ICM VOLUNTEER. ,heb vranr iHimsBAY wmimfa by JoUu B. Bi altou. TERMS. lOhwnos.—One Dollar and Fifty dents, i advance; Two Dollars it paid within thf and Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if nbi dthin tie year! These term's will borig lieredto In every instance. No sub (oh discontinued until ail arrearages are iless at.fho option of the Editor. bbtisebents— Accompanied by the cash, it exceeding one square, will bo inserted Imes for One Dollar, and fwonty-flve cents ib additional insertion. Those of a great igth in proportion. ■Printing —Such as Hand-hills, Posting- Pamphlets; Blanks, Labels, &0., &0., exe with'accuracy and at the shortest notice. |WmL TUB WOULD A BATTLE-FIELD. HAKIA NOttEW. jt.dione in tented Held .o armies pithbed or battles planned; .trusty stor® nndijdinted shield IM are found: mifiirt shone in W atetlopdcMifrathon. ,gbt for daily tread may bo noble, in Che sight ol God • march of victory .'aisefrorty empefoHrQdr ~~— jean or mighty, great or small, hot (He heavenly Master’s test— motive is the gmtgo oi all \» seek to win His servants’ rest. battle-field is every where;, \r.foes lie close abont-bnr way.; ptation, Kjches, Want or Caro coyoke the contest day by day, . be who in the, daily fight lUalains his courage Ann and strong— > keeps his. armor pure and bright— iajl win the victor’s crown ere long. jnkuown friend, whoso narrow life imabdunded by'tho things of sense j isesdni disdains the petty strife id longs for wings to boar it hence— tow full well the, weary way,. • lb toil-stained .feet, the spirit, spent, mig of each successless day—-V ity to the Omnipotent., ; too have suffered and have fought, I too have known the ills of life; Know bow dear is victory bought, ?t’V»:4tow sharp and sudden is the strife, Tof trust and pray, relief is nigh: j .;lVi ; Ahd‘when the night is overpast - . The Friend who scrupled not to die V .Will vindicate His lovo at last. £vy :: o!;’ndt' alone in ttie tented field u pitched or battles planned •, K f /The trusty sword and dinted shield Iji.j':'; Are not in every hero’s hand, , struggle that has cost thee dear, " , f y.'ThOugh trifling in a mortal’s eye, ; 7' ‘ Each sacrifice that claimed a tear, ? ' i L ” '.ls registered beyond the sky. mm frfe'i'ty they, are they.all around us, Gentle spirits of the dead t £/ . ,t)cMhair loving smiles surround us £5 Whereso’er our footsteps tread ? 5e Wafclffhey, pitying, o’er our waud’rings I * From the holy paths of right, ; And with earnest, patient wooing Seek' to win ns Melt to light 1 : . .. _• 'jjtartc they when in lowly anguish Sorrow’s secret tears are shed, uAnd jour burdened spirits languish Bfiggii'S'or tho lavedj the lost, the dead ? PfejalM Is.their-’aihS-baim^fJi^lirig, l ' . ' iShed by uitsedn bpnds'so hit,. , tide of troubletbjfeeling ,' . - ! subdued withmurmurs soft f they to our couch of dreaming, , Sweeping back tho veil of senso , from our soul till midst the beaming ; ‘ Of the spirit light intense, ( ■.. ~ forms and faces. long departed, . ' Freed from every earthly stain, ■ ’ ' They of old, the fond, true hearted, fi,' hiring stand revealed again 1 V> . Zot we deem our pathway, dreary, , Though besido us angels move, a ’ And we droop, all faint and weary, t 1, Midst their smiles of holy love; 1 , Groping still, though brightly round us . Undiscovered glories lie: ,'Lono, though radiant hosts surround us, 5‘ ’’ .All unseen, yet never nigh, pyip;', #.; .- .. _ ■ ■ . . oh! to burst the chain that binds us ■. To these darkened walls of clay— -4‘ Oh! to rend tho veil that blinds us >i . Midst the glories ot tlie day ; ,} ■. n d, like him whoso unsealed vision , Saw tho flaming mountain glow, . L 1 ;Ghl to see our giftfcdian angels K, 'l, Walking with us here below. - y fL \ 'SteliaMOua. ■ 51INLSTEBING SPIRITS. BV XENEITE. "TAB JIIBiGE OP WEALTH. ;; >CrSWniiani BecUford was bom towards the mid* w.the eighteenth century., Ho was the only lndian proprietor, who. |S dying when bU child was ten years ot age, left ||S; in ineume of more than $500,000 a year to ne ap". cumulate until the boy should reach his major!- , Young Beckford’s mental powers were fef wiod, and no pains were spared in cultivating Bjitfiem by a refined education. Sir Win. Cham-. ®i|S|iers instructed him in architecture, while the Sllatriihcnt Mozart taught him music. At twen ipB6j>One ’ with the income of a prince, and accu- in ready money to the amount of a million sterling, he launched upon the llSllM r 'd. How vast the capacities of usefulness |||||jlt|ced before hint! The great talent of pro- human happiness was placed within bis Out. he threw the golden opportunity ifoiwway. Proud- and haughty, the youthful withdrew from the active business of retiring to Portugal, there ■ devoted Si - '' himself to a life of luxurious case. The first |f|V,t'!Sutfay of his wealth there was in the erection iS'Swjt gorgeous palace. ’J,' frl ”-'During his residence in Portugal, he visited. & ; under the royal sanction, some of the wealthy v jthd luxurious monasteries of that country. It hi ft difficult to donvey an idea of the pomp and of this journey, which resembled more Ifellhe cavalcade of an Eastern prince, than the K® tour of a privato individual. ■p' ““‘g Te rything.” he himself says, •' that could Se ihooght or dreamed of for our convenience T^wwhri* 1 ' 0 " was,carried in our train—nothing fi t wasto ho left behind but care and sorrow." fy' " dlhaceiling of my apartment in the monas be adds, “was gilded and painted, the floor spread with Persian carpets of the finest texture ; the tables decked with superb ewers and basins of solid silver.” The kitchen in which his dinner was prepar ed is thus described:—“A stream of water flowed through it, from which were formed res irypirs containing every kind of river fish. On pne aide were heaped up loads of game and ven ison, on the other side were vegetables and Trujis in endless variety. Beyond a long line L Of stores extended a row of ovens, and close to L tfie'iia'’hillocks of wheaten flour liner than snow, S of sugar, jars of the purest oil. and pas i various abundance." The dinner which red these preparations.was served in a «|>t»®>Bgnificent saloon, covered with pictures, and l%p|jghtcd up with a profusion of wax tapers in Majph ncs of silver; "The banquet," he adds. |jap»i.stslcd of rarities and delicacies of every g;|Sfeason from distant countries.” Confectionery fruits awaited the party in a room still sumptuous, where vessels of Qoa filigree, ||^^ontaini n B the rarest and most fragrant spices, Jlmcrifaiiflgpoluntm'. BY JOHN B. BRATTON. VOL. 46. were banded round. Such was Bedford’s mode of life during this journey. Returning at the commencement of the pres* ent century to his native country, Beckford again abandoned.fnmself. to the selfish enjoy ment of his almost inexaustable wealth. .Taking a capricious dislike to a splendid man sion on his estate, which had been erected by bis father at a cost of $1,300,000, he ordered it to be pulled down. He resolved that, phenix like, there should arise from its ruins, a buil ding which should surpass in magnificence .all that had hitherto been known in English art. Fonthill Abbey, once one of the wonders of the west of England, was the result of this deter mination. WholS galleries of that vast pile were erected, solely for the purpose of enabling Beckford to emblazon on their windows the crests of the families from; whom ho boasted bis descent. The wonder of theJabric,-how ever, was a tower of colossal dimensions and great height, erected somewhat in the manner and spirit of those who once reared a similar structure on the plains of Shinar: “Go to, let let us.build a tower whose top may reach unto ' heaven; and let us make us a name.” To complete the erection of Beckford’s tower almost every cart in the country was employed, so that at one lime agricultural labor was well nigh suspended. Impatient of delay, night was not allowed to impose obstacles-to -.he pro gress of the work. Torchlight was employed; fresh bands Of laborers relieving at evening those who worked by day. In the dark nights of winter, the distant traveller was startled by' the blaze of light from Fonthill, which pro clamed at once the resources and the folly of the!'man of wealth. Beckford's principal en joyment wits watching the ereotiondf this struc ture. At nightfall he would repair to some elevated part of his grounds, and there in soli tude would feast his senses for hours with the singular, spectacle presented by the dancing of the lights, and reflection of their .glare on the surrounding wood. „ The building Was indeed Beckford's idol; the object for which he lived. He devoted the whole of his energies to make it realize tire most fascinating visions of a vain imagination. . After thecorapletionnf the abbey, Beckford's conduct was still more extraordinary. A wall nearly two miles in circumference, surrounded his mansion, and within this circle scarcely any visitors were allowed to, pass. In sullen grandeur he dwelt alone, shunning converse with the world. Majesty itself was desirous of visitibg this wonderful domain, but was refused admittance. Strangers .would disguise them selves as servants, as peasants, or as pedlars, in the hope of catching, a glimpse of its glories. Nor was its interior unworthy of this curiosity. All that art and wealth'could give to produce effect was there. . “Gold and silver Vases and cups,” says one who saw the place, “are so numerous here that they dazzle the eye ; and when one looks around at the cabinets, candel iabras, and ornaments which decorate the room, wo may also imagine that we stand in the trea sury of some oriental prince, whose riches con sist entirely in vessels of gold and silver, en riched with precious stones of , every sort, from the ruby to the diamond.” i ' .Such. was .Beckfutd of Fonthill. incu.-nn_.nfVn pounds per annum, he seemed above the reach of adverse fortune. Who would have ventured to have styled all this. splendor evanescent as the mirage? A sudden depreciation in West ■lndia property took place. Some lawsuits ter minated unfavorably, embarrasments poured in like a flood on the princely owner. The gates which bad refused admittance to a monarch were rudely thrust open by a sheriff's officer. The mansion erected at so vast an expense was sold. The greater part of its costly treasures were scattered by the auctioneer; and Beck ford driven, with the shattered fragments of his fortune, to spend a solitary old age in a water ing place ;■ there to'moralize on the instability of wealth ; there to feel how little pleasure the retrospect of neglected talents can give, and to point the ofi-told moral of the vanity of human pursuits. He fell..it is said, unpitied by any body. The tower which ho had erected at so great a cost, fell to the ground, and Fonthill’ Abbey was pulled down by its hew owner.. Thus melted away, like frostwork before the sun, the extravagant productions of the man of wealth. His whole life had been a misapplica tion of the talents committed to his care, and in the end he discovered that he had been chea ted by mirage. - , Torture of the Widows, In the interior of New Caledonia, which is cast ot Vancouver’s Island and north of the Columbia, among the tribes called "Taw-way tins.” who ore also Babbles, and also among other tribes in their'neighborhood, the custom prevails of burning the bodies, with circum stances of peculiar barbarity to the widows of the deceased. , The dead body of the husband is laid naked upon n large heap of resinous wood ; his wife is then placed upon the body, and covered over with a skin : the pile is then lighted, and the poor woman is compelled to remain until she is nearly suffocated, when she is allowed to descend ns best she can through the smoko and flames. No sooner, however, does she reach the ground, than she is expected to prevent the body from becoming distorted by the action of the fire on the muscles and sin ews : and whenever such an event takes p'nco, she must, with bare hands, restore (he burning corpse to its proper position : her person being the whole time exposed to the scorching effects of the intense heat. Should she fail in'the due performance of this indispensable rite, from weakness or the intensity of her pain, she is held up by some one until the body is consu med. A continual singing and beating of drums is kept up throughout the ceremony, which drown her cries. Afterwards she must collect the unconsumcd pieces of bone and ash es, and put them into a bag mads for the pur pose, which she has to carry on her back for three years: remaining for the time a slave to her busband’s relations. and being neither al lowed to wash nor comb herself for the whole time. so that she soon becomes a most disgus ting object., At the expiration of three years, a feast is givgn by her tormentors, who invite all the friends and relations of her and them selves. . At the commencement they deposit with great ceremony the remains of the burnt dead in a box, which they affix to the top of a high pole. The widow is then stripped naked, and smeared from head to foot with Ush-oil, over which one of the bystanders throws a quantity of swan’s down, covering her entire person. She is then obliged to dance with the others, After all (his is over she is free to marry again, if sho have the inclination, and courage enough to venture on a second risk of roasted alive and the subsequent horrors. A Hosts Fiotubs.— tThe Deab old Aunt.— Unhappy the family in which there is not one relative, at least of whom tho following is a por trait: tc Her soul was all a sympathy, And gazing in her face, Wo felt a faith, we knew not why. In all the human race; Wo felt assured of bettor times, Though how wo could not tell. When all tho world would bo as pure As kind Aunt Isabel.” The last Headsman in Greece. He was a Frenchman by the name of Carri peze, and had been reduced by misfortune, the details of which I do not now recollect, from a respectable station in society to the greatest poverty, which he hod the anguish of sharing with his beautiful wife and two young daugh ters. He consented to be instructed in the headsman’s horrible art, and to place himself at the service of the gteck government, on con dition that not only his true employment was to be kept secret from -those who would reek their vengeance on him, but that it was also to be strictly concealed from his own family. It was agreed that he should take up his abode at Egina, and work regularly as a. mechanic, in order to avoid all suspicion .of bis real trade. Among- the islanders, the headsman jind his family were received with the most flattering consideration. Strangers are always welcome in Greece, and in this instance the wife was 100 beautiful, and the daughters 100 young and gay not to be the greatest possible acquisition. Soon they became well known and greatly beloved in the island, and one of the.'young girls was married to the son of the principal proprietor in the piece. For a considerable period bis services were not requiredbut his inexorable drtty overtook him at last. A crime was committed too. re volting to pass unpunished. A man was poi soned by his wife : she was tried and condemn ed, and a ship of war dispatched with the offi cers of justipe to Egina. to convey Carripeze to the Island of Satarin, where the sentence was to be executed. When they arrived at Egina, the whole population hurried down to ascertain the cause of so unusual a visit as that of a gov i eminent vessel. The officers having landed, asked to be directed to the house of the public executioner. The islanders answered by laugh ing them to scorn, and declared that they had harbored no such character among them. The commanding officer inquired with 'a smile if they did not know a certain Carripeze. and with considerable diffioulty succeeded in con vincing them that the roan they loved and re spected was, indeed, the. common ‘•bourreau.” As the conviction forced itself upon them,'one long, loud .shout of fierce anathemas rose .with the name of Carripeze through. the air. Their horror .at having lived on such friendly terms with him is not to be told. “I shook his hand—his blood stained hand— ,this very morning, as if he had been my broth er !” exclaimed one. “He lifted my poor child in his arms'and kissed it!”, shrieked a woman. - “But I,” exclaimed a young man, posifiVcly tearing his hair. “I have taken his daughter to be the wife of my bosom, and the blood of the headsman is flowing in the’ Veins of my chil dren.’.’ Thus lamenting and cursing, the natives fol lowed the officer to the house of the execution er. He was not there at the-moment; and when they asked for hint by that title, his wife, with horror in her looks, passionately denied that her beloved husband had any claim to it, that the people Of Egina began,- to. doubt. once ; jam;e^-.-JustAliPr’tfinrrjpezghimzelf.--appearetl. Ho saw at a glan<» what was going; forward t ho knew his doom, and. wllhout a rnlirmur, signified to the officers his readiness : to accom pany them. They surrounded ,Kim with h strong guard—otherwise the populace would have torn him to pieces. They took him away —that miserable servant of public justice! His task was.soon performed ; it was, perhaps, all the easier, for the extraordinary conduct of the prisoner herself. His task performed. Carri peze returned to Egina to his home. The same .powerful guard was in requisition to conduct him to his house, and for greater security they landed at night, for they "knew that hencefor ward the life of Oarripeze must hang upon a thread, unless he could shield himself from the certain vengeance of the people of Egina. ■When he arrived at the door of his house — his only refuge—the miserable man- found it closed against him. Within there was weeping and praying; but the wife he had deceived so long—whose love seemed to have turned to loathing—persisted in shutting him out from her house, as utterly as she had driven him from her Heart. It was in vain he expostula ted. But the fact of bis arrival had become known, and already the infuriated population might be seen rushing towards him in resistless numbers. He called out to his wife that his, life’s blood was about to stain her very thres hold, then her heart melted towards the father of her children. She opened the door, and he darted in, whilst tho multitude raged around his stronghold, wh'ch they were only preven ted from burning to the ground by the wish to save his innocent family. One moonless night.'when it was very dark, he stole out of bis once dear home, where his presence was a curse, and went to breathe the fresh air on the beach. He had not advanced more than a hundred yards when he fell pros trate to the ground, shot right through the heart, with so sure ah aim that he was* dead before the shout of exultation which followed his sudden fall had burst from the lips of his avengers. The pcoplethad taken it in turns to lie in wait for him behind a certain lofty cypress tree close to his house; and the young men be neath whose bullets he fell, considered them selves most fortunate in having been the chosen of destiny for the execution of (heir purpose. Such was the fate of the last headsman of Greece, for I am not aware that any such func tionary now exists there. Tin Fireman—llis Noble mission. At the Fireman’s Anniversary Celebration, in Jackson. Miss.. Gov. MoWillie, after speak ing of the Fireman ns a public benefactor—that his was a mission of love, said; I have often looked with asthnishmcnt upon the daring co/fduot of Bremen. I have seen encountering'danger greater than that of the soldier, who, amidst the storm of war, enters the deadly breach, trampling down the woun ded and battling with the armed and living. I have seen you on the burning roofs of lofty buildings, standing as it were upon the very crater of a volcano—almost touching the fiery lava—nobly doing battle—and exposing your lives to the most imminent peril—when I have seen you thus struggling and imperiled, I have been conscious that many of you did not even know the name Of the person for whom the sacrifice was made. And in your further praise and as illustrative of the nobility of your con duct, let it be told that it often happens that the poor fireman has no house cither to burn or save—ho knows no motive of action but that of doing good to others. Such services come fresh and warm from the heart—they cannot be bought! I have always understood that every effort to organize fire companies on the basis of pecuniary compensation has utterly and entirely failed to bo efficient. Such service must bo voluntary—without money and with out price. Such conduct—such benevolence as yours, gentlemen —relieves the whole race of man from the charge of cold, sordid selfish ness. Truly, gentlemen, your self-sacrificing con duct is but the imago of heaven reflected-thro’ your, motives.npd .aytion?., ’ ■ • ' • . I t “OCFR COUNTRY" —-S\Y IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT —BUT REQI CARLISLE, PA„ THURSDAY; Hlfe 30, 1859. Consider me Smith. There isavery good story in the papers cW*® day, which was played by. old Dr. GaVdWell, formerly of tlia University of Nonh Carjilina.: - The old doctor was a small man. and leart,, but as hard and angular as ,thc most irregular of pine knots. He looked as if he might be lough,', bat he did not ■ seem strong. "Nevertheless he ;was among the knowing ones, reputed to he'ndhgile ns “ a catand in addition, was by nd means deficient in.knowledge of the noble s&ocjiiif self defence.”. Besides, ho was ascodl Jaß'ch; cumber. Well, in the Freshman class of a cer itaih year was a hurley beef lB or 19r This genius conceived a great contempt for old Bolus* physical-dimensions," tnd. his soul was horrified that one so deficient m inus* ole. should be so potential in his rule. ' - Poor Jones—that’s what.wo’ll no idea of moral force. At any rate he feaij'not inclined to knock Under, and be potically by a man, that he itnagined.hojppuld, tie and whip! " He at length determined, to" give the gentleman a genteel’private thrashing,some night in the College Campus, protendingitfi tniS; take him for some fellow student. ' ' Shortly after, on a dark and rainy Bight, Jones met the doctor crotsmg the Campus.— Walking up to him abruptly.. • VHello, Smith: you rascal—is this yhu,t\* ■ And with that he struck the old gentleman s blow on the side of the face that hadr'nettrly felled him. •, - v "t-Vl Old Bolus said nothing, but Equnred;himsclr.: imd at it they went. Jones’ youth, welglflSiind' muscle made him an •* ugly cuslpmer;'*,Kuj£;.hf ter a round or two. the doctor's science begat) to tell, and in a short time he had knocked sbih beefy antagonist down, and was dstraddjh.'pn his chest, with one hand on his throat,"'and, the other dealing vigorous cufls on the sidp.dfhis head. . ", . “ Ahi sfOp!—l beg pardon, tor Caldwell—a mistake—for lieaveii'sisake doctor!” groaned Jones, who thought htßwas about to be ealen up— ‘" I—l really thought it was Smith!" . V* ; Tho doctor replied. with a word and p/biow alternately— ; “ It makes no difference, for all presetti pur poses consider me Smith !” \ :; :n\ And it is said that old Boiua gave JoneS such a pounding, then and there, as probably; pin' vented his making another mistake as ;td ;per sonal identity, at least on the College CanSpUa! ; ' .1 _ The Earlier the Easier. ■■ 1 ,‘ In youth the affections are most ardent. Jt is peculiarly the season of love, Theit/oUng are capable of the strongest and moat fiflTf Bao yificing affection. The • strongest sppbiiaVoif Christianity are. made to the afieotionSfTv.Tfae only word which sums up the wholoTw-piety is love. Therefore, youth is the bestseiTson for commencing a life of piety. . ■ • i . In youth the hopes are most iho future is adorned with the most, brilliant and attractive hues: and Christianity presents the most gorgeous scenesdn glowingimtfijery to the.imagination, tb induce a fife of piety: iFaith is moiit, confiding, ip . yonfee Tho ;. youth" ' most |y, arid easily gives it, arid is"therefore.the best.fiea •sonforcomuncncinga life of.piety: -• . The mint! is most docile ia youth.; As years advance, men: become.raore and more tenacious of their own views and opinions. Entire sub mission to the teaching of inspiration, is: neces sary to, piety, and this is most easily given in early life. • . ’ ’ The habits are most yielding in ydiilh.— How important then, when they are forming, that they should be directed aright ! Youth is most submissive to authority; (t is the season of obedience. The unquestioning obedience which God demands is most easily rendered in early life. The energies of youth are roost active.— Young hands for labor! Years deaden the en ergies. Religion requires theexertioh of all bur energies to resist evil and do good. ; These,are most active and moat easilydiverted'in .youth. The judgment in youth is best tilted to .ap preciate the claims of piety. The judgment of impenitent age is prejudiced, and blinded, and warped by sin. One who has long indulged and loved sin cannot so easily as the more un-’ pollutccl.niind, form a correct judgment of the guilt of sin. “ Can the Ethiopian chatfge’ his skin, or -lhe leopard his spots ?” then may re who have been accustomed to" do evil, learn to dp well. Can a mother forget ? Not a morning; noon, or night but she looks into the cornel! of the kitchen in which' you read Robinson jtjrnsoo. and thinks of yon as yet a boy. _ Mothers, rgro ly become conscious that their children ore grown out u f their childhood. They think- of them- advise them, write to them, os iTnot full fourteen years of age. They cannot forget the child. Three limes a day she thinks who are absent from the (able, and hopes the nest ycar at the farthest, she may have “just her!Own family thereand if you are there, look out for the fat limb of a fried chicken; and.lhst.fcof fee which none but everybody a own mothercan make. Did Hannah forget Samuel ? A short sentence, full of household history, and funning over with genuine mother love is tellingly beau-, tiful. “ Moreover, his mother ntade,him a lit tle coat, and brought it to him from year to year, when she came up with her hutihahd to the yearly sacrifice." - -- ; Vl' ■' A mother mqiirmng at the first born a grave, or closing I ha'(Tying eye of child after child, dia-. plays a grief whose very isajublime. But bitterer. heavier than the death-stroke is the desperation of a son who rushed- over a crushed heart, into vices which hq wqjlld.hide even from the abandoned and the vilc.,r. t - .;. Napoleon once asked,a lady what France-heo ded for the education of her youth;'and'the short, profound reply was, “Mo:her£.‘V The Home of the vil lage of Economy, in this State, the home Of the Harmony Society, has now about three hun dred inhabitants, a)l of whom are members, of the .organization. It was settled by George Rapp, the founder of the Society, in 1823,: and from the peculiar system under soci ety is governed, has an interest fob" visitors which seldom pertains to country villages.— : Tho town now contains a grist mill. gaw mil!, woolen factory, cotton factory, and a silk fac tory, (the latter now not in operation .S prin ting office, cider mill and press, and"'if'wash bouse, where the washing is done forth# Socie ty by steam,. In the latter department there is a vast saving of labor from the old fashioned process. There is one large Church,'German Lutheran, which is a model for fdaintless.and neatness. It contains a ponderous Mil, fentj « clock of no ordinary dimensions—the IfaMer ma nufactured in the place. There is nlso a, public garden, which is tho centre of attraction to vis itors'. It contains a vast amount of ’Rowers, ornamental trees, fruit trees, plants,.tfeo,, and a fountain in the centre, from which the grounds are watered. The Economitcs are as moral, in dustrious and intelligent a people as can 1 any where he found, and. indicative of tljcir.narae, they live in as perfect harmony as possible for terrestrial mortals. —Pittsburg Chronicle. Can. a Mother Forget. btt WnOKQ, OUB CODNTRT," 1 vT? 4 Tale of Honor. About thirty years ago, Mr. Joseph St. Clair built a cabin in Arkansas, Tar up toward the head waters of 'While River. It was then oil a wilderness country lor many miles around, and game was very abundant. There was no lack of bear, catamounts, wolves and panthers. In fact, -that- country was, at that date, a perfect paradise for the practiced hunter. ~ Mr. St. Clair had no family otherthan a young wile and one infant. He was fond of hunting, but ho cultivated a few acres in corn and vege tables. At first it was fully ten miles to. his nearest neighbor’s, .but during the ensuing Spring a man named Williams made a settle ment, within a half mile of St. Clair, and the two families became neighbors and quite inti mate. Mr. Williams was a. man in humble circum stances and had a largo family, mostly of grown -daughtorsi and no-small children.—One day in the month of July. 1829 (the first, suihmer that Mr. St. Clair lived there), his wife-was at homo with the child, and Mr. St. Clair was off with hi# gun. About 10 o’clock in the morning sho left her baby asleep in the cradle, and wont to the field to gather beans for dinner. On,her return the child was gone. She, however, felt no alarm, because she supposed that her hus band had come home during her absence and had hidden somewhere about the house with the child merely, for a little fun; so she busied herself in preparing dinner. In ah hour or two her husband returned from the woods hearing hta gun and a young deer that ho had killed, and on inquiry declared that ho knew nothing of fha child. . They now supposed that one of Mr. Williams’ daughters had come in while Mrs. St. Glair was put)' and finding the baby, of which she was Very fond, she carried it home. This theory .was to them quite satisfactory, for there were no other, neighbors, and tho child could not go away, unless carried. How else could it have happened? Dinner being over, Mr. St. Clair walked over ■to the neighbor's, to bring back his treasure of a baby that Miss Lucy had‘borrowed that morn ing. Miss Lucy said that sho hod not borrowed the baby—she had not seen it that day. Mr. St. Clair was hard to bp convinced that no one ofthe family had taken the child, but all assur ed’biro that they know nothing of it. It was now time to be alarmed. “ What has become of tho poor child f” was his exclama tion, and he ran back, homo in groat agony.— Tho mother, in like manner, was almost frantic. They could not conceive who had taken away their child. ■ < ■ ■ • Mr. Williams’ Family joined in (he grief, Imt could afford no aid, no consolation. They could invent no theory, not devise any plan by which' the child had, with any degroo.of probability, diShppoared. Who was to take it away ? Why would any one wish,to have it ? They were ut terly at a loss. 1 Finally, it was remomborod that occasionally there wore parties of Chorolteos hunting through that country. It was now surmised that they had happened.to come to the house while Mrs. St. 0. was in the Held, and had stolen the child and carried it away. This was at once received as plausible and quite probable. . i Early next morning Mr. St. Clair and.Mr jWilllams set but to seek for the' Indian camp,’ land Mrs. St.O;was left gloneat Rome; She Ip’asi.siftiijgtdnisi and wondering In her heart What had hecoinbof her darling baby. It was .now about the hour of the day on which she, the day previous, had gone out; Eresbo was aware, a large panther, with a stealthy tread, came to the door and . look ed in toward the cradle. Mrs. St. Clair scream ed and he ran away. The truth wasnow appa. rant, and no hew light has ever been cast upon the subject.. —Memphis jlppeal. The last Day. To everything beneath tho sun there comes a last day ;. and, of all futurity, this is the only portion of time that can in alt cases, bo'infalli bly predicted. Let the sanguine, then, take warning, and the disheartened take courage : for to every .joy and every sorrow, every hope and every fear, there will come a last day ; and man'bught so to jive by foresight, that while he learns in every stale to be content, he shall in each he. prepared for another, whatever that other may be. When we set an acorn, we ex pect it will produce an oak : when we plant a vine, we calculate upon gathering grapes: but when we lay, a plan for years to come, we may wish, and wo can do no more, except pray, that it may be accomplished : for we know not what even the morrow will bring foijh. All that wo do know beforehand of any thing, is that toeverythihg beneath the sun here comes a last day—prompting to immediate and inspi ring seif examination. From this there is no thing to fear; from the neglect of it. every thing ; for however alarming the discoveries of evil unsuspected or perils unknown may be. such discoveries had better be made now while escape is before us, than in that day when the secrets of all hearts shall bo revealed, and es cape will be impossible.—ihat day which, of ail others, is most emphatically called “ The Last Day.” —James Montgomery. . A Wonderful Core.— Dr. Hill, a notorious wit, physician, and man of letters, having quar relled with the members of tho Royal Society of London, who had refused to admit him as an associate, resolved to avenge himself upon them In a novel manner. He addressed to their se oyetary a letter purporting to bo written by a country surgeon, and reciting the particulars o( a,cure which ho had effected. “A sailor,” he wrote, “ broke his log, and applied to mo for help: I bound-together the broken portions, and washed them with the celebrated tar water. Almost immediately Hie sailor felt tho beneficial effects of this remedy, and it Was not long be fore bis lagwascomplefolyhoaiedl” This euro was published abroad at the very time Ihat Bi shop Berkeley had issued his work on the mar vellous virtues of tar-water, and exc ted conse quently, groat attention. The letter was read and discussed tit tho meetings of the Royal So ciety, and caused considerable difference of opionion. Papers were written for and against the tar-water and the restored leg, when a second letter arrived from the (pretended) country practitioner:—“ln my last I omitted to mention that the broken limb of tho sailor was a wooden leg 1” A Chacked CoitsuNDSfENT.—We heard a sug gestive expression related tho other day of a very Ilttlo girl, who was taken by her mother into a shop, where a tempting basket of oranges stood exposed for sale. While her mother was qpgaged in'ariothor part of the room, tho little on# feasted her eyes on the fruit, and nursed (be temptation' in her'heart, till it grew too strong to bo resisted, and sbe hid nne of the or anges under her apron,. and walked quickly away. But conscience remonstrated so strong, dy, that after a little reflection she walked as •quickly backy and ns slyly replaced tho orange in the basket.. Again the forbidden fruit butof her possession, presented its tempting side, and again she yielded. Aftorasharpevconfllctthan before, conscience gained a aecond victory, and (he almost stolen orange was again taken and finally restored. With a saddened countenance she walked home with her mother, and when they wore alone, burst Into (oars, exclaiming. “ Oh mother. 1 cracked one of tho Command ments 1 I didn’t break if. Indeed I didn't break it, mother—quite—but I’m sure I cracked it.” Wo shall never again see a piece of doubtful conduct, without thinking fhero’s a Command mont cracked.'■ - AT $2,00 PER ANNUM. Superiority of (he Brain in Man. ; The decrease of quantity in brain, and (be corresponding diminution of intelligence, do not run regular and parallel all down the scale of animal existence. No very accurate conclu sions, therefore, can be drawn as to the degree of intelligence any animal possesses from the proportional amount of its brains. In thomapi. maiia the principle holds good very generally. The weight of a 'man’s brain in proportion to that ol bis body varies from 1 to 22 to 1 to 35 that is, giving an averago of abont 1 t 027. The long-armed apo is as 1 to 40 ; thofoxl to 205, the donkey as I t 0.254, the beaver as 1 to 2DO, the hare as 1 to 300, the horse as 1 to 400, the elephant as 1 to 600, and the rhinoceros as 1 to 2000. In birds the proportion is greater,' but not the cebreal portion, which is the seat ol the intellectual faculties, for bore the cerebellum is comparatively large. The brain of the canary bird is given as 1 to 45, the sparrow as 1 to 25, the eagle as l_to 860, that of the goose as 1 to 360, and .it is said the cavity for (he brain in the parrot is smaller than that of any other bird. From the fact of this bird being able to chatter a little, and to give a sort of expression to certain words, it might have been expected to havo a larger proportion of brain; but wbat display of intelligence is there in the talk of a pajrot ?” In llio reptiles the brain becomes exceeding small. That of the tortoise is given as 1 to 2240; that of the sea tortoise ns Ito 5638; and the space for the brain in the crocodile is. so small that it will scarcely admit a man’s thumb into it. In some fishes the brain is almost lost. In the tunny it is as one to 87,000, while however that ol tho carp appioaches very nearly to the proportion of that of tho elephant. It is therefore difficult to gether any particular and precise conclusion from such an irregular gradation of facts; but the general and broad principle is plain. With the exception of a few small birds, as sparrows, (Inches, and bats, which arc generally very lean, nnd thoreioro weigh hut little, man greatly ex ceeds all in the proportion.— Phrm. Jburn. ~A Courteous Retort. —A local minister in England, who was distinguished for disinterest ed labor and ready wit, devoted several years of the last part of his life to gratuitous labor in a new cause in a populous town about three miles from bis residence, to which place bo walked every Lord’s Day morning, preached three times, and then walked home. On the Lord’s Day morning,, as ho walked along, meditating on his sermons for the day, he mot the parish priest. . ' . “Well, ——,”said his reverence, “lauppoao you are on your way to your preaching again?” « Yes, sir,” was the modest reply ol the hum bio minister. “It is high time Government took up this subject, and put a stop to this kind of traveling preaching.” “They will have rather hard work, sir,” re plied the imperturbable minister,. “X am not very sure ot that," rejoined fho priest; “at any rate, I will see whether I cannot stop you myself.” ; «Ijudge,” said the worthy man, “you will find it more diflicnlt than you suppose. Indeed, there is hut one way to stop my preaching, but there are are three ways to stop yours.” . “What, .fellow, do youmean by that?” asked his reverence, in a towering passion. •, “Why, any replied the little preacher, with onewify : .of>atbpplngmypreiiching,;tbat is, -by cutting, toy tongue oat. But there are; three ways to stop yours—for take your book from you and you eo»V preach; lake ybiir'gowo/fom you and you dare not. preach;"and take your pay from you and you won't preach. The parsou vanished. Terbium Caiamitt in Texas The Dallas (Texas) Herald oltho 11th Instant, says ! , “ A gentleman just from Fort Worth reports a most painful calamity that occurred on the west fork ol the Trinity, about seven miles above Fort Worth. A gentleman living very near West Fork, on returning homo during the heavy 1 rain that Was falling, found his house was being rapidly surrounded with the flood that was rushing down the low lands bordering on the stream. He had a wife and seven children! took two of them on his shoulders, and carried them over the water to a shed on the premises, placed them upon it, and started, back for the other children and his wife. Ho had not gone far when a cry from the shed drew his attention! be looked back, and discovered it.floating off with his two children on it. Ho rushed after It, and, after following it nearly half a hide, suc ceeded in placing his children upon niflace of safety; .Night was rapidly, coming on, and be returned to save his wife and children, but, alas I be found not even a vestige of his homo’ —no- sign of wile nr child; and, to add to the horrors of the scone, darkness .was fast settling down upon the rushing flood, whose appalling roar deadened the cries of his family, oven if they, then lived. “The unhappy father has beard nothing from them yet, and every effort made to And their bodies has proved unavailing. A Rat Stout. —The.article going the rounds of the press, respecting the prevalence of rats in certain portions of Illinois, smacks strongly of the marvelous. According to the Blooming ton Pantograph, the farmers in that vicinity must bo having a jolly time of it. for the rats are said to be monsters in size, and particularly fat and tamo, absolutely visiting the farm hou ses for drinks, &c. but occasionally being slaughtered at the rate of a thousand a day, on a single farm. If all ibis is true, the farmers can easily make more from the rat skins than from their regular crops, since the former nrc so greatly in demand for ladies' kid gloves, &c. 03?” The silliest .woman who is In love has more sense than the man who is. K 7” If virtue is its own reward, there will be persons who will hare littlo enough. 05“ Why does a dog wag W tali when ho sees his master cbming 7 Because he lias gut one to wag. IE?" Put oil - repentance till to-morrow, and you will have a day more to repent ol and a day less to repent in. K 7” There is a man so knowing that the men who don’t know their own minds come to him for information on the subject. IX7” A alow man. Wo know a man so habi tually sleepy that his curiosity cannot bo awa kened. CCy“ Principles aro apprehended readily enough, bnt, the consequence depending upon the rejection or adoption not so easily. OS” Don’t expect to bo called a good follow a moment longer than yon consent to do pre. cisely what other people wish yon to do. 05“ Woman is Justly called “one of tho moat glorious works ol heaven j” and she is the sort of work that we like to address ourselves to. C3T Instead of retaliating upon tho man who calls you a villain, a liar, or a thief, coolly in form him that you have not sufficient confidence in his veracity to believe him. “Illy dear,” said an affectionate wife to her hhsban'd,' “ I am going a shopping, what shall I bring you 1” “I am not particular, so as you don’t bring mo in debt.” i SectßiitK Pfgbt at the Baiy tiepbDlebtfc A letter fromjerusalem,ofMay 2B,in tho Universe, gives an account of somoscandtilqas scenes which took place in the church of 'the’ Holy Sephulchre, in, that City, co Good Friday, “Theservices of Wednesday and Thursday cf Passion week, celebrated by the Latins nr. the church of the Holy Sephulchre, were not troubled by ihe Greeks and others. But on good Friday the Greeks invaded the. rotunda of the church, and during the Celebration of dmno service by the Latins, made a tumult. It is tho custom of. the Greek populace to assemble in the chvnCb during the Holy Week, and there they execute grotesque dances, accompanied by shouts and yells, the singing cf horrible songs, and the clapping of hands; They present a. hideous spectacle, as they are haggard and dir ty. and wear oOlhing e’xcept a Wretched shirt and drawers. Tho Greek clergy tolerate theso scandalous scenes, as they could easily stop them if they pleased.' On the evening of Good Friday, the church was profaned'by a Uetv out rage. The Roman Catholic clergy and pilgrims having entered with the intention of making a solemn procession, heard a frightful tumult un der the great dome, near the sacred monument* and saw the Greeks and Armenians fighting with their fists and with sticks—the combat be-' ing accompanied with fearful Vociferations.— When the conliict had raged for some, time, the' combatants separated, the Greeks going into the choir of their church, which isdividedfrotn the rotunda by a simple railing, and tbe.Arme nians collecting in the souihern part of the ro tunda. Presently, however, the combat recom. menced with greater fury thaii before; the ben ches, the credence tables, and the bishops throne of tho Latins were putted down and torn to pieces by the Greeks, and the fragments-wero hurled at their adversaries. The latter retain ed them, and besides broke to pieces a largo lamp of ihe Greeks. This increased the irrita tion of the latter, and in their turn they smash ed the lamps of.lhe Aimenians, and two of iheit sacristans, who were on the platform above,' even threw down lighted torches on the Arme nians. This scandalous scene lasted' three quarters of an hour, when, n body of Turkish troops arrived. The two, parties fled in differ ent directions, and the soldiers pursued them, 'striking all they,overtook with the. butt ends of their muskets. In the confusion two or three sp'diers and two officers Were injured.—, The Pasha afterwards arrived, and established order; and the Latins were able io make theit procession. Wbat originally caustd this tu mult was that the Greeks possessed themselves of a portion of the church which bad been set a part for the .Copts, who are under the protec tion of tho Artneniahs.” NO. 3. The biographer of Zwmgli thus sums up the chief parnlleld events of their lives in.order to show more distinctly how they approached to* ward, and diverged from, each other: •• Zwingli and Luther were born Within a few weeks of each other—Luther on Martinmas,- 1485, Zwingli on tbu first of January, 1484.. Their parents were pious, upright peasants— Zwmgh’a affluent and indulgent to their chil dren : Luther’s poor and austere. White' Zwingli’s teacher was distinguished for learn, ing and gentleness of disposition, wo only know, Luther’s master at Mansfield as a schooltyxant,’. who (logged bis pupil one’forcnoon fifteen times. Zwingli's parents liberally relieved their son of nil the cares of earning his livelihood. • Lu ther had to beg hisscanly meal with Both excite admiration by their fine voices.— Luther's brings him the means of support from Widow Cotta, Eisenach,-while Zwingli’s had nearly introduced him to cloister life. About the year 1602. both became acquainted with the Scriptures—Zwingli in Basle, at the foot of Wyllcmbach; Lutheran the library at Erfurt, where he sees a complelo Bible for the first lime. About the 1506, Zwingli finds in- Leo Jud a friend that remains faithful to him during; his whole life, while Luther loses in a ternbleSnnnnvr such a one in hiß Aiexia.4vhicli induces hira to-seek a cloistcr. vFrptri l.OOfi to, 1510. Zwingli, as parspn -jat against the corrnptiobs ol hTe. and combats the corruption of his country, while Luther suffers under inward 1 trials and the malted of ithe monnks. Zwingli, by thestudy of the classics., pierces (o o deeper acquaintance with the Bible ; while Luther, by reading the writings of, thef Mystics, arrives : at the same result. . In .the. year 1510. Luther, in 1513, Zwing i, p» io It-' aly, enthusiastic advocates of the pii| ;u-v —■ Both are surprised in the Milanese at finding another ritual for the Mass, the Ambrosian. - “ Luther in Ins journey becomes acquainted at Rome with the thorough dissoluteness of the lower classes of the Roman clergy : Zwingli, in his Italian campaigns, has his eyed opened to the total corruption of papal mis govermneut. In the year 1617, both found peace of soul through faith in Jesus Christ, on which Zwin gli, resdlutc to proclaim the word of God with out respect of hhman laws and doctrines, at-, tacks tlie pilgrimages and the adoration of thn Virgin 1 : Luther, from the same standing-point, attacks the sale of and, without intending it, shakes the papacy (q its founds lion.” The great reformers were more strongly con* wasted in death than in life. The fiery Luther' died peacefully in bis bed, at the ripe age of sixty three; at forty-seven, the gentle Zwingli perished on the battle-field. When the war, which he had vainly tried to prevent, broke out between the Protestant and Papal cantons of Switzerland, the pastor accompanied his breth ren in the faith, as filed preacher, to the conflict.' In the midst of the action, while bending dowtf to comfort wilh the words of life a fallen coun tryman, a stone struck bis hemlet with sueb. force that he fell to the ground. On bis at tempt to rise, a hostile spear gave him a fatal slab. lie had fallen near a tree. He was lea ning on it: his hands were clasped, his lips moved in prayer, while his eyes Were directed' heavenward. In this state a party of maraud- ng soldiers found him. “Will you confess 1 Shall we fetch a priest?” they cry to him.—' The tongbo which had so eloquently combated error was dumb, but a motion of the head sig nifies a negative. “ Then call upon the moth er of God and the blessed saints in yotlr heart,” they shout to him. Again ho refuses.- •• Die, then, obstinate heretic," said an officer from Unlerwaldch, and gave him a deadly blow.— • Nor did the contrast end here. The remaing'df Luther were borne to the tomb by a funeral procession of extraordinary pomp ; tho body of Zwingii was quartered by the common hang man, and tbo ashes mixed with the ashes of d swine, that it might be impossible for his friends to identify his remains. —Home Journal. Tomatoes.—As the season for this whole some and delicious vegetable is rapidly aj* preaching, wc give the following recipo for pre paring them, from the Scientific American, which wc are assured by. one who has made the experiment, is superior to anything j'et discov ered for their preparation.' “Take good ripe tomatoes, cut them in slices, and sprinkle over them pulverized white sugar, then sprinkle claret wine ‘snflicient to cover them. Tomatoes are sometimes prepared in this way with diluted vinegar, but the claret wine imparts to them a richer atid inore pleasant flavor, more nearly resembling the strawberry than anything else.” A French magistrate noted for his lov» of the pleasure of the tabic, speaking one day to a friend, said: “Wc have just been eating a suberb turkey i it was excellent, stalled to the neck, fender, delicate, and of high flavor. Wo left only, the bones." “How many of you were there?" asked his friend. “Two," re plied the magistrate, “ the turkey and myself." C-y-“Ycr drunk again, hoy 1" “No my love, (hiccups.) not drunk, but slippery ; (hic cups. Tho fact is. dear, somebody lias been rubbing the bottom of niy boots (hiccups) till 1 they are us smooth us a pane of glass." Zwingli and Luther.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers