glue gal itg Cult, (For the American Presbyterian.) Recast the Old Bell. BY MRS. EMILY B. HOWARD. " Proclaim Liberty throughout the land to all the inhabitants thereof 1 " This inscription encircles the Old Bell, which an nounced the signing of the Declaration of Indepen dence, July 4th 1776. Not long afterwards, the bell became cracked, and was taken down, but preserved in Independence Hall, as a sacred moment() of that glorious event. Recast the "Old Bell!" Let its echoes swell Over the land, and over the sea; In Jehovah's name, Bid its voice proclaim Throughout all the land a Liberty Recast the " Old Bell I" In Ounce, long Hath its trumpet tongue Been sadliniute, in the ancient hall. Qik the, nation's ear, _ That, would not hear Ids ,prophet tones no longer Fall. Recast the ",Old Bell t' Give it voice again I Send its loud acclaim `tier the nuurrorr - vnertierbttb=s-464-- Thee shall Freedom hear, Though laid on his bier. Wounded and scarred, in his winding sheet Recast,the " Old Bell I" Unto,God they cry, The souls.that lie Under the altax, How long, How, long? And sad wails rise, From our sae - dice Of :blood, 0 TAord, How Icing, Haw long ? Blood for vengeanee cries! Mercy shuts her eyes, While people and rulers ignore Clod's plan. From the tempest of wrath, Safety find, in the , path Of duty to God, and our brother man Recast the' Old Bell . 1" Oh l Chief in. power, This is the hour; Follow the star that to Bethlehem guides For the , angel stands With uplifted hands By the golden tenser's o'erflowing tides! Recast the '‘ Old Bell V' Spare us, 0 God. From the three-fold rod The famine and Restilen,ce with the sword. May our nation show We have learned to know Thou art the Lord Thou art the Lord-I We seat hear the' Old Bell!" Pkita,cielphico, Sept. 1862. CAT INO TILE sqtanEL 3010 NY Ray had set a trap 111 thewood land for squirrels. The «woodland " waa a large lot, of many acres of land, covered with beautiful trees, most of which were walnut. The ,sqgirrels loved that place. It was a home for a, great many families of them. Johnny thought he would like one of the sprightlylitilothings for his 'own; and as; it .was in the spring, when there were no. nuts .on the trees, and when it might be supposed that the squirrels had eaten up all, or nearly all, their winter's store of provisions, he thought one of them might be tempted by a nice, yellow ear of corn, to go into his box-trap. He.set it ,in the woodland one fine afternoon, and having dropped a few of the bright grains of corn about it for decoys," as he called - them, left it there. A large rock stood not far, from the place, and behind it' he could creep up quietly, now and then, to see if his trap was sprung. Two days pasSed, but no squirrel was, caught. On the third day, Johnny asked his sister. Mond to go with him to look.at his trap. They approached it very carefully, keeping behind the rock, and then Johnny, taking . off his cap, peeped cautiously through a crevice. An exclamation of joy almost escaped him ; but he checked it, and with a motion of his hand hushed his sister and beckoned her to come and look. A bushy tailed little fellow was nibbling the scattered Trains near the open mouth of the trap. hey watched him almost breathlesay. He finished eating the decoys; and lifting up his head, looked around. They could see his bright eyes. , He gave a hop or two toward the trap, and again looked about hint. Then he looked in ; then around again, seemingly in doubt - whether it was safe to venture far ther. But at last he walked into the, nibbled at the ear of corn, the cover, fell, and he was a prisoner I - Now, before I tell you what became of him afterwards, I wish to say that I have seen more than one boy pr girl who-seemed to me very much like that squirrel. When I see a child beginning to be a little disobedient to parents, because he thinks it pleasanter 'to have his own way than to obey them; when I hear a boy using words which, though not the worst, perhaps, that mighebe spoken, are such as he would feel unwilling his parents should hear; 'when I learn that a girl does or says things, when out of sight of her mother, which would 'grieve that mother's heart, then I think--that girl, that boy, •is picking up the decoys which have been dropped by a be ing very different from little Johnny Ray, for he did not wish to harm the squirrel ; they are picking up the shining grains which the great trap-setter, who is the Evil One, hits made to look' very inviting to the young and thoughtless, and strewn, about the entrance to a place where he hopes to make those deaf children his prisoners ;forever. The little squirrel could hardly be blamed, for could not think, as you can, and the corn was sweet to his taste. So the begin nings of sin may be sweet to you, but you ktinw to what they lead. J,olinny took up his trap to carry it home. He could hear the imprisoned squirrel scratching and struggling- in his fright at being shut up in that strange, dark place, and before he reached home he began to feel some misgivings about keeping that poor lit . tle 'fellow there. "I almost, wish he was back in the woodland," said Johnny to his sister Maud. " Well, so do I sorry that he should be there in that box, when he has been so happy all day long." "I mean to let him go 1" said Johnny. "Oh, that will be nice I" cried Maud. "But do you think he could find the way from here.?" "I'm afraid not; but we can go back to the woodland gate." And back again they went. Johnny set the trap down on the grass; then he lifted the cover a little way and looked in. The squirrel put his wise to the opening, and thrust Out one of his pretty, slender paws, as if 'begging to .be Jet out. Johnny opened' the trap wide. The sqUirrel sprang out, and was •off in a twinkling, never stopping to look back till he was safely up in a walnut tree, and then he perched on one of the branches, giving his tail a whisk, as-if he would say, " I will never be caught so again." But the great trap-setter, of whom I have told you, is not so willing to let precious souls go out of his snare, when he has once caught them. Look out, carefully and pray erfully, for his decoys. He tries to make lit tle sins appear quite harmless ; he makes them very attractive, and. thus he tempts one to go nearer and nearer destruction. Our Lord. has taught us to pray, 44 Lead .us not into temptation, but -deliver us from. evil." And the voice of wisdom to every child is, "My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not." Uncle Paul's Stories. A DOG ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. A TRUE STORY. LET me tell the children a story of a faith ful dog whose head 1 have patted. This dog belonged; to one of the compan ies of the Bth Regiment Illinois Volunteers. His early, puppyhood was spent at Bird's Point, Missouri, where, at a very early age, he becalm a great favorite: yith the regiment —not on account of his beauty, for he is a homely little fellow, but by:reason of the lov ing a' kind - Vivo trion munifestad,--towa, • all into whose society he was permitted to come. - When the (Bth) regiment, with other Union forces, left Bird's Point'on their ,expeditiOn up the. Tennessee, this dog, " " for that is his name, left with them. Wherever the,regiment moved—in pitching or in strik ing tents, on drill, or, in preparing nfeals, on march or on board transports, from, one point to another—Marshall was a constant attend ant. Marshall, after supper, would go the rounds of each company, to see if everything was right, and would then-come to; his mas ter's tent and quietly lie down there for the night. During the earlier part of the. battle, at the siege of Fort Donelson, he seemed very much excited by what was passing .around hith, and - Would run frotn one point to another, apparently in the deepest an.xiety, as if to inquire what all the noise tneant. During the nights of Thursday and Friday, when, the regiment slept on their arms, amid rain, snow,' and ice, this little creature could not sleep or be ,quiet, because those whom he loved were suffering. His sympathetic na ture seemed in perfect accord with the feel ings which, during that stirring scene, filled every human 'breast. On Saturday , morning, when the, battle was at its fiercest point--a time When grape, and canister, shells, Millie balls, and " buck shot filled the air with their sharp, quick, hissing, whizzing, fearful sound, and .when the ranks on both sides were, terribly cut down, our little dog, either frightened by some passing cannon-ball or by the bursting of a stray, shell near by, took himself during the day away from the scene: At very late howewer, when the firing ceased Marshall made his appearance, in great joy. Going hastily the rounds of the regiment to see if all was Well, he came back to his master's tent very Uneasy, and Much troubled about. something. Not finding any relief, in his home-tent, round the regiment he again ran, and returned as before, excited and in trouble. But,. without any stay there, off he, ran again, and this time to the battle-field. There he walked around among the wounded, dying, and , dead, to find the object of his search. Strangers, whether in other regiments or in the ranks of the enemy, received to at tention from the dog, intent upon finding the objects of his search. • In his faithful search for such among the many wounded, and slain lying there, little Marshall found the body of Capt. W. of. Com pany I, wounded in the left side by the frag ment uf bursting 'shell. It was a fearful wound, rendering the captain completely helpless—unable even to move a limb, though not depriving him of life, or rendering him insensible to his condition. cap. W. noticed the approach of the dog, just as the shades of evening were gathering around him. He thought it a harbinger of good—evidence of the coming of'some one to remove him from that scene of agony and suffering, where, by a sad oversight, he had lain from! 10 A.M. until that time. • But the dog only came to keep vigil 'With him during that long, cold, fearful night. Seeming to comprehend the sufferings of one whom he loved, this sympathetic, faithful little creature would caress the wounded 04- tain in every. way he could—now lying' own close by him, now roused up again by the groans of the suffering soldier, -and then, in a most affectionate manner, lapping his hand, as if he would soothe and comfort him 'in such an hour. In this way, and in giichla battle-field vigil, our faithful dog passed - the :night with the wounded captain. • In the morning, when his master was re moved to the hospital, (a service in which the hand now • penning these "lines was per mitted to engage,) and his wound was cared for, the little watcher who had . been his only companian,;duzing the past night, sought again the iegitudnt, and reassumed his ac •cdatomed qiiiet habits:. Such is the fidelity, of a dog !—lndepen dent. A RABBIT IN A BATTLE. An incident on the Battle-Pield of :Malvern Bills. A FULL• GRONVN rabbit had hid itself away in the'copse of *a fence, which separated two fieldenear the centre and most ekposed por tion'Of 'the battle-ground. Rabbits are wont to spend the day almost motionless, and in seeming drpaming meditation. This one could have had but little thought—if rabbits think—When-choosing its place.of retreat at early dawn; that ere it was eventide there would be such an unwonted and =ruthless dis turbance. During all the preparations for battle made around its lair throughout the forenoon, it neverthless remained quiet. Early however, in the afternoon, when the rage of battle\ had fairly begun, aid shot and shell were falling thick and r fast in all directions, a shell chanc= ed to burst so near Mr. Rabbit's hiding-place, that he evidently considered it unsafe to tar ry longer. So, frightened almost to death, out he Springs into the open field, and ran hither, and thither with the vain hope of find ing a safe retreat.—Whichever way it:ran, cannons were thundering out their smoke and fire, regiments of men . were advancing or changing position, horses galloping here and there, shells bursting, and solid shot tearing up the ground ; . Soinetimes it would 'squat down and lie perfectly still; when some new and sudden danger would again start it into a ntrt i c an Vrtobtttrian and 6tittore 6raugtliot. motion. Once more it would stop and raise itself as high as possible on its hind legs, and look all round for some place of possible re treat. At length that part of the field seemed open which lay in the direction opposite from where the battle raged most fiercely. Thither it accordingly ran with its all remain- . ing speed. Unobserved by it, however, a regiment was in that direction, held in re serve, and like Wellington's at Waterloo, was lying flat on the ground, in order to As cape the flying bullets. Ere the rabbit seemed aware it had jumped into the midst of these men. It cotld go no further, but presently nestled down beside a sold,ier, and tried to hide itself under his arm. As the man spread the skirts of his coat over the trembling fugitive, in order to insure it of all the protection in his power 'to bestow, be no doubt feelingly remembered how much him self then needed some higher protection, un der the shadow of whose arm' Might be hid. den his own defence.less head from the fast Multiplying missiles of death scattered in all directions. . In was not long, ho*ever, before the regi ment was ordered up and forward. From the protection and safety granted, the timid creature had evidently acquired confidence in man as boys are wont to, say, " hadbeen tam' e "As the:regiment moVed, forward in the front of the, battle it-hopped along, tame, A--kitten, close at the feet of the soldier'Vvho had bestowed the needed protec tion. Wherever the, regiment went, during the remaining part of that bloody day and terrible battle, the rabbit kept closebeside its new friend. When`night came on,,and the rage. of the battle had ceased, it finally un molested and quietly hopped away. in order to`• find some one of its old and familiar haunts. ioreltivatoato, 4 EXPLORATION 'OF AUSTRALIA IN 141. ACCOMPANIED, by Mr. Brown and 'three men, Qaptain Stuart started from Park _De pot, maintainirig course 25 degrees west of north, or, in other words, bearing right down on the centre 'of the continent. In ''a short time, the country assumed all the - appearance of a desert. Neither grass nor water:was any , longer and the eye rested on nothing, to the brink of the horizon, but reddish brown sand. Gradually, as they advanced, this sand swelled into long parallel ridges, running from east to west, and rising higher and higher until at length our explorers found theinselves toiling over a very ocean of solid billows, some 50 or 60 feet high, and ,succeeding each nther in endless uniformity. This formation bore no traces of the action of water, and mist have' een the slow result of a prevailing wind accumulating its solid ivives in the gradnal mime of ages. At the distance of about two hundred .miles from Park Depot, this singular country came to an'abrupt termination, and our explorer stood :before what is now known as Sturt's Steny 'Desert. The parallel sand ridges, running from east to west, were suddenly chopped off at right angles, and, in their stead, stretched an immense level plaie, uninterrupted all round the horizon frOln south to north, and thickly strewn with small fragments of quartz, firmly packed together,' and -rounded as if water-worn. Still adhering to their course, 25 degrees west of north, our party descend ed into this singular plain, and proceeded on their way over its natural pavement, Nei ther herb or shrub protruded through the firmly-wedged .quartz fragments. No sound or movement could be heard orneeia all round them,, and the dray-wheels and hoofs` of the horses left not "the least impression on the sUrface of the plain. All - that could attract or sustain animal and vegetable Afe Nature seemed *to have rigidly excluded frem this scene of desolation. Thus the sun rwent down, and Captain Sturt and his men encamp ed,for the night in the Stony Desert. With the morning, our:party was again under' weigh; and, at the distance of about thirty` miles from its commenoement, the Stony Desert was found to come-to an equal ly abript termination. An immense plain of clay, or dried mud, now lay before them, entirely destitute, of vegetation, and resem bling as Captain Sturt describes it, a bound less ploughed field, att.'which 'floods had set tled and. kpbsided.' 'N6 water, 'however could be found; and the .earth, cracked by the heat «of the sun, `"abounded in immense fissures, which were avoided only by extreme watch fulness and care. Still 'maintaining their ori ginal course, our party [arrived at the ter mination of this plain. ls.o*,',and found the ; tall sand ridges re-appear' #eeisely.es they had left them 'ken the eastern shore of the Stony Desert. In fact the whole district, waled merely interrupted by the course' of the Stony Desert and Mud Plain from north to south, and - again resumed its former -appear ance without any disturbance Whatever. Again our,eXplorers toiled over this < solid ocean of red--billows—an ocean seen, as ft were, under , the glare at some: great", confla gration,* lashed into waves running moun tains high, and then suddenly'frozen all round from centre to horizon. From want 'of foo and water, the horses were now almost • ex-, hausted ; and the men, who could bring no thing With,them from Park Depot but some tea and i little flour, were scarcely ,better able to encounter the difenities of this Most harassing country. At length a small creek appeared ahead, and revived the hopes of the party. It re ceived the name of the Eyre's Creek. It con tained some good,water, and communicated sufficient fertility to its neighbourhood to furnish a meal for the horses. On following it'down, however, it soon, died out on the de , Sert;leaving,merely',, a few incrustations of salt; .and leading to a country as destitute of vegetation as that they had already traversed. Resuming " their'' original course;, from ..the slight deviation along Eyre's Creek, tlie par ty again proceedeiton their way, and "pene trated to lat. 25° 'so' without meeting any further signs of vegetation, and only a creek --whether a continuation of Eyre's'. Creek was not ascertained—which afforded no relief taint= or 'horse. Its channel was, glitte,r ing white, and thickly encrusted with salt, nor was any water visible,, but, on going down to examine it, an several places; where the salt had the appearance of broken 'and rot ten ice, we found that there were deep pools of perfect brine underneath, on which the Salt, floatedito the thickness of three or four in ches.' They were now more than 400 miles from' ark Depot, and, *ith the exception ef the head of Eyre's Creek, some fifty miles behind, had nothing in the intermediate re gion to fall back upon. They had advanced * 'Even the lower surface of the clouds assuming a lurid tinge, from the reflection of the bare suface id red' sand. (_Dispatch: of Mr. A.a Cregej*, palished'in' proceedings of Royal GeOircApAtail I",Societifor 185 r. ) 200 miles beyond thetony Desert, without meeting inl any indications of a permanent change the nature o the' country, or any encouragement whatew to proceed further. Both men and horses were so weak that any further advance would 4reatly endanger their retreat on Eyre's Creek. Under these cir cumstances, Captain 'ilturt decided to fall back on Eyre's Creek, pad, by its assistance, to regain the Depot. 10 reach the centre of the continent, in the prsent condition, would strain both horse and iiiin ; and should the centre of the continent be found a desert, their destruction woulbe certain. * * * m Reluctantly the har es' heads were turn ed, and the ost prot cted effort yet wit -1 nessed to reach the e tre of the continent was finally abandoned. The party now has tened to throw themse es back on Cooper's Creek, some 200 miles istant, and the near est halting-place. It a journey for life or death. The',horses w eh refused to proceed were abandoned on as way. When a horse fell, his light baggagi, as hastily distribut i, ed among the rest, and he retreat continued. Uninterruptedly, at ni ht and day, they re treated. At night on of the men went be fore them with a lanteti, and "thus assisted in their course over thhie vast sand ridges, and 'through. the `unbriken; Solitude of the Stony, Desert, our exPtrers safely reached Cooper's Creek. 04,' theSe regions, the hot 'Winds so diSagreellAY' felt even on 'the coast settientents,-bhliviltititMisual violence. On the morning of thei arrival at COOPer's Creek, one of these hotkinda -began to blow, and towards midday raged - with great fury. The leaves - of trees aktig, the creek 'became crisp 'in a few moments, and fell like a snow shower aroundus.'The astes of sandridges, from which they ,had si escaped; seemed i now a very ocean. T crests of the sand billOws were cut 'off, an 'whirled on high in thick spray. Blinding ()newts of fine sand, driven before the wind,' r ere poured over the Cooper's Creek district smarting and blis tering the feverish skin. Towards'the hari zon, sea and sky were ' ingled in one red mass. Everyliving tng turned from the glow. 'An all=pervadin relaxation - seized man and beast: The h ses were unable 'to bear the weight of their wri heads. Prop ped against trees, and rned from the, ho wind, they let their hea, fall to theground as if the muscles Of the ek had been sever ed. A thermometer, gm ated to 127; t burst from the excessive heat, 'culgh placed in the fork of a large tree., .A. - 4,iii all probabili ty, had this tempest ove taken our party in the desert, they would I mit: all perished. Plissing through Coo* a -Creek district, Captain Start with his .. n again joined the main expedition at P )., Depot, greatly weakened by sickness a, scarcely capable of any further exertion. dinburg Review. THE LATE The official census of 1: 0, now made pub lic, communicates•some in, resting facts, some of which have not been heretofore given. The cost of collecting the ~- tails was $1,292,- 206, of which $247,000, • ein the Southern States, is not yet paid, e increase of tbe population fmr. 1850 to 1860 •was 8,225,- 46C The een slave Hiding states con tained, according to this nsus, a population of : 12 240,000 of who 8,039,000 were whites, 251,000 free cola •d, and 3 950 000 slaves. The nineteen nil, •taveholding states and seven territories co/Awl led a popvlation of 19,201,546, of whoat 1,,936,579 were whites, 287,218 were cob ,e', 27,749 were Indians. The ratio of ,incr ‘ a eof population during the last ten years is 47,97 per cent, of white 23.39 of slaves, 12.33 of, free colored. If the average r obe continued until the year 1900, only years; longer, the population of the Uni States would ex ceed one hundred millio s, of which only nine naillions would be co red. Our popu lation in 1860 was twoii lhon in excess of the total in the United ngdom of Great Britain • and Ireland ; b there were many curious points of differei Britain, the females outs 2,E. about 877,000, while in the excess of males is ab ing the year, 1860 thel Stateamumbered 392,8 , of the population, a grey el over 1§,50, when the deilli6 cent.. The proportion 040 physical infirmities in, ht . by such as deaf mutes, bat , 4tj than in any of the older c untl and this difference is as ribe measure, to the increasedopp wide tango inthe aclmixi,ure; Y. Sun. . l' NUMBER OF WORDS A IT is a. =lions thing t f at, w h soniel263- doo EngliAh wOrds, people C. get on with very few. Mr. D'Orsey a ihilologist ,of ability; records that a co' , try lergyman in England tOldhini that so e o the`laborers in his parts `had not 300 or,- in their vo cabulary. On'the avera e, tie children of persons with Ordinary ed atici 'do, not use more than 200 words, until, t. e age of ten,' Max'Muller says : "A 'wal-ed i coed persOn in England, who has been v at a' ,üblic school and at the Univelsity, wO reads his Bible, Tim his Shakespeare; the • i and all'the books of Mudie's Library (,e. inetien-twentieths of all the books pnblislieqiin England,) sel dom uses more than3,ooo.#r 4,000 words in conversation *Aclii i ' rkars and close ressonerS, who avoid. vague an general ex pressiona, and wait ti ll they fi d the word that exactly fits their meanin;emiby a 1 1 1 1e( larger stock ; and el neat spt rise to, a command of 1 ,000.. Sh are who displayed a ,g,rea er variety sion than probably. a 7 writer in guage, produced all , ti h 0 plays 15,000'werds`. produced works are with 8,000; and ;the Oldtea,anient that it has . to say with 15,0 p, 'wo Presl. '• , - - I HAD TO $ IT. . • • TAB late.' eloquent au. fearrie4,Dr.. . • excelled jn the fervor a d unction.: of a. prayers.. Inhis congrey < Lion was =an aged negro, 'if:ay:pious and ex always shoit. Amen I " :hen any "; petttion was put up whiOhtouchsa at length became quite an 'Vying to Di : Rice, especially asTiesar's agiens not un frequently, filled, the *tn.: Yinallyi ... , the Doctor told him that hid shouts disturbe& the congregation, who were' riot ,lacbustOkted td them; an&if he could restrain them it ,would be a great favor. The gool i .negrOwas•shpck: ed to learn that he- had , disturbed any: one, and • faithfully promised iilenoif'-in" fair& But' i t - hipiened tlie,. ii . o,6f e #eit ' ii flay that. the Doctor was unusually:earnest n his sup plications to the throncei'oft.irace... , ' wrestled in prayer. " In the gallery, Ss usual, sat Cmsar, writhing sympathetically with the emotion which he could not repress and would not utter. More and more fer vent waxed the prayer—deeper and deeper grew Caesar's emotions—more and more vio lent his struggles to avoid giving vocal utter ance to them. Nature at last could hold out no longer. " Amen T." shouted Cmsar. "Mas sa Rice, I had to say it 'or burst. " LESSONS FOR THE LITTLE ONES. a Lessons adapted to use THE FAMILY, • THE INFANT, SCHOOL And the Youngest Classes of Sabbath Schools. A new book, by the 'author of "Money," " The Bar clays," etc., etc : , and: the- fruit