THE BEDFORD GAZETTE
la F LIDI. I SHED EVEUY FBI PA Y MORKIJW
BY B. R. TII:VI:KS,
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ovig i n a I jJ oct v n.
NATURE'S SIMILITUDES.
ttv [? ? ? ?]
All nature has its kindred forms,
Its stars and worlds relations arc;
The ocean's kindred to its storms.
The earth is kindred to each stay-
Eaeh flow'r that feels the morning's freeze
Doth mingle fragrance with the air;
The land is kindred to the seas.
In shapes both hideous and fair.
The hills and vallcvs are allied—
Tho' mountains frown on vales lielow—
They lie congenial, side hy side,
Beneath the skies that o'er tin in glow.
The brook is kindred to the spring.
The streamlet to the river's How;
'Hie lakes the ocean's dirges sing.
O'er each the -hips sail to and fro.
The eagle from his lofty llight
Stoops back to earth to rest his wing; j
And gazing from his craggy height
Hears little warblers sweetly sing.
The mighty oak, in lofty pride,
Stands monarch of the forest trees:
And vet, the woodbine by its ,-ide
(Tolibs up the trunk to kiss the breeze. j
The lion with bis kingly strength.
Oft lets hi< "vengeful anger calm.
And in the sun doth stretch his length.
Beside the iiger. or the larnh.
And thus all nature i.- allied
In form, in lineament and love;
Its golden cords stretch far and wide
Through earth lielow. and sky above. —
. And what is man to nature's scenes—
The earth, and sky, and flood and
lie's monarch of the ocean wave.
The land to him its fruits must yield.
lie liears the image of his Oud,
And angel forms around him glow;
He's kindred to the courts above
And monarch of the world lielow.
Bocks, hills and dales, his brothers are;
And mountains, with their jSSaks of blue.
Join seas, and sky, and moon afar
To lift him up to heaven's view.
And so all nature shows its ties,
l'rorn God above, to man below —
On heaven's plains love's fountains rise,
Throughout the universe they flow.
i-roiit Once ct
ituW N'Ep-SMTii WON HIS MEDAL.
A STOUY OK THE < ofcXISH W KF.I KKRS.
Some dozen years ago, I* fore the railways
now throbbing like arteries through the land,
were in existence. I wont with two friends to
lodge in Cornwall. The place was the most re*
tired 1 ever saw. far removed from
countrv road, and only reached by venturing o
ver a track —for it could not even IK> called a
put til— winding along the edges of cliffs often
two or three hundred feet above tbe licacli, it
was a place to delight all whose fortune bad car
ried them within sight of it.
The southern end of the bay dosed in a steep
slope of living green, caused by a landslip, in
which the turf had slid down like a veil to hide j
the ruin it left behind, of which nothing was:
seen lrotn the I ►each but a back ground of tow
ering rocks. Bike some old Norman castle, wo
fancied them still resisting step by stop the ad
vance of decav. It was near this southern point
that the traces of former lawless doings wore j
-•till to be seen. A small hole apparently only
a fox don, led into a cave where a thousand kegs 1
of French brandy had often l>een stored in a
single night.
We were anxious t> learn whether the tales
we had heard ot Cornish wreckers were true,
and it was some quest inning on this subject which
drew from the old miller the following sforv:
••I can't say I never hoere of such things, hut
I never seed no such doings myself. I have liv
ed here, man and boy. these seventy years, he
said, "manv and main's the night we've ltoen
watching on these bleak chits tor a chance ft*
help the poor creatures as had only a frail plank
between them and death. Scores of lives I've
seed saved, but never one took: no, not even the
brute beast that came to the shore from all the
multitudes of wrecks I've seed. lam not going
to say that when the ships, poor tilings, are all
broken up and the timbers come ashore—l'm not
clear to say, there is not some, small matter as
never gets reported to the kings man. Utile I
hlainc those that take it. for, as the Lord HIMIVC
knows, I believe it is more the fault of those that
keep back the honest dues for the salvage. _
"I rcmeinlier in the time that harwood," and
he pointed to some pretty things made by bis
son. of the bright colored logwood, "was com
ing in. There was those as worked night and
day. landing it, and after all their toil they want
ed to pav them oIF with just a quarter of what
was the right money. So if they that are so
well off trv to cheat like that. I'd ask your hon
or if it is not setting an example to the poor ?
"There's Ned Kmecth. now—he has got that
fine medal from that grand place up to London—
I am sure he is as tender hearted as a child, but
vou'll never make him believe there is any sin
in taking a stray baulk or two the tide brings in,
and nobody owns; while after he'd been work
ing for a whole week they wanted to pay him
with a little more than nothing. That's what I
call stealing!
"But my old head is forgetting the story. Well,
well, you must please to excuse it. It does make
mv blood boil to hear such falsities.
"'Twas seven years last November—l mind
it well—me. and Ned were standing as your hon
or and me is now, by my old hut. here. It was
a hitter night of weather, and was so dark we
could not see even the clouds of foam that kept
flying in our faces. I'd just put the mill a go
ing with "some barley, and was minded to lie
down for a nap. (for von I alwavs wake when
ftcMovfo (Bxptte.
voliti i:
NEW SERIES.
i ihc corn's down, anil so don't trouble about the
! mill,) when I thought I heard a gun. I could
I not make sure, for the wind was lashing the
waves mountain high, and the rake of the beach
was most enough to stun a bodv. Savs Ito Ned,
"Ned, you're a more spry man than inc. just
take a look out to sea. Well, he'd not gone hut
a step or two when the report came again full
and true, and even mv old eyes could see the
flash. I stepped up and turned off' the water,
and Ned and me went and called up the neigh
hois. I sent a WnOit horseback to Trebnrfoot
to bring more iielpjjfan l getting the ropes and
things we should want if anything could be done
for the poor creature-* on board the distressed
ship, we went to tlie point we thought she would
strike on. We hail no help from our eves, hut
"Vere guided by our knowledge of the wind and
the tide,
••It might he alsuit five, or Ist ween that and
?ix o'clock, when we got to SalUtone. Wo could
not stand against the wind, but were obliged to
lie down on the edge of the cliff to try to dis
cover the vessel. It seemed a whole night, tho'
I suppose it could not be more than an hour,
l>efore we could see or hear anything more than
the flash of the gun and the roar of the winds
and waves. After a hit we touched hands, and
went hack to a more sheltered place to talk over
what was b-st to be done. Some were for light
ing a fire to try to guide them into Widcmouth
Kandbav, but I knew 'twjis no use. for 1 was
sure the vessel had not a rag of canvas standing
to help her helm even if the helm itself was yet
serviceable, and so she could never make a reach
to clear Deadmnn's Corner, and might miss the
only chance of running into deep quiet water
near the Cupboard liock.
"All at once, while we were doubting what
to do. we heard a crash and cry, such as onl\ a
stranded ship and the perishing souls on board
of her can make. .\lt! you talk ot Cornish
wreckers—hut there was wet eves among us
then, and men's hearts that never knew fear,
fluttered like leaves on the. lime. tree.
"We stood right above where the vessel struck.
Sheer up from the beach—we measured it after
wards—two hundred and fourteen feet. A mouse
could not have found footing down that cliff, and
as it was within an hour of high water, no help
could come to them poor souls but bv letting
some one down from the place where we stood.
••The dim light of morning just enabled us to
see each other, and the white line of the shore
waves. Some thought they could see the wreck:
f cannot tell if it was so. For certain we could
hear now and then, fainter, and fainter aqd faint
er. the cry of mortal man.
•T can't stand this.no longer." >.u> Ned, t
last. "I can't stand here In lioaTfti atsl sfmVgtii,
with mv two hands idle, while they poor crea
tures. are lieaten to death against the very rocks
we stand on. Hear a hand, here—l'll go down
this place."
"We stood like men blind and deaf for a min
ute, and then all tried to jiersuade him out ol it.
for we i bought it was certain death. The rope,
most likelv. would be cut through, fraying over
the did", or the wind might dash him with fatal
force against the rocks. Hut nothing would stop
him: he knotted the rope round his waist, and,
taking a short gad" in his hand, stood ready to
slip oil". He turned a moment, and. says he:
••(.five mv love to Mary and the children, and
if T don't ser them more, don't let them come on
the parish."
••lie shoook hands all round, and then stop
ped off. and in a moment lie was hanging all his
weight on the rope we held.
"For Cod's sake, lower away," he cried: "I
see them."
"We saw them, too, for Cod rent the black
clouds, and looked through to see that noble deed.
In the east there yy;\s a space ol clear sky, thro
which a stream of light fell on the scene ln-fore
us. An awful scene it was. '1 he ship was bro
ken to pieces, and with every tuyn ot tlie waves
her timing* tossed and whirled, and among them
were the sailors—some past help forever, and
two or three still striving hard for life.
".lust as Ned touched the beach, one man was
swept out from the narrow ledge they were try
ing to hold on to, with every third or fourth
wave breaking over them. T lie man Ned came
to first was just such another for height and
strength as himself, and we held our breath with
terror when we saw bv his actions that he was
(as is often the ease) driven mad by his danger,
and was struggling desperately yvflli the only
man who could save him.
For full five minutes they wrestled together.
Sometimes we thought of pulling Ned tip, and
so making sure of him: for it was a hard choice
between the poor demented stranger and Neils
young wife and three little children. Hut then
the water left them once more, and we saw Ned
had hint down with his knee on his chest, and
wc knew if the tide gave him time he was his
master. So it proved, lie whipped a turn or
two of rope round his arms, and catching tight
to him with his left hand, gave the signal to haul
away.
"They had barely left the rock—for we pull
ed easy at first —when the whole keelson of the
vessel was thrown against the very place they
had stood upon. We had them in our lift, how
ever, and if the weight had been twice as much,
it would have come to grass if the rope held.
••We were all too busy drawing them to look
to see what happened on the way. I hold it as
Bible truth that there's scarce another man but
Ned would have brought that sailor up. lie
had, as I liavc said, one arm around him, and
with the other, warded himself from the sharp
face of the cliff, but lie had some grievous brui
ses for all his courage and strength.
"When the man found himself lifted up in
that strange way, lie got more raving than ever,
and finding that lie could not use his hands, he
fixed his teeth in Neil's check till they met. For
all the pain and danger, Ned held on, and I shall
never forget to my lart hour what I felt as we
drew them in over the ledge of the cliff, and
knew they were safe.
"Poor Ned ' we laid him in a sheltered place.
Freedom of Thought and Opinion.
BEDFORD, PAv. FRIDAY MORNING, MARCH 7, 1862.
and would have put the stranger with him, hut
we soon found he was too wild to be trusted free,
so we bound him for his own safety.
"In a few minutes after they were landed
Neil's wife came. We had sent a hoy for spir
its and tilings, and he, youngster-like, told what
Ned was about. None who were there will ev
er forge) that fair young thing as she fell on her
knees by her husband's side, ami swooned away
with her head on his hreast.
"Ah, the man that had just hrqyed such dan
ger, wept like a child as he smoothed tho golden
hair of his wife.
"As weak as a child he was, too, from loss of
blood. Well, other women came soon after,
and bound up their wounds, and then we got a
cart and brought them down to my house.
"Eleven men and three boys were the crew of
the Hesperus, as the ship was called, and only
that one man saved, lie lay for days—very
quiet at hist—and scarce spoke a word. What
he did say was about his mother, and the name
of some young woman. When we stripped him
—by the doctor's orders—we found a little pack
et hung around his neck by a black riband, and
as it was wet with the salt water, we took it a
wav to dry. Mv wife who tended him more
than tlie rest, said he seemed to keep groping
for something in his bosom, so she put it back
again: and when he found it there all right, he
never strove to rise and call out as ho did liefore.
It is not for me to sav, but my old woman al
ways considered that packet to hold some true
love token. She often said she wished she knew,
for she thought how glad his mother agd sweet
heart would be to know he was alive.
"Well, he went on in that strange way nigh
011 three weeks, and we did not know so much
i ;is the name of the sick man. Just as Ned was
| going about again all well, we thought the sight!
! of him might lu ing tlie sailor to his recollections. !
So Ned went and sat fiv the liedside till he a- i
woke. It was getting near C'lipistmas, and he;
| wanted the poor man to fie well enough to en
j joy the time with us. When lie opened his eyes, :
| Ned held out his hand, and says lie :
"Give you joy, comrade. Av. I see you'll lie :
' more than a match for me gcxt turn we lave, j
particularly when 'tis grass we stand on."
"With that the tears came into his poor, dim \
eyes, and catching Ned's hand, he said :
•J rememlier now. Were none saved but me?"
"Ned was tearful to tell the truth, in case it.
might make him worse, so he just laughed and j
sa id:
"You've been so long sleeping off the effects j
~f yapr wetting, that they've gone ai\d left you. j
Hut 'tis time we knew your name, stranger, if.
"Gaseoigne," he said—"Richard Gascoigne.
Has no one written to my mother ?"
••How could we," says Ned, "as we did not J
know where she lived ?"
"With that he got up to come away, for he .
was afraid if he stayed he'd tell himself about j
his shipmates, only three of whose bodies were '
! ever found.
i "He'd just got to the door when the }>oor man
; wanted him to come back, but liefore he could ;
(to n about the parson came into the room, and j
Ned got away.
"Wc never knew tlie particulars for certain, j
hut always lielicve. to this day, the young man !
was 110 common sailor. t
"The parson used to come and sit with him •
hours together, and a fine lot of letters they
1 wrote between them. But we were never the
wiser for any of theif scholarship doings, I wit in j
one thing, and that won't *te forgot round here 1
for many's long day.
"The Christmas day we were all standing a- j
bout me church door, shaking hands, and wish-j
ing each other a merry Christmas and a happy
New Year, when 1 lie little gate that led from j
the parsonage lawn into the church-yard opened, !
and a lady came among us, so beautifully dress- i
led and so beautiful herself that we all stopped j
talking to look at her.
'•IHi liefore my story, though, for I should i
have told you the stranger had gone to the par- j
sonage as soon as he could lie moved.
"Well, the lady came forward into the midst j
of the crowd, and she said:
"Wjijeh of all you brave kind men is Edward i
Smecth ?"
"Ned was just behind rne, and seemed ready j
to slink awav, hut I pushed him fore, and said j
I :
"If it please your ladyship, that's him.'
"Well, Ned knowed manners too well to run >
away then, so there he stood, blushing like a j
girl.
"The lady took his hand, and seemed going ,
to make a speech ; hqt §he had only just liegun j
her thanks when her heart rose in her throat, and •
the tears stood in her, eyes, and she only said, j
'God bless you ' and put a little IMIX into Ned's
Lipid, and then kissed his great rough hand as if I
had been a baby's face. Ned seemed struck all |
of a heap. He looked at the things she had giv- I
en him, and turned his hands as if he expected j
to see a mark where her beautful Hps had touch- |
l - . - i !J
"\\ eIL as the lady eould not speak for her- :
self, tho person up and told us all the sense of it. j
How that there was a grand place up to Lon- •
don, with a great many grand people, who sub
scrilied among them to reward them that saved j
life.
"And proud," says the parson, 'proud I am 1
that such a token has come into my parish.' >
He said many kind and good words, and then
told Ned to open the little box and show what;
was in it. There, sure enough, was a beautiful
medal with Ned's name, and the name of the man
saved, and socr,e Latin words, which the par
son said was that we should never give up trying j
to save life, for perhaps a little spark of hope
might yet remain, though all seemed gone.
"Ah ! here comes Ned, he'll be proud to show
your honor the medal."
So we walked into Ned's cottage hard by, and
wore delighted to find that, though seven long
years had passed—years that had robbed him ,
of his fair young wife, and laid her, with her
new born babe, in an early tomb —his dark eyes
Would brighten, and his fine form looked taller,
as he exhibited that well-earned medal from the
Royal Humane Society.
THE FOLLY OF EMANCIPATION-
There is no infatuation less able to stand the
scrutiny of reason and common sense than that
whl.jh believes negro emancipation would eon
tribute to the success of our arms, or the res
toration of that fraternity without which peace
could not be permanent, and lasting. The a
dopfion of such a policy :vs this, in oliedience
to '**: clamor of a noisy faction of Abolitionists
who have been the worst enemies of our do
me-tie |>eace for the hist thirty years, would
die the Northern people, now substantially
united in fighting for the Union under the Con
stitution. demoralize the army, produce discord
an I contention, aiul force upon the country a j
question far more embarrassing than the slave '
question—namely, the negro question. Thee-,
mancipation of the slaves, instead of conclu
ding our domestic troubles, would only re-eom
menee them in a more embarrassing form. Tbe
negroes of the South have now a fixed status
sanctioned by the Constitution; and there is no
reason why we should trouble our heads alio tit
[ them one way or the other. They can do us
little harm as slaves, and no good as freemen.
Our policy, therefore, is to prosecute a vigorous
war against rchelliop, without wasting our
strength upon foreign and extraneous issues.
Should the Abolitionists carry their point and
drive the Abministration into issuing a de
cree of universal emancipation, the effect, if
auy, would be to force upon our immediate at
tention the question, what shall be dope with
tlii' negroes. ,
But while the rebellion lasts we do not be
li ;ve that a decree of emancipation would haye
even this effect. It would oply divide the North
ami embitter the .South during the prosecution
or' the war, rendering its result more doubtful
tlwn it now is. The Government would be
e.rtt-ebled by the utter annihilation of the Un
i a sentiment still prevalent in portions of the
Southern States; tlie war would assume the
character of conquest or extirpation on one side ;
aad resistance to the death 011 tlie other—and j
i' 111 spite of these obstacles, it should tennin- .
acc in the eptjpi subjugation of the rebel States,
instead of bringing to us peace and quietness, it
v find us in our exhausted and impoverish
ed condition, with four millions of negroes on
ear hands to protect aud provide tor. "Jliey
assimilate with the population upon
terms of equality—never be made citizens of
this nation; and the Northern people would
have either to bear enormous taxation for the
purpose of colonizing thern, or contribute to
their support as free and idle vagrants.
A nation so extensive and diversified in its
interests as ours can never lie governed by nar
row theories. Dor sympathies must be as bound
less as the continent, and our toleration as ex
pansive. The Fathers of the republic in their !
wisdom comprehended this great truth when I
they formed a Constitution adapted to all parts:
of the country —a Constitution enabling the ■
New England States and tfoe Southern States to j
live under one Government, without compelling j
uniformity in their domestic institutions. And
it is because infatuated men in both sections have '
sought to force their narrow sectional views up
on the whole country. that we are now plunged
in the horrors of civil war. The Abolitionists
of the North and the Secessionists of the South
are the. great criminals who have embroiled a
whole people in fratricidal strife; and, until
they are both extirpated, we cannot hope for
peace. The extreme opinions of neither of these
incendiary factions can ever govern this country
in peace. We can never all become Secession
ists, or all Abolitionists. Our only safety is to
abide by the tolerant and comprehensive princi
ples of the Constitution, which are alike remo
ved from both extremes. If the Union is to be
preserved, the Southern man must learn to ljye j
in peace with the New England Yankee so long
as he renders his vagaries harmless by confining
them to his own territory ; and the New Eng
land man must learn to tolerate the most extreme
type of pro-slaveryism so long as it keeps with
in Constitutional limits. Upon any other ba
sis than this—the original foundation of our
Government —we can never expect that a poo
pie. inhabiting a continent, and differing in ori
gin, institutions, mental characteristics and edu
cation, will ever live in harmony. If one sec
tion determines to impress its peculiar ideas tt
pon the whole nation, and will abide no differ
ence of opinion—if, instead of a Union of c- j
qnal States with each exercising absolute con- :
trol over its domestic concerns, the aim of the i
war is to render us a homogeneous people in j
every particular, we have indeed undertakcp an i
impossible t;isk. But as the true purpose of the J
Government is restoration and not alteration, j
its success depends in a great measure, upon the ,
fidelity wjth which it adheres to this great ob- |
ject.—Emancipation would boa fatal departure, j
—Patriot & Union.
A WOMAN* ELECTED MAYOR. —At a late elec-!
tion in Oskaloosa, lowa, there was but one can- '
didate presented to lie voted for. The "boys"
did not like him and were bound to have an
other candidate, and so, more in the spirit of
fun than otherwise, they nominated Mrs. Nan
cy Smith on the day of election, and to the as
tonishment of everybody, when the votes were
counted in the evening it was found that Mrs.
Nancy Smith had twenty-one majority over the
regular candidate for Mayor.
iST Before her marriage, the Queen of England
was a wayward and fitful young woman—sub
ject to the most variable caprices, and entirely
uncontrollable by her ministers. Shrewd politi
cians have always ascribed the calm and equi
table course of British policy to the influence of
Prince Albert, who was one of the most shrewd
and accomplished diplomatists.
H IIOIiG KUnBGB, 3995.
Tl)c Schoolmaster 2lbroat>.
EDITED BY SIMON SYNTAX, ESQ.
K7"Teachers and friends of education are respect
fully requested to send communications to tbe above,
care of "Bedford Gazette. 1 '
A WORD TO THE PEOPLE,
Citizens of Bedford county! You will soon
be called upon to exercise an important prerog
ative; that of choosing persons who shall be
| clothed with certain prescribed powers to gov
lem your local affairs. For the peace and pros
perity of your several districts, it is as impor
tant that proper persons l>e chosen, as it is for
the good of the whole country that proper leg
islative and executive heads he elected. But
there is a certain local office, to which, in a
I great many instances, not enough attention is
given in the proper selection of officers, and to
which we wish to call your notice in this article,
—we mean that of School Director. We have
always been of the opinion—sand our expe
rience has never taught us to change that opin
ion—that the very best men in the land should
be selected for School Directors. Everv friend
-
of education will at once see the force of this
assertion, and no long train of argument is
needed to establish the truth of it; and as we
are more particularly addressing the friends of
education, we do not deem it necessary to do so.
But as we remarked before, this subject does
not receive the attention which it deserves.
Ivt many instances jiersons who are apposed to
common school education, manage to have them
selves elected in order to do all in their power
to break down the system, just because its friends
do not exercise proper vigilance to keep such in
truders out. Thus the progress of the system
is retarded, and its harmonious workings de
stroyed. With but a little vigilance, all this
can be easily avoided. See that you do your
duty in that respect, by selecting none but the
best men air ( ong you for School Directors. Let
no man, under any circumstances, slip into that
important office, whose antecedents on the sub
ject of our common school system are not, like
Caesar's wife, "beyond suspicion." If you love
education, if you are in fftYQ? of discharging
your duty to your progeny by having their minds
properly educated, and thus rear monuments
that shall bless your memory long after you
cease to exist, you will do this. Although our
country is torn by intestine strife, and every
kind of business is more or less prostrated and
paralyzed, yet we must not neglect the subject
of education, we dare not tear down the Tem
ple of Learning, or like Samson, we will be
crushed beneath its ruins. "We must edu
cate ! we must educate," exclaims a celebrated
writer, "or we must perish !"
Bedford county compares favorably with her
sisters, and the commonwealth, in educational
matters; and the common school system has in
sinuated itself into the favor of a majority of its
citizens to such an extent, that wc doubt wheth
er it could be easjly uprooted. We apprehend no
great danger, therefore, from the influx of a few
antagonistic directors, but we don't want them
elected because they are clogs to the wheels, and
throw obstructions before the "car of education"
and impede its onward progress. Select men
who are openly avowed friends of the cause ;
those who will appreciate the importance of
their office, discharge its duties not for its em
oluments—-for there are none—But who love
education for its own sake; and who will stand
nobly to their work regardless of the few grum
blers who shall see tit to oppose them. Do this,
and you will have the consciousness of having
done your duty in an humble but important ca
pacity.
ABOUT AN EXHIBITION.
We had the pleasure, on the evening of the
anniversary of Washington's birth-day, of lieing
preseut at a school exhibition, in our neighboring
borough, Bloody Run, with whieh we were
particularly delighted. It was a joint affair,
wc believe, between the Sabbath schools and the
day school; the whole under the control of
PROF. J. C. CI.ARKSON, the excellent teacher
of that place, to whose energy and ability the
performance owed its success. The proceeds of
the exhibition were to be appropriated to the lau
dable object of procuring a library for the .Sab
bath schools of that place.
When we say that we were delighted with
the j>erformances, we but re-echo the sentiment
of every one who was present. Such propriety
in selection of pieces; such tasteful arrange
ment and consummate skill in performance wc
have seldom witnessed on similar occasions.
Among the many pieces, the following were
gems, and elicited the approbation of the au
dience : "/a the light! In the light!" " IFasA
ington crossing the Delaware ;" " Death of Pulas
ki-," and " B T ashingtonrS Dream of Liberty." The
personification of the 11 Goddess of Ijberty" was
exquisite; and the tableaux made more beauti
ful pictures than artist ever conceived, or could
possibly execute.
We do not. generally speaking, approve of
- 4* y after you taw her, 1 foun UIK %
'barter than the expected
)ne Square, UW-.LQ£ from her other at tat;
One Square, each add he
. , ' "ou cannot fait
than three month* 0 f ,er 09
3 MONTHS. 6 MONTHS. 1 VC-
One aquare ........ $2 00 $3 00 $5 00
Two square* . 300 500 900
Three squares 400 700 12 00
i Column ........ 500 900 15 00
i Column 800 12 OU. 20 00
4 Column 12 00 18 00 30 00
One Column 18 00 30 00 CO 00
The spice occupied by ten lines of this size of
type counts one square. All fractions of a square
under fire lines will be measured aa a half square ;
and all over five lines as a full square. All legal
advertisements will be charged to the person hand
ing them in,
VOL. 5. NG. 31.
school exhibitions, because too many do not
exhibit any thing particular except a super
ficial acquirement, by which precious time has
been wasted, and which is an injury rather than
a benefit, but such as the one to which we al
lude, are certainly commendable. If we liad
properly conducted exhibitions in connection
with the examinations at the close of the schools,
it would qo doubt have a tendency to create a
deeper interest in the public mind in the cause
of education. A great deal can be done by
the proper exertions of the common school teach
er, to awaken that interest, and not a little
credit is due Mr. Clarkson for his efforts to
build up the cause in his sphere of labor. The
people everywhere will properly appreciate such
teachers.
fcy'llie following very good rules have been
adopted in a school room in Maine ;
No chewing tobacco in school hours.
No kissing or squeezing the girls in the entry.
No snapping apple seeds at the master.
No cutting benches with jack knives.
No novels allowed to be brought to school
BORROWING MD LENDING.
There seems to be some infatuation about a
loan, esecially a loan of money. No sooner
does one gum manage to extract fiye dollars from
the pocket of another, and that other a long ac
quaintance and x friend than astnuigness seems
to sit on the borrower's part towards the ben
efactor, the one accommodated appears to con
ceive a sudden and unaccountable dislike to the
one who was willing to accommodate him and it
is ten to one if the man receiving the five dollars,
does not very shortly, shun the one who loaned
it altogether and even go so far as to cut him
dead when he does chance to meet him. There
is a concealed perversity in human nature on
this point, which is next to impossible to account
for. Why it is that a man turns on his bene
factor in this fashion, passes the reaeh of all or
dinary comprehension.
But not a few shrewd and dry individuals
take advantage of this quality in the human
character, to get rid of disagreeable and impor
tunate acquaintances entirely. We know a la
dy who said she married her husband at last,
just to get clear of him. He had bothered her
more than half to death, probably, with his at
tentions, and could not, or would not, see that
he was excessively disagreeable to her; and so
she up and married him, to bring the matter to
an end! It js exactly the same with men who
are glad enough to lend others small sums of
money, feeling pretty certain that they wiil loe
troubled with them no longer. The late Amos
Lawrence, of Boston, once told a deserving
young merchant who came to ask for assistance,
that he would gladly give him the aid he required,
if, when next he saw his benefactor coming
up, or down the street, the young man would
not turn suddenly off up a by-street! It ap
pears that Mr. Lawrence, therefore, understood
the whole mystery of this business. But sum
it all up, there is no mistake that many a man
is cheaply got rid of for an acquaintance, whom
a loan of five or ten dollars is sufficient to gptkc
p.bliyioqs tq fine's existence.
EFFECT OF THE WESTERN SUCCESSES.
The triumph in Kentucky has caused much
dismay among the agitators in Congress and the
personal enemies of McClellan. They begin to
see that these victories are the effectual justifi
cation of the general's schemes and their own
condemnation. Boscoc Conklingtold the House
a day or two ago that the victories in Kentucky
were in his judgment largely due to the labors
of the committee on the Conduct of the War!
To a similar effect is the following from the
Washington correspondent of the New York
Evening Pout:—
"In other words, those members of Congress
who urged speedy action in the field are to be
crushed, if possible, with the very news of vic
tory which comes from the South and West. It
is but just to these gentlemen to state an un
questioned fact—that the late victories are owing
almost entirely to the immense outside pressure
which has been brought to bear upon some of
our leading generals. It is very convenient for
gentlemen to deny this fact, but the state
ment is susceptible of proof."
To prove this it would be necessary to sbov,'
that the "outside pressure" completed the gun
boats, manned them, brought down the ord
nance from Pittsburg for which they had to
wait, raised the rivers to the proper height, and
thus rendered possible the movement which the
army has been so long waiting to make.
A CHAPTER ON BOYS-
Boys! What a world of frizzled heads, dirty
faees, chapped hands, and crooked, toeless boots
this simple monosyllable suggests. Boys/ living,
moving institutions of mischief and sport! Crea
tures, who run, tumble, scratch, bite, scream,
chatter, and hammer their way through the
world with the greatest possible impudence and
nonchalance. They are the things which so
worry the dignity of Old Ferule, who tries to
keep them in rows, but fails, for they arc like
crooked pins—can't be kept straight. They
tum the house up side down, keep a continual
uproar in the streets, batter things every way,
make life misery, and threaten to pull
to pieces. They are till pervading. They are
found in the woods, in the fields, in the streets,
in the attic, in the cellar* in the burn, in church
in taverns and saloons, in stores and shops, on
trees, under ground—everywhere ; and ever the
same noisy, jostling, original being. They wait
not upon care, but away they dash upon their
reckless train, apparently heeding nothing—lost
in the giddy whirls of their sports—yet not a
single move is mode, not a word is uttered by
the Old Governor but their ready eye and ear
catches it and lays it up in their storehouse of
incidents for future consideration.