American volunteer. (Carlisle [Pa.]) 1814-1909, June 02, 1859, Image 1

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    UAN VOLUNTEER.
EVERY THURSDAY MORNING DT
oliii B. Bvalton*
T E li M S .
iok.— Ono Dollar and Fifty Cdnts,
icd) Two Dollars if paid within the
ro Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not
io year. Those terms will ho rig
to in every instance. No aiib
icontinucd until all arrearages are
, the option of the Editor.
;ment3 —Accompanied by the cash,
•eding one square, will bo inserted
ir One Dollar, and twenty-five cents
itiondl insertion. Those of agreat
proportion.
ino—Such as Hand-bills, Posting
lots, Blanks, Labels, &c.,&o.,oxe
icuracy and at the shortest notice.
ib BLESS THE CIBIB.
BY A BACHELOR.
Alone I sit
:(•? While phantoms flit
•'through mem’ry’s ghostly halls.
And trace each namo_
: In flick’ring flame
|||p%Alohg the dusty walls.
Those names nro old .
As the gathered mould
in the tomb of friendship buried i
But they gleam to-night
; With mem’rios bright
If girls that have died—or married.
Their faded forma,
Their vanished charm,
'heir dear eyes dim with weeping—
■ Of taunt me now
With my wrinkled brow,
tnd the lonely watch I’m keeping.
The tender things
That mem’ry sings
[n the ears of bachelor boys,
Oft start the tear,
(When no one’s near,)
Vnd they siglUjjr their quondam joys,
God bless the girls
Whose golden curls
'Blond with.our evening dreams 15
I *They haunt our lives
t .Like spirit wives,
j'Or—as naiads haunt the streams.
If; They soothe our pains,
■ r'They HU,our brains' . .
With, dreams of sunnier hours.
U ‘ Goa bless the girls,
p f God bless their curls,
f *’ ‘/.-feed bless our human flowers
GROWING OLD.
Thou art growing old, my mother,
g And thy brow fa mai ked with care,
‘ All furrowed is thy cheek,
E4V. Once beautiful and fair;
i t /.Thy soft brown locks are sadly changed,
Chill frosts have settled there,
» V| And touched with many a freezing kiaa,
Thy gently flowing hair.
* Thou art growing old, my mother.;
g 11 As I catch thy half-drawn sigh,
f Well Iknow that years of sorrow
if/ ' Are passing now.thy spirit’s eye ;
| ■ But with gentle light it bearaeth—
Boamelh on me even yet,
fffft With a love that neverchangoth,
/i , Till the sun of life, is set.
aSKV .S’t" ' . ' •
'f..,/ Thou art growing old, my mother, .
%l s i Many of mir household band
lj.* ' Have before thee journeyed onward,
'■ - To. the far off “ belter land,”
JJuf ttiy voice in tender accents
' Still ia falling on my ear,
c Sweetly brightening my patbwhy, .
Which without tbco was so dreitr.
k,'' T}i9.u art growing, old, jnty.tnotjier,
Ami around jjhy youngest, born , >
gather—darkly gather— .
Even in life's early'morn—
. Btrt the blessed Savior apareth
’ i Tlioo to still protect, thy child,
While the storms of sorrow hover—
Hover o’er me dark and wild I
jf' “ Thou art growing old, ray toother,
fc, '■- Soon X feel thatthnu will rest
' In the “ land of thoXtercafter,”
•bi', ~ In the regions, of the blest,
W ifho will lovo me then, my, mother,
‘ , When the latest cord is riven 7
S? - ’ ' ' I,ct us pray that both together
|| God will take us lo heaven.
v
JSiscdlriiKOua;
THE LOVER’S REVENGE.
tM .' ■',* <■ Now I wish you to be honest with mo.
I* ' -Mary : are the reports in regard to you and Al
ii'- ihort Marsh true?:’ ' , , T
' “ Yes, Charles, they are. Mr. Marsh and I
are to bo married in a few weeks.” _ . _
jßjff ,v •• False-hearted woman 1 exclaimed Charles
fev- Gilbert, as ho leaned against the wall fpr sup-
R-? ■ port;' ” You dare not say you love mm . It is
§ .hia mOney that has won you. You know that
eVbtytplan of mine, for years, has beed made in
to you becoming my wife; and now
'TOuican cooly cast away .and honest, faithlul
V,.? : ijjeart, for a hundred thousand dollars, with the
i_ ■. {appendage of a drunken, immoral husband.—
.A%S Marv; you will live to repent this, and I
Jr ' ',Bh»li live "to hare ray revenge —- •’ .
K. •» Revenge !** repeated the maiden > * I nope,
S in a moment of passion, you will not do any
. tbing rash. You know I never promised to be
• your wife.” - . . • T
No, you never made the promise, and I see
' no w why you took this course. You was on
'' ’ \he look-out for a better chancebut you have
- allowed me, in your presence, to even plap the
' house in which wo should live, without a re-1
proof from you. You need not be alarmed; I
' ' fjhSfineuher shoot myself or your lover ; I will
V • haytffc’sweeter revenge than that.”
p: i .:j‘f,.Ob, Charles; it makes the blood run cold
i; >through my veins to hear you talk thus. If
"ilro'uolovc ■ mo, as .you profess, you .certainly
wuhld not wish to ruin ray happiness.
Wr . all pay hopes in life does not
fy? i happiness, whatever I shall do in
S® -Aheiliituro will not destroy it. Ii requires a
fef ' gVilfui hand to aim a successful blow at the bap
v niness of a selfish woman. No man ever had a
rffiV i Searier love for woman than I have had for you,
S'* apd l can hate as well as love. Do youunder-
mo, Charles.. Why prolong tins
interview ? It will do neither of
you for the last time,” replied
>rtr « mTnfin a milder tone, as he turned
iSLwibe’door; “if you can bo happy in
■Sacw relation, after all ibe misery you havoj
caused hie, God grant that you may be. *
moment after, and the maiden was alone,
■a"/,’."-a’ month passed by, and Mary Foster was
" ■ ; 'i tha wife bf the wealthy Albert Marsh. In the
■C V ,JS n iime,W poor lover had reached a distant
' Sty, hundreds of miles from the place of his na
,tivfty-
' Five years'passed away. In a large, magni
■ r flcently-furnishcd parlor, sat a young wife, with
i her head resting upon her hand. It wasmid
- : night and she was waiting her husbands re
■turn.' The hour hand passed along, and the
V ~doekatWck one; it kept on its march, and
% told the Itqurs of two, three, and four—still no
i. ’' husbahdeame.' Finally, as the light began to
’ " -hrwtk-in the cast, his familiar steps was heard
.VappfSsching. The,wife looked up in astonish
mept as he entered the room. ,He hud returned
; hpttt*'|»bcr. “it was more than she had expeo
. frkj&fa''
fe;,;; Albert,” she asked, ■•where have
K':iypfteen all this long night ?”
«i\j ..' shouldn't have-sat up, dear, ho said
_t&sthe went towards the grate and rubbed bis
1 ; , .hands over the iirc. “It is going to beabeau-
Imcrifciu
BY JOHN B. BRATTON,
VOL. 45.
tiful day. Have you looked out at the eastern
sky 1”
The wife looked up again in astonishment.
What could bo the meaning of his lender man
ner towards her ?
1 “ Albert,” she said, “ tell me where you have
been, and what you have,been doing.”
“ Oh, not much of any thing,” he replied, ner
vously, ns ho Still rubbed his hands; “ I’ve on
ly been down to Uazlewood’s.”
“ What, playing again 1 You promised me
you would not go there any more.”
“ I couldn’t help it. Brown was going in,
and he urged me so fiSrdv-tbat I was afraid ho
would think me henpecked ifl did not just step
in for a moment.” ...
”1 hope you have, not lost, to-night, said
his wife as a shade of anxiety passed over her
features.
•• Well, to tell the truth, ! have lost pretty
heavily, and that is what kept me so late. I
have been trying to recover It.”
' “ Still kept losing.”
“ Exactly so, Mary.”
'• How are you going to meet your losses ?
she asked, as'her eyes filled with tears.
“ Now don’t like a foolish woman, cry over
what cannot be helped. I shall take my shares
out of the batik.
“ The interest of that, Albert, is all. I have
had to meet our household expenses for the last
two years. What shall we do 1"
' 14 Come dear, we won’t talk over it now. —
Lot us retire ; we both need sleep.”
They did retire, but there was no sleep for
either. Poverty, with its grim visage, was
staring, them iu the face.
. Five years more were gone, and Charles Gil
bert was again in his native city.
“ Docs the widow Marsh live here 1” he ask
ed, as a plainly dressed woman appeared at the
door of a wooden block, at he had knoek
“ Yes, sir, up three fljjfoitis of stairs, second
door to the right.” .
He ascended' the stairs, at the
door to which the woman had directed him. It
was opened by Mary herself. But
change had come over her ! The beautiful girl
he had left ten years before was now a pale,
haggard, a care-worn looking,womon.
** The, Widow Marsh, I suppose?” he said,
as she appeared at the door.
It Is, sir; will you walk in ?’ she replied,
as a faint smile passed over her features.
, He >vas shown into o rppnvthat, served, tho
widow as parlor, bed ; vooni and khcliep. • Two
litile children .were playing In one corner, and
Charles quicliiy recognized in their faces the
likeness of the once beautiful Mary Foster.—*
The room was comfortably furnished with rem
nants of tier former jvealth. A pile of unfinish
;ed shirts on the table told him at a glance that
j Mary’s needle supplied herself and children
with 'food. He.took the seat she-offered, and
then inquired—DoyotrMrs. Marsh, remem
ber Charles Gilbert ?” •
“ Charles Gilbert!” she replied.' I have not
forgotten him. Do you know anything of
I am the man,” he said. as. lie fixed bis
keen blackeyes, upon hor.__ you /oigot
'tMVuur. ldsfc iHfervicW^'.j,:•>’W' / •
■ No,” she faintly replied, as her eyes fell
upon the floor, and a blush overspread her fea
tU‘vAncl von doubtless rcriicmber,” he contin
ued “ that" ! told you I should have my revenge,
and I have now come to obtain it.” . ..
She looked up. Not a muscle moved; his
face was stern and cold. ... ~ ~ T
“ Oh, God, spare tne!” she said, •• havn t 1
had suffering enough, without you coming to
su n e red,” he coldly re
plied, “ and you have caused others to suffer
too. You deserve a worse, a worse revenge;
notwithstanding all your troubles, than I have
a heart to give. Your life has.becn just what I
expected it would be,” he continued, as, he
opened a package he carried m his hand, and
emptied a heap of gold eagles upon the table ;
“ but ray revenge may relieve you. lucre, lake
that,, and provide a comfortable home, for your
self and children."
Before the widow had lime to reply, ho was
gone, and she never saw his face from that day.
Charles soon returned to bis place of business,
and a short time after married a lady who was
all he once believed Mary Foster to bo.
Mary was too much humbled, to scorn Ins
gift, and with'it, she purchased a house in the
country, where she comfortably supplied her
ttle family by taking boarders.. .
Peace like a Rivet.
Awav among tho -Alleghenies, there is a
spring si small that a single ox ip ft summer ,
day could drain it dry. It steals Us unobtru- .
sive way among the hills, till it spreads out in
the beautiful Ohio. Thence it stretches away
a thousand milesrtoving on its banks cities,
villages and cultivated farms, and bearing on
its bosom more than half a thousand steam
boats.” Tliis I have culled somewhere; 1
know not where, nor when. Yet with the bub
bling fountain in my eye, and roaring Waterfall
in my car, I say, “ Beautiful representation of a
Christian's peace. Peace as a river . Like a
river in the commencement, trickling from'some
fissure in the heart, singing Us own song as it
dropped from leaf to leaf, from ledge to ledge—
now gathering itself up in a little pool, saying to
its ioyous waters, “ here wo rest,” anon rushing
on again to fulfill its purpose, and gam Us pa
rent sea. . ■
Like a river in its progress, ever widening ana
deepening from the “ ankles” to tho “ knees,
from the knees to the “ loins,” from the loins to
the “ waters” to swim in. a river that “ cannot
be passed over,” receiving new tributariesontuo
right and left, sweeping away as it rolls on Us
healthful stream, the.dead and dying remains of
past affections, and former lusts, and bearing on
its bosom a thousand newly launched hopes.
Like a river in its influence —holy, healthy,
generating, causing a wide expanse of “ living
green” to spread out on cither aide, making even
the desert of the soul “ rejoice and blossom as
the rose.” . ..
Like a river in its changes—when the warm
sun of righteousness pours its cllulgcnt rays on
the heart that has experienced the rigors of a
spiritual winter, and melts the cold snows and
breaks the ice-bound streams: or when the
showers of grace fall on the heart’s hill-top, then
a blessed fullness pervaded all its course, many
a “ crevasse” through which it pours its sancti
fying slream. . . ,
Like a river in its termination— rolling into,
apd mingling with the shoreless, blessed sea of
perfect feme, where undulating waves never
roll in strife or break in death. Long ere the
great sea is reached, tile river of peace meets the
great *■ trial wave,’ as it rolls itself inland, as it
to hasten the hour of union, and give the redeerm
ed soul a blessed sense, a foretaste of eternal le*
licity and future joy. ‘ There the glorious land
will be unto us a place of broad rivers and
streams, wherein shall go no galley, with snails,
neither shall gallant ships pass through.’
Christian Evangelist.
[D” The whole quantity of gold which has
been extracted from the surface and bowels of
the earth, from the earliest times to the present
day is estimated at §9,000,000,000. •
Franklin and Paine.
When Paine was writing his infamous attack ,
on the Christian religion, ho submitted a part
of his manuscript to Dr. Franklin, for his in- ,
speclion and opinion. The following is the an
swer of- the great philosopher and patriot:
Dear Sir:— l have read your manuscript ;
with some attention, By the argument it con- ;
tains against a particular Providence, though
you allow a general Providence, you strike at ,
the foundation of all religion. For without the '
belief of a Providence that takes cognizance of, ’
guards and guides, and favors particular per
sons, there is no motiveHn worship a Deity, to
fear its displeasure, or ft> pray for its protec
tion. I will not enter into\any discussion of
your principles, thpugh.you seem ,to desire it.
At present, I shall only give you -ray opinion,
though your, reasonings are subtler and-may
prevail with some readers, you will not succeed
so as to change the general sentiment of man
kind on that subject, and the consequence of
printing this piece will be a great deal of odium
drawn upon yourself, mischief to you, and no
benefit to olheis. He that spits against the
wind spits in his own face. : But were you to
succeed, do you imagine any, good will be done
by it? You yourself may find it easy, to live
a virtuous life withov.t the assistance afforded
by religion: you have a clear perception of the
advantages of. virtue, and the disadvantages of
vice, and possess a strength of resolution suffi
cient td enable you to resist common tempta
tions. .
But think how great a portion of 1 mankind
consists of weak and ignorant men and women,
and of inexperienced, inconsiderate youth, of
both sexes, who have need of the motives of re
ligion to restrain them from/vice, to support
their virtue, and retain them in the practice of
it until it becomes habitual, which is the great
point for its security. , And perhaps you are
indebted to her originality, that is, to your re
ligions education, for the habits of virtue upon
which you justly value yourself. You might
easily display your excellent talents Of reason
ing upon a less hazardous subject, and thereby
obtain, rank with our .most distinguished au
thors. For among us, it is not necessary, as.
among the Hottentots, that a youth, to bo raised
into the company of men, should prove his
manhood by beating his mother. I would ad
vise you, therefore, not to attempt unchaining
the tiger, but to burn this piece-before it is
seen by any other person, whereby vou will,
save yourself a great deal of mollification from
the enemies it may raise against.you, and per
haps a great deal of regret and repentance. If
men are so wicked with religion, what would
they be without it ? X intend this letter itself
ns a proof of my friendship, and therefore add .
no profession to’it; but simply subscribe.
Yours, B Franklin-.
A Tale of Unrequited Love.
The editor of the TJrcka Union relates, ns fol
lows, how he once fell in love and “got the
mitten:” , ... « ' •, ’ ... •
1 »We were never, Uind r reader, “desperately
in love” but once, and that vfas with a red
no, auburn, haired girl, with a frcckTedcotU-.
plexiori', arid; who had but :tsr prelenliOns.to.
beauty: fiut'llicn sha'liad suphreally'btiutiful:
cycal draphqiiid'o’rbs~ through which-her soul. :
in moments of tenderness, looked out with a
passionate fervor, and, irt joyous myrth* flashed
and sparkled With the light.of a thousand dew.
drops,—diamond's, we were going to say,—but
we never saw a thousand diamonds. Her name
was Laura,—which, when breathed softly by a
soft lover,'is a very sweet name, and her clear,
riaging laugh fell around.you like a shower of
silver bells. Moreover, she wore a dark, wine
colored dress, trimmed with lilac colored velvet
and black fringe, with a neat little white collar
of fine lace! which is the prettiest of dresses,
arid has the clfeot to make a very plain girl look
absolutely charming. She never perforated her
cars to hang thereby a pendulum of brass and
glass: and the only-ornament on the little
white hand, which needed one, was a plain
gold ring, sacred to the memory of a maiden's
promise. Well, one evening, it was the moon
light in the summer time—wo sat alorib on the
porch by the cottrgo door, holding that little
white hand in a gentle pressure, one arm had
stolen around her-waist, and a client sting of
joy, “like the music of the night,” was m our
soul. ■ Our lips met’in a sweet, delicious kiss,
and bending softly to her ear, we whispered a
tale of passionate devotion —we
-rthc little red headed thing refused us .
Ancient Sepulchre.
In the primitive ages of Greece, the mhabr
tants buried their dead in depositaries prepared
for the purpose in their own houses; and
vaults in temples were sometimes used in this
way. But with the progress of refinement and
better knowledge, the custom afterwards pre
vailed of carrying the dead without the cities
and interring them chiefly by the highways.
Lycurgus, in this, as in most of his institutions,
differed from the rest of the Greek lawgivers,
for he allowed the Lacedemonians not only to
bury their dead in the city, but, also, around
their temples. His object was to remove from
the minds of the youth the fear of.a dead body,
as well as to destroy the superstitious dread,
that treading on a grave or touching, a dead
body would defile. Burning the bodies of the
dead became general among the Greeks from
whom, the Romans afterwards borrowed the
custom. ; i I
The ancient Jewish cemeteries are commonly
situated beyond the limits of cities and villa
ges. It was. indeed, the custom among other
nations of. the East* as well as among the He
brews to bury out of the city, except in the
case of kings and very distinguished men. The
Hebrews, generally, exhibited a preference for
burying in gardens, and beneath shady trees.
Largo subterranean places of interment were
frequently to be found in Palestine; in some
instances they were the work of nature; in
some they were merely artificial excavations of
the earth, and others were out out of rocks'.
Numerous sepulchres of this kind are still
found in Syria and also in Egypt. Tho Car
thagenians buried their dead some distance
from the city. The practice by the first Chris
tians, of interring their dead in tho city of
Romo, grew out of the peculiar circumstances,
in which they were placed. They were buried
in extensive catacombs, which have since exci
ted so much wonder.— Philada. Inquirer,
Youthful Training.
A sound mind in a sound body is a great
blessing, and one which parents should try to
secure for their ohildrtn. Excessive mental
exertion is bad for any, child. The physical
system should bo the first object. If tnoordor
of nature bo reversed, the mind, as well as the
body, will suficr. It would often .be easy for
a skilful parent to make a child a prodigy, but
a judicious parent will never attempt it. Pre
mature growth of mind will seldom, if ever, bo
found to spring from a vigorous root. Wo do
not doubt that many have sunk into an early
grave through the unnatural developement of
their faculties, and the excessive excitement of
mental and physical sensibility, which is usu
ally the eflcct of it. Let it be, then, the care of
the parent to guide and direct, rather than to
force into a right channel the immature mental
faculties of the child;
, * T ’ 1 ~ ~
“ova country—mat it amvats bb aiotir—but right on wrong, oun country.
CARLISLE, PA., TttURSMY, JUNE 2, 1859.
THE OSTRI#.
t)f. tivlhgslbno, the African traveller, thus
speaks of the ostrich.:
The ostrich is generally seen feeding on some
spot where no one can approach - him without
being detected by his,wary bye, -VAs the wagon
moves along far to the windward he thinks it
is intending to circumvent hlmi ftd'ho rushes
up a mile or so from the lejjtrartf,.and So near
to the front oxen" that' biipi soijelimes gets a
shot at the silly bird. Wl'iqii ho begins to run
all the game in Sight, follow;-his. example/ I
have seen this folly taken advantage of when he
was feeding quietly in a yajlcy, open at both
ends. A number of men would commence run
ning, as if to cut off, his retinal from the end
through which (he wind find although
he had the whole country hundreds of miles be
fore him by gbingtto tho olhefccnd, on he mad
ly rushed to get'by the. men, and so was
sppared. He never swerves from the course he
once adopts, but only his speed.
,' When the ostrich is feeding, his pace is from
twenty to twenty-two incheqj when walking,
but not feeding, it is twenty-six inches: and
when terrified, asih thocaso noticed, it is from
eleven and a-half to thirteen;,and even fourteen
feet in length. Only in Unerase was I at all
satisfied of being able to count' the rate of speed
by a stop-watch, and if I ntn not mistaken,
there were thirty in tcn .sccinds ; 'generally,
one’s eye can no more folloW-the legs than it
can the spokes of a carriage v/hcel in rapid mo
tion. If we take the abovyriumber, and twelve
feet stride'fis the average pqce,' we have a speed
of twenty-six miles ah hout^Jtcannot be very
much above that, and is thofcfSro slower than
a railway locomotive. - They, are,sometimes
shot bv the horsemen ranking, a cross cut to
their undeviating course, but) Yew Englishmen
ever succeed in killing them, ' . *
The ostrich begins to ,lay pftf. eggs before she
has fixed bn aspot fbh a nest; which is only a
few inches deep in the sand, apd about a yard
in diameter. Solitary eggs, nnped by theße
ebunas “lesclla,” are thugVfobfid lying forsa
ken all over the cbuDtry.iahd; become n prey to
the jackal. She n Spot,
for a nest, and often lays jier .eggs in that of
another ostriches?, that qsmanyaa .forty-five
have been found in one nest.... pome eggs con
tain small concretions ofho’matter-which
forms tho'shell, as occurs also-(ft the egg"of the
common fowl; this has, given iriab la’ the idea
of stone? in thb eggs, Botlv male and female
assist in inonbaiibtf ; but, the number of females
being always greatest/ it isprbbable that cases
occur in. have the entire
charge, oUt- of the nest, find
are thoughtlobe intended,as food for the first
of the n.cvßy hatched,brtibd. till the rest come
1 out and'enable the whole to start in quest of
I food,- ‘I haye several times seenhewly hatched
young in charige of."a cocfc/;wjic made a very
I gbod-attcmpt atappeafirig jTamq.‘m the plover
fashion, m.orcltsr to draw off" }{ui attention of
I pursuers. Theyoung,squat;'do.wn and remain
immovable too small Io;>bn far,’ but at
tain a wonderful degree of speed when about
the Vlti-bmiiotfbe osser-!
ted lhat ostnehes are polygamous. lbough they
often appcar lo.bo sb. Whejji<ibteht they are
ticatcd slate... f V. :
~ The.egg is- possessed dw pryi'gboafeyi tappow
cr. One; kept, in a roam auripg Snore-thnu
three months, in a temperature; hboqt -60 de-,
grecs, when broken was found to have a parti
ally developed live chick in it. /The Bushmen
carefully avoid touching the : eggs, or leaving
marks of human feet near them When they find
a nest. They go up the wind ib the spot, and
with along stick remove some of. them occa
sionally, and by preventing any suspicion, keep
the hen laying on for- months,, as wo do with
fowls. The eggs have ft strung disagreeable
flavor, which only the keen air of the desert
can reconcile! The Hottentots! usfe their trow
sers to carry homo the twenty or, twenty-five
eggs usually found in a nest; fthd .it has hap
pened that an Englishman, intending to imitate
this knowing dodge, comes to the wagon with
blistered legs, and, after greattqil> finds alb the
eggs uneatable, from having been some time
sat upon.
“The mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love,
She knew she’d, find them all again,
In fields of light above.”
The death of a little child is to the mother’s
heart like dew on a plant from which a bud has
perished. The plant lifts up its head in fresh
ened greenness to the morning light, so the
mother’s soul gathers from ijje dark sorrow
through which she had passed, h fresh bright
ening of her heavenly hopes.; As she bends
over the empty cradle, and in fancy brings the
sweet infant before her, a ray of divine light is
on the cherub’s face. It is her son still, but
with the seal of immortality on his brow. She
feels that heaven is the only atmosphere where
her precious flower could unfold, without spot
or blemish and she' would notvecall the lost.
But the anniversary of its departure seems.to
bring its spiritual presence neap her. She in
dulges in that tender grief which soothes like
an opiate in pain all her passions and cares of
life. The world to her is no longer filled with
human love and hope-in the future, so glori
ous with heavenly love and joy,; She has.trea
sures of happmess which the worldly, unchas
tened heart never conceived. The bright fresh
flowers with whichshehad decorated her room,
the apartment where her infant- died,, are em
blems of the far brighter hopes now dawning
on her day dream. She thinks of the g ory and
beauty of the new Jerusalem, wherotho little
foot.will never find a thorn amqpg the flowers
to render a shoe necessary. Nojv will a pillow
be wanting for the dear head reposing on the
breast of our kind Savior. And she knows her
infant is there, in that world of eternal
She has marked one passage m .that book—to
her emphatically the word of Litc-now laying
close ort the toilet table, which she reads daily..
“Suffer little children, and forbid them not to
come unto mo; for of. such is the kingdom of
Heaven.” t
The very handling of the nursery is aignifl
cant, and tho petulance, the passion, the gen*
tleneas. the tranquility indicated by it are all
re-produced in the child. His soul is a purely
receptive nature, and that for a considerable
period, without choice or selection. A little
further on ho begins voluntarily—to copy every
thing ho secs. Voice, manner, gait, everything
which tho eye secs —the mimic instinct delights
to not over. And thus wo have a whole gene
ration of future men receiving-from us their
life and immortality. They , watch
moment —in the family.- before the hearth, and
at the table; and when wo are, meaning them
no good or evil, whenwo arc conscious of exer
ting no influence over them, they are drawing
from us impressions and moulds of habit which
if wrong, no heavenly discipline can wholly re
move; or, if right, no kind associations utterly
dissipate. Now.it may do doubted, I think,
whether, in all tho active influences of our lives,
wo do as much to shape tho destiny of our fel
low men is wo do in this single article of un
doujictous iuflucnhgovpr children.
Tiie Empty Cradle
Unconscious Influence.
DoUmtm - .
The Slide of a Week Cctnrns after Twelve
Years Absence,
Tho Madisun Jlrgits gives the details of a ra
ther strange history which had its denomnont in i
that place a tow days ago. It appears that some ,
twelve years ago, a farmer’s son married a ,
neighboring girl—tho daughter of a very re- |
spectablo family. They removed immediately
to a distant place, where, they had been living
but a few days, when upon liis return home one
evening, the wife of a week was missing. She
did not return that night, during which ho felt,
of course, tho utmost anxiety, and in the morn
ing ho started ini search of her. lie could only
learn that she had taken the stage alone, which
led to a railroad station, some miles distant.
Ho followed, but at the depot, lost all traces of
her. Ho wrote to her former homo, and pub
lished notices in the newspapers—but could ob
tain no clue to her whereabouts. Ho grieved in
loneliness at her supposed criminal act, and to
escape tho scone where his Week of uhsnllied
happiness had.been followed by so great a grief,
he removed to this then sparsely settledwilder
ness. Ho here settled upon a promising piece
of land, and in its Cultivation and the cares of
life, sought forgetfulness, of the past. He suc
ceeded measurcably-—lias filled offices of trust,
and grown wealthy.. After a few’ years, his
home requiring attention, ho married, but his
wife lived only long enough to bear hinva son,
and witness the first year of the little one’s ex.
jstence. A few weeks since, ns the nell to do
man of the world 'was sitting by his fireside,
there entered tho house a woman, well clad, ot
fill er form and twelve years older, but tiro pic
ture of tho long lost brido of a week, and she
was accompanied by a girl of near a dozen
years. The .sober man of forty was startled,
but asked the stranger visitor to be seated.—
Then came her long and agonizing story. All
was oblivious to her for tho first lon years of
(heir separation. She could tell nothing, ex
cept of one hour of returned reason, when the
little girl beside her. his daughter, was brought
into tho world. After that long time, fitfully,
and at periods remote from each other, came
back yeason and memory. She had wondered
to a distant city, in a state of mild insanity!
there she fell among kind people, and was in
stalled in an insane asylum. After tire birth of
the daughter, and ten years more spent within
its walls, thoughts of her youth, her home and
her husband came back. She slowly recovered!
then visited her parents, learned where her hus
band was, and flew to him. Be sure he clasped
her in his arms, and they wept upon each other’s
necks. Again going before tho altax.'they were
, united, and she now presides with careful digni
! ty and case dyer his. household.
Birds and Animals in Paraguay.
■ With birds and animals it is redundantly
stocked* Bourdain has described upwards of
three-, hundred, now species of the leathered
tiibe, as Inhabiting the gorgeous woods and
dense coppices of Paraguay. Game, of every
kind is most abundant., The large partridge,
tho small partridge, the royal and common
duck) pidgoon and' teal, the snipe, the water
ben, tho diver, tho wild swan, wild goose, wild
turkey, the, grey and golden plover, the hawk,
rdn enemy of all these,) the vulture, with his
curved beak and talon, lording it over the hawk;
apdtho;.eagle, w.UlhhiBjmp»rial.a\an^ n <iMr3>
tho heart of:fcho.Tul}urc. . Disputing;
supremacy eydhwrith tho tho king
:df.vultures, tliostatelyordamcolorod bird, with,
crimsoned, yet unfeatherep ample and
.outstretched wings, with a beak jet
Very great is the prerogative of this emperor of
the tribes of the air, great almost hs was Fran
cia’s; and you shall hear how the king of vul
tures exorcises his sway. . With him, as with all
tyrants, gorging, is the principal attribute, and
gorging of: blood. When the vulture king
smells a carcass from afar, or when he, pounces
with his death like talons upon a living animal,
the imperial bird, nurtured to savage ferocity
by such repasts, fills his craving maw with flefih,
and slakes his insatiable thirst with blood. All
his subjects stand apart at a respectable dis
tance, whetting their appetites and regaling
their nostrils but never dreaming of an ap
proach to tho carcass till their master has sunk
into ft state of repletion. When the royal bird,
by falling on his side, closing his eye, and
stretching on tho ground his unclenched talons,
gives notice to his surrounding and expectant
subjects that their master has-gone to rest, up
they hop in hundreds to the carcass. But the
most remarkable of all. tho feathered tribe in
Paraguay, is the parrot; including all the va
rieties of tho family, from the cockatoo and
guacamays, down to the little parroquot, not
more than throe inches in length. Though
green and yellow are tho most prominent colors
in their plumage, yet the Indians with various
dyes, so tinge their wings, pulling out tho-old
feathers, and anointing the new shoots with im
perishable colors, that you see parrots in Para
gliay of all shades of plumage. ,So acute are
theso birds, so exquisite thelr oars, so sagacious
their perception, and so strong their imitative
powers, that they will listen attentively for a
few minutes, when a person is speaking, and
then give both tho words and tho tone of the
speaker. They will imitate the cry of a child,
tho squeak of a pig, tho bark of a dog, and the
mew of a cat, all so admirably, that it is impos
sible not to class them as ventriloquists of the
first order. In regard to animals, insects and
reptiles, the soil of* Paraguay is prolific. There
are the jaguar, the lion, the ounce, tho wild
boar, the tiger, the monkey, the ferret, tho stag,
the antolopo, abundance of horned cattle, hor
ses, asses and mules. J • The boa constrictor
abounds in the woods of Villa-Real, which are
also filled with lizards, rattlesnakes, locusts,
binchucas, beetles, mosquitoes andtavanos, with
many others of other tribes too numerous to
mention.
Intensity of the Cold in Spitzbehcen.—No
description can give an adequate idea of the in
tense rigor of the six months’ winter in that part
of the world. Stones crack with the noise of
thunder. In a crowded hut, the breath of the
occupants will fall in flakes of snow; wine and
spirits turn to ice; the snow burns like caustic}
if iron touches the flesh, it brings the flesh away
with it, the soles of your stockings may bo
burnt ofl* your feet before you feel the slightest
warmth from the fire; linen token out of boil
ing water instantly stiffens to the consistency of
a wooden .board, and. heated atones will not pre
vent the sheets of the bed from freezing. If
those are the effects of the climate within an
air-tight, tiro-warmed, crowded hut, what must
they bo among the dark, storm-lashed mountain
peaks outside!
D 2?” ’SVlien Dr. Franklin’s mother-in-law first
discovered that tho young man had a hankering
for "her daughter, that good old. lady said she
did not know so well about giving her daughter
to a printer—there wore already two printing
offices in the United States, and she was not
certain the country would support them. It
was plain young Franklin would depend for his
support on tho'fproflla of a third, and this was
rather a doubtful chance. If such an objection
was urged to a would-be son-in-law when there
were but two printing offices in tho United
States, how can a printer hope to get a wife
now, when tho recent census showed tho num
ber to bo 16,067 ?
A parsimonious old rip hail frequently
boon annoying one of our coopers by bringing
him most outlandish jobs of putting heads in
old barrels, and staves to oid barrel-heads, han
dles to old tubs, and tubs to old handles, but on
Tuesday last ho capped the climax —ho (nut
somehow procured a second hand hung-holo
and insisted upon the cooper’s building a new
barrel to it.
AT $2,00 PER ANNUM
Philosophy of light Digestion.
In a dietetic point of view it would bo well
for weak stomachs to remember that wild birds
are more nutritous than their domesticated cou
sins, and more digestible. But the white breast
or wing of a chicken is less heating than the
flesh of winged game. Other game—such as
venison, which is dark colored, and contains a
great portion of llbrin —.produces highly stimu
lating chyle: and, consequently, the d'gestion
is an easy and rapid nfiair for the stomach.
But ihoughithq whiter meats bo detained lon
ger in the stomach, furnish less stimulating
chyle, and bo suffered to run into aceous fer
mentation, their lesser stimulating quality may
recommend them when the general system is
nofin want of a spur. Meats are wholesome,
or otherwise, less with reference to themselves
than to the consumer. ‘‘To assert a tiling to
hd wholesome, ’ says Van Sweden, "without a
knowledge of a person's condition, is like the
sailor pronouncing the wind to be fair without
knowing to what port the vessel is bound.”' ■
° . Dr. Doram.
Sambo’s Sermon,
"Strait am de road; and narrow am do pall
that leadcff to glory. Brcdern, wo arc all dis
sembled here tills night to hear the word
aplaincd and monslrated to you. Yes, and I
mean to splain it as clear as de light iff de libin
day. We are all wicked sinners here below.;
dat am de fack, my bredern ; and 1 nictin to
tell you how dot cum. Adam was de fust man
and Eve was de tudder. Cain was a wicked
man, lease he kill his brudder Abel; T gucSs
dis seems to strike your uuderstandin’, den,
how de fust white man cum. When pain
killed his brudder de mnssa cum and ho sade,
■Cain, whar’s your brother Abel? Gain say,
"dun no, Mossa,” den he come back again,
mity sharp dis time, and he say, "Cain, whar’s
your brudder Abel ?” De nigger den got
frightened', and he turn white ; dat am de way
do fust white man come on de face of dis circu
lutn globe. Now, let its sing, my colored flock
de twenty elcbcht him, tickle her meclor.”
The Late Fight .in Kentiickt.— Telegraphic
despatches a few days since made mention of
the fact of a fight between Messrs. T. T. Gar
rard and B. F. Rice, opposing candidates lon
Congress in the Sixth District of Kentucky.
By the Richmond, Ky.i -Mcmcnger, wo have the
particulars of the affray:
Wo learn that a difficulty occurred in Boon
villa on Monday last, between T. T. Garrard,
the regular Democratic nominee' for Congress,
and B. F. Rice, the Independent Democratic
candidate. It secms.thnt Garrard, in a speech,
reflected severely upon Rico, find his course in
becoming a candidate, and Rice in Ids replyro
torted bittcriv, giving Mr. Garrard ns good ns
ho sent. Garrard replied, stating that Rice’s
remarks ".were ns false as h —l.” Rice called
hima“d—d liar, whereupon. Garrard drew a
pistol and fired at Rice without touching him.
A Mr. Gibson, son-in-law of Mr. Garrard, im
mediately drew a pistol and tired three or four
times, two balls taking effect upon Rice, badly
wounding him, and a third upon a man by the
name of Smith, who is thought to he mortally
wounded,- the ball having phased through his
nOhK : wounds are:;very sovcrp.-bniiire
; wS.Shsldered very dangerous. ThO.aflafris
and where it will .end .wo cannot
.v ; i. '
A Balcoon in tub Lake. —As the propeller
Jefferson, Capt. Bond, was fussing Brio, about
4 o’clock yesterday afternoon, some five miles
from shore, a large balloon was discovered about
throe miles in the air, above Brio, travelling in
a northeasterly direction. Captain Bond was
looking at it through the glass, when he saw it
rapidly descend to the and in a few min
utes strike the water. Twcfrpnrjons wore seen
in tho basket, and one of them waved a while
signal for relief. The captain ordered the course
ol the propeller to bo changed towards the suf
ferers, and when a, short distance from them a
small boat was lowered and manned and sent to
them. One of them proved to ho Mr. Lynn,
the editor of the £n'e Dispatch. They wore
standing in tho basket, which was sunk in the
water up to their heads. The small boat was
made fast to the balloon, when a tug came out
from Erie and took them.ashore. :
Mr.,Kyle, the clerk 'of the propeller Jefferson,
and to whom wo are indebted.for those particu
lars, informs us that tbe wind was hauling the
balloon through tho water at tho rate of about
tlvo miles an hour, and it required considerable
exertion for tho small boat to overtake it. Tho
men in the balloon were quite jocular over the
mishap, but as, they shook like the ague and
were ns white ns sheets, their mirth seemed to
bo of a rather ghostly character. Tbo propeller
was about seven miles from them when they
struck the water. The prompt action of Capt.
Bond, Mr. Kyle and others on board tho pro
peller, saved the lives of tho unfortunate aero
nauts beyond doubt.
Tho manager of tho balloon was the editor of
the Dispatch , who has been on several aerial ex
cursiorts before. The ascension was made In
the presence of a large concourse of people at
Erie. A tug had been engaged to ho in readi
ness to go to tho relief of the aeronauts in case
they struqk the lake, hut somehow it did not get
started until the propeller’s small boat had
picked them up. They were in tho lake half an
hour.
A correspondent ol the Wisconsin Chief
thus sums up the characteristics of human ex
istence : .
“ All confidence is lost between man. and
man. The bottom has fallen put of cvmrytbing.
Shrewd business managers are choatinjf God in
their professions, and the devil in their bar.
gains. Ginger is made out of mustard, and
coffee of chicory. -Young Hyson is raised in
tho cow pasture, and Young America in the
dram shop. Pure wines are made of poor
whisky, and Havanas of herbs. Bascalily has
become a virtue, and rot gut turned to vinegar
Legislatures are marked as merchants mark
goods, and tho peoples’ funds absorbed by cha
ritahlc purposes. Governors are knocked off
for $50,000, legislatures from $5,000 to $20,000.
Railroad stock is down below zero. Caucuses
are. “packed,” and young men electioneer on
tho Sabbath. Fairbank’s scales have taken to
swindling, and old rats soljing their tails to
spike cannon. Jewsharps are palmed off ns
harps of a thousand strings, and Democrats as
• genuine Republicans’—sperrits of just men
made perfect.’ ”
K 7” A lovc-sick swain, desirous to indicate
the extent and character of his love for the cm.
press of his heart, exclaimed: « Ah, Miss
Brown, my affection (or you is as strong ns—as
—as—ns the butter they gave ns fordinnor!”—
She was satisfied, ns she boarded at the same
house. The bargain was struck, and they were
married. -
03?” “Is the sense of smelling more pleasing
than tho sense of tasting 7” was the question up
before a western debating society in nbnr room.
Uncle Joe was tho last to speak upon the nega
tive, and all were anxious to hoar him deliver
himself. Walking up to the barkeeper,die cal
led for a hot whisky punch, and drank it oir
with groat gusto; then, turning to his oppo
nents, ho handed tho glass to Ida leading dispu
tant, and thundered out: “Now, jmeff if. you
varmint!” It is needless to add that-Unclo Joe
“brought down the house,” and also the deci
sion (or the negative.
- \S~J~ Tito costume of the Spanish ladies has
not been changed for over two hundred years.
1, MU«I Kovttu rn Mithi)i)ery.
Tlio bright RunshV™ .md Wray air, thf .
young frtsh gra.ss; c „^ t of
overspreads laWn find field,
buds of trees, bursting into leases attd'VǤ.
soins, rcmlnds.ua that "spring lime of year”
lias fairly made its -entree for the season.-
Amidst the genial nssbeiations frith tvhicli itq
annually recurring visit is ever welcomed; we
would direct the attention of our
especially of pur fair country-Women, in lowtl,
and country, to the rational pleasure and real’
advantages to bp derived from the mofc general
and assidubhs cultUmllun of ornamental shrubs
and flowers, and tho more choice, select varieties
of fruits. , 1, i
■: These arcjgjjc cJicHtdicd.alil'.b as die f\rat
ornaments of tKemsftifi s f''rtml tullivaled home
stead, and the prized \fcws»rbs,of the garden
and the field. Yet, how seldom do Wo find,
even upon our bitter cultivated farms and gw
dens, any systematic attention to the collection,
and improvement of the choice and beautiful
among them. 1 Exceptions, though compara
tively " few, and far between,” wo are happy
to record. But why sb fetv ? The hands 0(
the Indies in the coim try where cuStbfn dots nift
sanction, and necessity seldoni requires, tluit,
they should participate in the more arduous and
vigorous pursuits of life, may be more appro
priately applied, with surpassing skill and suc
cess, in the ingenious employments of the liglj-.
ter ,and more delicate departments of horticul
ture. The most refined baste and discrimina-,
ting intelligence may there find tin ample field
for its grateful exercise. None is-more inno
cent, none is more congenial, or capable of be-,
ing wielded to more substantial benefit when,,
adopted ns part of the pursuits and discipline,
of domestic economy—-none more conducive to
health and cheerfulness—two indispensiblb rer,
quisttes of real happiness in every condition and
sphere of society. "Flowers arc God's smiles,"
said Wibcrforcc —and the fruits of the season
are His peculiar bounties. Let them be enjoyed
in that ever exlmustless munificence with wltioh'
a genial climate and fertile soil reward the peer
less deserts of diligent and skillful industry*
As to the more immediate and substantial
benefit flowing from horticultural labor and im
provement—the production of fruits and vegeta
bles in the highest perfection—they arc too fa
miliarly obvious ,to require any argument, or
even comment for their rccomcndalion. Jn tha •
vicinity of nearly evcl-y largeand populous city,
they constitute an important part of the rclia
ble. prodnctive wealth of the community. Ripe
and well chosen fruits, in their appropriate sea
sons, temperately and prudently eaten, arc con
ducive alike to the health of (he consumers and
,the prosperity of the producers. He who has
ever regaled his palate, or appeased the want
of natnre. from these juicy treasures of the tee
ming earth—he who has tasted the delicious of
ferings of the virgin Spring, or plucked the gol
den mellow fruits of Summer, needs no dthcb
conviction than his own gratified senses, of theif
inappreciable excellence.
The culture of flowersand ornamental shrubs
is marc a matter of intellectual taste, and min
isters more especially to the gratification of the
inward sentiments and sympathies of our moral
being than to the supply of our physical wants.
But horticulture, or the art of gardening, while
NO. 51.
it embodies in itself a science of intrinsic inte
rest, entitled to high consideration and attentive
improvement, loading our tables with the sub
stantial necessaries and delicate'luxuries of life,
awakens inclination and supplies facilities for
this more elegant department of industry.; and
its progressive improvement in any community
bears evidence of a corresponding improvement
in refined and cultivated taste. Uow infinitely
superior are these cultivated; embellishments,
redolent with d thousand sweets, and blushing
with as many vailed hues, sußused from the
ready pencil of nature, to the most curious and
labored decorations of art. . _
While we commend the whole subject to lhe
fostering care and attention of our readers gen
erally. we can but commend this branch ot.it
to our fair young country-.w.pmep especially rr-.e
bother they live within or without, the cd.rpdr
i?dljdti}limils of- the oily. The cuilingw'n'd'i(i^ , .‘ T :>!
ring’of beautiful flowers.the trainihgof theferiV/'
der flexile vino,' the selection , of delicate fSil£ff:
greens and aromatic shrubbery, is an employ? ■
raent peculiarly suited to.the Chastened feel
ings and refined sensibilities. And our fair rea
ders will remember that nature fans not strewn
the flowers, the vines, and the ever-blooming
verdure, which carpet tho earth and spread
beauty with enchantment over mountain and
valley, with lavish and unmeaning prodigality.
She causes the rose and the jessamind, the wood
bine mid the honey-suckle, to yield their deli
cious fragrance for the comfort and happiness
of man. If any of the ambrosial sweets and
pristine beauties of the earthly paradise survive
to the world, surely they are distilled from the
flowers and revealed in their delicate hues.
True ir/iig.
A Nobt.e Skntimbnt.—Some true heart has
given expression of its generous nature in tho
following beautiful and noble sentiments: -
“ Never desert a friend when enemies gather
around him ; when sickness falls on the heart—
when the world is dark and cheerless then is tho
time to try a friend. They who turn from tho
scene of distress betray, their hypocrisy .and
prove that interest only moves them. If you
have a friend who loves you and studies your
interest and happiness, be sure to sustain him in
adversity. Let him feel that his former kind
ness is appreciated, and that his love Is not
thrown away. Real fidelity may bo rare, but
it exists in the heart. Who has not seen and
felt its power ? They deny it who never loved
a friend or labored to make a friend happy.’
O” A iran writing from Pike’s Peak says:
I am going to leave these diggings for a better
one. It is too much trouble to tug and pry,up
the great big chunks of gold lhat weigh half a
ton of so, and arc so thick lhat you cannot get
them out without danger of breaking your legs,
and lam going'up to'a ravine, where all I have
to do is to go to the top of a high mountain
and roll it down into the fiver. The country
licfe is fine, but the windsarcawful. My boys
got so light with caiing roots, that I can only
keep them by me. by piling lumps of gold
about as big as mallets, on their shirt tails.'
as the little innocents sit down on the grass ti*
play. Everything is grown here. I can raise
ninety bushels of wheat to the acre. Oranges,
lemons, arid all such colored fruits, grow wild
here, while melons, ptars. apples, poaches and
apple dumplings are so plenty lhat they ftnrf
no market. Selloff and cojne out here, for you
can get rich instantly.
[C7“ A butcher presented a bill for tho tenth
time to a rich skinflint. '
‘•lt strikes me." said'the latter, that this is
a pretty round bill.”
‘•Yes," replied tho butcher, ‘‘l've sent it
around often enough to make it appear so; and
I’ve called now to get it squared."
O' A marriage recently took place in the
jail of St. Francis county. Ark. A beautiful
young lady was united in holy wedlock lo one'
of tho three brothers who . have recently been'
convicted of murder in the first degree, and
sentenced to be hung.
-, •
Puck's.Pkakeks. —Thousands of disappoin
ted. disheartened gold seekers are returning
from I’lke’s Peak. They are in a desperate'
condition, and threaten violence, to. those wits'
tern tpwns which encouraged emignifioif. Star
vation!'murders and suicides are' the order of
the day-at Pike's Peak. j ' : • ;
0!7” In Philadelphia, oh Monday oFlaStwcck
forty-two fatherless boys, from six lo tCß'years
of age, were-admitted ns ptipils in' Ui6 Girard
College.' The College is now full.
037* The entire cost.of the Sickles trial to lira
associated press of New York was 33082 29’;
of which Sum 33100 was for telegraphic' tolls;
The whole number of words telegraphed Was
152,000.
337‘ Snyder’s Foundry, at Mt. Joy, tamcAs
ter county, was destroyed by fire on' Sildrilfejy
week. Loss 58,000.