AMERICAN VOLUNTEER. iWuSAEDXtKUT THUBBDAT MOUSING jTolun B. Bratton. TERMS,. .Sobbowptios Ono Dollar and E'lfly Cents, bttd in advance j Two DolWrs if paid within Iho t ca — an 4 Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not pfrla within the year. These terms will bo rig ' jdly adhered, toin every instance. Nosubscrip tion discontinued until air arrearages ore paid unlcrsaat the option of the Editor. .AbYßaTissuEMs— -Accompanied by the cash, apdnoi exceeding one square, will bo inserted throb .times for ono Dollar, and twenty-five cents fireach additional insertion, Those of a great er length in proportion. , Jon-PxuxriNa—rSnch as Hand-bills, Posting, bills,‘Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, &c., &c., cxe bated with aceurary and at the shortest notico. ftoetiral cniLDnuoD’s home. BY FINLEY JOHNSON, The world has pleasure’s rich and rare, • Beneath God’s lofty dome j But there arc none which can compare i With childhood’s happy homo. - Wo envy not the rich or great, -Nor ot our lot roplno { . For joys which childhood brings to us, Are Listing and divine. we may from the cup of fume, Drink an inspiring draught; we may from ambition's streams. Its earthly pleasures quaff: Vet will thcmicinory of our youth, Wherever wo may roam, (Still cling to us, and wall us back To happy childhood's home. Then as years flymen lime’s swift wings, Oj let not bo forgot f Tho bliss secure, which wo enjoyed In childhood’s humble lot. And 'Whether ’t Is our fate to rest, ' Or onward still to roam, May memory often bring to us, Our childhood's happy homo. WHAT IS A VEAB; What Is ft year J *Tis but a wave On Life’s dirk rolling stream, Which is so quickly gone that wo Account it hut u dream. ’Tia but a single earnest throb Of Time’s old iron heart, Which tireless is, and strong as when ft first with life did start. What is a year ? *Ti« but a turn Of.Tlmc’s old brazen wheel; Or but a page upon the book Which Time must shortly seal. ’Tls but a step upon the road Which we must travel o’er ; A lew more steps and we shall walk Life's weary road no more. What Is a year 1 ’Tis but a breath From Time's old nostrils blown, As rushing onward o’er the earth, We hear his weary moan. ’Tis Hko tho bubble on the wave, Or dew upon tho lawn— As transient ns (lie mitjt of morn Duucath tho Summer’s sun. What is a year? ’Tls but a type ' Of Lite’s oft changing scene— Youth’s happy morn comes gaily on, With hills and valleys green; / Next Summer's prime succeeds the Spring, ,V Then Autumn with a tear, Then comes old Winter—death and all : ;y. Must find a level here. 3stisrfllniifoiijEi. THE DARK HOUR BT BBV. n. IUftUKQS WBI.D. A woman, still id tho blomn of youth, sat alone in an humble apartment. Atone. —and yet not alone; for. although there were none with whom she could exchange a thought, the basket-cradle at her foot sheltered a little being, which made Mary Irwine feel that, whatever the world might think. stUI she was not alone. Nor was she cotnparuonless: what mother Is? To the stranger ami the indifferent, the infant may seem, if not a cypher, a trouble, and-a Wearisome charge. But she whose own blood flows in its veins, never forgets, and never wearies. We have said Mary was still in the bloom of youth. Rut the bloom was sadly faded. Can-, (mitering, want, had blanched the roses on her cheeks. A few days before, you might have dcacerncd feverish anxiety there ; but now. nil that had passed- The expression of her face was thoughtful: but still u spake rest. She had drank of tiic cup of bitterness toils very drees ; but Ho who hears the sorrowful sighing of tl he wretched. had comforted her. The crisis .-;4„ had pasted, and she felt that natural composure • steals on the soul, when nil is done, and is Buffered.—the rest with which Heaven the patient and the dutiful. story was not a remarkable one : if by -CRnarkable wo mean to sav unusual. Thenp . Acfcrancc of the house indicated something of li; for wo imagine there is always a nignifi calico in the aspect of a dwelling which one of •it* late inmates has just left, to go to the 'nar row house.’ Mary’s hasbaml had been consign ed to the grave. The neighbors and friends who had aided in the melancholy bustle of the last office, had returned to their homes, and Mary eat with her bade in the silent room. ! • The husband whom she had buried out of •her. sight was her choice, —her wilful choice, made in spite of the remonstrances, the objec tions, and Ihcforehodmgsofherrclntives. For a, short lime after her union, it seemed as if his life and prosperity were to prove her triumph ant answer to their objections. All was sun ny» cheerful, promising. And the very friends .. who had warned and expostulated with her, £ were willing to believe that they had been i- wrong, and Mary right : und that affection |b had not unerringly pointed out to her cxccllcn- B. cics of character which they had not perceived. BK As if willing to atone for past enmity by worm SLfriendship, they crowded advantages and fncil nHUies upon him, and liberally opened the way to For a time, all succeeded that he un 'yWptook, and no young man in the city seemed certainly assured of competence than lie. how happy she was ! We con par ' ' "S" cr 2' lrot period of exultation, for she bit* Buflcred for it. IT?™- mcn cannot prosperity: and Hen -sL”)v*no Was one of these. Give them dis ' to V >cct ' a . ncl unpropilious circmn —?mKat> antl l *‘cy hew their way pn ?i° ? n<l rcsolllto perseverance t f obB !* clw - Hut let the sun ,:»h«»,on them, thcn pndo soon finds outrage • ; -?%^t er i anCC / i n< u t lV !lp resol ution degenerates '~!fi?£. P ' ji o1 * a cd - They take pleas .W b-bontcmning good advice, and w 11 do wrong, and against their own convio ; tWtt;-to roark their independence. 1 iHemY Irwino took early occasion to retaliate • wife’s friends, for what ho affected to rtgroits their unwarrantable opposition. ■Ho accused them, while they wero/m no small de. XT«e f lh« authors of his prosperity, as being ‘drVjrrito him by It; and intimated that selfish ,' octa was the origin of their tardy friendship, it had been of their former enrol- Lv‘> Mwy was a true wife. She Raw the injus c.^ybeopflicr husband, but declined to acknowl even to herself. At length, the cool ]•■'s xeflß became more and more chilling,until it re suited In irreparable cslrnngment between Ir * Wihd aiid the friends of his wife. Ho gloried in ' what ho considered a complete, and endeavor •fctf to persuade himself, was a righteous re venge. Ho made his former opponents suitors BY JOHN B. BRATTON. VOL 41. for his friendship, and proudly spurned them. Such won Aii impression. Theirs was that they had overlooked the dis agreeable character of their favorite’s husband, and striven to befriend him; but that, true to his natural low instincts, ho had refused.— Neither party was entirely right. When the breech became final, Mary Irw-inc descried father and mother, and kindred, for her husband, and identified herself with him, so far as lingering first affections would per mit. But. if her heart yearned over the dear first friends of her youth, she never sutler cd her conduct to betray what she accounted a weakness: but clung to her husband with o madness of aflcction, which deserved a butter return than she received. Henry Irwine, os we hove said, could not bear prosperity. A secret reason, hardly ac knowledged to himself, why he disliked his wife’s connections, was because they perceived Ids dangers, and ventured to warn bun. Ilia sensitive pride took captions alarm, and lie glo ried in mocking reproof, by persisting in in discretion. The end of such a course is easily prophesi ed. He fell among tln'cvea; and for wounds of friends exchanged the selfish flattery of knaves. Plucked of money, and bankrupt in credit and chat actor, he awaked at last to And himself a ruined man, with a meek, uncomplaining wife dependent on him, and feeling twice as keenly ns he did. all his ruin and degradation. The temptation which has ruined many, came in to complete his destruction. He sought oblivion i of his degradation in the wine cup, and there i lost the last redeeming trace or hope of man- j hood. It is a fearful fall, when tho appetites i trimnyh.andlhe reason is dethroned: when the man wakes only to misery, and rushes back to ! inebriation again, in tho rain hope to forget * himself. . A lower depth still remained; and Henry Ir- 1 wine found even that. Ilia jaundiced thoughts ■ dared to suspect her who, for lore of him. had ! surrendered fnends, home, happiness, hope.— | Because she did not. and'could not. rail against ’ her own, as he did; because she was meek, anß ■ quiet, and uncomplaining, he quarrelled with j her alhfi. He charged that she haled him, and * regretted that her fate was coupled with his.— I The Inst she could not deny: the first he saw in his own heart, and judged that it must hs in ; hers also. It is their own fancied concealed 1 reflection in the good that the wicked hale. And he dared moreover, to accuse his wife [ ns the cause of all his misfortunes. He said he I triumphed in them ! Can we wonder that she I would not say she did not? It might have been 1 that she thought such a charge 100 wickedly prc]>ostcrous to answer; or. it might have been that she was wearied into hatc-at last, and no 1 , displeased to find that there was one mode in which she could inflict pain on one who had heaped so many wrongg on her. Mary was drawing mar her dark hour. There is in most, if not in all careers, a mo ment—the crisis of a life:—an hour upon which all the future hangs. The crisis came to Mary Irwmc. Her house, derobed of many comforts, was not yet quite desolate. She clung, whilo a glimmer of hopo remained, (o her faith in She . believed •• that who knew him did not know his degradation. She thought that she had concealed It from many—and. fond simpleton ! imagined that men did not soedhrough the hollowness of her smile, when she spoke of her husband. It was night, and late. There were voices, and a rude knock at the door. She opened it, and her own brother entered, proceeding the policeman, in whose custody he had found the inebriate husband. She looked, and comprehended all. They laid the senseless man on the sofa: and the strangers left the house. •I’m on your bonnet. Mary. 1 said he broth ;t. ‘and come home with me.’ Mary east an eye on the wreck of her love and hope. Ixmthmg thoughts rose within her: she made one step ns if to comply; for es cape was now first in her thoughts, and she felt that she had borne all that hniflan nature cnpld endure. Tiic child, disturbed in its sleep, recalled her to the thought, how hopeless was escape; the babe smiled, and in ths smile she saw the sunshine of other days. Bowing over the cradle, she sobbed out of her heart all its stern resolves. ■Como !’ said her brother. •But—my child !’ • Wowill send for it,’ said her brother; but perceiving a strange look, almost indignant, ■through her tears.‘We will take it with us,’ he said. But the first careless expression turn ed the scale. She made no answer until, after wailing a moment in silence, her brother said, and now more sharply, ‘Come I' ‘Wait til! to-morrow.’ ‘Now. or never!' She made no reply: hut bending over her in fant. soothed il again to sleep. She wavered thought, parleyed; and was roused, at last, from a half dream by the noise of a closing door. She rose suddenly, and gazed wildly about her. Her brother had gone,—her darn hour bail passed for the temptation was with drawn. Hid she do right f Hark the sequel, and then answer. Henry Trwinc awoke to consciousness in a burning fever. It was not mere.y that which invariably follows debauch.nor was it that ter rific delirium consentient upon long indulgence in intoxication: for his fall had been rapid,and the lime of his error short. But disappoint ment, excess, and exposure, had made Inm, in n short space, a perfect wreck. He obeyed her guidance like a child, and she conducted him to Ins bed, and then despatched the following note to an old friend : •Mary Irwino hopes that, among all the friends of her better days, there is one left who will cmnu to her in her extremity, with no im possible demands, and that she snail llnd that one friend in Dr. Ralph.’ w The physician, n benevolent old gentleman, woswith her even before her messenger return ed. Ho listened kindly: and if a thought of incredulity arose in his mind, ho concealed it, and followed tho wife, with kind words, as an equal, and not as a patron, to tho bed-sido of her husband. For a moment, ho stood regard ing tho sad picture; then, gently taking the debauchee's hand, proceeded mechanically to count his pulse. ‘Oh, Doctor V cried tho sufferer, turning a way, 'this is tho cruelty of kindness I 1 A sus picion occurred to, and a dark shadow came over hlu face. 'No !’ ho shouted in a husky voice, 'lt la tho keenness of insult!’ Ho rose to spring forward-—but his face bccaroo deadly l )a |f' Ho sank exhausted and powerless. ina doctor sighed and turned away. Ho sat down -again and penciled a pcrscription, and sajd,*l will cnlUgain.’ ‘Will you, Indeed/ said Mary, her face brightonm* up. *' ‘ l ’° or It ! « 8 . a1 5 tho 0111 B<m«™an. ‘You nro pleased to find that I admit that something ads him beside intoxication. ■ Strange-strange —but very natural,' and ho hurrieifout. Henry lay somo hours, weak but conscience. Faithfully, but painfully did his wife attend upon him; for, while the necessity of attention, and the promptings of her heart called her to his a>do, she grieved to sec that the sight of her face disturbed him—disturbed him almost to distraction. And who can*wonder? It was a long, long day. And day passed into evening, and evening into midnight, be fore the care of her husband and her child saf fered ber to rest. Exhausted nature claimed her due, and Mary dreamed. She was back in the joy of other years—yet over that joy'there seemed a sadness. People were decrying him to her, and she was zealously defending him— as she had often done. And while she dream ed she thought his pleasant voice spake in her car, ‘Mary!* Again it spake, and now she sprang up and went to his bed-side. •Can you forgive me?’ •Forgive you, dearest/’ She did not know whether she was asleep or awake—whether he spake in fact and deed ,or whether the voice was a drcam-voice. So, for want of further words, she placed her cheek to his. ‘God bless you, Mary I Now T can rest. 1 He fell asleep. But the shock his health had received was not to be retrieved so easily as by ] one night’s rest. On the morrow ho was both I belter and worse—better, for there was less ! fever—worse, for there was less strength. | And so wore day after day. Wo need not | relate how.%ith sure progress, but slow, death , mastered his victim: for Henry Invine's days 1 were numbered. And wo need not describe bojv tho young wife hovered over his couch, and his weary life was closed in forgiveness and peace. Brothers and friends she lacked none now : for He who calls us hence by death has surrounded its approach with circumstan ces which remove enmities and disarm hale.—, He passed away quietly, and his last illness left a gentle memory of him in men’s hearts. There was a sound of wheels at the door.— •Now, daughter,’ said her mother, as she en tered, ‘we have come for you, as we promised. Como home again to our hearth and hearts.—■ Forget that you wore ever away.’ Mary silently pointed to her child. Her mother could make no reply, and Mary said : •With this memorial of Aim. mother, (and may God spare it for my memorial when lam gone.) I cannot forget that I have been away.- And, O ! how grateful am I, that once away I stayed until now; that I remained here to sec all reconciled on earth; to note the evidence in a mtek and quiet, a repentant and rcsifjncd spirit, that nil is forgiven in heaven I When this dear shild shall live to ask of his father, now. mother. lean speak of tho peaceful close [ of liis brief day, but I need not of its dreadful ; storms.’ And Mary Trwine bade adieu to the house in which she had met and conquered her Da.uk Hunt. Rtslomlion of the Jews to Jmlcn, There arc strange things passing around us. One might almost conclude that we were all most romantic dreamers, or that life was all one oriental fable. In this busy and scheming lime, there arc few projects of more novelty of grandeur or design than the restoration of-the scattered which the and.'Judas. have illustrated; in whose tombs repose- tho a/?boe of Isrcal; and over which there floats like flooding light, tho of the poetic inspiration of the wading‘Jeremiah, the lofty Isaiah, the sublime and thoughtful David, flic luxurious and imaginative Solomon. The grand project, if we be not mistaken, originat ed with a London banker, and seems to attract no small share of attention. It contemplates contingencies of the grandest and mosvintcrcst ing nature, and which if viewed aright, must be deeply important to European nations. The ’ dissolution and conquest of the Ottoman Em- its annexation to Russia, and tho down fall of the Asiatic governments immediately ad joining. arc nil parts of the mighty drama of nations, which is to close with the restoration of Israel. Some years ago circumstances made It extremely probable that the Ottoman cm i pi re would be annihilated by Russian power, and all Europe rang ns with an alarm noil.— Every nation stood warily, ready to hurl a fierce defiance at tho Russian autocrat, should his ambitious projects have succeeded. For. in that case a struggle for national existence appeared inevitable. Tho war ended and tho panic ceased. But tho same state of things will again exist should tho Ottoman empire dis solve itself. The Russian vulture would seize upon lias his prey; the balance of power would be broken in Europe, and the burning tenements of Constantinople would be as bale ful as the signal-torch calling the nations to one of the fiercest and most awful struggles, that ever stained the earth with blood and des olated empires. But the subject is too grand; 100 extended for us to pursue onr theme far ther. Suffice it to say independent of the aw ful incidents which it contemplates as the ante cedents to its coinplction.it is a sublime at tempt to restore tho faded glories and power of a nation, which has long since passed away as n dream, of which tho remembrance alone re mains to the earth. N r.wsr Arras.—Judge Lnngstrcct, whoso views on all subjects are sensible, practical, and worth treasuring up, thus sets forth the value of a newspaper : "Small Is the sum that Is required to patron- Izo a newspaper, and most amply remunerated Is the patron. 1 care not how humble and un pretending the gazette which ho takes; U la next to impossible to fill a sheet flfiy-two. times a year without putting Into ft something that la worth _tho subscription price. Every parent whose'son is off from him at school should bo supplied with a paper. I well remember what a differoecc (hero was between those of my schoolmates who had not access to newspapers. Other tilings being equal, the first wore always decidedly superior to the last in dobato and com position at least. The reason Is plain; they had command of mors facts. Youth will pornso a newspaper with delight when they nil) read nothing else.” Fhmalr Heroism. —‘One day,’ nays Masse na, being at Buzonghen, I perceived a young soldier, belonging to tho Light Artillery, whoso horse had just been wounded by a lance. Tho young man, who appeared quite a child, de fended himself most desperately, os several bodies of tho enemy lying around could testify. I immediately despatched an officer with some mcn to his assistance, but they arrived too late. Although this action had taken place on tho borders of tho wood, and in front of tho bridge, this artillery man had alone withstood tho attack of tho small troop of Cossacks and Bavarians whom tho officers and men t had de spatched put to flight. His body was covered with wounds, inflicted by shots, lances and swords. There were at least thirty. And do you know, Madame, what tho young man was? said Massena. 'I do not,* replied Madame Vas* scy. She was MadatnoOsma ■, the Turkish heroine, and daughter of one of the most re markable Turkish generals. Tho editor of a cotcmporary is so thin that only ono of his political opponents can blackguard him at tho same time. They draw lots for chances to get at him I “OUR COUNTRY—STAY IT BE RIGHT —RUT RIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY." ILE, PA., THURSDAY, MARCO 15,1855 CARLO The Miser onJ Ws Bag of Gold, Ilawoja Tacoob was accustomed to sit by his money bag, wishing that some great spirit would endow it With the marvellous qualities of Fortnnatusourfiql' Ortc night the voice of the bulbul was echoing louder than ever through the desolate old tlaattu and the miser’s heart trem bled with anxiety and feafN, Some how or other, he had a presentiment that-'all was not right— that some unseenbvil hung suspended over his head in the air* the bird !’ quoth the raiser. ‘HerhataruT song drags silly people forth from their, houses, even at this late hour, till darkness and terror connected with this neighborhood anf.(*at being overcome. ‘Drat the bird 1* ' • ‘Aye, ay 1 that you say?’ growled a deep unmclodioua Toied^close to the startled miser’s car. • -■ •Drat tho bird L Why that bird is our sov ereign lady, the Qilecn 6f tho Forest.* The trembling Old man could scarcely grasp for breath/ as. . enriching lightly with both hands his favorite Vftg of gold, he looked fear fully over hia showders, and saw a face nnd hcad, without anypddy, floating in the middle of the room, with’lmpair of dreadfully ghastly looking eyes staring at him full in the face. ‘That’s my gnld/quoth the head, with a terrible oath, !f ; ■ Now’aUhopgb ibo miser was re dy to faint away with frignt, ,t{te baro idca of relinquishing his darllhg treasure,, brought him to his senses again; so ho stoutlK^ en * that any one but himself had the ghost of a title to a farthing’s worth of what he possessed. ‘But I do.' said th*c head. 'I lay claim to all the gold in the world; and to prove to you that I am correct, 111 bet you that there are fifty millions of millions of doubloons in that sack, and a - hundred million times as many more.' ’ if,: •I’ll take that bet/ was tbc miser's reply, ns his heart lept for again, so confident was ho of success.’ Well it took hipi ft long time to count before ho could count to ‘within fifty doubloons of what ho know the sack ought to contain —new ho only wanted only five—now one. and still tho sack wns as brim-full of doub loons ns ever. > ‘There is some chtytting bore,’ quoth the mi ser. ‘I won't count any more.’ ‘Vou dare stop atiq'sec what I’ll do to you,* was tho orgic’s terrific reply. And so the wretched miser went on counting and counting, andnt-ver came to the bottom of the sack,'though heaven only knows how many years; whom tho last crumbling ruins of his tenement fell in came to graze their cat tle in tho neighborhood,; but shephers could never be induced to'flbrtain there over night, because they said thC noise of people counting money and letting 0(un8 drop and tingle again on the old stones, WM really too awfifl. to listen to, especially if the q|yht proved tq : bc particu larly dark and storm*. lltoji -Stilt! , *Ao longer a exclaimed an aged pa triarch, «h! you mlajvkq me if any think ,agc lias blotted out my Imvrt. Though silverbairfl fait over a.brow all wjWiklcd, and' alohcck^oU bcauty'm tho maid<nffl blush, the soft tinfc : of flowers, the singing of birds, and, above all, the silvery laugh of a child. I love the star like meadows where the butler cups grow, with almost the same enthusiasm ns when, with my ringlets flying loose in tho wind, and my cap in hand, years ago, I chased tbc pninled but terfly. I love you aged dame. Look at her.— Her face is careworn, but it has ever held a smile for me. Often have I shared the bitter cup of sorrow with her—and so shared it seem ed almost sweet. Years of sickness have sto len the freshness of her life, but, like tho fadfd rose, tbc perfume of her love is richer than when in the full bloom of youth and maturity. Together we hate placed huda in the pale, folded hands of the dead : together wept over little graves. Through storm and sunshine wo hare clung together, and now she sits with her knitting, her cap quaintly frilled, the old styled kerchief crossed white- and prim above the heart that has beat so long and truiv for mo. the dim blue eye that shrinking!.? fronts the glad clay : the sunlight throwing her a parting farewell, kisses her brow and leaves upon its faint tracery of wrinkles angelic radtanco. I see. though no one else can. the bright glad young face that won mo first, shine-through those withered features, and the glowing love of forty years thrills my heart till the tears come. Say not again T can no logger bo a lover.— Though this form be bowed, God has implant ed eternal love within. Let the car be deaf, (he eye blind, the hands palsied, the limbs withered, the brain clouded, yet the heart, the true heart, may hold such wealth of love, that all the power of death and the victorious grave shall not be able to put out the quenchless flame. Did You Evkii? —Did you ever attempt to pass quickly around a comer close to the buil ding in n busy street, without finding yourself suddenly in the arms of one of the opposite sex? Did you ever walk behind an old man with his cane stuck up under his arm, without his stopping suddenly, running the end of it into your right eye, seriously damaging that mem* her? Did you ever ask the prettiest girl in the room to dance with you, without bcinp told that she was engaged for every set ? Did you ever wonder into a place where you wero par ticularly anxious not to bo known, without meeting some blundering fellow who bawled out at the topof Ins voice,‘How are you,Jones?' Did you ever accept an invitation to go to church with a friend who owns ‘half a scat’ without finding it jammed full with the friends of the other proprietor ? Did you ever buy ft with Inc last cent of change about you, without seeing Smith, who gave you one yes terday, walking up and greeting you with a smile, just as you were making the selection ? A.Smart Dou.—A friend of ours has a dog, which used to be very smart. Ho says : •There wasn’t anything in old Kcntuck that could begin with him, 'ccptonco. One day wo started a bar, a regular snorter. lie put straight off, and the dog ( after him, an' I brought up in the war, Ihcy were soon out of slgnt. but I followed on for a mile or so.and camo out at last on a clearing, where there was a log hut, an’ a feller sotting down an* smok ing his pipe as comfortable oa possible. ‘Did you see anything of a dog an’ a bar going by hero 1* sez I to the fellow. ‘Yes, I did,’ sez ho. •Wat, how was it V sez I. ‘Wal,’ soz ho, taking lus pipe out, an’ draw ing his coat sleeve across his face, ‘it was about nip on' tug, tho' I think the dog had a lectio tho advantage.* ‘How was that?* sez I. ‘Wal, ho was a trifle ahead!’ ttT" A writer in tho Kansas Herald of Free dom declares that there underlies, at the depth of twenty to. fifty feet, a vast stratum of mag nesia, being tho distinguishing geological for mation of that territory. iWiitef. THE BUND PUEACHEE. A wonderful instance of zeal in the accumu lation of knowledge, and of the successful cul tivation of memory, is that of the blind clergy man, so pleasantly described in the following passage, which is copied from a late English writer: "In my rambles last summer, on the borders of Wales, I found myself one morning alone on the banks tff the beautiful river Wye, without a servant or a guide. I tyd to ford the river at a place where according tqjtho instructions giv en me at the nearest hamlet, if I diverged ever so little from the marks wfiich the rippling of the current made as it passed over a ledge of rocks, I should sink twice the depth of myself and horse. While I stood hestitating on the margin, viewing attentively the course of the ford, n per son passed me on the canter, and the next instant I saw him plunge into the river; presuming on his acquaintance with the pas sago, I immediately and closely followed his steps. As soon as wo had gained the opposite bank, I accosted him with thanks for the bene* fit of his guidance; but wbat was my astonish ment, when, bursting into a hearty, laugh, he observed that my confidence would have been less had I known that I had been following a bl»nd guide! The wanner of the man, as well as the fact, attracted my curiosity. To my expressions of surprise at his venturing tocross therivcrnlone.be answered, that he and the horse that bo rode had done the same thing every Sunday morning for the last five years, I but that, in reality, tins was not the most peril-1 ous part of his weekly peregrination, as I should bo convinced, if my way led over the mountain ; before us. My journey had no object but pleasure ; I therefore resolved to attach myself j to my extraordinary companion, and soon learned in our chat, as we wound up the steep mountain’s side, that he was a clergyman : and of that class which is the disgrace of our ecclesiastical establishment—l mean the coun try curates, who exist upon the liberal stipend of thirty, twenty, aud sometimes fifteen pounds j a year! This gentleman, aged sixty, had i about thirty years before, been engaged in the j curacy to which ho was now travelling, and , though it was at the distance of eight long 1 Welsh miles from the place of his residence,! sneh was the respect of his /lock towords him. that, at the commence of his calamity, rather than part with him, they sent regularly, every Sunday morning, a deputation to guide their old pastor oi>his way. The road, besides cross ing the river we had just passed, led over a °raggy mountain, on whose top innumerable and uncertain bogs were constantly forming, but which, nevertheless, by the instinct of bis Welsh pony, this blind man has actually cross ed alone for the last five years, having so long dismissed the assistance of guides. While our talk beguiled the way, we insensi bly arrived within sight of his village church, which was seated in a deep and narrow vale.— As I looked down upon it, the bright verdure of tho meadows, winch were hero and there chequered with patches of yellow com; the moving herd of cattlo ; the rich foliage of the groves of oak, hanging irregularly overits sides, tho white houses of the which sprinkled every corner of this peaceful retreat; semblcd in their best atliro ; round their place of worship j all this gay scene, rushing at once on the view, struck my senses and imagination more forcibly than I can express. Ah we entered the church-yard, the respect ful, 'How do you do?’ of the young, the near ly shakes of the old. and the familiar gambols of the children, showed how their old pastor reigned in the hacarts of all. After some re freshment at the marcst house, we went to tho church, where my veteran priest read the pray, er, psalms, and chapters of the day. and then I preached & sermon, in a manner that could j nave made no one advert to hta loss of sight.— . At dinner, which it seems that four of the most I substantial farmers of the vale provided in turn. I ho related the progress of his increased powers 1 of memory. For the first year, he attempted [ only the prayers and sermons, the best reader of tho parish making it a pride to officiate for him in the psalmS and chapters : he next un dertook the labor of learning these by heart, and, at present, by continual repetition, there is not a psalm or chapter, of the more than two hundred appointed for tho Sunday service, that ho is not perfect it. He told me, also, that having in liia little school two sons of his own intended for the University, ho has. by hearing them continually, committed the great-1 er part of Homer and Virgil to memory.’ j NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS. rUOM THE DIART OF AM IDLES Strolling about Baris one day last summer, with my friend Dr. At , a sudden, dark tom. peat-cloud drove us lulu a “ passage” near the Boulevards—a sort of a glass-roofed bazaar.— This soon became densely crowded with all sorts of folks, seeking shelter (bore, like ourselves, from a severe and pelting shower of rain, ac companied by sharp flashes of lightning and heavy thunder. The crowd accumulated at both ends of this passage—women and priests and' soldiers and blouses, all crowded together.—* Thunder and lightning in such severity are un usual In Pans, and I noticed that much alarm existed in the crowd. The priests lost no time in resorting to their little black-covered books, and commenced a rapid reading, In a sort of hurried, low mutter, and alternately crossing themselves. The women wrung their hands, ami many of them fell on tholr knees, exclaiming, at every flash of lightning, “Mon Dieul ” Pro. sently there came a very severe flush, giving everything around a sort of yellowish and lurid coloring, and followed almost Instantaneously by a very loud metallic ringing, French-sound ing thunder, such as I never hoard at homoj it almost alarmed mo, (used as I had boon to thun der.) I thought the urched glass roof was com ing down upon us, for with this thunder came a smashing fid! of raiu and hall. Everybody seemed instinctively to shrink down; but (tie llmtulor-clap had scarcely censed to reverberate, when, from a group of soldiers near the entrance, came an almost simultaneous shout of 11 vive r Empereur /” That was tho laU of that thunder-storm. Tho alarm ceased with It, and In lobm than ton min utes tho sun was shining, and tho crowd diaper, abdj and wo in our turn, continued our rambio about tho gay streets, hearing occasionally some hurried remarks and comments on tho extraor- dinary severity of “A* Eclair” et La Tounerre,” and the cheering and timoly cry of Vivi ’/ Empereur f n There was nothing in that cry at tho tlmo which gave mo an idea of impious to merit/1 it was a sort of national impulse—it was tho uppermost thought, as in battle, when danger seemed most Imminent, to cheer up and make tho bent of It— go ahtad, Vive ‘I Empe reur/” 1 don’t know why tho memorandum was made which I And I did make In my diary, when this little national peculiarity, that I was reminded of something like it 1 once wit nessed at homo. Upon reflecting, I don’t think it exactly accords; but ns It struck mo at tho tlmo, and, like Captain Cuttle, « I made a note on’t,” I will Just mention It. It occurred dur ing tho hottest point of tho contest between Go noral Jackson and Mr. Diddle In tho Dank war. I was In trade then \ a cargo of brandy and wine was being lauded In front of Us on tho wharf, AT 82,00 PER AKKCM. NO. 40. nnd the Custom House gaugers and markers were all busy, and a circle, ns usual, of antir temperance loafers, each with n sly sucker In Ins pocket, were gathering there, and watching a chance at (ho open bangs. Before tbo day closed, a regular d rukon fight commenced among them, and the police Interposed, making many captives. After quiet was restored, and the wharf being cleared of (ho cargo* a poor miser-: able creature was found stowed away out of sight between some casks, to all apgearancedead; his sucker lay near him, a marked'and sure evidence for a coroner’s inqnost to safely reach a verdict. A cart was procured to take the body away to a place more convenient for a coronor’s jury to act 5 but the cart had made but a short progress with the body over the paving stones, when signs of life were discovered—the cart was stopped, the old sucker raised up his head, nnd staring around, seemed to feel that ho had but a moment left to give evidence of his identity ot any rate, and then let come what might] ho knew nobody, and nobody seemed to know him; but a about of laughter IVom tho hy-sfandcra followed his first and ready exclamation s “Hurrah for Jackson, and down with tho bank!” Itwas “ tho nation al cry” of that day; since then, the “ Maine Ll quor Law” has made progress, and tho old suckers are less in fashion.—Home Journal. THE BOUNTY LINDAHL. The following is the bountydtod bill which passed the House of Roprcsentaßßason Wed, nesday. It la not the Senate bUI tato therefore, offered by Mr. Kichai£jon, of Illinois, differing, however, in sQverpjßajFticu lars. It has also passed (he Senate :* v . ~ Be it enacted by the Senate and Tlduso of B e. preaentatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That each of the survi ving commissioned and non-commissioned offi cers, musicians, and privates, whether of regn lirs, volunteers, rangers, or militia, who were regularly mustered inlo the service of the Uni ted States, and every officer, commissioned and non-commissiefbed, seaman, ordinary seaman, marine, clerk, tuidiltindsman in the navy, in any of the wars in which this country has been en gaged since seventeen hundred and ninety, and each of the survivors of the militia; or volun teers, or Stale troops of any State or Torriloiy, ! called into military service, and regularly tnus , tered therein, and whose services have been 1 paid by the United States, shall he entitled to I receive a certificate or warrant from the Uepart i ment of tho Interior for one hundred and sixty acres of land; and where any of those who have been so mustered info service and paid shall i have received a certificate or warrant, ho shall bo entitled to a ccrtiflcote or warrant fur such quantify of land as will make, in the whole, with what he may have heretofore received, onolmn dred and sixty acres to each such person having served as aforesaid: Provided, The person so having been in service shall not receive said land warrant if It shall appear by the muster rolls of his regiment or corps that he deserted, or was dishonorably*discharged from service. Provided, further, that the benefits of this section shall be held totfktend to wagon-masters and teamsters who may htlvo been employed, under the direction ol competent authority in time of war, in tho transportation ol military stores and supplies. Section 2. And bo it further enacted, That In case of the death of any person, who, if living, would bo entitled to a certificate or warrant as j under this act, leaving a widow, or, If I no widow, n minor child Of eWUr3hi SUvll-Wl* I (low, or, if no widow, such minor child or chR- rsctivfa or warrant for fKo same quantity orhimllbaf sncb dcconsod person would bo entitled to receive under the provisions of this net If now'living! Provided, That a subsequent marriage simltnot impair the right of any such widow to such war rant if she bo a widow n( the time of making her application; And provided, further, That ihoso ahull bo considered manors who aro so ut the time this act shall tak<£efTect. Section 8. further enacted. That in no case such certificate or warrant be issued for any service less than fourteen days, except where tho person shall Regally have been engaged in battle, and unless claim ing such certificate or warrant ahull establish his or her right thereto by recorded evidence of said service. Section 4. And be it further enacted, That* said certificates or warrants may be assigned, transferred, and located by the warrantees, (heir assignees, or their helrs-at.lnw, according to thu provisions of existing laws regulating tho assignment, transfer, and locution of bounty land qurmnts. Section 5. And be itfurtlfor enacted, That no warrant issued under the provision* of Una act shall bo Ideated on any public lands, except such os shall lit thatinio bo subject to sale at either the minimum or loner graduated prices. Section 0. And bo it further enacted, That the registers and receivers ot the several land offices shall bo severally authorized to charge and receive for (heir services in locating all warrants under the provisions oi this act the same compensation or per cenlage to which they are entitled by law for sales of the public lands, for cash, at the rate of one dollar and twenty-Ovo cents per acre. The said compen sation to Ito paid by the assignees or holders el such warrants. Section 7. And lie it further enacted, That the provisions of this act, and all the bounty land laws heretofore passed by Congress, shall bo extended to Indians, in tho sameroanner and to the same extent as if the said Indians had been while men. Section 8. And bo it further enacted, That tho officers and soldiers ol the revolutionary war, or their widows or minor children, shall be entitled to the benefits of this act. Section 0. And bo it Airthor enacted, Thai the benefits of this act shall be applied to and embrace those who served ns volunteers at tho invasion of Plntlsburg, In September, eighteen hundred and fourteen i also at the hatt/o of King’s mountain, in the revolutionary war j ond tho baffle of Nlcknjaek agatnsf the confederated savages of tho South. Section 10. And bo it further enacted. That tho provisions of this act shall apply to tho chap lains who served with tho army in the several wars of the country. Section 11. And bo it further enacted, That tho provisions of this net bo'-applicd to flotilla, men and to those who served as volunteers tt tho attack on Lewiatown, in Delaware, by tho Rritiah fleet, in tho war of oightoon hundred and twelve—fifteen. Novel Marriages.—Tho Highland News, of the Bth inst.. relates, that a lad of 19 ami a lass of 15, eloped from Highland county last week, and tnado their way by railroad to Cincinnati, where they were married, and returned next day. We hope the anxious friends of thesoju vcnilcs will tone good care of them. Tn the Lawrcuccburg Express, of the 7lh Inst., we find the following singular-notice: Married. —On Thursday, Jan. 30th, by Rev. Mr. Collard, Rev. James 11. Brooking to to Miss Sallie Craig, all of Boono county, Ky. Tho above couple were really married in tho Ohio river, opposite Rising Sun, on a mie of floating ice t Surely that was taking a cold start in matrimonial life. O’ ‘Stop your crying,* said an enraged fa ther to Uia Son, who had kept up an intolera ble ‘yell 1 for tho last llvfc minutes: ‘atop,l say do you hcarl* again repeated tho father, after a few minutes, the boy still crying: ‘You don*t suppose I can choke off in a minute do you I* chimed in tho hopeful urchin. A Millionaire. —Tho editor of tho New Orleans Picayune calculates that ho is bitten by two millions of mosquitoes every night. nn^ .Tie MruWmmt! .. , ThoPcrandthe Press, blcsa r d aHiartfti dorobMea '"‘ fA To soften the heart and cnKgHca filth ' For that to the tacfiSßted of - - gave birth. . -v ; And this sent them forthto tbe OtW&'<a‘' thoeafth; *''• Their battlea'for troth vrbro triompnttt; j . indeed, ~ * . j:-,. {i-! •-} And th* rod of the tyrant was snajtpwl... . like a reed,. ... ' “ ‘ They were made to exalt os, to teach o#* ■ ■ to bless, Those invincible brothers—the Pen and the Press. . , {£?* Procrastination is the thief of. tapta. • ; .■ Wc take no, note of time, llf. loss. ' ' , ‘V/;..,'- J2?”Man wants bat, little, nor tbit UtUtt long. • Ky* ’Xia moral gnndcur makes the toatfAf - man. . . i :.i $y Death loves a shining mark, ft tight! r blow. ’ • • Never let yonr tongue go befonr yoaf thoughts. [£7“ Men may live fools, bat fools they ’catUv* nqttlie. ‘ - By-AH men think all men mortal* bdi' themselves. - r • - XT’ All; all on earth is shadows, all beyond is substance. • i- • XT” Judgment is a throne of prudbaft, tnd ’ silence is its sanctury. XT* When is a man thinner than ft shingle? When he’s a shaving. XT’ There arc 750 paper mills in actual Opera* (ion in the United States. and a half yards make a perch;: how many will make a cal flshl XT* Tho Detroit (Michigan) .inquirer, iljBf. "It has snowed for twcQty-twuJStiCCCB»TO days.” XT* The shock of an earthquake was feJt ih * some parts of Maine, on tho morning of toft 19ihult. Qy* There is more paper consumed Itt tho 'United Slates thkn in England and rrahcetJOiA bined. XT” The amount of Wool grown in the tT. States is about 60,000,000 of pounds annual* XT* To make hens Jay perpetually—hit them on the head with a club. We giro this hint W farmers gratis. XT/" 11 docs not necessarily follow that whoti a man is the lion of a party, that ab should make a beast of himself. XT" Bacon says, men will wrangle, write, fight, die,—in fact do any thing but live foe religion! There Is philosophy id this. XT' Bcnnct, of tho New York Herald, hM brought suit against Greeley, of the -Tribtm* for libel, and lays damages at $50,000. XT' Prescott has Completed, after a ten yehM* labor, his history of the reign of Philip th* Second. It will bo published in three volume*. XT Many a loot haspttssed for SclcvCTman, because he nas knotvn how to bold bis tbuguo ! and many a clever man has passed for ft fool, because he has not known how to make US* of XT’ ‘Did you know, 1 said a cunninfe "tanke* to a Jew, ‘lhttt they hang Jews and lackassca together in Portland 1’ ‘lndeed! then It ift well that you and I arc not there,* retorted tho Jew. ' 1 living in the small village name of John Swan, not at all related, and all with wooden legs, although not one has been in the arm/ or navy. [Cy* A tree, it would seem,- is tho thirstiest of nature’s productions. It has been asetf* Uined by experiment that one weighing I,ooo' lbs. will absorb eighty-four pints of water ini the twenty-four hours. OTy' An old author quaintly remarks—Avoid arguments with ladies. In spinning yamS among silks and satins, a man is sure ttf bb worsted and twisted. And when amanjsfrOrft* cd and twisted, ho may consider himself wdttßo up. v [fy- Tho farm of eight hundred acres *witti the, buildings thereon, known os Daniel atcr’a homestead, in Franklin. N. H., was .sold on Thursday last, for 915,000. Rufus L. Jfaj'v of Boston, was the purchaser. Cy” The increase of population in CalllonuA during the year 1854, is estimated at 60,000; overland to an equal numbor by sea. lowa, during the past year, has received over 100,000 addition to her population, and Mincsot*, 60r 000. By*‘We have a span of horses,* S*!d economic the other day, ‘on our farm, thatnjf* port themselves without any cost* how is that V exclaimed a listener. 4 Wby t yon see.’ remarked the questioned, ‘(moll asaw horsy, the other a clothes’•horse.” (£7* A crowd were looking at tho body of a rjinn killed on a railroad, when a fat and ptonv remarked : ‘ln tho midst of life we’ acqin dot (death)!’ ’An Irishman, standing by,\nswcml, ‘Bo jnbere, you may wdl say that,, for ho owoa mo two dollars !* JC7* Louis Napoleon is collecting his unde’s letters ami writings. It is said that twenty volumes will hardly contain all the MSS, ofibe’ Emncror Napoleon. Many letters, &C., writ* fen ny tho Emperor, are in a text hardly legi ble—it is only with tho greatest difficulty tfatffr the exact words arc made out. By* *The signs of tho tiroes are qminbwuf opens an excited editor, in his leader-. world is turning over very fast. Wfcdota sprouts out of sap heads, like toadstools (tank a manure-heap. Wo shall soon see wonta*. Won’t it be a glorious time when all the girt* wear breeches, and go a-courtiog. Jolly iriU be that joyous day. (£7“ The richest endowments of the mind art.i temperance, prudence, and fortitude, -frit* deuce Is an universal virtue which enter! into the composition of all the rest; and white !he b not, fortitude losses its name andTxatuTe. A man of virtue is an honor to hisfcowpu try, a glory to humanity, a satisfaction -to self, and a benefactor to tho whole woVld..: '.B* is rich without oppression, or dUbopepty, char itable without ostentation, courteous without deceit, and brave without vice. Tho greater the difficulty the more the glory in surmounting it. Skilful pilots gain their reputation Rom storms and tempests. t£7' A wise mop stands firm in all extremi ties, and bears the lot of his humanity with a divine temper. ; 1 ICT' It is almost as criminal to hear a wpf thy man traduced without attempting hii'Jus tification,as to be author of tho calumny agumk 1 him : it is, in fact, a sort of misprison of trea son ogainst society. . . r/ (C 7“ Nothing sets so wide a mark bettaenV vulgar and a noble soul, as the respect'abd mV* ‘ crcntial love of womankind. A man who U always sneering at women, is generally either a coarse profligate, or coarse bigot. I£7* A hotter advertises, that VWatUon tho Mind” is of great importance, but what** oa the head, is of greater.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers