AUTUBUf.
Tint field* m White,fith utdmn font,
And anUupq arenas i . .
Andbodjnrciond* by vtorro-wlnds based,
fVom Sol’ewarm glshces ©over us.
The wood hath loetitssammer haee— ■'
Itsleaves in showers *re Ailing bow,i‘
And flnwer*,.nqpwre the genisl dew* - r , 5 ,
Into new file ate calling now...
Wo fpeino longer Sommer's hrpath— : •
'vWassa&syat«A
• On every hand isgrieving ns (
Entail the joythat Semmarbroaght—
Fond Memory i* keeping H i,
The increase of »U quickened Thojighl—
In winter we’ll be reaping it.
And when our heart* bare felt Spring’* glow,
The contract willhave bettered them
With thought* they ne’er had come to know,
Had summer sameness fettered them.
We prize the heart unskilled in guile,
And better grow by loving it;
Nor can we love it less, the while
Adversity is proving it.
AU that is cast in Besnty’s mould,
Like Truth, with time shall perish not;
And they ate hard of heart and cold,
The beautiftil who cherish not.
The tints that deck tha humblest flower
May vanish with the antuiqn frost;
But wedded to a Thought, its dower,
Its beauty, neter can be lost.
M. H. Com.
THRILLING NI&MTIVE.
AN ADVENTURE IN A TUNNEL.
A PERILOUS POSITION.
A frightful incident which occurred a few
weeks since to some of the workmen employ
ed in the Halohaw Moor Tunnel, on the
Lancashire & Yorkshire Railway, England,
reminds us of an adventure, as related to the
editor of Eliza Cook’s Journal, not long ago,
by a person in the employment of the tele
graph company. He had been engaged in
the inspection and repair of the telegraph
wires and fixings, which are subject to many
accidents, and require constant looking after
to insure their integrity and efficiency.—
Even when carried through tunnels in gutta
percha casings, imbedded in leaded lubes,
they are liable to accidents from passing wa
gons, or, in winter, from lumps of ice falling
down the sides of the shafts, and damaging
the tubes. It appears that one day the door
of a coal wagon had got loose in the long
tunnel of the railway, and dashing
back against the sides of it, had torn the
lube, and even cut across the wires in many
places The telegraph was therefore broken;
i! could not be worked, and several work
men were sent into the tunnel to execute the
necessary repairs. The person who related
the following adventure acted in the capacity
of Inspector, and it was necessary for'him to
visit the workmen, ascertain the nature of
the damage that had been done, and give di
rections on the spot as to the repairs, the ne
cessity for completing which was of the
greatest urgency
“ I knew very well,” said he, “ that the
tunhel was of great length—rather more
than two miles long—apd that the workmen,
who had set out in tjTe morning from the
station nearest, had ehtered it by its south
end ; so I determined to fallow and overtake
them, which t would doubtless be able to do
somewhere in the tunnel, where they would
be at work. I was accompanied by a little
dog, Which (rotted behind at my feet. After
walking about a mile, I reached the entrance
over which frowned the effigy of a grim lion’s
head, cut in stone.
“ There were as usual, two lines of rails
the up line and the down line; and 1 deter
mined to walk along the former, that I might
see before the approaching lights on any ad
vancing train, which I would take care to
avoid by stepping on to the opposite line of
rails, at the same time that 1 should thus
avoid being run over by any train coming
up behind from the opposite direction, and
which I might not see in time to avoid. I
had, however, taken the precaution to ascer
tain that no train was expected to pass along
the up line, over which I was proceeding for
about two hours: but I was aware that they
could not be depended upon, and therefore I
resolved to keep a good lookout ahead.—
Along the down line, I knew that a passen
ger train was shortly to pass—indeed, it was
even now due; but by keeping the opposite
line of rails I felt I was safe, so far as that
was concerned.
11 1 had never been in a tunnel of such
length as fhjs before, and I confess I felt
somewhat dismayed when the light which
had accompanied me so far into the entrance
began to grow fainter and fainter, After
walking for a short distance, I proceeded on
in almost total darkness. Behind me there
was the distant light streaming at the tunnel
mouth ; before me almost impenetrable dark
ness. But by walking in a straight line, I
knew that I couldn’t miss my way, and the
rails between which I walked, and which I
occasionally touched with my feet, served to
keep me in the road. In a short time I was
able to discern a seeming spot of light, which
gradually swelled in a broader gleam, though
still at a great distance before me; and I
knew it to be the opening of the nearest shaft,
it was a mere glimmer and the thick and al
most pnlpqble darkness which enveloped me.
As i walked on, I heard ray little dog pant
ing at my heels, and the sound of my tread
re-echoed from the vaulted roof. Save these
sounds, perfect silence reigned. When I
siood still to listen, 1 heard distinctly the
mud beating of my heart,
'■ A startling thought suddenly occurred to
me. What aif goods train should suddenly
snoot through the tunnel, along the line on
which 1 was proceeding, while the passenger
tram, now due came on in the opposite di
rection ! I had not thought of this before,
and yet I was aware that a number of casaal
trams on a well-frequented railway is very
considerable at particular seasons. Should I
'urn back, reach the mouth of the tunnel
again, and wait until the passenger (rain had
passed, I could then follow along the down
line of tails knowing that no other train was
likely io follow it for at least a full quarter
of an hour.
“ But the shaft, down which Ihe light faint*
17 streamed, was nearer to me than the
mouth of the tunnel, and i resolved therefore,
io, make for that point, where there was, I
knew, ample room outside of both lines of
'he rail to enable me to stand in safely until
'ho down train passed. So I strode on. But
* low . hollow murmur, as if remote thunder,
and then a distant scream, which seemed to
For lit Agitator.
' i ' -j
• r**
■itt—uftvv-'s !sti
' • 1 l.Ti;
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M. Hi COBB^fiDITOR.: < i "" T 11 >! * «TB* J Aolffirioir 6r Thousht is tbibeoinbibo x'v ' N '' ■> r
ij-ihAririnrl"'-- l_ £_»L : IL li LI xSil >. IJ-iI _ . ‘ .'! t*’- .; i-«i !
VOL. - tMMYMOROTG.N&VE;
I! ~ S\U <L'. UjiihiUira oo' i:sn i:oit!l *v:l{ i-izd-rA • • ,-.f >- - •
-• -ri , 1 rf
'l tubn'el, fell ujjpn^niy
ears— Uje passenger I.
had been espeojog,!: icnteri eg tunnel
Mouth. But loiAfog ahead at
I discerned the gleam of ddyt&fjj at
(be bottom of ifhtjahalt towards whrph.T was
approaching, what seemed a .spark of fire.—’
It moved; cotlldlit be one of-the laborers 6f
whom I was lt increased! 1 for
an instant I loifitit. Again'! TBis time it
looked brighter.; ;vA moaning, tinkling noise
crept along thd ft»r df the ■ vault. I itdiod!
still with fear. fethoteaißO of the trtin.be
hind me was tdpidly Increasing; and
ing for an instant ih that direction,.! observed
that it was in follt sight. I could bo longer
disguise from nfyfelf that I siood full irt' tbe
way of another train advancing from (hoop
posile direction..: The light .before me was
the engine lump..t lt was now brilliant as a
glowing star, and ft he roar of the wheels of
(he (rain was no* fully heard amidst the
gloom. It came on with a velocity which
seemed to me terrific.' ,
“ A thousand - Ihoughls coursed through
my brain on the dnslant. ' I was In the way
of the monster, qltd the nqxt moment might
be crushed into bleeding fragments. The
engine was almost upon met I saw the
gleaming face of llje driver, add the glow of
the furnace flashing its lurid light far along
the lower edge of (he dense volumes of steam
blown from the engine-chimney. In an in
stant I prostrated myself on my face, and
lay there without the power of breathing, as
I felt the engine and train thundering over
me. The long-hung ash-box swept across
my back ; 1 fell the heal of the furnace as it
flashed over me, and a glowing cinder drop
ped near my hand ; but 1 durst not move. I
felt as if the train was crushing over me.—
The Carlh vibrated and shook, and the roar
of the wagon-wheels smote into my ears with
the thunder which made me fear their drums
would crack. 1 clutched the earth, and
would have cowered and shrunk into it if I
could. There was not a fibre of my body
that I did not feel the horrors of the moment
and the dreadfulnesa of the situation. But it
passed. With a swoop and a roar of (he
break van, the last in the train flew over me.
The noise of (he (rain was still io my ears,
and the awful terror of my situation lay still
heavy on me. When I raised my head and
looked behind, the right light at (he tail of
the train was already far in the distance. —
As for the passenger train, it had also pas
sed ; but I had not heeded it, though u bad
doubtless added to the terrific noise which
for some time sunned me.
“ 1 rose up and walked on, calling upon
my dog. But no answer—not «o much as a
whine. I remembered its sudden howl. It
must have been crushed under the wheels of
some part of the train. It was no use search
ing for my little companion ; so I proceeded
anxious lo escape from the perils of my situ
ation. I shortly reached the shaft, which
I had before observed. There was ample
room at either side of the rails, lo enable me
lo rest there in safety. But the place was
cold and damp, and streams of water trickled
down the sides of it. I resojved, therefore, to
go on upon the down line; but the tunnel
being now almost filled with the smoke and
steam of the two engines, which had just
passed, I deemed it prudent to wail for a
short lime, until the road had become more
clear, in case of any other (rain encountering
me in my further progress. The smoke
slowly eddied up (he shaft, and (he steam
gradually condensed, until I considered the
road sufficiently clear to enable me to pro
ceed in comparative safety. I once more,
therefore, plunged into the darkness.
11 1 walked on for nearly half an hour,
groping my way; my head had become
confused, and my limbs trembled under me.
I passed two other shafts, but the light which
they emitted was so slight, that they scarce
seemed lo do more than make the 1 darkness
visible.’ I now supposed that I must have
walked nearly the whole length of the tunnel;
and yet it appeared afterwards that I 1 was
only about half way through it. It seemed
like a long day since I had entered. Buf'by
and by a faint glimmer of lights danced be
fore my eyes; and as I advanced I saw it
was the torches of the workmen, and I soon
heard their voices. Never were sight and
sound more welcome. In a few minutes
more I had joined the party. But felt quite
unmanned for the moment; and I believe,
sitting down on one of the workmen’s tool
boxes, I put my hands over my eyes—l
really could not help it—and burst into tears.
“ I never ventured into a tunnel again
without an involuntary thrill of terror coming
over me.”
The accident which occurred to the work
men in the Halshaw Moors Munnel, was of a
similar nature to that above recitpd. The
men employed wore plate-layers, engaged id
the repair of the permanent way; In long
tunnels there are men belonging to some
‘gang’ who are almost constantly employed
there, and who see little or n 6 daylight ex
cept from what passes down the shafts.—
Sometimes, when busy at their work, and
their ears are deafened by the noise made
by the hammers, picks and spades of the
‘gang,’ engaged in driving in a spike, or
lightning a key, or packing the ballast under
a sleeper, a train comes suddenly upon them;
-and if close at hand, the men hra sometitpes
only able to escape by throwing themselves
flat upon their faoes and letting the .trains
pass over them. Two mien in the Hglshaw
tunnel were engaged at tneilr W'otk when two
trains entered at the same time, pnd from
each 1 direction. One of the men threw him
self down by the side of the tOnbel, add call
ed upon his fellow workman ,ta do the same.
But it had been too late. The ’.trains had
come upon the unforjjjnate workman with,
such velocity, that he Had not even lime to
liß ’olfcuiMiivj "18-'I t'l i ■ >! .iaa _
•j-Oi
‘ta riii liJ .; Ms oi Pt;aliili)!t I • < i t P- i ‘l Uwilasiv,;/,. vli fc>4i;w v* vJaitofi
ui.ii ... v, Mr hu,, I :najgiw.TU'nid jarsfi. '.‘.v--
proa.lrulo
for (|i» mon)ent *u«pended by the
Wydrds him
.from oppoaile direclipOT, ( «wCminn «?uch
'WBs paused -through
rhd lunt^lti^^uh4lK»t : *)iMlbf ihemhad
rpn qve’rtfiepqdr *orkmko %ttd cut'tint, ■
ffitb pieces. ' •'
TOBCIIM ST d Br,
. !Morgaw. '
■' Puttie Sqsjr earikstvpiirebfMa
ry was heard t .£all|og Vi i ,
“ I'm comius, dear.” answered Morgan.
“ Ctam tjuk&i 'lklher, won’t you
- “ Yea, love.” And Morgan got up and
dressed himself—but with unsteady hands
and every sigh of nervous prostration. Jo a
little while, with the assistance of his’ Wife,
he was ready, qnd supposed hy :her, came
tottering into the room where Mary was ly
ing. .
• “ Oh! father!”—What at light- broke over
lier countenance—“ I’ve been waiting for you
so long, I thought you were never, going to
wake up. Kiss, me father.”
“ What can 1.-do for you, Mary ?” asked
Morgan, tenderly,'as he laid his face down
upon the pillow beside her.
“ Nothing, father. I don’t wish for any
thing. I only wanted to see you.”
“ I’m here, noy; love.”
“ Dear falhfer.l” How earnestly, yet ten
derly, she spoke, lying her small hand upon
his face.
“ You’ve always been good to me, father—
“Oh ! no. I’ve never been good to any
body,” sobbed fhe wfeak, broken-spirited man
as he raised himself from the pillow.
How deeply touched was Mrs. Blade, as
she sal the silent witness of this scene.
“ You haven't been good to yourself, fath
er, but you have always been good to us.”
“ Don’t Mary ! dotft say anything about
that,” interposed Morgan. “Say that I’ve
been very bad—very wioked. Oh ! Mary,
dear ! I only wish that I was as good as you
are ; I’d like to die, then, and go right away
from this evil world. 1 wish there was no
liquor to drink—no taverns—no bar rooms.
Oh ! dear ! I wish I was dead !
And the weak, trembling, half-palsied (dan
laid his face again upon the pillow beside bis
child, and sobbed aloud.
What an oppressive silence reigned for a
lima through Iha room I
“ Father.” The stillness was broken by
Mary. Her voice was clear and even.—
“ Father, I want to toll you something.”
“ What is it, Mary 7”
“ There’ll be nobody to go for you, father.”
The child’s lips now quivered, and tears
filled her eyes.
“ Don’t talk about that, Mary I’m not
going out in the evening any more until you
get well. Don’t you remember, I prom
ised
“ But, father—"she hesitated.
“ What, dear T”
“ I’m going away to leave you and mother.”
“Oh T no—no —no, Mary ! Don’t say
that”—the poor man’s voice was broken—
“ don’t say that! We can’t let you go, dear.”
“ God has called me."
The child’s voice had a solemn tone, and
her eyes turned reverently upward.
“ I wish He would call me ! Oh 11 wish
He would call me I” groaned Morgan, hiding
his face in his hands. “ What shall I do
when you are gone 7 r>h I dear! Oh,
dear !”
“ Father !” Mary spoke camly again.—
“You are not ready to go yet. God'will let
yob live here longer, that you inay get
ready.”
“ How can I get ready without you to help
me, Mary 1 My angel child I”
“ Havn’t I tried to help you, father, oh ! so
many times 1” said Mary.
“ Yea—yea—you’ve always tried.”
11 But it wasn’t any use. You would go to
the tavern. It seemed almost os if you
couldn’t help it.”
Morgan groaned in spirit.
“ May be I can help you better, father, af
ter I die. I love you so much, that I am
sure God will let me come to you, and stay
with you always, and be your angel. Don’t
you think he will, mother I”
But Mrs. Morgan’s heart was too full.—
She did not even try to answer, but sal with
streaming eyes, gazing upon her child’s face
“ Father, I dreamed something about you
while I step to day.”
Mary again turned to her father.
“ What was it, dear ?
“ I thought it was night, and that I was
still sick. You ptdmised not to go out again
until I was well. But you did gofout, and I
thought you went over to Mr. Slade's tav
ern, When I knew this, I felt ns] strong as
when I was well, and I got up, dressed my
self, and started out after you. But I hadn’t
gone far before I met Mr. Slade’s great bull
dog, Nero : and he growled at me so dread
fully that! was frightened, and ran .back
home. Then 1 started again, and went away
round by Mr. Mason’s. But there was Nero
in (he road, and this time he caught my dress
in his mouth and tore a great piece out of the
skirt. I ran back again; and he chased me
all the way home.. Just as I got to the door.
1 looked around, and there was Mr. Slade
setting Nero' pit me. As'soon, as I saw Mr.
Slade; though ha looked at me very wicked,
I lost all my fear, aodturning a/pund, I pass
ed Niro, who showed bis teeth,,.and. grptyfpd.
as (fetcely s| didq\ touch,
Than 1 Mr;; Slade tried. itpeJ But I
didn’t friind hjm. add kept tight en .until I
came Ip tbs laV)S«j,aDdihewjmusfpodin the
ijooih jgnd 'jfetif WeM'd^^io,’ nicer 1 ,Tbu
hod on a hew hat add a new coat; and your,
bools Were new and polished just like ludgo
7 r O7
I
yui -yu>T:L
-’ B:!: ~'. UslMp
■«••;! • n|tK ,^lHv
,<: 'H .«; v.:„ f ß l t*»j .■,/■>;,sfts
W«!l Oj
<ii!> ul
'{ < O'
-» O /ltl
Lsiwit f.
h ’.yn'Vfc :M*i *
H(i m n)ond». Isaid.C), father is. this jpu 1
Addition you took roenpiq yotirarras.and
kjiited me, andBaid,.;‘yes,Mary I aroyour
real father—notold JooMarganbul Mr. Mor.
gm« now.” It Baeaied-aJI ao aUaDge,, and l
looked into the bar-rooratD„eee. who was.
there. But it wasn’t a bar-room any longer,
but a siore iiillof. goodsi .-u.',.
The sign of the Sifckle and Sheaf was taken
down 5 and over the door I' now read yoijr
name, father. -
•bko: and then I cried all tomyeelf, Tor it.
•wits only a’dream/ 1 . •• >
‘The last Words were 1 said very motttt/bl
lyj and with a drooping-of Miry’s Sye-lids,,
until the tear-gemmed lash lay close 1 Upon
her cheeks. Anolhei‘period of dcSj) silence
followed ; for the oppressed' Hstenbhi gave no
Wteranec to what was in tjteir hearts. Febl
tn£ was too strong for' speech. : Nearly' five
minutes glided away, and. then' Mary' whis
kered the name of her father, but without
Opening her eyes. '
Morgan answered, and bent down.his ear.
I “You will only have mother led,”she
said—” only mothei;. And she cries so much
when you are away.”
“I won’t leave her, Mary, only when I go
to work," said Morgan, whispering back to
the child; and I’il never go out at night any
more.”
“ Yes, you promised the that.”
“ And I’ll promise more.”
“What, father 7"
“ Never to go into a tavern again.”
“ Never 7”
“ No, never. And I’ll promise still more.”
“Father]”
“ Never to drink a drop of liquor as l loD£
as I live.”
“ O, father ! dear, dear father!”
And with a cry of joy, Mary started up,
and filing herself upon' his breast.' Morgan
drew his arms tightly around her, and set for
a long time with his lips pressed to her cheek,
whilstshe lay against bis bosom as still as
death. As death 7 Yes; for when the fath
er unclasped hie the spirit of bis child
was with the angels of the resurrection,
Arthur ’* ten nights in a bar-room.
SELECT MISCELLANY.
THE JAPAN EXPEDITION.
A MONTH LATER INTELLIGENCE.
From our Oum Corrtipotdenl.
St*ona. Friday, June 16, 1864.
' On the 16th of May, at noojj), we were off
Cape Toricoi-saki, the north-eastern point of
Niphon, and entered soon after the Straits of
Sangar. Several groups of rooks, partly un*
dcr water, as well as very strong currents,
caused softie precautions to be taken, especi
ally as toward sunset a heavy fog obscured
the atmosphere. Wo lay to for the night, and
signals with the steam-whistle and fog-bells
were given to and answered by the Mississip
pi. On the 11th, at about 6 o’clock A. M.,
the weather cleared up ; we got under way
again, and at 9 o’clock A. M. we got sight of
the Macedonian, Southampton and Tandalia,
which bad ail sailed eight days before, and
anchored now in the harbor of Hahtrotade.
Like Gibraltar, to which it has a very stri
king resemblance, Hatrolade lies on the foot
of a high rock, accessible from all ■ sides
but one, toward the land, with which it is
connected by a narrow isthmus. North of
this extends a spacious bay about five to sis.
miles wide, containing sufficient depth of wa
ter and good anchorage for the largest ships,
and becoming gradually shoaler toward the
town, allowing, however, (he native vessels to
a quarter of a mile from the shore.
A sand-bank of unequal depth extends from
the town northward, and oilers a natural
breakwater, so that, under ordinary circum
stances, vessels may safely ride at single an
chor. A large valley, or rather plain, stretch
es along the base of the bay, and is in its
turn on three sides surrounded by mountains,
varying from 1,000 to 3,000 feet high. Sev
eral large and fine brooks and rivers falling
into the bay offer good convenienceces for
manufacturing ships.
Along the shore lay several large and small
fishing villages; along the borders of the
rivers and brooks are habitations, fields and
gardens. The mountains are mostly cov
ered with dense woods, and the peaks covered
with snow, which rendered the atmosphere
raw and chilly, especially in the morning and
the evening, when a pea-jacket was of some
service.
The town of Hatroiade is situated, as I
mentioned, on the eastern declivity of (he bill
about 1,200 feet above tide, and contains, I
should guess about 5,000. houses and from
25,000 to 80,000 inhabitants. The two prin
cipal streets run. parallel to the ahore, one
more than a mile in length, and the farther
one from the water about thirty feet higher
than the other. Most of the rectangular in
tersecting streets are on account pf the terrain,
ascending. The houses are, like all in Ja
pan, of wood, but many of them contain two
stories, the lower one being generally used as.
stores and shops,-which, as our arrival was
somewhat unexpected, we found in the begin-'
Ding well stocked with articles of merchan
dise, but gradually these vanished, «a the
people, from fear of hostile intentions, exci
ted by the presence of <a powerful* fleet; re
moved their best property to aspfer refuge.
It wilt be remembered that Gapt. Golowin,
of the Russian Nary, vri taken jnrisoner at
Canasbien, about 100 tniles fliriW north, 1
pud Was Velpated and pot on 1 boil'd his shift
of.waf in the very eattte spot wapiti atichof
iog in; that aunpg"the IWhOiiljrho'pfhisim
prisbttment the JapaptiM this
Sods of the RusftinijhM ihitax Iha'uilpiii 1
raleoied in" jSiO hy Jhi; U.’ B, shs|i TwMt’
were taken atMatoroly), scarcely thirty muds
off, the people of mitotade might surely he-'
r™ WI is**® s " a®:
'B' f
>S' ; / '>•(■; 1, ■
W I <,“■ y>W-'-X\o.: i H
aws f
Aihal mrST
o 3
\\y wj'ta’
i ♦ i .?• •> t' ■r.K.
f
... -w_ ' _ . ” _ = I «
Ndi'47.' I
liSvb''pDrpresehcB caused I>y similar 1 reasons;’
However.our frtendly Whdvior quieted 1 their
feats' somewhat, and. aUhbugh slowly, their
bonddeacereiuroOd.
. Aiftbb 'roofs oftho houses an covbred.witb
shingles, whitfh are sefcurbd 1 against ' Hid fre-*
qdenl gales herb, blowing heavily, biling"
stpnes qver ibetn after the 'fashion'orSwitb
houees. to which they have a great resem
blance.'- "' 11 ’ , \ ■
.„ Many temples, fotirofthem very Targe,“are
situated ip ,|tiifferent parts ,of the town, and,
, jifee pearly a|l buildings forreliglous purpose*
in Japan, richly ornatnentpfj wuh eanrod'
wort. Here, es everywhere, great neatness
in,the bouses was displayed; alBo,piany pre
cautions against damage from Ape, such as
targe tubs full of water placed in the Streets
or on the.lops oil the houses: bead-quarters
of dire companies, militarily organized, and;
well equipped with engines, ladders, hooka and
buckels,siiof wjbiohare often put in use, as
many traces of recent -fires demonstrated. .
- 1 - Commerce snd trade in this town, the sec
ond of thu Island of Fezzoj must be in a flour
ishing condition] During our stay, tfaisre
were always from 150 to 200 Turks in the
harbor, but as, at our arrival, a great many
had Idftin a hurry, I believe double that num
ber will give about the right proportion.— r
Freight, so far as we could ascertain, consists
chiefly of rice, (very scarce in Fezzo,) cotton
and silk Bluffs, China and lackered ware.—
Exports consist chiefly of fish, In which Fez
zo abounds, seaweeds, skins and Airs, and
perhaps some wood, of which there is a great
abundance, and of superior quality. We
fished very frequently, and even in (bis early
season of the yeer, the result was a very good
one, salmons of from 12 to 16 pounds
not unfrequently Caught. Fine game troust
be, at the proper season, in great abundance.
Even npw, flocks of ducks, fat and plump,
covered (be bay; snipe of a very large size,
and quails were in the large plain in great
numbers; in the mountains, (racks of deer
.and even bears are not unfrequently met with.
After the description of the natives, it must
bo the large black bear.
The natives of Jeddo are in their appear
ance less effeminate than the inhabitants of
Niphon, especially the working classes, where
1 met with many a strong built, well formed
fellow. The higher classes, although in sp
pesrance and manner much like all Japanese,
seemed to mO of somewhat lighter skin, and, ,
notwithstanding their national cunning, many
of them had very frank and handsome coon
tenances, especially the chief delegate of the
Prince of Mats may, a most accomplished, fine
looking, gentlemanly fel.low of about thirty
years.
The climate must be very salubrious, as the
presence of many healthy looking old peo
ple testifies. What a fine refuge would this
region be for home squadrons in the Pacific
and China Seas during the months of July,
August and September, when the typhoons
drive ships into harbors where fevers and
other diseases by turns attack the crow, and
demand a large tribute of health, life and mon
ey, not to speak of the vast advantage for our
whalers to find within a few days Sail, or dlose
by the best fishing ground, an ample supply
of wood, water and provosions, in a safer
harbor, where damages may beesily repaired,
and when perhaps a market for the oil or oth
er articles of trade may- bo found. Indeed,
the ultimate result of this expedition is a great
deal above the finest expeditions, and still
greater advantages may be derived by a prop
er management of affairs.
I think Commodore Perry has well 'deserv
ed the applause of his country and the whole
civilized world, by the abiliily and firmness
with which he prought this difficult affair to a
happy conclusion.
I expect our fleet.will return within a short
time to China, and then I will have, perhaps,
a little more lime to write you in detail.
P. S.—U, S. S. Southampton, Capt. Boylo,
will sail within a few daya, direct to Wash
ington, to convey the Eemperor’s presents to
our country. I cannot entei in a specified
description of them, but I am sure they will
make a nice show. The ship is deeply loaded
with boxes.— N. Y. Tribune.
At a show down east, the audience were
suddenly involved in total darkness byan oc
cidental putting out of the lights. Among
the rest was a newly married country bump
kin and bis pretty bride ; and on the same
bench —a stranger to both— i aata city gentle
man who, profiting by the darkness, fell to
kissing the bride. She whiskered to her hus
band—" John, John f this'ere feller’s a kis
sin’pn me 1”' “ Tell him to quit,” said,John j
for John, it seems probable, stood a little in
awe of the philosopher from the city, and
found himself therefore, in perplexing cir
cumstances. “ No, I can’t.” whispered the
bride; "yon tell him.” 11 Make him quit!”
said John, now getting quite excited. “ 1
don’t like to,” whispered the bride, “ he't a
perfect ttrangerio me /” ,
Upright Mbit-’—We have upright men.
Pull them thiaiway and (he other way, and
(hey only bend but never break. Trip jbero
down, and in a trice they ire on their feet
again, Bnry them in the mad, and in an
boor they would Be out aid bright. You
cannot keep thenl down—you cannot destroy
them. They ire the salt of thieirth. Who
hut they start any, noble Jtrojeof V ‘ They
build our cities, whiten (hi ocearr with our
sails, and blacken the "heavens with (be
pmOke'of their Cars." took to them, young
endcatch ihisparkhf tbejr energy.
, -Tq ,9W>y .‘bis tife, of Metyipe,
he careful what you* oatr and drink, bathe
(jailyind obey thwlaws.of Nature.
To, etnpty s Ihoustr'of NockhsailB.--Set
tjvo dogs to lighting in the' street.
y no- ,i | .it
N^s'
feii; !•
O'.
a- _ ii 1
Bathing Children In Cold Walefi
But if parents mil use cold water on
their own persons, let me entreat them .to
have mercy on theit helpless children. Do
heed their cries and entreaties (o UKim it ct
little ! Nothing is more heathenish and bar*
barous than to bathe children in cold or near
ly cold water. I believe it is injurious to
wash our hands , and faces in cold winter*
water. Those who do It, wilt find thatithey
have rough and cracked skins. ’
The suffering of children white being
washed is but small compared with the evil
effects that often follow the application of
cold water, tp' the !S head, viz.: congestion of
the head or especially the falter. —
True, coft water so applied, will make pre
cocious children, and it, will also fill the>
grave yard with the opening bud of infancy.
J think, it will be found (bat, inure children
die. with head diseases, alnoe the use of water
has been.in vogue, than before, and for. the
reason already given. (1
The fact is, the brain requires and receives
more blond than any other.org* n of
tem.. The applioation of oold, ws l °r to the
head bicroasedthe amount, and hence it.ig
do uncommon thipg.that childreo.aspeojaliy,
“ bruit oDee,.dioae above nWd»;*ith-.haag
disease. '. Indeed, it has become a P»«rerh,
artong .our at ilbwj' that .enph
Children are 100 grovt to live.^gnd
By such treatment the brain becomM tpo
active and large for the body, and, like a
powerful engine in a small boat, soon shat-
Octtrmiaed t* Bin » e«L
.The foilowtngtoeidenr, aaya thrßoehester
W&rtbnt illiWretitro OfansrMralywlidDal
M
difnftdidttM’ep oOTiChy f CWhdio«huruhea
IbO public of
■*}?. . .- •■•
v-ii Tfcljf'i'iiirytaMfi hadat ready commenoad)
f % teia 1 rUrghtbe k4en ■>* teltcarniTefOUg fapeci
humanily, Mchlflg' bis
Mar-farm l h&rdst ! bw; ihatiedtanliah<
WrfiaktfhWwafmio
ifn fail Oraniofn jahUga
ftieK'ttt cwoSwNI thi»‘‘Old’*erpeht,*i*heid
with a Tiifmgtßfctinnderhti arm i Andloha«
ihon
oniho tookoM’fbr tbedoußlepbrptWWof btt«i*
inert add UpeW; ; Byf MatlniO they the whole
oongregaiion were .gazing at the stringer)
‘blit, 11 Nothing dann(od,beopena
iOdWat* himrtlf beside twe isdies,-WhObap
pebedto bd the dHijr'OccflpShta-pf rtrdpew,
whin after drawing a 'ldhd'btedh OrtWOjhe
unburdeDs al follow* : ■'- f
" “Bay,*’ ! attl»erttne time-giving' the Beta
eat lady a nUdge and asignificant any
galls here Winta places 1 Want a good’uil
--one that can -wash, iron, cook; and dogen*
efai house fisingi,—two dollars’ a Week.
The response to this appeal, as, Might be
supposed, was’entirely blegative'in iMtesblti
bat our Yankee friend was not going to* 1 give
HR ,&l?J3»'het
pew, propitiously .sprinkled with feminine
gender, and repeats'the aame'atory, ami. with
me same result.,' Nothing daunted' bbWever
be baa evidently made up his mind that if’is
not “unlawful to do good ontbe Sabfaalh day,’ 1
and be is determined to accomplish, at least
soipe temporal benefit on some of the worships
era there assembled j so, standing erect Jn
the aisle, with the. aforesaid tightly hug*
ged under his arm, but by this time, hat (rt
hand, he proceeds to answer, —in a, stentori
an voice that could be heard in every pert of
the house —the question that was evidently
agitating the breasts .of every one then and
there assembled.
“J’m come here to get a gal—a first ra(e
’ud—one that can wash, Iron, cook, add do
up brown all kinds of fixings ’round a house
and I'll give two dollars a week--—team* out
side now ready."
It is, perhaps, needless to say that the ef
fect was electrical on all—congregation,
priests, officials, Jonathan ; for without etjr
further ceremony the latter personage was
rather roughly caused to make a rapid exis,
with the broad intimation that be had " mis
taken his calling," or at least the building, for
that was not an “Intelligence Office,”
Carious Prediction-
Mrs. Swisshelm, writing about some pre
dictions in reference to the Beastern War,
makes the following remarks. Dr, Wilson,
of whom she speaks, was a learned and wor
thy man, who never spoke from mere impulse,
or enthusiasm, bat always from 'deliberate
and intelligent convictions of tho truth of what
he uttered.
“ Six years ago we heard Rev. Dr. Wil
son, (hen of Allegheny-city', and Professor of
Theology in the Reformed Presbyterian
Church, say that in Ins than ten years a wat
would break out in Europe, between Russia
and the Western Powers—a war which
would, be one of the most terrible ever re
corded on the annals of history, and which
by its wholesale slaughters wonld Carry the
name of Christendom with a thrill of wonder
to the most remote and barbarous nations,
awaken a curiosity about civilisation that
would prepare the way for thedntroduction of
the Bible and Christianity into (hose benigh
ted lands, whose people wonld bo taught by
the rumors of this war, to respect the arts of
civilization. This declaration was 1 made'
again and again in public, (h>m the pulpir,
and was th'e result of a life-time study of the
prophecies of the Bible. The war than (in
thought of, is now begun, and the aged prea
cher always said the Western Powers Would
be victorious —that the teeth of the great Beat
would be forever broken, and with them the
powers of the Pope: We,heard this- same
man predict the Mexican war years before ft
begun, and tell what its end would be. He
also predicted the great fire of ’49 in Pitts
burg ; and we incline to think his gift ofsec
ond sight was more reliable than of the ma
ker of this old statute, and that the Russians
will not be master of Constantinople. From
the first word about proposed hostilities be
tween Russia and Turkey, we have beetr "ftt
the habit of telling onr friends to boy tfacfr
flour, for it would be $l9 or $2O per barrel
before it would be $5 again, so we still think It
will be, for.we are of opinion onr preacher
saw far into the prophesies already Written.
He sa'id this war would take place—would be
rery terrible-end general, and that it was the
last war before the universal peace of the Mil
lennium.