TEH’S BITTERS. »c period, every mem is subject to disease adfly functions; but mic and the exorcise licy may be able so to to sccuye permanent : ■ompllsh this desired I 3 pursue is certainly a natural state of of vital strength and ' Dr. Hostetler has in k preparation bearing icw medicine, but on* ears, eatigfac =ed it. The Bittern" the stomach, bowels m to a healthy and simple pro** ture, enable the sys ,se. J sia. Indigestion, Nau ppotite, or any Bilious 1 * morbid inaction , producing Cramps. i Morbus, &<>., thess Bux, so generally son*’ id caused principally t diet, will be speedily of this preparation, ch is probably more ous forms, tlian any which may always entSjof the digestive ithout fail by usinw H BITTERS, as per For this disease every; Bitters of some kind;; lc known to be infal* heir Bitters, as a pro engthener of the sys. ng them all there ie healthy people thaai his preparation ema c experiments whioh ! c. value of this f medical science, s trying and provok ; relentless grasp on r him to a mere aha rendering him phy. css, oan be driven 1 i of HOSIETTER’S Further, none of the be contracted, even •he Bitters aro used ■ they neither create 1 late, and render un did or interruption promote sound sleep c complaint is re- ' «i sf ent with the pro permanent cure. :cd fears, who are > od constitution arc invaluable as * id vigor, and need ' cciatcd. And to a ' ie Bitters are indU- ; the mother’s none- : the demands of the rength must yield, ;ood tonic, such as s. is needed toimpart ; -igor to the system. ■ .ns try this remedy nd, before so doing, j an, who, if hem : of the Bitten, will eases of weaknaaa. a public against Heine : r counterfeits, but ssk | id Stomach Bitwcm, • a the words ** Dr. J. I ' blown on, the site I on the metallic eap | re that our autograph v hostsjttsh* .. and sold by all dealers generally ites, Canada, Booth A Roush, Altoona! O A ray, Ilolliditvsburgr and [Aug 35,185 Mp in the praise of 1.V3 CORDIAL, to afford instantaneous rt -1 as if by magtc.l and one t wbat we say is true. It OR OPIATE r-s by removing the ** \pif- C'U'Ujuiig its rensUtilities■ ;li' ns the only reZiaWepfep -IKN Teeming, DLAMUKBA, 3.-, aciditi or the Eton id Croup,- also, for tofltn tion. regulating the Satvat, I —being an anti-spatmodte in all eases of, CoNYCISKW iiie and health of </OV’ ■o.’ii tl cie tad and {lighting : ■ull/rr.m Vie use of nor for Infantile Onnptfdnt* : a ton's Infantile CoBMU, if-ctly harmless. and «o ,t. Price, Scents, roll Prepared only by [IUKCH & PL’PONT, ) Broadway, Ncw-iorKi ZED . essential elements, and Analyze the Blood of i.ption. Liver Complaint, f.nd in every instance en s of Blood. well. Tlio Blood Peon I* i nco its astonishing W 6" ’ATIOyS ;i:r Blood In different dls scums, or any =. inducing CossumWWN, hr depression or Snwts, ,-NUC COMPLAINTS, wWBS -. riud Nervous v. No. 3 for BrsrEPFW. -.•ton it is TAKENdt Dbops circulation, so i- for FEMALE IRM?UW“ tfco special dwectwnsftr cnk, Scrofulous, V. 5. In all earthed. . Price of the Blood lUUCU i DUPONT, Mnnay, noUi<to3»*W* } liroughout the country. :e gazette--- rime and CrimtMW WJ" ■ iVv through , i<- GreAt Trials, on the some, together s, not to be found In W . ■hnrs they reside pi 4 ® ll * MATSKXit & CCV :Vork^rorA-CW- —GENTLEMEN ?EPH P. TROUT W»og r Jy *- i Tipnn. U. * ••' . ! jlltflOM, tribune McCBUM & BERN, VOL. .»•: TIIE ALTOONA TRIBUNE. jIcCSOU: 4 DEBN. Publishers and Proprietors. ... »nnnm, (p»y»bl9 invariably in adrance,) $l,BO AH pap*™ discontinued at the expiration of the time jiid i° r ' lisas or aqynTuura. 1 insertion 2 d?. 3 do. rmr line« or l« s i ■ . •$ 25 $ ' •*, W ( 8 Un«»,) 60 76 1 00 “ ) 1 00 1 60 2 00 J” « (24 “ ) 1 60 2 00 2 80 nVir throe weeks and less than three months, 26 cents per „Us for each insertion. I *• 3 months. 6 months. 1 year. sW lines or lem, % 1 60 2 3 00 2 6 00 o=. sansrs, : 2 60 4 00 7 00 4 00 6<oo , 10 00 6 00 8 00 12 00 « 00 10 00 14 00 Half t column, i ' 10 ,00 14 00 20 00 sni column, % 14 W 26 00 40 00 itoiulstrator* and Kxecntsrs Notices, 1 76 H„Th»oU advertising by the year, three squares, with liberty ,tp change, 10 00 rrofcsional or Business Cards, not exceeding 8 lines with paper, per year, 6 00 Communications of a political character or individual in* tneit will he charged according to the above rates. Advertisements not marked with the number of lnsertions desired, will bo continued till forbid and charged according K the shore terms. business notices fire cents per line for every insertion. Obituary notices exceeding ten linps, fifty cents a square. Select llwtrji. From Olarl J t School TUitor. RHYMES OP THE REVOLUTION. BT HAST ITSOS BSZHX. They all are dead, that noble band, Who beard the Old Bell tolling, And came with atrong and fearless hearts, Besponaive to ita calling; To pUre on Freedom’s hallowed ahrlne, ' Earth’e mightiest Ovati'.n, And wreaths upon the'scroll of Tims, . The sdventof a nation. . They all are dead, but lived to see The pale light feebly dawning, Break in the full, and clondlesa ray Of bright, aternal morning; And pow their graves are Freedom’s soil. Their fame a nation’s story; The proudest theme, we, raise to-day, Their crowning meed of glory. The fames are hushed, that dared invoke, , fierce wrath of despots scorning, The guardian spirit of the free. To sound the note of warning; Etiil countless echoes through the world, float on that deathless number, And freeman’s prayer, is everywhere, “Oh, may they never slumber I” From desert sands, from ruined piles, With ohlen memories clinging, from island homes in tropic seas, Where orioles are singing; Where’er bur dag hath kissed the breeze, Where’er our sons may wander, A nobler pmnn swells today, Than Heaven’s eternal thunder. From northern lakes, from southern seas, from proud Atlantic’s billow, From mountain chains, whose rocky brows, In clouds their grandeur pillow— From gold embedded streams, beyond The Uoxican Nevada, ’ - Where calm Pacific’s watersilavo The shores of £1 Dorado; From countless alters through our. land. Brave hearts, in. glad communion' Will offer up, thepat riot prayer, “ God bless, and keep the Union I” Well tell, to-day, our.fatber’s deeds, The old, but deathless story, And crown the name of Wssnisototf, With brighter wreaths, of glory. Ikied Ipkeltag. THE LAWYER’S OWN DESK?' BT HAST KYLE PALLAS. Several years ago it was my fate.tb reside for »few months, during the spring and summer, in the uninteresting litttlo town of B , New Jersey. I never shall forget tjhe sleepy quiet of the place, nor the stupid solemnity of its in habitants. The houses nil alike and unshaded by tree or shrub, stood in formal rows, like' a line of dominoes after a recently finished game, r sun beat down on tbem ail day long, .and leemed to have peeled tbe skin off the staring «d roofs, 6p raw and glowing did they appear. In every garden linos of wet linen were’ perpetu ally hanging out to dry, and every parlor win dow was perpetually closed. Walking through the streets, morning or afternoon, a stranger’s general impression would be that every house teeper in tbe place had jnst finished her wash ing and was laying down to take a nap. * The only buildings of importance in the place .were the school honse and the meeting bonse, and tbe only amusements not considered sinful were scandal and donation parties and sewingsooie- L ties. | ■;‘ The house we inhabited was large and old fahioned. Its last tenant had been, it was a lawyer; a graye-stoae in the church yard “ear by bore his name, and" up inan unused Worn on the upper jlpqr stood anoldoakdesk, »hich was said to hare been his property. One day when the town seemed sleepier than usual, I was doomed to several boars of loneliness, ascended to the apartment where this ancient article of furniture was ,placed, and {began list l,s»ly to gaze from the .window which overlook *d the whole place, and even a distant' farm ouse or two. There being no seat in the room perched myself upon .the desk which 1 have Mentioned, and to present myself from falling • rest * D 6 my hand on a little monlding which Dmamented the back. I had" not remained in PODition ipany moments, when a wharp pain me to start saddjmly, and, looking down , ® x^ ne the cause,! observed a little spring, I k en % the Wwing which surrounded it. t!* 611 * hpow f *hat it pwpeditwith; tny finger, and opened'by its aid a little secret drawer, of the existence of which I had never before bad the slightest suspicion. In this drawer were several papers and a small kid bog. The latter I opened immediately, and foiled, it contained the miniature of a female and a’lock of early hair. With toy curiosity aroused I seised my treas ure, and tunning down to my own little room, closed the door, and seating myself in mp little rocking chair, began to examine it at"my leis ure. The portrait was that of a young and lovc ly girl, whose hair corresponded to that of the curly tress which lay -beside it. The papers were four in number; two were little notes of invitation, written in a lively familiar .manner, beginning “Dear Mark,” and ending. “ Yonr cousin Stellathe third was a scrap of poetry in the same hand, and the fourth was a manu script in large business-like characters, but evi dently not a legal or business document. Man uscript—-at least, any except my own—always fascinates me, and I composed myself for the perusal,of this waif 6f niy own finding. The paper was old and yellow add the characters faded by time, but by dint of perseverance, I at length deciphered it. It was as follows: Love, true and perfect not the wild, tempestuous, stormy feeling which some believe it to be. Love which really merits the name flows on noislessly and softly; not the loud and glittering ripple and the wavelet on the shore of life, but rather the resistless undercurrent— more Hkea quiet, undemonstrative giant, than a noisy, passionate, hot-brained little dwarf.— Love will sacrifice itself for thh happiness of the beloved object—separation, nay even death, cannot end its life.. An ever burning lamp in the unseen innermost of the human heart, its very existence is often unknown save to the ves tal soul which frima and watches it Stella! Stella I loved of my youth and age, lost forever here, but garnered up for me among the gems of heaven, dost thou know now in that bright sphere to which the angels bore thee loi»g ago, how well I loved ihee? I panse and start 1 The moon,, failing through my study .window, lights up the mirror upon the wall, and rbveals to me my own reflection. I see an old man, grey haired and careworn; not feebje or decrepid yet, but passed the blessed age of sentiment and romance—the spring and summer time, vvhich Byron calls-“ the passion ate part of life." Yet I, Mark Ashford, sitting here in my lonely study, with law books piled about me, with nothing near die that does not speak of dry business and money transactions, conld writs a love tale from thq memories of my heart which might put to shame the records in the lives of younger men on whom the world looks ns heroes. Come, old goose quill, there are no more briefs or deeds upon the desk there is no case for yon to draw up to night.— Doe vs. Roe can lay over until to-morrow—let mease yon for myself for once; open for me the closed tombs of the past, and record’the dead feelings,and actions which time has bnried there. Stella, bright star of my boyhood I bow sweetly 1 your picture seems to smile upon me.— Yon look now as yon did upon that autumn day when I first met you, and when you gave me yonr soft hand so frankly, and called me cousin Mark for the first time. She was very beautiful, not only to my own eyes, but to those of every one who gazed upon her; but 1 did not love her for her beauty only ; it was her heart and soul which woo me. Heav* en knows that if every charm had vanished from her face she would have been as precious to me. Before she came to dwell among ns 1 had known that she was betrothed to another, and she was too pure to make a secret of the fact. She’ spoke pf Edward Waring, (an officer of tbe navy and was at the time absent] on a three years’ cruise) with the, simple confidence of a child, and would run Joyously to tell us of the receipt of a letter from her absent lover; and yet des pite this knowledge, desjpite the fact that she regarded me as a brother, the love I felt for her grew, against my will, to be the master passion of my sold. I never breathed one word of its intensity to a living mortal: and she little knew os she leant in sisterly confidence upon my arm, that I was praying all the while for strength to hide my love from her sweet truthful eyes. Time passed on and the hour of Edward War tag’s return drew nigh. I heai d from my sister that the day for the wedding was already fixed upon. Soon visions of white Satin and orange flowers were often revealed to me through an accidentally opened window, and I knew that beneath busyfingers and flying needles, Stella’s bridal dress was growing to perfection. Yet now, for the first time since I had known her, Stella was sad and abstracted.j For hoars she would sit alone, watching the sky, or looking into the tbe far distance .with something. like fear upon her face. None seemed to see the al teration save myself; but a lover’s eyes’are for seeing, and I had watched her face so long and so fondly. Going to her one day, as she linger ed upon the piazza, 1 spoke of this sadness, and asked her as a brother might, its pause. “ Mark, you will laugh at me, if I tell you,” she replied. “It is very foo,lish and Ido not like to speak bf it. I—l have had a terrible dream, cousin, and 1 cannot shake off its influ ence." ■ “ A dream 1 Tell it to me Stella, that I may interpret it.” Isold laughingly. “ Dreams ah ways go by contraries, you know; a terrible dream srill certainly bring thebest of good foV tune io the drespßep.” STELLA. ALTOONA, PA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 23, 1860. Stella shook her head. “ I wish that I could think so,V she said. “ I know that lam very childish, bnt since that dream my presentiments of evil have been almost more than I could bear. I fear—oh I I fear, Mark, that I never see Ed wardogam.” She buried her face in her hands for a moment, and then raised it again, covered with tears. “ I dreamed that we were walking together in a wood,” she said, speaking in a low tremulous tone— 1 “you and your sister, Edward and I—and that at turning in the path we came suddenly to the bank of a river; a willow tree bent over the water, and close beside it a little boat was tied. ■ We were langbing and talking merrily, yrhen suddenly 1 felt the blood curdle ,in my veins, and I knew that something unearth ly was by my-side. I turned with a'shudder, and saw a huge black thing, with wings, and holding a dance in his skeleton hand. “ A good p<ace to make a grave,” he whispered. “Look a good place to make a grave.” He pointed to the willow tree,; and there I saw a grave dug. I screaked and turned toward Edward, hut he was not there.' I strove to fly, but the day had sud denly grown dark, and. I could not find my way, nor see anything but the gaunt figure at my side. With a feeling of despair I cannot even bear to remember, I seemed to swoon away. Ob, Mark, 1 fear that dream foretold my Edward’s doom. Think of the perils of the ocean and the sword. I cannot rest npr sleep. I shall die if he does not come soon !” Again she wept, and I soothed her, telling her that death meant marriage, and laughing at her superstition, yet feeling a strange foreboding at my own heart. The days passed slowly by. but brought no sorrow. One bright morning, a ringing step was heard upon the pathway, a clear voice sounded through the hall, and Stella wept with Joy upon her lover’s bosom. He was there her dream was forgotten in the living vision of present add future. A few days more and I had listened to words which made my Stella another’s. I had been the first to salute her as a bride, and 1 thank God that He on]y rend the anguish of my soul. She was to leave ns soon, und one pleasant afternoon we walked out towards the woods for the last time—Stella leaning upon her happy husband’s'arm, and Ifollowed with my sister. I had fallen into a reverie from which I was aroused by Edward Waring’s voice. “ A boa.t! ”he cried. “ A boat! Now if wo can find the owner, we may have a glorious sail. Whose is it—do;any of you know?” “ It is Mr. Brown's,” said my sister, stooping to examine a nsjme on the post to which it was chained. He is a friend of ours, and will lend us the key withipleasure. Yonder is his house among the trees; I will go and borrow it.” Away she tripped, and Edward Waring fol lowed her.' “Xf 11 bo back in a minute,” said he, “donit run away with my wife while I am gone, Mark,” and he looked bank laughingly, as he vanished through the bushes. He had scarcely gone when a low peal of thunder broke qpon our ears. I looked up at the sky; it was fast clouding over. “We are to have-a storm,” I said. “The boat will be of no use to us. I wish they would comeback, * Stellafturned as I spoke, and her face grew deadly pqle. f'Mark! Mark!” .she gasped, “Call him back;! Quickly, cousin—quickly.” “ Are you afraid of the storm ?” liaakcd. She pointed to the tree and the boat near it, in answer.; “My dream I” she murmured. “My dream 1 Bo you remember it ?” As she spoke ia flash of lightning gleamed up on the horizon; and another and a heavy peal of thunder drowned her voice. “ Edward! oh, Edward! come back—come back 1” she sobbed. But be iwns beyond the roach of her sweet voice, that voice which he was never to bear any more—no, never !' for as sbie knelt beneath the willow praying for his safety, the lightning flushed again and the the thunder’s awful voice was heard | once ‘more; and when silence reigned again, and recovered from the stunning .effects of a deafening crash, which flung me prostrate on the ground, 1 knew not where, I saw her ly ing, (pale and ghastly, with a black mark upon her bosom; beneath the riven tree, where ! hod last seen her praying. ' v For the | firattime in my life I folded her in my arms. iUpputhose lifeless lips I pressed pas sionate kisses; into those closed} ears I poured wild protestations of love: close, jelosp I pressed that seared bosom to my own, and wildly moan ed as X felt that soft hand growing cold .and hard as marble; They fopnd nje afterwards, wandering in the woods, onrrying her in my arms, ■ and raving like 'a mBplao,j;| .They say that I was mad for weeks; bi(t I have lost no. remembrance of that day, nor pf the horrible despair of the young bridegroom's face, as he looked upon bis sweet wife’s palselessrforin. v He wept; be mourned—aye, mourned sincere*, ly—but not as I did. Friends sympathized with him,' and .knew(nothing of my sorrow; but as years passed on; I could see that his oldouoy ancy returned, pud he was young and glad again. One nigkt— ah ! many years ago—when Stella had been 4ead five summers, I sat beside her grave, weeping, and watching the lights gleam ing fromthe windows of n stately mansion near at hand—lights 1 which shone upon the fair face, of anotbep bride whom Edward Waring wooed, and won. i Yes, he whom she bad loved so well, and trusted |n so fondly, had wed another; and I, -whose lore she paver guessed, sat there, that [INDEPENDENT in ETEETTHXNG.j star-lit summer night and wept upon her grave, the grave which my hand, and mine only, still decks with flowers not half so pure and sweet ns the fair bud so early laid beneatb the sod. In heaven she will be mine! Yes, sweet an gel, in dreams I have the promise. I have been constant to her each moment of my sad life: and when, this fitful fever past, I join the dead ones gone before to the spirit world, I know she will be the first of all to meet me, and together we shall know the bliss of perfect love, nnmarred by death or parting. The tale was done; softly and reverently I folded np the papers, and replaced all in the secret drawer once more. Then, starting out towards the grave-yard, I sought the lawyer’s grave, and found it. Close beside, with a creep ing rose still ring about its stained marble was another stone, Stella Waking!” A celebrated Lawyer in Missouri, being once opposed to Mr S ■ —, late member of Con gress, he remarked as follows to the jury, upon a disagreement between them: “ Here, my brother S- and I differ. Now this is very natural. Men seldom see things in the same light: and they may disagree in opinion upon the simplest principles of the law, and that very honestly; while, at the same time, neither can see any -earthly reason why they should. And this is merely because they look at different sides of the subject, and do not view it in all its bearings. Suppose, for illustration, a man should come in here, and boldly nsserr that my brother S— ’s head (here he laid bis hand very familiarly upon the large chuckle-head of his opponent) is a squash! I, on the other hand, should maintain, and perhaps with equal confidence, that it is a head. Now, here would be a difference—undoubtedly an honest differ ence—of opinion. We might argue about it till doomsday, and never agree. You often sec men arguing on subjects as trifling as this! But a third person coming in, and looking at the neck and shoulders that support it, would' say at once, that I had reason on my side; for. it was not a head, it at least occupied the place of one, and stood where 'a head ought to be ” All this was uttered in the gravest and most solemn manner imaginable, and the effect was irresista bly ludicrous. And this reminds us of a similar “hit” once made upon the eloquent Elisha Williams, of Columbia county, on the Hudson. He was “ powerful” before a jury ; aod one day, in the Circuit Court of that ilk, he bad made a most profound impression, alike upon the jury and upon the “ Court.” His legal opponent whs a mere pettifogger, but “smart ;” and he said : “ Gentlemen of the jury, and your honors, I should despair of the triumph of my client in this case, after the eloquent appeal of thelearn ed> counsel, but for the fact that common law is common sense. No man could like better the piece which the learned gentleman has spoke*, than what I like that piece. He spoke it good. I’ve heard him give it three times afore ; once at Schodack, in a burglary case ; once at Kiak, on a suspicion o’ stealin; once to Poughkeepsie, on a murder case ; and the next lime at Eiak, about a woman who was catdhed a counterfeit ing. Well, he always spoke it good; but this time, he’s re-ally beat himself. But what does it all amount to, gentlemen of; the jury? That a the question; and you can answer it as well as I kin, and better tew !” And so they did, and quickly, by a verdict in favor of pettifogger's client 1. 3efad with all speed for medical aid, forar ticles of clothing, Jblankets, &c. 2. Treat the patient on the spot, in;the open air, exposing the face and chest freely to the breeze, except, in too cold weather. 3. Place the patient gently on the face (to allow any fluids to flow from the mouth. ) 4. Then raise the patient into a sitting pos ture, and endeavor to excite respiration. 1. By snuff, hartshorn, &0., applied to the nostrils. finger. 8. By dashing hot and cold watpr alternate ly on the face and chest. If there be no suc cess, loose nor time, but 5. Replace the patient on his face, his arms under his head, that the tongue may fall for ward, and leave the entrance into the windpipe free, and that any fluids may flow, out of the mouth; then 1. Turn the body gradually but completely on the eide, and a little more, anti then again on the face, alternately, (to indace inspiration and respiration.) T- '■ 2. Wflon replaced, apply pressure along the back and ribs, and then remove it (to induce further respiration and inspiration,) and proceed as before. v .v’;' 8. Let these measures be repeated gently, de> liberateiy,but efficiently. and perseyeringly six teen times a minnte only. Continuing these measures, rub nil the limbs and the trunk up wards, with warm hands, making firm pressure energetically. Beplaee the we t clothes by such other covering, &0., as can be produced. tSf". “Do yovlove me Johnl” “Do I love you—-ask. the sun if it likes flowers—ask a co}d kitten if itioves a hot brick-bat Love you ? - shon mo the man who says I don’t, andl’ll cave his head ha with a cistern. pole j" ; <■ ■■ LEGAL WITTICISMS. Treatment of Drowned Persons 2. By irritating the throat by a feather or the SOMNAMBULIC ECCENTRICITY A short time since, a wealthy Ifidy, who has an called on Professor PaneoasL The latter, it should bo remombeifed, ramy visits pa tients, hut receives them in his office. On this occasion, however. Prof. P.i complied' with her request,’and was ushered-into the presence of Mrs. Smith. After the usual compliments, Mrs. S. opened the following conversation:— “1 wish to consult yon, doctor, concerning my son—George, you know.” “0, yes, madam,” said the Professor, “ but he is surely not sick?” . ? “ Why, sir, there are no acute symptoms, but for about a month past he has been affected with somnambulism, and we fear that unless the ten dency is corrected the most daogeroos conse quences will ensue.” j; “ You say be has walked in his sleep for a month past ?” “ Yes, sir.” | “ And never did, previous to that T” 1 “ No, sir.” \ The doctor mused. ;■ “ Of what does your family consist, madam T” “ Myself, and my son, the two kitchen maids, and Celeste, the chambermaid, who came hero only last month.” Just at this moment the last named person en tered. She was a plump, rosy-lipped, French girl, who waited upon Mrs. Smith.; When she had left the room, Mrs. Smith re marked, “ That’s my new chambermaid, doctor; interesting girl, is ahe.not?” “Yes, madam, particularly so. I think you said she had been with you about a month, did you not ?” “Yes, sir.” “ Then, madam,” said the doctor, rising and taking his hat, “allow me to say .that any ap prehensions for yonr son’s health would be su perfluous. As longaa that young woman’s room is accessible to George, I fancy his N somnambu listic habits will continue. And, madam, under those circumstances, I really do not wonder at it.” We rather imagine that that rather took the old lady. . THE EMPIRE OP <jOD. Professor Mitchell, in closing his scries of‘ lectures on Astronomy said:—“Not?, my friends, I must cldsc this long coarse of lectures. We hove passed from planet to planet;! from sun to sun, from system to system. We have reached beyond the limits of this mighty color cluster with which we are allied.. We have found other island universes sweeping through 'space.. The great unfinished problem still remains—whence came this universe? Have all |these stars which glitter in the heavens been Chining from all eternity ?* Has oui; globe been rolling around the sun for ceaseless ages T Whence came this magnificent architecture, whose architraves rise in splendor before us in every direction ? Is it the work of chance ? I answer no. Is it hot the work of chance. Who shall reveal to us the true cosmography of the universe by which we are surrounded ? It is the wo|k of an Om nipotent Architect. “ Around us and above us rise sun and sys tem, cluster and universe. And I doubt not that in every region of this vast empire of God, hymns of praise and anthems of glbry are rising and reverberating from sun to apn, and from system to system—heard by Omnipotence alone across immensity, and through eternity!” Toads Living in Plastbe Ykabs.—M. Seguin, says the Medical Tima and pazette, wish ing to ascertain what amount of tjrith ' there is in the marvelous tales told of batrjtchians being', found living within the substance of stones, has undertaken some experiments upon the matter. He inclosed some toads very firmly in plaster and left them for years in Hie middle of these blocks of factitious stone. Jit various in tervals be has broken some of these blocks, and bos found a certain number of th§ toads alive. One'of the animals bad remained ,(bus deprived of air during ten years, another twelve, and a third fifteen years. Two still oon|inne enclosed and as Mr. Seguin is very old, and fears that these twrblocks may be lost to the; purposes of science, jbe offers them to the Academy of Scien ces, in order that it may hereafter'test the truth of the phenomenon. Mr. Floureas announces on the part of the Academy its willingness to accept them, intending, after a Verification of the dates of sequestration, to have the plaster broken in the presence of a commission ad hoe. Nioht Aib.—Many-people areofraid of night air. Here is what Florence Nightingale says; “ Ah extraordinary fallacy is the dread of night air. What air con we breathe at night but night air ? J The choice is between pnreaigbt air from without, and fool night air from within. Most people prefer.the latter—an nnacconntable pre ference. ~ What will they say if it is proved to be true tfrat fully one-half of all the diseases we snffier from are occasioned by persons sleeping with their windows shat ? .An open window most nights in the year can never hurt any one. In great cities night air is often the best and purest sir to be found in the twenty-four hoars. I Sonld better understand shutlingtho windows in towns daring the day,.than daring the night, for the of the rick. The absence of smoke, the quiet,, fill bead to make night the best lime for airing thn patient A. high medical autho rity has told om that the- air in London is a**, vsriwgoodaa aftobw EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS. A CALIFORNIA TRIAL. A fellownamed Donkvwaa lately tried at Yuba city, for entering a miner's tent and eehK ing a bag of gold dust rained at «ighty.{b«rdol lars. The testimony showed that he bad once been employed there, and knew. exactlywhere the owner kept his dust; that on the night of October 18th, he ent'a slit in the tent, reaching in, took the .bag and then ran o£ Jim Stiller, the principal witness, testified that he saw the man reaoh in, and heard him run away. . “I P tt * f «“ Wm at once,'’ continued the wit. ness, “but when 1 ootched him, I didn’t find Bill’s bag; but it was found afterwards, where he bad throwed it.” . 'y , : ■ . Counsel for the Prisoner.—How for did he git in when he took the dust? • Boiler.—Well, he was stooping over—about half in, I should say. Counsel—May it please your honor, theln-. diotment isn’t sustained, and l shall demand an acquittal on the direction of the court. The prisoner ; ia on trial for entering * dwelling'fa the night time with intent ..to steal The testi monj is clear that he made an opening through which he protruded himself about half Way, and' stretching out his arms, committed the theft.— Bpt the indictment charges that be actually Mi tered the tent or dwelling. Now, your honor, can a man enter the house, when only one-half of his body is in, and the other half put t Judge.—l shall; leave the whole ipatter to the juiy. They must 1 judge of the law and the fhet as proved. a The jury brought In a verdict of “guilty” as to one- half of the body from- the waist Up, and “ not guilty” as to the other- half. The Judge sontencod the guilty half to two years’ inpiprisonment, leaving it to the prisoner’s option to have the “not guilty” half out off, or take it along with him, A judgement, we think, worthy of a Solomon. , Rbmembbb.— Rothsooild, with, all his Wealth, must be satisfied with the same sky that hangs over the poor man, He capnot order a private'' sunset, that he may enjoy it with a select.circle of friends, Uor can he add one single ray to the clear, bright beams of the queen of night, as die soils magnificently through the heavens. ' The richest banker cannot have more than bis share of the air to breathe, and the poorcstof allmen can have the same. Wealth may buy a brilliant bracelet, dazzling with diamonds and rabies,' but wealth cannot buy a graceful andwell-turn ed arm on which to display its splendor. Gqd only can give that, and to many of the poor he has given it. “ I wish I had the health of that rosy-cheeked peasant girl,” sighs the aristocrat tic invalid, propped up with pillows in her cost ly carriage. “Ah, me,” says the girl, “if I could only ride in such style as that” Wealth cannot purchase health, nor can it give a cop tented mind. All that is most valuable oan.6e bad for nothing. They come as presents froth |he hand of a kiad and indulgent-father, and; neither* the air, nor sky, nor beauty, health, strength, and genius can be-bought and sold.— Reader, whateve| may be your condition in life, remember these tilings, and be content. Steamboats and Fish.— Landlady, (defeten-* dally.)—" Mr. Smith, do you not suppose that the first steamboat created much surprise among the fish when it was launched?!' : ' Smith, (curtly.)—l can’t say, madam, whe ther it did or not;” Landlady.—“Ohi I thought from the way you eyed the fish before, that you might osquirw some information on that point” ’ Smith, mnliciousTillain.)— *« Very likely —but it’s my opinion, marm. that this fi«h U>ft its native element before sieainboats were in* vented.” - V- “-‘: ; - “Master, how do yon sell beef th|a morning?” “ Why fonrleen cents a ponnd; how much will you have?” “ Fourteen cents, eh ? Hare you a heart?” “ No, just sold it” ’V ; ", “Well, I just knowed you couldn't heart, and ox fourteen cents at pound f<m hMf: I’m sorry you sold it, ’chiiso I’d like to hitfa some meat” '. v V K*" A moment after the boy *asseen ginning otil of the marked house, ifith a.abinb^ ” Mother/’ said little. Ned, one morn ing, -after having fallen frombis bed—“ Mother, I tJjioh I know why I fell, out of bed lost sight* It Was because I slept too near the place whet* I got in.” Musing a little while, as if in doubt whether he bad given the right explanation, be added, “ No, that is not the reason; it was be* cause I slept too near when I got out.** t&“ A preacher, whose text led him to speaks of the’prophet Jonah, among other things galcb .** I am of the opinion that Jonah whs a clean* lyiold man, neither smoking nor chewing, from the fact that the fish retained him sor long in his stomach. If the'fish had swallowed the house wherein we are worshipping, he would doubtless have vomited himself to death.’* John, you seem to gain flesh every day; the grocery business must agree with yon.— What did you weigh last?” “ Well, Simon, I really don’t know, but it tfrftes mo it man pobnd of butter.” ' : -j h MKfhe longerthe'saw •• -t •V.-.. A :| : -;v’ V ■ - f A NO. 29.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers