCKS, WATCHEN. AND JEWELRY ural, on abort notice and 14:151311PWO WM. • ...1r %el.° ba F. L. Chandler's Stem. 7.1E44. Du. E. L. ELAIII3RICK, , SU ISO .4.0 N, rgfocctfinly tendery Ids pron. ,r —rvic" t.O citizen of Friendaville and vicinity. UI • 1 Dr. Lai , . Boa.vda .t J. Hotifotea. Ju:T IT. 1.564—tf E. W. SMITH, i s OUNI3ELLOS AT LAW and Lleenned A., tiff re ,mr Drug clout. 41Lca DepOt Jan.nry SS, 18b4. H. BURRITT, D LL D" ? • - .1.1,u 'Lobe. Gmeeries, 1 .- covislots, '" 4Lc bh . "L I•t.. A,,,111.1,1564.-tf S. LI. SAYRE & BROTHERS, yr!.! , FacITILELLS of MlllOssilnCeathage of all kind:- f,r 0,1 Satei Iron Wary. icaltoral Implement.. (f+oeia,Grocerles, ery, dec. a . kearnary BILLINGS STROUD, OS AN LIFE INIAVILANCE AUE_NT. UT.cte LAI , r • • LL, tod 11-td Block. / MA aboent-e, ,A• r iretrumxted by C. L. Breum. F , bruory 1,1.44.—1 f J. D. VAIL, M. D., . • ! .! tt diet wlth which be ma) ru: favortd. to b e.st the c,..nn Howe. near Bentley &Fitch•a :.uury 1. 1i14.-oct. 21. 1861. A. 0. WARREN, ET AT LAW, BOUNTY, BACK PAT and F 1 , 1%.1.41 AOENT. All Pension Claims carefully ort .P11..a room formerly occupied by Dr. Va ix W. belote Searle'. Hotel. ~t,Se. Feb.l,lB6c-febl7yllB63. LEWIS KIRBY & E. BACON, • full supply of every realer., of .F.H.16.1 add CoNYECTIOWERISS. Sly attic* uttet ....Pees and fairness in dchl, they hope to merit the literu. of the public. Lt. °SSTER. and IATI'G 86.1.001 1, . the Groeel7. where hicslves. in Beason. are eerved in cm . . - that the taster or the public demand. Remember ite place. • •ft 41 Grocery stand, at. Main Street, below the POSSODRX. _ Nov. 17, 1363.—mc/117,6L-41 DE. CALVIN C. HALSEY, • :I , :CIAN AND sURGEOIi, AD EXAALUVINU 6IIR I'ENSIONEDN.EIcv , over tte .tore of J. LT , vu a••. I . ..c A :vb. kk,ards at Air. Etllerld,tv'a. V 1, 1559.-tf D. A. BALDWLN, i. AT LAW. End Pen Alon, Bouti, Aral But PAy A. • • ; -. At Bend. Sap ()Aunty. Pa.. .AA,Aust 10, I..ftt.-ly BOYD t WEBSTER, S.CVER, Stove Pipe ;Tla. Copper. and Rbee I - /re. Wledoer Sur, P.el Doom, Selheerr m ,..,„ ,l' : relu.ftetrhielllands of lellfldate Car erk u pn M ur, r . Jaunary 1,1564-1 f Da. WILLIAM W. SILITII, S' , ltGlf ; Oti DENTI , ST. Office 00. the Sankt,. _ q . (,orll rr. or ( i , n o. hu All I.Ze g t , ft o t d 7;r l :t.l:er d °Mee formerly 01 L Smith lc Ban. er• Jac x.-11, 1664—if E. J. ROGERS, 114 - e.rn.t detenlytione et WAG - • in, SLEIGHS, Am.: In the .11. , e" • Z "r and of the be..-et materials, of E. R. ROGERS, a fear rale a..e. • .St.ctrnee. where he twill he hnppy to re. • -• : ' e. , 0 want anything in hie line. ' .`ls 49`u Dit. JOHN W. COBB, Ry • : _ T. • 'RO SUN. M - poethilly tenders MI senkes • fecezetfaans County. He .111 sire erpecla , ' --DO mcdical treatment of diseases of the „ • P-.• 1.• .• •K• c•, , nen'ted relative to forglcal operations ... •, • m et over W J.& B H. Hulford'i , fitore. • • • • met. ear of J.B. Torben% Hotel_ - out.ty. Ys. . Ju1.:1.1/353.-U BALDWIN & ALLEN, EC_ Et.- LJ. . L bait. Pork. nab, Lard. Orals, Feed U,Jeer aLI TumotLy bred. Also CIROWCHIEB. 11.,Lamea, Nyrnpa, Tea and entree. Weal aide :.. nue dr,or below J. ILLl.eridate. •tut• Juuary 1. 1864.-tf D. G. W. BEACH, -".• -• r ' r . ,, herrathar-te rrrhetT.h. Wt. ' • . • ..u?te the °Mx of the late Dr. B. Dtchrot et M., R.hbardeon E Vl_ Jane 6.12h4.-Iv F. B. WEEKS, BOOT AND SHOE MAILER; also Dealer Ir. Leather,and Shoe rattling, iiepalling dual • napatch. Tlvo door above Searle. HoteL etnE.ry 1, ,1554-1 & WM. H. JESSUP, 7r ";NETS AT LAW, Montrose, Ps. Practice In Sumps a. Bradford, Wayne„ Wyoming and Lucerne Courtin. t'a_ January 1 t IE4I. ALBERT CHAMBERLIN, Te.:f - r ATTORNEY AND ATTORNEY AT LAW.— " •of t Store formerly occupied by Yost Brothers. P.. J.=. 4 .7 I. DM. J. LYONS & SON, n L i,E h 5 11l BUY GOODS. GrousuLeaCroulmry. Boo:a, Ileiodrons, YL.non ate land. of 'rots. Soot-% Muni, au. !duo cam oo Min Book Bind it- i.ess In all it, bnurielest J. LIIMS. X January 1, lfal. T. A.. LAVAS ABEL TURRELL. I . IC Elt IN DROGS. MILDICINES, GITEI.IIOA.LS. v.., oil, Vorulialma, 11'm.dow Glam. , f- Grockery.Glammmm,Wall.Papm, Jr.. P•rflaarly, SUrgiCal 1,,e-rUfnttllA. Tr Agent for of the mom Nlontruse, Janot... 7 1. Mit C. 0. FORDEL9.3I. -,- ITA(7 r: KEIL of BOOTS & SHOES, Montrone, P . :2 n:er WnCe Store. All kinds of work made • repairing done gently. Work done wten.prono -11.01111.,.... CHARLES N. STODDARD, !AEA LES to BOCYI'B Q SROES. I.e.sher and Md. Main at. third door bettor Searle 's Elote. klEk. •rk tus•te to order, and repairing clone neatly. I'a- !toren:Ater li t ISM L H. BURNS. ENEY AT LAW. (Vice with W 11119.1 J r.q. •• , limd. Pension sod Bounty Clu:nzu er.r.ful• ' Co , lettx.,prompqy max • B. R. LYONS & CO.. j In DR Y GOODS.GROCERIES. BOOTR,StIOES. Y. • , rzatr.. Carpet., Oil Clotho, Wall and Window I's &c. !Sun* on the can ride or Public Arcane. January 1. 1864.4 f READ, WATROUS & FOSTER, E, L.k.:115 IN WIT GOODS. Drna, itettletnei. 'Wats. On. V.l liardwsre. Crockery, Iron, clocks, larstaca, Jaw. ' = •ec , Yezfinsery. Itrkk Black. Ilorttroisc. 0 . 10113:11 /atmAsy 1. 1814: WILLIAM W. SMITH, VA_BIZIET AND CRAW. KANT. Tamara. Keeps conbto.r.l4 Cu baud al &tort uorle ' 2 4. 4.l , p C.'" Ware Koons clirrivi tCf:g f Malo 8i Ds.. ?dud:, S. lECL-U PHILANDER LINES, IiU•aIUNAULS TAILOR, Brkk Block. over Eta. P.. • • N • :\ -:;•71111t-, _ n, Ept bet 1 vmejtl - ; - .3:T.sys:nul:(iNt The harp that tong In Tara's halls Ilath sad and silent lain, Shall sound again within those walls To freedom's lofty strain. And grand and clear the notes shall swell In music on the gals, To greet the green flag loved so well, With songs of InnisfalL O Erie! thou loved Land of Song! Thy sun Is veiled, not set I The spirit that bath slept so long, Shall wake in thunders yet! And round thy loved shores, Loeb Lein, And by the silvery Lee, True Irish swords shall flash again— And Ireland shall be free! A spirit stirs within thy blood— It shall not a:rike amiss! It feels the strife beyond the flood That pails the shore from this. Columbia sows War's dragon teeth By many a hill and fen Nor reeks how on the Irish heath They spring up armed men I From Antrim to the Southern lakes, From Trslee to Kildare, One silent spirit walks, and wakes The lion in his lair! From Arraglimore's far stormy steep, To Carlow and Kinsale, Thou rises', giant-like, from sleep— Arias I—strike home!—prevall! irtill%EreSciawssilo):lm; Calling them "Freddy," and "John," and "Pant!" As only a mother her children can call Musical cadences all through her speech, That a love so tender , alone can teach, Soniething so loving, and lingering too, In the "John," and ''Freddy," and "Paul," come do, An bidding to her fordinner or rest, Each one Is gathered in turn to her breast. • Then looking them over, as divers do pearls, Smoothing one's cheeks end another one's curls, Taking the brown, soiled hands in her own, A whip out of this palm, from that one a stone, Drawing from pockets of corpulent girth, With outward remonstrance, with inward mirth, Potatoes for pop-guns—a bottle of tiles— Twine, halls and whistles, and two dirt plus. Redeemed from the soil of the street and the snow Clothed in fresh aprons, and t. - owsers too! Tangles brushed out of the tangled floss, That rings and ripples in golden gloss; Striving with cagey and innocent heed For mother's approval, `•Well done, indeed!" Mother, and Freddy, and Paul, and John, Make the sweet picture to look upon. EGYPTIAN Di GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. Sing again the Song you sung When we were together young— When them were Mat you end I Underneath the summer sky. Sing the EA me song o'er and o'er Though I know that never more Will it acem the song you sung When we were together young. THE TABLES TIMED One evening, not long since, a number of old ship masters chanced to meet at a &Octal supper, and after the cloth was removed we went In for yarn spinning. And among our number was Captain Richard Nutter, and a finer man or better sailor, never trod a deck. At length it came his torn to tell a story, or, what we preferred—and what the rest of ns had done—relate some incident of cape ri,nce In his own life. bove," be eald, es he rejected the wine, which was at thatmoment paseed to him for the Ara' time, "I will glee you a bit of the early part of my ocean life, end it is a very important bit, too, for upon it I have built the whole of my subsequent manhood. We prepared to listen to Captain Nutter with the most profound attention, for he was not only an old seaman, but one of the most successful com manders In our mercantile marine. We listened, and his story was as follows: "I was very young when I first entered on ship board, and at th es e age of fourteen I considered my-, self quite a sailor. When I was eighteen I was shipped on board an East Indiaman, for a long voyage. There were six of us on board of about the same age, and we had shout the same duties to per form. The ship—the old Lady Dunlap—was &large one, and our crew was large in proportion, there being fifty-two, all told. We ' boys,' as we were called, messed together, and in all other re speets were separate from the rest of the crew, just as much as the carers were. Oar captain was a noble hearted, honorable man, kind and generous, but vet very strict. 01 course we youngsters found plenty of occasion In find fault with him, and very I often were his decisions arraigned before our mess and decidedly condemned. In riot, we should have I reversed many of his judgmenta if we had had the power; but ss ho was the commander, and we only foremast hands—end boys at that—he had his own way, and the luminous decisions we came to were consequently of no avail, and lost to the world. " Now we boys had learned, to the course of our travels, to drink our grog as well as any sailors. We could toss off a glass of rum and water with as much grace as any one, and we claimed the right so to do, not only as a privilege, but as an honor to which a life upon the ocean entitled us. But even in this respect our captain pretended to differ from us When we could get on shore, we would in variably indulge In our cups, and not =frequently would we come off, or be brought off, in a state any thing Ina sober. I mid 'we,' but there was one of our number who could not be induced to touch a drop of anything Intoxicating. His name was John Small. and he belonged in one of the back towns of New Jersey. - "Now Jack Small not only refrained entirely from drinking himself, but he used sometimes to ask us to let the stuff alone. He gave that job up, however, for we made such sport of him that he seas glad to let us alone. .But our captain had sharp eyes, and it was not long before he began to show Jack Small favors which he did not show to ns. He would often take Jack on shore with him to spend the night, and such things es that, whir we were kept on board the ship. Of course this created a sort of envy on our part, and it ended in a decided ill-will towards poor Jack. "Now in truth, Jack was one of the best fellows in the world. He was kind, obliging, honest, al ways willing to lend a helping hand in case of dis tress, and as true a friend as ever lived—only he wouldn't drink with us, that wan all. No—that wasn't all. He learned faster than we did—he was a better sailor and had learned more of naviption. But this we tried to lay to the captain's pay ing him the most attention, though we knew better at the time, for we had the privilege of learning just as much as we had a mind to. The truth of the matter was, we ,five loved the Idea of being ' old salts,' better than we did anything else, and we spent more time in watching for opportunities to have a spree than we did in learning to perfect our selves in the profession we had chosen_ "It even got so at length, that Jack Small was called upon to take the deck sometimes, when the officers were bogy, and be used to work out the reckonings at noon as regularly as did the captaim Yet Jack was In oar mess, and be was a constant e3c-sore. We saw that he was , reaching rapidly ahead of us in every useful particular, and yet we wouldn't open our eyes. We were envious of his good fortune, as we called it, and used to seize every opportunity to tease and run him. But he never got angry In return. He sometimes would laugh at us, and at others he would so feelingly chide us that we would remain silent for awhile "At length the Idea entered our heads that Jack should drink with us. We talked the matter over In the mess When Jack was absent, and we mutually ph-di:en each other that we would make him drink at the first opportunity. After this determination was taken. we treated Jack more kindly, and he was happier than be had been for some time. Once more we laughed ind joked him in the mess, and he In return helped us our navigation. We were on our homeward baud passage, by the way of Brazil, and our ship stopped at Rio Janeiro, where we remain II week Or W. One pleasant morn ing we six youngsters received permission to go on ntiore and apend the whole day; and according we rigged op in our best togs and were carried to the landing. " *low was our chance, and we put our heads to gether to see how it should be done. Jack's very first de ire, as soon- as he got ashore, was to gm up and examine the various things of interest In the c ity. He wanted to visit the churches and such like places, and to please him we agreed to go with him if he would go and take dinner with W. He agreed to this at once, and we thought we had him sore.- We planned that alter dinner was eaten we would have some light sweet wine brought on, and that we would contrive to get rum enough into what he drank,to upset him, for nothing ou earth could please us more than to get Jack Small drunk, and carry biro on board in that "asps, In then we fancied thst - ths captain's Etruria= would bo St an MONTROSE, SUSQ. CO., PA., TUESDAY, AUGUST 15, 1865. MEE " Freedom and Right against Slavery and Wrong." end, and that he would no longer look upon our ri val with preference over ourselves. We had the matter all arranged, and In the mean time we paid Jack all the attention in our power—so much so that be at length signified a willingness to go. anywhere to please us, provided we would not go into any had place. " Dinner time came, and a most capital dinner we had. We had selected one of the beat hotels, for the prices were no higher there than at places of lower rcpnte, and, to fart, not so high, for these low pla ces fleece a sailor most unmercifully. The eatables were dispatched with becoming gusto, and then the wine waa brought On. " 'Ah ! whet have you here?' asked Jack, betray. ing some uneasiness at the appearance of the glasses and bottles "' Only a little new wine,' I replied, 11/3 carelessly as I could. ' Mere Juice of the gv;ape.' "' But It Is wine, nevertheless, pursued he. " ' It isn't wine,' cried Sam Pratt, who was one of the hardest nuts old Neptune ever cracked. " ' No,' chimed In Tim Black, another of about the same stamp. ' It's only a little simple Juice. Come, boys, fill up.' . . " The glasses were accordingly fined, Sam Pratt performing that duty, and he took good care that Jack's glass had a good quantity of sweetened rum In it " ' No,' said Jark, as the glass was moved towards him ; "If yon are going to commence thne, I will keep your company with water while yon remain orderly, but I will not touch wine.' "This waa spoked very mildly, and with a kind smile, but yet it was spoked firmly, aed we could see that our plan was about being knocked In the head. We urged him to drink with as—only one glue, If no more. We told him how innocent it was, and how happy his social glass would make on; but we could not move him. " 'Then let him go!' cried Tim, who had already drank 801110. In fact, all of us but Jack had drank more or less daring tha forenoon. 'Let him go. We don't want the mean fellow with us!' " 'That's It' added Sam, with a hitter he goes.' If he 'he's too good to drink with his ship mates, we don't want him.' " You misunderstand me,' said Jack, In a tone of pain. lam not too good to drink with Ton, In the acme In which you would take It. But Ido not wish to drink at all.' "Too stingy—that's all,' said I, determined to make him drink 111 could. But Jack looked at me so reproaching as I said this that I wished I had not spoken as did. "If you wiah to enjoy your wine, mesamates,' Bald Small, at the same time rising from his chair, ' you can do so, but I beg you will excuse me. I will pay my share of the expenses for the dinner' "' And for your share of the wine,' said Thu, ' for we ordered it for yon.' ' No,' returned Jack, ' I cannot pay (or any of the wine—' " ' .31“ 1 / 1 .^ cried two or three at a breath. " 'No, no, measmatea, not mean. I will pay for the whole of the dinner—for every article you and I have had in the house, 'MVO the wine.' " And as he spoke he rang the bell. He asked the Walter whn entered what the bill was for the com pany, without the wine, and alter the amount bad been stated, he took out his purse to pay it, when Sam Pratt, who was our acknowledged leader, caught his arm. • "'No—not so,' said Bam. ' You shall not pay for It, for we will not eat at the expense of one who will sneak not of a wraps in.this was. We want noth ing more to do with you unless you take a glass of wine with us.' " Very well,' said Jack ; and as be spoke I could see that his lip quivered, and that be dared not speak more. " He turned towards the door then, but before he reached It Tim black ran and caught him, at the same time exclaiming: " • May I be blenaed If you go off so, any war. You've comruaneed and now you've got to stick it out.' " This was the signal for us to commence again, and once more we tried to urged Jack to drink the wine; and when we found that urging would not do we commenced to abuse and scoff. tFe accused him of trying to step over as on board the ship, and of all other bad things of which we could think. For a while the poor fellow seemed Inclined to let his anger get the upper hands; I.nt at length he calmed hitnscit and stepping back to his chair, be said. "'Shipmates, win you listen to me for tt mu meta r "Silence gave coneent, and in a moment more be resumed: "'Since matters Lave come to this pass, I have resolved to tell you what I had meant to keep locked up In my bosom.' • We had always thought, from Jack's manner, that there was something peculiar eonneeed with his early life, and we were ail attention In a mo ment. " ' My story is but a very short one,' he continued, ' and I can tell it in a very few words. From tLe time of my earliest childhood I never knew what it was to have a happy home. My father was a drunk ard! Onee he bad been a gond man and a good husband, btu ram ruined all his manhood and made a brute of him. I can remember how cold and cheerless was the first winter of my life to which my memory leads my mind. We had no fire—no food—no clothes—no Joy—no nothing, nothing but misery and woe! My poor mother used to clasp me to her bosom to keep me warm, and once—once I remember—when her very tears froze on my cheek ! 0, how my mother prayed to God for her hus band; and I, who could but just prattle, learned to pray, too. And I used to see that husband and hi ther return to his home, and I remember how ray poor mother cried and rembled. When I grew older I had to go out and beg for bread. All cold and shivering I waded through the deep snow, with my clothes in tatters and my freezing feet - almost bare. And I saw other chil dren dressed warm and comfortable, and I knew they were happy, for they laughed and sang as they bounded along towards shcool. Those boys had FO her fathers. I knew that their fathers were no bet ter than mine had been once, for my mother had told me how noble my own' father could be if the accursed demon rum were not In his way ; but the fatal power was upon him, and though he often promised, and though he often tried, yet be could not escape " Time passed on and I was eight years old, and those eight y ears bad been years of such sorrow and su ff ering as I pray God I may never see another experience. At length, ono cold morning in the dead of winter, my lather was not at home. Ile had not been at home through the night My moth er sent Me to the tavern to see If I could find him. I had gone half the way when I paw something iu the snow by the side of the road. I stopped, and a shudder ran through me, for it looked like a human form. I went up to it, and turned the head over and brushed the snow from the face. It was my lather—and hc was stiff and cold! I laid my hand upon his rile brow, and it was like solid mar ble. He was dead " Poor Jack stopped a moment and wiped his eyes. Not one of us spoke, for we bad become too deeply moved. But he anon went on. '" I went to the tavern and told the people there what I had found, and the landlord sent two of his men to carry the frozen body of my father home. 0, shipmates, I cannot tell you how my mother wept and groaned. She sank down upon her knees and clasped the icy corpse to her beating bosom, as though elm would have given it life from the warmth of her own breast. She loved her husband through all his errors, and her love was all powerful now. The two men went away and left the body still on the floor. M 5 mother wished meth come and kneel by her side. I did so.' My child,' she said to me, and the big tears were rolling down her cheeks, 'you know what has caused alt this. This man was once as noble and happy and true as man can he, but 0, see bow he has been stricken down. Promise me. my child, Opromise, here, before God and your dead father, and your broken-hearted mother, that you will never, never, touch a single drop IA the fa tal poison plat has wrought for us all this misery.' "'O, shipmates I did promise, then and there, all that my mother asked, and God knows that to this moment that promise has never been broken. My father was burled, and some good kind neighbors helped us Wrong the winter. 'When the next spring came I could work, and I earned something for my mother. At length I found a chance to ship, and I did so, and every time I go home I have some money for my mother. Not for the wealth of the whole world would I break the pledge I MIST my mother and my God on that dark, cold morning. And even had I made no such pledge I would not touch the fatal cup, for I know that I have a fond, doting mother who would be made miserable by my dishonor, and I would rather die than bring more sorrow upon her head. Perhaps you have no moth ers ; and If you have perhaps they do not look to you for support, for I know you too well to believe that either of you would ever bring down a loving mother's gray hairs in sorrow to the grave. That is all, shipmates. Let me go now, and you may enjoy yourselves alone, for I do noebelieve that you will again urge the wine cop upon me.' " As Jack thus spoke he tamed towards the door, but Tim Black stopped- him. Hold ou, Jack, cried Tim, wiping his eyes and starting up from his chair. You shan't go alone. I hate got a mother, and I love her as well as you love yours, and your mother shall not be happier than fulne,-for by the love I bon' her, I here swear that she shall never have a drunken son. I will drink no more.' Give us your hand, Tiro,' cried Sam Pratt. I'll go with you.' "I waited no more, but quickly starting from my chair I joined the other two, and era long the whole Live of nsiolued with Jack flmall in his noble life-plan. We caned for pen, ink and piper, wd made Jack draw up a pledge. He signed It first and we followed him, and when the deed was done I know we were tar happier than we had been before for years. The wine upon the table was un touched, and the liquor we had drank during the forenoon was now all gone In Its effect "Towards evening we returned to the • ship. There was a frown upon the captain's brow es we came over the side, for he had never known us to come off from a day's liberty sober. But when w e had all come over the side and reported ourselves to him his countenance chanced. He could hardly give credit to the evidence of his own senses. "'Look here, boys,' he said, after he had examin ed us thoroughly, ' what does this mean r Show him the paper,' whispered L "Jack had our pledge and without speaking he handed it to the captain. He took it and read it, and his face changed Its expression several times. At length I sew a tear start to his eye, " ' Soya,' he said, as he folded up the paper, ' let me keep this and If you stick to your noble resolu tion you shall never want a friend while I live.' " We let the captain keep the paper, and when he had put It In his pocket he came and took us each In turn by the hand. He was much affected, and I knew the circumstance made him happy. From that day our prospects brightened. Jack Small no longer had our envy, for he took hold and taught U 9 navigation, and we were proud of him. On the next voyage we all six were rated as able seamen, and received full wages, and we leg not that noble hearted captain until we left to become officers on board other ships. "Jack Small Is now one of the best matters In the world, and I believe the rest of our party are still living, honored and respected men. Three years ago we all met—the whole six of us—at the Astor House in New York, and not one of us had broken the pledge which we made in the hotel at Rio. Four of us were then commanders of good ships, one was a merchant in New York, and the other was just going out as American consul to one of the Italian cities on the Mediterranean. " You know why I do not drink wine with you, and of course you wilt not urge It upon me, nor take my refusal as a mark of coldness or disre spect. THE DOGS AND THE ROBBERS. A tragical story Is told of an adventure that hap pened to the monks of St. Bernard, In the dats when their celebrated does were in their fullest perfection. No less than thirty men, to whom the supposed possessions of the monastery offered a rich booty, had by degrees introduced themselves into the retreat, arriving in parties at Intervals, and were always received In the most friendly manner. At• soon as the whole party were assembled, they threw off their concealment, and summoned the abbot to produce the keys of the treasury. The monk was fortunately a man of more resolute character linen usually occurred in these places of seclusion, and did not lose his presence of mind. He observed to them mildly that their conduct was unworthy, and an 111 return for the hospitable attention they had received. The robbers, as may be supposed, were deaf to his appeal, and continued their demand. " If it must be so," said the superior, " as we have no means of defending ourselves, I must sub mit ; follow me, therefore, to the spot where one treasure is kept." He lead the way and was tumultuously attended by the eager band. He placed his hand on a door, but before he turned the key, he turned back and made another appeal ; he was answered with ewers flans, and no chance being left him, he threw the door wide open. He raised Ida voice, to which a loud yell responded, then gave a rapid signal, and in an instant the powerful animals bounded fort:. upon their prey, tearing some, strangling others, and sending the few who escaped their attack, ay fug for their lives;beadiong down the monntain In frantic terror, to be dashed in pieces over the preci pice that yawned before them. PATRIOTIC TO TUE LAST.—While the battle of South Mountain was raging fiercely, among the many wounded who were brought off was a man who bad received a mortal wound, and was evident ly in a dying condition. As noon as he was laid down on the grass, I went to him to see what could be done for him. Life's crimson current was ebbing fast away; his face was ghastly pale, and his eyes were alread dim. "Attlee me rap — raise me up once more ! ' said the dying man, earnestly but feebly. Now—there--that will do Give me wa ter—water—water!" Water was put to his lips, but be could not drink. "Stop!" said he, seizing the tin cup will great earnestness. " Here's to ms country! Here's to the glorious stars and stripes! I die for my county! Boys, never eive up!" His lips quivered, and he fell back exhausted. That scene will never be forgotten by those who beheld it There was something about it so thrillingly pa thetie, so truly noble and grand, and yet so natural, earnest and honest, that it seemed more a scene than an event on the battle-field. He was buried. along with others, In the orchard near which he tell. Over his honored grave will the apple blossom fall In fragrant showers of beant/y, and the summer birds will warble the notes of a holy requiem. — Lights and .Shadow of Army /Alp. SSA-SOUNDINGEL—Various sea-soundings, made by the new telegraph company to England, In prepare Lion for laying the Athletic aub-marine cable tills summer, reveal the following results: The Baltic Sea, between Germany and Sweeden, is only a bun- Bred and twenty feet deep, and the Adriatic, between Venice and Mate, one hundred and thirty. The greatest depth of the channel between France and England dory not exceed 310, whilst to the south west of Ireland, a here the AEA Is open, the dept h Is more than 2,000 feet. The Sees to the. south of Europe are touch deeper than those in the interior. In the narrowest part of the Strait of Gibraltar the depth is only 1,000 feet, while a little more to the east it is 3,000. On the coast of Spain the depth is nearly 6,000 feet. At 250 miles south of Hantucki (south of Cape Cod) no bottom was found at 7,500 feet. The greatest deptbs - bf all ore to he met with In the Southern Ocean. To the west of the Cape of Good Hope 16.000 feet have been measured, and to the west of St. Helena, 97,000 feet, Dr. Young es timates the average depth of the Atlantic at 26,000 feet, and of the Pacific at 20.000. FITNEILAI. OF A BEM —A correspondent of t 4 Glasgow Herald is the voucher for the following: "nn Sunday morning last while walking with a friend in a garden near Falkirk, we observed two bees lAsaing from one of the hives, bearing betwixt them the body of a defunct comrade, with which they flew for a distance of ten yards. We followed them closely and noted the care with which they selected a convenient hole at the side of the gravel walk, the tenderness with which they committed the body, head downwards, to the earth, and the solicitude with which they afterwards pushed apinst it two Little stones. doubtless 'ln manfortam.' rheir task being ended, they paused for about a minute, perhaps to drop over the grave of their friend a sympathizing tear, and then they flew away." pir On the day of the President's fuueral a bronzed and weather-beaten soldier, anxious to ob tain a better view of the procession, happened to step before a party of ladles and gentlemen. One of the gentlemen nudged him on the elbow, at the same time observing, " Excuse me, sir, you are right In front of us." Bowing handsomely in re turn, the soldier replied, "That is nothing remarka ble for me, sir; I've been in front of you for four years." How TO Barran a Loss.—A young city .lerk who felt inclined for a trip to the sea-side, called upon a friend " Hal. my dear boy," said he, " I'm off fur a holiday, and I find I'm a trifle short—lend me a ten, will you T" Hal, after a pause, which apparent ly included a mental examination of his financial ar rangements, replied—" Well—Phil—to tell you the truth—Ldo not feel—dispose—at present—to make any—permanent inyestruenta." Mr A gentleman, about whose Teutonic origin there could be but nne opinion, was passing along the street, a few days since, when he came to a halt before one of the tinge posters announcing the coming of Paradise Loat. He read this Rue: "A Rebellion in Heaven," when he broke forth as fnl lowa : "A Rebellion In Heaven 1 mine Got l that lasts not long now—Onkel Abe ish tare." KEEP MEM Otrr.—" I don't want to bear naughty words," said a little boy. "We no matter," sold another boy, " what Joe Town sar •, It's Ire at one ear and out, at the. other." " ho," rejoined the other little boy, "the worst or It Is, when naughty words get In, they stick; so I mean to &trey best to keep them out" That Is right. Keep them out, for it is sometimes hard work to turn them out when they once get in. lir The printer la the master of all trade.. lie beam the carpenter with the rule, and the mass= In setting up columns ; he aurpaaaea the lawyer ha at tending to Ma ease, and beats the parson In the management of the dPvti- tar C. & A., Um boasted hlltlals of the late bo mbed "Confederate - States of America," according tot' late translatlon,mean, " Skirtoni AD squatulatwn." Ur It Is now evident that "C. 8. A.," the name of detr. &Mee wirbed-for Confederacy, means Can't Secede Again. CASUALTIES OF THE WAIL Official statement• at the War Department com pute the number of deaths In the Union mulles since the commencement of the war, Including the starv ing prisoners, at three hundred and twenty-five thousand. There has doubtless been fully two hun dred thousand Southern .oldlers removed by disease and the casualties of battle, no that not less than Ave hundred and twenty-five thousand hem have been !Lac:liked in this unholy contest, begun and prolonged by the South In their vain effort to build up a new republic and strengthen the slave power. Our greatest losses during any one campaign oc curred at Gettysburg, when M,IM7 Union soldiers were killed, wounded, and taken prisoners. Hook er's campaign of 1863 in the Wilderness ranks next to Gettysburg as far as regards Union lasses; they amount to about twenty thousand, though general ly reported at only ten. Bunielde lost 10;330 In the battle of Fredericksburg, McClellan 11,473 at AntLa tam, Porter 9,000 at Galne's Mills, Rosecrans 12,- 085 at Murfreesboro and 16,831 at Chickamauga, and Sherman 9,01 X) In the two days battle around Atlanta. The official reports of General Grant's losses from the time he crossed the Rapidan until he received the surrender of Lee compute them at ninety thou sand. In the various engagements fought by Gen eral Grunt in the West he lost 13,573 men at Pitts burg Landing, 9,875 In the severe contests around Vicksburg, and in the attack on Missionary Ridge Though oar losses In many of the campaigns have been heavy, they yet fell below those incurred in some of the European wars. This has been due, to a considerable extent, to the efficiency of the medi• cal department and the lavish amount of supplies, at !mat one-third greater than those furnished to any European army. A report recently made to the Imperial Academy of medicine, by Chenu, Phy sician of the French army, estimates the less of that army, In the Crithean war as follows: killed on the field of battle or missing, 10 410 : lost in the Semi. tante, 702; died of various diseases at Alma, 8,084; died of cold, apoplexy, Sm., before Sebastopol, 4, 8 42; died In the field and general hospitals, T2,- 247; total 97,615. Thus, 01 309,264 men sent by France to the Crimea, about one-third found a sol dier's grave. The siege and reduction of Jerusalem resulted, says Josephus, In the loss of 1,000,000 lives. Nine ty thousand Persians were placed hers de combat at the battle of Arhela, and 100,000 Carthagenians in the engagement of Palermo. Twelve thousand in fantry and 10,000 cavalry perished on the fatal field of Issue. Spain lost 2,600,000 lives during the per secution or the Arabians, and 800,000 in expelling the Jews. Frederick the Great inflicted a loss 01 40,000 on the Austrians In the eoollicts of Leuthen and Leignitz.. The battle of Jena and the lesser en gagements immediately folios ir g cost the Prussian army over eighty thousand men. At the battle of ipsie, the eighty suffered casualties to the onto ber of 60.000, and the Swedes and their allies 40,000 more. Fifty thousand French and Russian sol diers lay dead and dying on the field alter the bat tle of Moskowa, and Napoleon again lost 47,000 men at Waterloo, and the Duke of Wellington 15,- 000 more. There is a strong feeling of hostility entertained among the rank and file of our armies toward the medical profession, for which there is undoubtedly some grounds. The sudden and pressing demand for army surgeons called a large number of inex perienced Eacuiapians into the field, and no doubt hundreds or soldiers have been deprived of their limbs when amputation was unnecessary. Yet, when we compare the general sanitary condition of our armies with that of other military organizations, and consider the care of the Government for its troops, and the comparatively small number of deaths from sickness, there is certainly occasion for thanksgiving . As we have seen above, seventy four thousand French soldiers, or one-rourth of the whole number perished from sickness In the Crime an war. Thirty thousand Russian troops also died in the Crimea during a few weeks time from camp disease, and if we mistake not, thirty-live per cent. of the Englt•h tro,ps were prostrated with,sickness when Florence Nightingale entered on her mission of mercy, Of thirty thousand troops that eon), Posed the English army under Wellington, within 9 hours, six thousand were nick In the hospital.— In IRII, the Portugese army. numbering forty four thousand, had nine thousand on the sick list. Nearly one-half of our entire forces of the Revolu lion (forty-seven per cent) were at one time until for dnty. There have been no full tables pnbli , hed of the sanitary condition of our armies during the four years struggle, but separate re ports show that the losses from sickness hear no comparison with those above. Of the entire army of the l'otomac there were only five per cent. on the sick list during the first months of 115C53. CHOOSING A PHYSICIAN. There Is an Eastern story of A certain prince who bad recel•ed item a fairy the Lenity of not only as earning whatever appearance he thought proper, but of discerning the wandering spirits of the de parted. He had long labored under a painful chron Ic disease, that none of the court physicians, ordina ry or extraordinary, could relieve ; and he resolved to wander about the streets of his capital until he could find some one, regular or irregular, who could alleviate his sufferings. For this purpose he donned the garb of a dervish. Ac he was passing through one of the principal streets, he waseur. prised to see it so thronged with ghosts that, had they been still inhabitants of their former earthly tenements they must have obstructed the thorough fare. But what was his amazement and dismay when he saw that they were ap grouped with anx ious look round the door of his royal father's physi • clan, haunting, no doubt, the man to whom they attributed their untimely doom. Shocked with the eight be hurried to another part of the city, where resided another physician of the court holding the second rank in fashionable estimation. Alas , ! his gateway was also surround ed with reproachful departed patients. Thunder struck at such a discovery, and returning thanks to the prophet that he was in being, despite the prae lice of there great men, he resolved to submit all the other renowned practitioners too similar visit; and he was grieved to find that the scale of ghosts kept pace with the scale of their medical rank. Heart broken and despairing of a cure, he wan slowly sauntering back to the palace, when, in en obscure straet, and on the door of au humble dwelling he rend a doctor's name. One single soli tary ghost, leaning hi, despondent cheek upon his fleshless hand, was seated on the doctor's steps.— "Alas!" exclaimed therince, "it 6, then, too true that humble merit withers in the shade, while ignorance inhabits golden mansions. This poor neglected doctor who has but one unlucky case to lament, is then the only man in whom I can place confidence." He rapped ; the door was opened by the doctor himself, a venerable old man, not rich enough, perhaps, to keep a domestic to answer 66 unfrequent tails. His white locks and flowing heard added to the confidence which his situation had In spired. The elated youth then related at full length all his complicated ailments, and the still more com plicated treatments, to which he had In vain been submitted. The sapient physician was not liberal enough to say that the prince's attendants had all been in error, since all mankind may err; hut his sarcastic smile, the curl of his lips, and the dubious shake of his hoary head, most eloquently-told his tuitions patient that he considered his former phy sicians an ignorant murderous set of upstarts, only fit to depopulate a community. With a trinmphant look he promised a cure, and gave his overjoyed patient a much valued prescription, which he care fully confided to his bosom; after which be express ed his gratitnde brpottring upon the doctor's table a purse of golden sequins, which made the old man's blinking eyes shine as brightly as the coin he beheld In wondrous delight. His joy gave suppleness to his rigid spine, and of ter bowing the prince out in the most obsequious manner, be ventured to ask him one humble ques tion: "By what good luck, by what kind planet, had he been reccommeuded to seek his advice?"— The prince naturally asked the reason of so strange a question ; to which the worthy doctor replied : "Oh sir, because I considered myself the moat un fortunate num In Bagdad until this happy moment; for I have been settled in this noble and wealthy city for the lust fifteen years and have only been able to obtain one single patient." "Ah l" cried the prince in despair " then it must be that poor solitary, unhappy looking ghost, that is now sitting on your steps." Gunnar - R.—Dr. 810 Lewis has the following sug gestion In relation to preserving the hair: God covered the skull with bale. Some people shave It off. Mischievous practice. It exposes the throat and lungs—the eyes likewise, say wise phyalologista. Men become bald. Why? Because they wear close hats and cap& Women are never bald except by disease. They do not wear close hate and caps. Men never lose a hair below where the bat touches the head, not If they have been bald twenty years. The close hat holds the heat and perspiration. Thereby the sir glands become weak; the heir falls off. What will restore It? Noth ing after the sealp : becomes shiny. Bat In process orialling out, or recently lost, the following Is the best: Wash theced with soft cold water freely once or twice a dat. Wear a thoroughly ventilated hat. This is the best means to arrest the loss, and restore what Is susceptible of rmtoratien. (Aug olditoper soya tho two moat precious thAnisoow included In hoops aro girls and kegs of Mani. NATIONAL JUBILEE SONG. Fling out the nation's starry flag In glory on the air ! The ancient flag of freedom still ; No star is missing there. The Lord of Hosts has given the word, The people all are free; The Jubilee nth sounded forth The nation's liberty. Chorus.-43hont ! our redemption's come, Our nation now is free; Echo the chorus wide, Prorlaim the Jubilee. The dove of Peace is brooding o'er The desolated mirth, And flowers are springing In the light Of Freedom's second birth. Then from the field of battle call Our noble veterans home; Ring out the Joyous bells, and greet The heroes as they come. Chorus—Shout! etc. The host of proud oppressors now Are whelmed In endless night; Atd dusky brows of millions wear The crown of Freedom's light, -Proclaim the triumph through the world, And shout from pole to pole ; Eternal be the boon for all, The birthright of the soul. Chorwa--t3hout I etc. Then fling the nation's banner out In glory on the air; The spotless Flag of Freedom now— No star is missing there; While Justice and eternal truth Mankind exulting err, We'll shout fur country's joyous song.; The nation's Jubilee. Chores.—Shout ! etc. ELI WHITNEY One day in the fall of 1792, when General Wash ington was President of the United States, a compa ny of Georgia planters happened to ha assembled at the house, neer Savannah, of Mrs. Nathaniel Greene, widow of the famous General Greene of the Revolu tion. Several of these planters had been officers un der the command of General, and they had call ed, naturally enough, to pay their respects to his widow. The conversation turned upon the depressed con dition of the Southern States since the dose of the war. The planters were generally lu debt, their lands were mortgaged, their products afforded little profit, and many of the vonncer and more mitcrpris. leg people were moving away. The cause of this state of things, these planters agreed, was the diffi culty of raising cotton with profit, owing to the great labor required In separating the fibres of the cotton from the Bevis. Many of our readers, we presume, have never seen cotton growing, nor even a ball, or pod„ of cotton. This pod, which is about as large as a hen's egg, bursts when it is ripe, and the cotton gushes out at the top in a beautiful white flock. If you exam ine this flock closely, yon discover It contains eight or ten large seeds, much resembling, in size and shape, the seeds of a melon. The fibres of the cot ton adhere so tightly to the seeds, that to get one pound of clean cotton, without wasting any, used to regnlre a whole day's labor It was this fact that rendered the raising of cotton so little proUtable, and kept the Southern States from sharing in the prosperity enjoyed by the States of the North, after the close of the Revolutionary war. When the gentlemen had been conversing some time, the idea was started, that perhaps this work could be done by a machine. Mrs. Greene then re marked : " Gentlemen, apply to my young friend, Mr Whitney ; he can make anything." Few words have ever been spoken on this globe that have had such important and memorable con sequences as this elmpie observation of Mts. Na thaniel Greene. Eli Whitney, of whom she spoke, was a young Massachusetts Yankees, who bad came to Georgia to teach and, having been taken sick, had been Invited by this hospitable lady to reside In her house till be should recover. He was the son of a poor farmer, and had worked his way throneh college without assistance—as Yankee boys often do. From early boyhood he had exhibited wonderful skill In me cheeks, and in college he used to repair the philo eophical apparatus with remarkable nicety, to the great admiration of professors and students. During his residence with Mrs. Greene he haul made for Ler an ingenious tambour-frame, on a new principle, as well as many curious toys for her children.— Hence her advice: "Apply to my friend, Mr. Whit ney; Ac can make anything." She now Introduced Mr. Whitney to her friends, who described to him the difficulty under which they labored. He told them he had never seen e poel of cotton In his life. Without giving them any promises, he resolved to procure some raw cotton forthwith, and see what he could do with it. Search leg about the wharves of Savannah, he tnund, at length, some unclean cotton, end, taking borne a bundle of it in his bands, he shat himself nei in a room in the basement, and set to work to invent the machine required. All the winter lee labored in his solitary cell.— There were no proper tools to be had in Savannah. He. therefore, made hie own tools. There was no wire. He also made his own wire. The children, the servants, the visitor, to the home, wondered what he could be doing In the basement all alone; hut he said nothing, and kept on tinkering, ham mering, and thinking, till, early in the spring of Mei, he had completed hie work. Having act up the mysterious machine In a shed, he Invited a number of planters to come and settees.. its operation. Ito PUCCI:SS seas complete. The gee . Gernert saw, with unbounded delight, that one man, with this young Yankee engine, could clean as much cotton in a day as a man could chew by hand in a whole winter. The cotton grown on a tare plantation could be separated from the seed in a few days, which before required the constant labor of a hundred hands for several months. Thus was the cotton-gin Invented. The principle was so simple, that the wonder was, that no one hail thought of it before. The cotton was put Into a large trough, the bnttnm of which was formed of wires placed in parallel rows, so closely together that the seeds could not pass through. under this trough saws revolved, the teeth of which thrust themselves between the wires, leaving the seed be hind, which ran out in a stream at one end of the trough. The simplicity of the cotton-gin had two effects; one good, the other bad. The good effect was that. la the course of a very few years, it was introduced all over the cotton States, increased the value of the cotton lands, doubted and trebled the production of cotton, and raised the Southern States from hopeless depression to the greatest prosperity The effect was as lasting as it was sudden. In 17113, the whole export of (eaten from the United States was ten thousand bales. Men acquainted with the subject are of opinion, that this single Invention has been worth to the South one thousand million dnl tars. How moch did the inventor gain by it? Not one dollar! Associating himself with a man of cap ital, he went to Connecticut to set up a inanutaetory of cotton-gins. But the simplicity of the machine was such that any good mechanic who saw it could make one; and long before Whitney was ready to snpply mechirres of his sawn making there were a 'crwit number in operation all neer the Cotton States. Hie patent proved to he no protection to him. II he brought suit for Its infringement, no Southern jury would give him a verdict. He struggled on un der adverse influences for enemy years. In 150,5. when his patent expired, be gave up the contest, and withdrew from the business, a poorer man than he was on the day that he went, with his hand fell of cotton-pods, Into Mrs. Greene's basement.— Thousands of men were rich, who but for his Inge ' unity and labor would have remained poor to the end of their days. The levees of the Southern ports were heaped high with cotton,. which, but for him, would never have beenro wn. Fleets of cotton ships sailed the seas, which, but for him, would nev er have been built He, the creator of so much wealth, returned to hie native State, at the age of forty-two, to begin the world anew. But Ell Whitney was a thorough-bred Yankee— one of those unconquerable men who, balked In one direction, try another, and keep trying till they the ceed. He turned his attention -to the improvement of firearms, particularly the old-fashioned musket. Having_ established a mauufactory of firearms at New Haven, he prospered in business, and was enabled at length to gratify his domestic tastes by marrying the daughter of Judge Edwards, with whom he lived in happiness the rest of his We. Some of the improvements which he invented are preserved in the Springfield musket, with - which our soldiers In the field were chiefly armed. It was he who began the improvements In firearms which Colt and many others have continued, and which have given the United States the best musket., the hest pistols, the best rifles, and the beet cannon In the world. It le a euriona fact, that the same man should have supplied the South with the wealth that tempt ed It to rebel, and the United States with the weap ons with which It enforced its Jost authority. The time Is at hind when Yankee ingenuity win again be employed In developing the vast resources or the Southern States. There are Whltneye still among us. When at length the opportunity shall be afforded them, they will commence tinkering and cogitating, inventing new mschines and pew meth ods, moaner the worn •delds to wale with abundant harvests, and the dilapidated 0 11 towns to renew their youth. tioa.oo per annum, in actvanco NITAMER 33. WHY TEE WIND BLOWS What, then Is the cause of the wind ? The ple answer 11 2 —the sun. If you light afire in arhomr and afterwards stop up every chink by which air can gain access to the fire, except the chimney, the fire will go out In a short time. Again, II s Imp is burning on the table and yon stop up the chimney at the top, the flame wilLiro out at once. The reas on of this Is, that the dame, in each cue, attracts the air, and If either the supply of air be cut off be low or Its escape above is checked, the dates cannot continuo to burn. This explanation, however, does not bear to be pushed too far. The reason that the Bre goes out If the supply of air Is cut off, is, that the flame, Is not fed; While the sun cannot be odd, In any sense, to be dependent - ..tnt the earth's atmosphere for the fuel for Its ere. WO have chosen the illustration of the name because the facts are so well known. If, instead of a Barre in the middle of the room, we were to hang up a large name of heat ed Iron, we should Bed cements of air set in from all sides, rise up above It, and spread out when they reachedi the ceiling, descending again along the walls. The existence of these currents may be easi ly proved by sprinkling a handful of fine chaff about In the room. What Ls the reason of the circulation thus produced ? The iron, orders it be extremely hot, as it is when melted by Mr. Bessemer's process, dues not require the air to keep up its hest• and, In f a ct, the constant supply of fresh air cools It, as the metal gives sway its own heat to the air as fast as the particles of the latter come in contact with it— M , by, then, do the currenm rise? Because the ale when heated, expands or gets lighter, and rises: leaving an empty space or vacuum where It was be fore. Then the surrounding cold air, being . elastic, fortes itself into the open space andgets heated In Its turn. From this we ran see that there will be a constant tendency In the air to flow towards that point on the earth's surface where the temperature I. highest—or, other things being equal, to that point where the sun may be at that moment In the zenith. Accordingly If the earth's surface were either entirely dry land or entirely water, and the sun were continently in the plane of the equator, we shnuid expect to end the direction of the great wind currents permanent and unchanged throughout the year. The true Mote of the ease Is, however, that these conditions are very far from being Walled.— Every one knows that the sun is not always Immo• diately over the equator, bet that he is at the tropic of Cancer In June sea at the tropic of Capricorn In December, passing the equator twice a year at the equinoxes. Here, then, we have one cause which disturbs the regular flow of the wind currents. The t &et of this is materially increased by the extreme ly arbitrary way in which the dry land has been dis tributed over the globe. The Northern hemisphere i.entaites the whole of iturope, Asia, and North America, the greater part of Africa, and a portion of South America; while In the Southern hemisphere we only tied the remaining portions of the two last named continents, with Australia and some of the large islands In the vicinity. Accordingly, during our summer there is a much greater area of dry land exposed to the nearly vertical rays of the sun than is the case during oar winter. BRIGHAM YOUNG. The President of the Mormon Church Is six feet high, portly, and weighs about 200 pounds. He Is wonderfully well-preserved fora man who has past his sixtv-tourth birth-day. His`faca Is fresh and un wrinkled, his step agile and elaallc. I can hardly 4eleet a single gray hair in his curling auburn locks, or the whiskers of the same hue, which lu smooth, crescent line fringe his cheek and chin. Is Brigham Young Indeed a new Ponco de Leon, who has dis covered in Polygamy the fountain of Perpetual Youth ? His eyes are of a grayish blue. They do not . im press me as frank and open, but have a secretive expression. He has an eagle nose, and a month that shuts like a vice, Indicating tremendous firm ness. His manner Is dignified le and affable rather than cordial; and ho carri ea the unmistaka ble air of one having authority. Ordinarily cold In conversation, he luta little ebullitions of earnestness In which be sp.aks right at people, tusing'his dexter tore-anger with great force to point a moral. He treats the brethren with warmth, throwing his arm caressingly about them, and asking carefully after the wives and babies. He has observed much, thought much, mingled much with practical men ; but seems a little unfa miliar with cultivated society. He is abstemious and temperate, using neither tea nor coffee, spirits norjtobacco. Provincialisms of his Vermont boyhoerd and his Western manhood still cling to him. He says " leetie," " beyend," and " disremember." An Ir repressible conflict between his nominatives and verbs now and then crops out In expressions like "they was," etc. Yet those who hold Brigham Youngs cheap char latmt, are wilder it possible than the Saints who re ceive him as an angel of light, or those Gentiles who denounce him as a goblin damned. A moat striking embodiment of the One Man Power, he holds& hun dred thousand people In ths hollow of his hand.— Gathered from every nation, always poor, sanally ignorant, sometimes vicious, he has molded thus Ist. an industrious, productive, honest, and hcreno ceneons community. He has grown very rich; tha Gentiles charge him with extortion among his own people. He certainly owns much of the most desir able property in Utah. But his adherents as a clan have vastly Improved their condition by coming -here. I believe that all admit that his large com mercial dealings arc characterized by integrity; and that be possc•eca great kindness of heart. He is a man of brains, quick intulon.„ good judgment and untiring Industry - . He would doubtless have achieved great suet:mein politics, trade, manalactur lag, or almost any other walk of D. Rich anion, in N. Y. Tribune. A Nashville correspondent or the Cincinnati Oa zet e writes: At the corner of Cherry and Broad streets is • ,mall, but comfortable and popular theatre, called Poland's Varieties. There is no heavy tragedy, or even standard comedy, ever performed there; but the manager understand., nevertheless, how to draw a crowd ; and with the aid of pretty dancing-girls and extravagant farces, he manages to attract a very conaiderabte audience every night. This audience consists generally of soldiers, although there are litany others who go to enjoy the laugh which may almost always be obtained there. Two or three nights since I happened to be present at one of these exhibitions. There was the usual quantity of singing, dancing, light comedy, and broad tarce. le one of the extravaganzas a theatri cal manager is represented as having advertised for a company of performers. Soon after, a negro, dir ty, ragged, old, and dilapidated, presents himself, and proposes to play an engagement The manager asks him what he can play. With much asattinee, he answers that be can perform most anyth.ng.— The manager then tries him on various parts, lad of course the darkoy very ludicrously breaks down in each, to the infinite amusement of the lookers-on. The applause of the audience was redo bled at each successive failure. At last the manager proposes to him to try a part In which he will not have much to say. Why won't 1 have much to say ?" inquired Sam- " Well," says the manager, "your part Is inch • one that you won't be allowed to say mech." " d. reason I won't beallowed to speak I" says the Indignant darkey. '• Because you're to be my slave," reviles the manager. " No, no; you can't come dat on die child." " Well, but you see It's only In the play." " Yes," says Bambo, "I know It's in the play; but I tell you dat played out." No sooner had this sentence been uttered, than from pit to (tome, the little theatre was filled with a perfect thunder-storm of applause. It commenced with a loud laugh and a universal hand-clapping and stamping of feet ; it progressed to a tremendous yell; and it ended with a vast combination Vali the signs and noises by which an audience testifies Its excite inept and delight. It was an unmtatakabie indication of the feeling and determination of the people, especially of the vatrfotic and liberty-loving soldiers. rar (Inc of the curious facts noticed by natural ists is, that that the animals and vegetables of the Old World supplant those of the New. According to Darwin's theory, this is to be attributed to the long period dating which the denizens of the Old World have been engaged in the struggle for life, and the consequent rigor acquired by them. Euro pean weeds bare established themselves abundantly in North America and Australia. The rapid propa gation of European animals is no lest rernarloble„ The nig which Captaln Cook left at New Zealand have increased so largely that they monopolize vast tracts of the country, and are killed at six centsper tall. Not only are they obnoxious by occupy the ground which the sheep farmer needs for his flock, but they assiduously follow the ewes when lambing, and devour the poor lambs as soon as they make their appearance. Another Interesting het h the appearanceof the Norwegian rat. It has thor oughly extirpated the native rat, and Is to be found everywhere growing toe Tary largo size. The Eu ropean mouse follows closely, and, what is more surprising, where It makes its appearance, It drives, to a great degree, the Norwegian rat away. The European house-fly is another Importation—repels the blue bottle of New Zealand, which seam to shun Its company. lgr• "Jake," said a mother to her eon who was thisi'atisehiet, "get out of thaw sweetmeata."— " Mama, I'm not In 'ear, but theereto =though." " PLAYED our. •
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers