■ ■' ' ’■'• - ' ' “ COUNTRY—MAY XT ALWAYS t)R C * 46. CAN VOLUNTEER, ID EVERY THURSDAY MORHINO BY HX I). BRATTON. TERMS. N. —Ono Dollar and Fifty Cents, paid 'wo Dollars if paid within the year; ars and Fifty Conte, if not paid within eso terms will bo rigidly adhered .to hi 3. No subscription discontinued until are paid unless at the option of the lirakis—.Aoebpjpaniod by the oAsn,_and g oho square, will bo ■ inserted three i Dollar, and twenty-five cents for ct.oh S insertion. Those of a greater length in no Hand-bills, Posting-bills, Labels, Ac. 3 no mope iva it scorn’d to bloom - jany a lono lone hour, fpom bop forpp’d touoli away, wither’d and brown, she doom’d too bright to bo drpapj’d dip# ftnfl fluttering flown, mph of the Present ik the sweet oajni Past j summer murmuring' ;ard through the wintry blast f d is rough with sob ana with sough ipon gable and tree, alms wail like spectres pale, ;nos like a passionate sea. kS of a dreamy twilight •don walk below, i whispering in their sloop, iite rose in full b)ow. )on had sunk away palo quoenj to dio shroud of an opal cloud i 0 air's tremulous sigh. reshly real; . ibducd eolipso, 1, and heart in heart rill'of the wedded,lips; . mcmoricsj how they flush and brow again, -' I bo changed, and lip estranged such loving then I , ■. oldstoiy • . - 1 o^n.in vain j fcho freedom of passion, the calm and the pain, . s ® wl, gtfof is read pale sufforiug fuoo, cling on to loyo that is gone :^'nynith- 'o’f its ftrstembruc?.’. '■S® ,K ‘ l for tha.oarclcsß spirit the wob of rhyme; ' • '• tho idle memories hf:- , .\V-A^ i T-^jyS^^d n ifc on fcho breath of time; s ml) for many am aching heart,- ; ■ I 3J ;cial attention, J was 1 1 had had other swaet ily lovod before, and I is I coveted lavished too wed to follow her grace ;h the crowd,, to catch tear, hazel eyes, to see iging in her cheeks un mset over snow. But jo were the evenings I ittle parlor with her by nestling in mine, her innocent joy ns I drew l ® time when she would iM>- .• , „ joioing to the happiest Piasbdnds, 1 !';.;!'^-';;, (fine bvtmingrwhon I came up from i»y of be,bnd stoppbd there for a moment, Nellie idrnoktibet ipe idt the door, to welcome me bs usual. Her uncle lot “•'ntfMMfiiiead. and I passed on to. the parlor. partly open, and to my aston .mealed Nellie seated on an seat-rand by her side »>ft waving brown and sparkling hazel eyes. hoy waist, her hand in up into his face with a her glance. They were not oven hoar my stop b tha passage. With a green-eyed monster clutching mo in its fiery embraoo, I turned si lently away, The,housemaid’ met mo in the porch—l inquired, carelessly, if Nellie had gone away ? “ Gone away 1 No. Mr. Willis is just come. They are in the parlor, I think/’ Mr. Willis, Mr, Willis. I ground the name over between my set teeth. So she was false, false and heartless all along, Her shy ways, her quietness, her childish frankness, were but the arts of a practiced coquette, who won hearts only to trample them under her feet. With this hell raging in my bosom, I strode homeward. On the table, in my room, I found several letters awaiting my perusal. One was from an old college chum, containing an urgent invitation for mo to visit him in his city homo. As an extra inducement for me to go, he wrote that his cousin Bell was still with them, and unmarried. And fur thermore, that she had taken a groat fancy to my humble self, my foreign whiskers, my foreign manners; and, if I choose, I could bn come possessor of her hand, together with the handsome fortune that would dowdr it. Good. I remembered Bell. Ihadseerihor at her cousin’s, where I visited him on my return from abroad. She was a splendid crea ture—gay, witty ond accomplished-superb .form, magnificent eyes, smiles that were la vished, on all. True, I had been disgusted with her heartless coquetry; even her wit and gnyety luid wearied me. Perhaps I had mis, judged her,TEST had another. I had wooed a coquette, in the guise of an angel, Might I not win an angel in the guise of a coquette ? I would go to the city then, and drown iny disappointment and anger and sorrow in plea sure and excitement. In five minutes ! came to this conclusion,' J packed-up my trunk and despatched several business letters, then throw myself on the bod to brood over my ru ined hopes, and wait anxiously fop the .mor row, The old lady who kept my dreary house, asked mo :whero I was going; when would I come back, I,was going away* I could not tell whore, I did not know when I should return; perhaps in a week, perhaps never,—, Breakfast finished and my trunk despatched to the station, walked down the street by her house. I did' not intend to look up, but some thing in mb stronger than my resolution com pelled mo to do so. She was standing by the window of the breakfast" room, her hand rest ing on his shoulder as he sat by her side.--. She disappeared in a moment when she saw me. Another time I should have known that she was coming to meet mo, but jiow I thought she was afraid to see mo, ashamed to look in the face of one she had so foully wronged. ,1 strode on faster than over.. In ton minutes more I was whirling along towards the city.. In one month ! grew tired of the city, wea ry of its pleasures and excitement; weary of Sell, who was a belle indeed. Not for amine of gold would I have taken her to my arms and called her. wife. My love for Nellie grew stronger than ever; all my confidence and trust revived. I hated myself for over having doubted her. I would go hack to Lorain, she would- -hlk l mn»t forgive *mo -- aW-would giro me her love and confidence, and then, that nothing might ever* come between our "hearts" again, I would claim her at the holy altar my own forever. . j I came to this conclusion one evening when a headache kept mo at home; they—Bell and all, had gone , and left me, and I sat in tho great gloomy . parlor,. chewing the cud of “sweet and bitter reflections." The next morning I bade my friends adieu. I reached Lorain in the evening, two years ago to-night. The streets were almost deserted, the lights out in many houses ;-woncb in a while a sleigh with prancing steeds dashed along thp white road. I did not ride up in the parrigg'e; I walked homo that I might pass her hopse,— There was a light in the little parlor. Per haps she was there by the gloomy lire, Was she thinking of mo—was she wandering why I did not return—why J had gone away with out a word of farewell ? Late as it was, I de termined to go in, I had often done so as late when I.was harrying homeward, just for a good-night Jpiss, My hand was upon t);e gate when the door opened. Some ope came out; it was not Nellie's graceful form. No, I recognised the waving hair, the handsome face, paler now it was, and almost ghastly in the clear room light, ns he came across the porch and leaned against one of the columns with folded arms. The greeneyed serpent stup'g me again; I pulled the gate to and hunt ried along, Some . one was coming; they should not see mo waiting there and retail it to the village gossips, It was the Doctor, who stopped mo as I was passing, him by. “ So you have got back," ho said, in his abrupt, business like way. '* Did you know that Nellie was dead ?" “ Nellie dead 1 Good God 1” A cold shud der ran through mo. I loaned upon the pol lings for support, trembling in every limb. “ Yes,” the Doctor went on, “ she died this afternoon. You can’t think how' hard they all take it. Her brother, Willis, who had just come home from Italy, is almost distracted with grief. She took cold three weeks ago brought bn a fever. If there had been only the fever she might have recovered; but there was abijfothing'clse; eonjo anxiety or trouble, I think, to help! it. along, She w.as delirious pfos.tly,'(fud talked about you a' great ideal; .-The 1 J/ootor was looking, hard at ipo; ho' could havp's.aid nothing half so bitter ns iny conscience was already saying.’ I felt the brand of, Gain burning on my brow, We went back together,' Her brother met ns in the porch-—the brother _Willey, : of whom she had been so proud and fond, {lo took my hand in silence, then went before mo into the hall and-upstairs to the .door of hor little chamber, How cold and still it was! There was a light burning on a table, and the moon, beams lay in a broad unbroken sheet upon the floor I staggered across the room and knelt by the side of that low couch. 0, such bitter anguish as was in my heart ! Thank God, life will never bring mo another sorrow ljk° that. There was nothing of death ip that dear face, except its whiteness and stilt ness. It seemed as if ray hot toars upon that brow of stone, my passionate kisses ,on those pale lips, must have wakened her even from that dreamless slumber. Oh, that those clear eyes could have given mo one more look of,love; those lips one more kiss, and whispered—?" 11 forgive, but, no, . . “ Tho gates of Heaven wore closed, • And she was gone.” IC7“ A man who had recently boon elected a major of militia, and who was not overbuy? donod with brains, took it into his head op the morning of parade, to'exercise a little by himself. The field selected for the purpose washis own apartment. Placing himself ip a military attitude, with his sword drawn, he exclaimed: Attention, company 1 Roar rank, three paces, march 1” and ho tumbled down into me cellar. His wife hearing the racket, came running in saying— “My deary have you killed yourselff” “Go about your business, woman,” said the hero; •“ vyhat do you know about war ?” lEip mu. The "year 1860 is “Reap Year,” and com sists of three hundred and sixty-six days, ono day being added to the shortest month, Feb ruary, which has luid, therefore, twenty-nine days this year. Reap year occurs every 4th year, and is so called because it leaps over a day more than does any other year. It is also called bissextile—from the Ratiii bis, twice, and sexius, sixth—moaning the sixth of the calends of March (corresponding to the 24th of February) was reckoned twice every fourth year by the interpolation of a day. The necessity for Reap Yeararises from the fact that the solar year docs not correspond exactly with the civil year, in consequence of its not ending exactly with a given day, but with a fraction of a day. If it wore not for this arrangement, Christmas, in the course of time, would be in midsummer, and the fourth of July in the depth of winter. The true year consists of the time it takes for the earth to make one revolution around the sun, which is determined by its coming back to the same point in the zodiac from which it started, and this is accomplished in three hundred and sixty-five days and nearly six hours; but as the calender must consist of complete days, these six hours are omitted, and in four, years they make up a whole? day, which is one added to the year, making what is called a leap year. This, however, is not strictly correct, for it is ascertained, by accu rate calculations, that a solpr year is exactly 865 dpysj 5 hours, 48 minutes and 67.7 sec onds j consequently, in putting on the six hours, WC add 24- minutes 12,4 seconds in four yeors, This, ip the course qf JsB} years, would amount to twentyjpur hours, of a com plete day. Every year, the number of which is divisible by four without a remainder is a leap year, except the last year of the century, which is a leap year only when divisible by 400 without a remainder. Thus the year 1900 will not be a leap year. The Roman year originally had but ten months, as may bo seen in the meaning of the ;namo December, which is “tenth mouth.’’ March was the first month of the year in the time of Romulus, and December was the last; but Numa Pompilius, who knew astronomy bettor/added January and February. While Pome’s great founder made tho times his care,* 5 ■ Tea months ho chose t*6 constitute-the year; - But Puma, bettor skilled in astral loro,. To llomuluS’ months adjoined two more. • The Egyptians wore the first who approxi mated to tho real length of the year, whichis made to consist of three hundred and sixty days; • Afterwards they added five days, as was done by Thales, one of the seven wise men of the Greeks, Jaws, Syrians, Ethiopi ans, Homans, Persians and Arabs all had years of different lengths. The day on which the year commences is also different in different countries, but in all it is held in great veneration. Tho Jewish historical -year commences with tho now moon near tho yornal equinox, March 22d, and the civil; year Tf.itlv ifco ■>' a\xtvmvp,p.l •; cqxiVnox; - JJJh©- Mohammedans begin their year.the day when the sun onters Aries;" the Persians" in the month which answers to our June; the .Chi nese and Indians with tho first new moon which happens in March ; apd the Mexicans on the 23d of February, at which time, the verdure in that country begins to appear. William the Conqueror having been crowned on the first day of January, gave occasion to begin their year on that day, in order to make it correspond with tho rnost remarkable date in their history. Though the historical years begin in Eng land on thp festival of the Circumcision, or the first day of January, on which day the Goripan and Italian years begins, yet the civil or legal year did not commence till the day of the Annunciation of the Virgin, the 25th day March, The part of the year between those terms was usually expressed in both these ways, either 1748-8 or 1748r9. By tlio aotal terrag tho style, the civil year now begins with the Ist of January, The old style fol lowed. tho Julian method of computing the year by tho calendar established by Julius Cffisar, in which every fourth year consists of 366 days, , and tho other years of 365, This Julian arrangement of time makes, as'we have seen, eleven minutes and some seconds in a year too much, Pope Gregory Vlll re formed the calendar by retrenching ten. days in October, 1582, in order to bring back the vernal equinox to the ..same. day as at the Council of Nice, A. D. 325. The reformation was adopted by act of Parliament in Great Britain m 1751,. by which eleven days in Sep tember, 1752, were retrenched, and tho third day was reckoned the fourteenth. This mode of reckoning is called the New Style. Ticions Literature, Parents and teachers are quite too forgetful of one incumbent duty, viz; the guarding and guiding of tho moral natures of the young, ur children, unattended by faithful advisors, are wandering away in forbidden paths guide-' less and friendless—treading upon enchanted ground—leveling among dangerous delusions. Call thenj b.iek; go opt after them j 6 flV° fhem 1 . Are wb'hea'rd? Well, thoh, again we' tell you, teachers, parent, bo vigilant; watch your .children day and .night; look well to their eternal interests,' for these are times of peril. Let the influences of home, tho school and tho Church, lib united,’ and/ as an ark, preserve our dear youth from 1 the destructive deluge'of modern infidel literature—r-tho corrupting books and papers that flood our land. Wo are in the midst of a plague not leas loathsome' and its encroach ments, than the plague of locusts; Jt is the plague of papers, poisoned and puff ed, and pressed upon tho people 1 ."Paper.-, books; it njakos rao siok, To .think how ye nro lijultipliiul; J,ike Egypt's frogs- yo poke up thick, ■ Your ugly heads pn every side." I Wo are not an enemy to books and papers, by any manner of means, Sq far from it that wo copld scarcely liyo away from thpir cbm? pany, or without their influences, Indeed, wo are most heartily in love with sobor, hon est books, and plead guilty of flirting occa sionally with sensible, well behaved poriodi- I cals, .But wo do say, that amid such-im mensely promiscous mixture of things trifling and trpths thoughtful, there is imminent dan ger that opr eager children may be deceived. It is not “innocent amusement” to peruse to peruse those tedious and terrible tales of dangers and deaths, bombast and blood, fever ish imaginations that are, emanating from- burning brains and sin-siek -hearts. —- Away with them I, Such readings destroy all taste for history and the sciences.. Nature, decorated in her loveliest May, is too homely for the intoxicated fancies of the novel-reader; 1 and life itself becomes a weariness—a disap pointment. Religion, so pure, and peaceable, and precious, can pot find a welcome or a homo in tho heart of the passionate novel rea der. Aaron Burr.,a man of rnro genius and fairest intellectual endowments, reveled in CARLISLE, PA.j THURSDAY, MARCH 8,1860 f. novels and infidel books in his youth, and as p, natural consequence, dwarfed and dwindled down into a traitor’s grave 1 For the immortal soul’s sake, let ns awake to a discharge of our duty in this matter. It is high time for us to oppose the tendency of this latter day Satanism, Call if what-you may; mingle as much sugar with the poison as you choose; apologise for it forever if you dare, it is, nevertheless, a deadly dose to all who swallow it. A grain of strychnine is not less fatal from being sweetened with a : hun dred times its bulk in honey. The mind must have pure wholesome, nutfioious diet, or it will languish and die the second deatlj.H Let us, as Educators and Christians* strive humbly, earnestly; and devotedly, prayerful ly, to counteract this growing evil. May our' hostility to it be mingled with our toa'ohings, henceforth, while life shall last!— Educator. A Printer’s Story.. Once (last Friday,) item greedy, sat .this writer sad and seedy, pondering o’er a memo randum book of items used before—(book of seribblings rather; items, taking days to', ga ther them in chilly, freezing weather—great expense of limb and leather!) pondered- we those items o’er. While wo conned them, slowly rocking (through our mid strangeifan cifes flocking,) caine a quick, a nervous Knock ing—knocking at the sanctum door. “ Sure that must bo Jinks,” we muttered—“Jinks that’s knocking at our door 1 Jinks the pCrec yering boro 1" ' ’ V Ah, how well do we remind us, in the Walls that then confined us, the “ oxchahges”i;lay behind us and around us on the floor, ■ ?jiot’ wo « Jinks has called to borrow some newspa pers 'till to-morrow,’ and ’twill be relief fiiom sorrow to get rid of Jinks, the bore; soil’ll open him the door.” ■' Still the visitor kept louder than before, !. Bracing up our patience firmer, then with out another murmur, IJr, Jinks,” said we, your pardon and forgiveness wo irnploro.—t But—the fact is- —wp were reading of that Pembina proceeding, where they voted .the Pakotas and Ojibways by the score, and were lost in the reflection that the Otfortail election might with cart-loads sent for Becker tip qnr calculations o’er. Here we opened wide the door. But phansy our phelinks—for it Jinks the bore. p.? - But the form that stood before us caused a trembling to come o'er us, and memory quick ly bore us back to days of yore; days, when items were so plenty, and where’er this writer wenthp picked up interesting ponoilings’at almost every door. 'Twasour horned under strapper—'twas this young infernal rapper hand outstretched;like'Gaptain Tapper, with “the_ foreman's out of copy, sirand it k;in der riz bur dander, that like grasping&leiin dor, he had set .up all the’ copy, and |,alrfeady wanted “ wanted copy—over|norp 1 Now this local. had already walked about till nearly dead—he had sauntered through the city, till his feet, were .very sore—f-w allied through Bine end Spruce and Cedar,Through I the ■ stvoota, ojmW; gpntlo you never thought of, both public scuro.; and examined shop and cellar, and had questioned every “feller,” but they.alf refused to toll or hint at any “shocking acoi-. dent," not published heretofore. , Hiiying met with no sijccoss, hq would rather.’sorter gupss’ ho might hayo felt atrifla wicked at that ngly little bore, with the message from the foreman, [ that he wanted “ something more.” i‘Now it’s time you were departing you young scamp," cried we, upstarting; “get you back into the offioerrioffice, where, you were before; or the words that you have spo ken sure will get your noddle broken," (and we seized a cudgel, oaken, that was lying on the floor, J still he stood and never stirred from his position ip thp dopr—budged the dpvil, neper more 1 ‘■‘ Inky demon of evil! dost in per secution royolf Thinkest thou to hunt and haunt me like'nn everlasting horo? Leave! or-7r(pauae till I have said it) this sheet thou art doomed to edit, and to live, like.ine, on cre dit, live on credit everrriqre!” Then the devil fled affrighted, njpttered faintly, “Send hihr more,” ■■ • ■ But our devil, never sitting, still is Hitting, flitting back.and forth upon the landing just outside the sanctum door; tears a-down his cheeks are streaming, strange light from his eyes, gleaming, and his voice is heard a screaming, “ Sir, the foreman wants some more 1”. -Shocked and startled by that warn ing we!ve awakened every morning, and Ave hear the dismal homings of the imp outside I the door; and a fancy will come o'er us, that I each reader’s face before us bears the signet, tf give .us .classic draughts and antiquated lore I” “ Copy,” still—forevermore I A Woman joining the Sons of Malta. The disappearance of the man named Cur ds from Janesville, Ohio, supposed to have been spirited away and disposed of by the Sons of Malta, for exposing their secrets, is explained. His wife publishes a statement 'in which she says that her husband left town he was angry and mortified at'her having imposed herself upon the Sons of Mal ta, dressed in man's clothes and beep partial ly initiated, Mrs. Curtis gives, an amusing account of her experiences among the Sons. She pud a neighbor, Mrs. Smith, haying a womanly curiosity to explore the secrets wlych their husbands would not toll then}, brinoT one of.tlio Sons to introduce them as men, for initiation, They put op their Imsbahds’ clothes and wont to the lodge-room. They did not go through all the ceremonies. Mrs. Curtis got only as far as being tossed in a blanket. She describes the conclusion of her adventure ps follows ■ . “ When the conductor paid, “ Can you swim, sir ?” I said ‘Yes!' ‘Can you swim in four fe'en feet of Water V I said ‘Yes I the deeper the better!’ ‘Well, take off your coat and try yourself/ , Now when he said ‘take off your .coat,’ that scared mo, because I had on a loose sack on purpose, for reason you will see yourself. However, I thought a moment and then said, ‘No, sir; noyor heed the coat— I can swim as well with as without it 1' 'Very well,’ said the conductor, ‘your peril will; be upon your own head. Ifow hold up your, right hand, sir this life.-presoryer iand —/ ‘Here he gavo ipe a push .and T wentbyer backward, and as soon as I alighted I went up again; flying—then down and pp in the same way, until I thought all my brains were flying opt gf the top of my head, then eyery thing swam round and round until I did not know anything at all, for I had fainted, The next place I found myself in, was the ante chamber, or rather, just being led into the ante-chamber by two men, and I was first Conscious that I must have been pitting in a bath tub with my clothes on. I think the cool air brought nio to ray senses. The two men looked vory’searod and sorry. I looked about for Mrs.-Smith and Joe, but they .had gone ns soon as they heard the noise in initia ting mo. I asked one of the men if Mr. Cur tis ivas in the lodged The man said he ■jvas. 1 said I should like to sob him h minute. The man wont into the pledge room; and pre- sently out came my beautiful husband, pH muffled up. I just whispered a work or two in his ear, and may be he didn’t pull off his gown and hood in short order pud walk hupio with mo. _ Ho loft mo that night in ftPgor and mortification, and I not spop ium since, But then he had no need to bo angry, because he" has always known that I have been in favor of 'women's, rights,’ and have always held that women ore as capable as men. But when it comes to the Sons of Mal ta I think ‘women’s rights’ is a failure; they cannot do it.” ON THE LOSS OF A CHILD. Not doad, but sleeping with shut eyes, On which no more tho sun shall rise; Though ho shall wako anon, and soo Tho splendor of eternity. Yet, oh ! how still and deep his rest! His hands are folded on his breast; Composed his limbs, and calm his face— A statue both in mien apd g^apo. Aids! how few, though, his year?— A being of more smiles than tears; On him our fondest hopes were cast— Our host beloved, because our last. ■Ah I ho was fairer than a mourn Of summer, when the rose' is born, And now, as fleeting as the rose, Pale, pale he sleeps, like winter snows, How long the day will seem—how long Without his sweet and pleasant song; The music of our homo is fled, Because oar little bird is dead. fie sleeps where, when the years have flown His solemn bod shall bo our own; And there, where-ho has gone before, Our souls shall meet to part no more. Holes for Going to Sleep. 1. pix the thoughts, on getting into bed, on some ope tiling, vast and simple.; such as a cloudless sky or the boundless ocean, or the ceaselpss -goodness of the Father of us all. 2. It kgs been sfiid that sleep has been pro moted by lying with the head toward the and not by any means toward the IVeat, because of certain electric currents. 3. A writer recommends to commence roll ing the eye-balls round the circuit of the eye in the same direction, until sleep comes. . 4. Another avers that the best plan is to place the head in a comfortable position, shut the mouth and breathe through the nostrils only, making an effort to imagine that you see the breath going out aU the. time. 5. When persons are prevented from sleep ing by a hacking cough, sleep is sometimes induced by having two pieces of muslin, say six inches by four, and three or four folds thick, to be used alternately thus; have a saucer at hand, half filled with alcohol, dip one end of the cloths into it, then press it out, so as. not to . dribble, and- lay it across the chest, the upper edge of cloth, ranging with the collar bone; let it remain five minutes, then put oh the other, alternating thus (by with as., little.motion ;or noisp as possible, the patient .‘being composed for sleep. ; . _ 7. A French medical journal adyiseSj in re tiring, to put five or six bits of sugar candy as large as a hazlenut, in the mouth, averring that before they are molted the desired,effect will bo produced. This may avail in case of simple sleeplessness, not as the result of any special disease. We would not ‘ advise such an expedient, , for persons have boon known to lose life by going to sloop with something in the mouth. If it is attempted at all, the candy should bo placed between the cheeks and the gupis, and the mouth kept resolutely closed, ' . ' ' A list of Unpublished Inventions, 1. A powder-proof female. 2. A wedlock which cannot be picked by lawyers, ■ , 3. A peolf jnegsgre which holds but; a half pock, 4. An electrical machine which gets up an affinity between uncongenial spirits. 5. An electro-magnetic alarm, which warns susceptible young women against designing men. , 6. A machine which cleans and threshes children. 7. A machine which goes through the whole process of courtship and marriage - This is the invention of a tailor and hair dresser. 8. A machine which cuts poor old acquain tances and makes rich now ones. It is the invention of a retired millionaire, 9. A disagreeable easy chair for unwelcome visitors. It is upholstered with currycombs, hair pins and fish hooks. No editorial sanc tum should bo without one. 10. A machine for polishing a tarnished character. The polishing is conducted in a fashionable church, by mogns of g banknote and sandrpaper, 11. An instantaneous hgindyo (die.) This is a composition into which Carlisle whisky largely enters. It operates on the body first, and then on the Jjair, 12. A composition to mgke fat men lean. It is almost wholly composed of alcohol. We I saw a fine-looking, portly gentleman, whohad just taken a dosp, leqn against a lamp-post the other pight. JSxliansUon of Talk. How - long the lamp of conversation holds out to burn between two persons only is curi ously set do-iyn in the following passage from Count Gonfallionior’s account of his impris onment: ‘■‘Fifteen ypgrs T existed in a dungeon ton feet squarel During six years I had a com panion; during nine I was alone. I never could rightly distinguish the face of him who shared ray captivity in the .eternal twilight of our poll. The first year we talked incessant ly together; wo related our past lives, our joys forever gone, over and over again. The next year wo communicated to each other our thoughts and ideas on all subjects. The third year wo had no ideas to communicate; wo were beginning to lose the power of reflection. The fourth, at the interval of a month or so, wo would open.our lips to ask each other if it were possible that the world went on as gay and bustling ns when wo formed a portion of mankind, The fifth we wore silent. The sixth bo was taken away—l never kpow where, JO execution or liberty. But f was glad when ho was gone—even solitude was bettor than the pale, vacant face. One day (it must ligye boon a year or two after my companion'loft-me,) the dungeon door was opened,’ whence proceeding X know not, the following words wore uttered: ‘By order of his Imperial Majesty, I intimate to you that your wife died a yeat ago.' Then the door was shut,’ and X hoard no more; they had but flung'this groat agony npon me, and .left mo alone'with it.” DC7* It is' positively stated that Old John Brown onoo visited Mississippi as a repairer of clocks, thus securing an oppdttumty to confer with tho negroes. 1 The Jewels of (be Months. Ip Poland, according to a superstitious, bo- Hof, each month of the year is under the in fluence of some precious stone, which influ ence is Attached to the destiny of persons bofn during the course of tho month. It is, iu ponspquen'ce, customary among friends, pud Ujof p particularly between lovers, to make, on birthdays, reciprocal presents, consisting of some jetypl ornamented with the tutelar stone. It is gpnprglly believed that this prediction of happiness, or rather of the future destiny will be realised according to the wishes expressed on the occasion. January —Tho stone of January is the Ja cinth or Garnet, which denotes constancy and fidelity in any sort of engagemiit. February —Tho Amethyst, a preservative against violent passions, and an assurance of peace of mind and sincerity. March —Tho Bloodstone is the stone of cou rage and wisdom, in perilous undertakings, and firmness in affection. April —The Sapphire, or diamond, is the stone of repentance, innocence, and kindliness of disposition, ■ jVay—The Emerald, This stqnp signifies happiness ip love, ,and domestic felicity, JunfcrThp Agate is the stone of Joiig fife, health and prosperity. July—Tho Ruby, or Cornelian, denotes for ; gotfulness of, and exemption from the vexa tions caused by friendship and love. Sardonyx. This stone denotes conjugal felicity. September— Chrysolite is the stope which nrpsprves. find cures madness ftncj dp-: spair, . -. , Ociaier—The Aqua-Marine, or Opal signir fies distress and hope. November-^ The Topaz signifies fidelity and friendship, : December^—. The Turquoise is tho stone which expresses great sureness and prosperity in love, and in all the circumstances of life. THE WORLD. The folio-wing was one of the late Major Noah's stories: . “Sir, bring me a good, plain dinner,” said a melancholy looking individual to a waiter at one of our principal hotels. ■ “Yes,> sir." ■ The dinner was brought and devoured, and the eater called the landlord aside, and thus addressed him: ; “Are you the landlord ?” .“Yes.” “You do a good business ?” “Yes,” (in astonishment.) “You make, probably, ten dollars a. day, clear?” ' * “Yes.” ' “Then lam safe. I have been out of em ployment about seven months; but I engaged to work to-morrow. ' I had been without food' 1 twenty-four hours when I entered your estab lishment, . I will pay You in a week.” ~ “I cannot pay my bills with such promises,” blustered the landlord;, “and I do not keep a poor house. You should address the proper authorities, leave the. something for secu rity.” .' ■ “I have nothing.” “I will take your coat." “If I go into the street without that, I will get my death such weather as this." “You should have thought of that before you came here.” “Are you serious ? Well, I solemnly aver that ono week from how I will pay you.” “I will take the coat." ’ Tho.cogt was loft, and a wee if aftprwgs re deemed, - Seven ycprs_ after that, a wsalthy.man en tered the political arena and .was presented to a caucus , as an applicant for congressional nomination. The principal man of tfie cau cus hold his peace-rhe heard the' history of the applicant, who wpsmenthep of the church, am} onp of the njost respectable citi zens. He w.as the pligirmjpi. The vote was a tie, am} he opst a hogatiyp, thereby defeat ing the wealthy applicant, and whom he met anhopr. afterwards, and to him he said: ‘/Ton don't remember me?" . “No." ' , , . “I once pts dinner at your hotel, and al though J told you I was famishing, and pledg ed ipy word of honor to pay you in a week, yog fopk my poat, and saw-uio go out into the inclement air, at the risk of. my life, without it.” ' .. “Well, sir, what then . “Not much. You callyourself a Christian. I To-night you were a candidate for nomination, and but for me you would have boon elected to Congress.” Three years after the Christian hotel keep er became bankrupt. The poor, .dlnnorloss wretch that was, is now a high functionary in Albany. I know him well. The ways of Providence are indeed wonderful, and the mutations almost beyond conception or belief. From Galiguani’s Messenger, Dec. 25. Danger of Another Deluge—The Norhcrn Hem isphere to be Submerged, and a New World from the South. . .. . Wo have had occasion to peruse a remarka ble work, just published, entitled “ Courants at Revolutions deil atmosphere otdo la lifer," by Lieut. Julicn, a distinguished officer in the French navy. The greater part of the book is devoted to a general description of lieuten ant Maury’s splendid theory qf Currents and winds, by which ho explains tljo recurrence of storms and other meteorological phoijome- I na; but what has chiefly attracted our atten tention is a now theory bn the invitable peri odical return of a cataclysm similar to that known under the name of the Universal Del uge, a suin'oct which the author treats with singular lucidity, and of which we' will hpre endeavor to give an outline: The author starts from certain facts, some I of which are generally known, viz: I- That the isothermal, lines (linos whore the same de gree of warmth is observed on onr globe) of the highest temperature are equally distribu.- ted between Northern and Southern homisr . phores, the space they occupy in the former , being about double of that which they ofccupy , South of the equator, so that the Southern , hemisphere is considerably colder. pspeoigHy towards the polo, than the Northern one, R. That the accumulation of ice at the Antarctic Solo, is ipuoh more considerable than qt the ortiiorn, 3. That the earth, performs tiro shortest portion of its revolution, viz: that nearest to the perihelion, much more rapidly than the other, and at that period of the year which comprises the autumn and winter of the Northern hemisphere. Hence it follows that the winter of the latter is. shorter (by about 8 days) than that of the Southern hem isphere ; and it is during this long winter, when the earth is furthest from the sun, that the solar rays must lose in strength what they gain in duration. To this cause of diminu tion of temperature must bo added the loss of caloric by radiation, and it will then be easy to perceive the reason of the difference of tem perature between the two hemispheres. Ob servation, moreover, has shown that the quan- tity of choleric lost at the South pole in the 'course of a year, is equal to the surplus ab sorbed qt the North polo. Now lot us, with the author, mentally represent to ourselves the earth at the moiiient of its creation, when its whole surface was covered iyith water, and I its centre of gravity coinpided yjdth its ge(K metrical centre, Jroiq that rqo(qpntits revo lution around the spn commenced, and all those causes Tyhich haye led to an inequality of temperature between thp two hemisphere^ • began to operate. |n the poprsp of a few cen turies the ice pt the Soiiih pole-become in con sequence heavier than 1 that acoqipplated at the North polo, and the centre of gfqyity was displaced mathematicians, in fact, state the distance between thp latter and the geometrical centre to h,b about 1,700 me tres. Under the circumstances, what could the liquid surface of the globe do hut flow southward, leaving all the continent we arb so familiar with uncovered. Hero M. Julien observes that all the regions of the Southern hemisphere hear unmistakable marks of sub mersion ; that America, Africa and India end in points, all turned towards tho South pole; that tho islands of the Southern regions have the qpppqrqnce of, the summits: of mountain ranges, anp that Liciit. Saury’s soundings show that thp coast ou that side all descended abruptly into the sea. He farther states the’ curioqsfqot that going from the hjorth to the South pole qt every pqrqllel the ratio of the extent of land to that of the seq diminishes regularly and progressively. Let us now take into consideration the phe nomenon called the Prooessipn of the .Equi noxes, in virtpo of which the first point of Arles recedes upon the ecliptic by about 5a seconds in q year; This gradually causes a complete change in thq seqsbns; and counting from any giyon time, there iqviat elapse at least 21,000 before the seasons ojvn return at precisely the same period of the year. It.has been Ascertained that, up to the year 1248 of the Christian era, a year in which the first day of winter precisely coincided with the earth’s passage through its perihelion, the temperature of the Southern hemisphere had hbten in constant course of diminution. It ia moreovor clear that after the lapse of 10,50tf years, tho seasons on our globe must bo ex actly reversed. Hence,, about 10,500 years before the year 1248, qr 11,QQ years .before our present time, it was the north polo, and, not its opposite one, which was ht its max imum of refrigeration; our. present con tinents were then submerged, according tq Mosaic tradition, of .the psluge, and there were continents unknown to ns in the south ern hemisphere. And, qgain, by the same’ astronomical and nqturgl Iqws, 10,500 years qfter fhe last pqtablyism, q new one will oc cur, which will again suhtpergo the northern ; hemisphere, and allow a new world to emerge from the ocean in the Southern one. A Jlcautifnl Story. The Green Bay (Wisconsin) Advocate, hits' g talented and accomplished lady correspond-. cht, : who signs herself “ Long a coming?'- If sho is as beautiful ns some of her brilliant productions, we think she can bear the palm.' Here is one of her last effusions,-dope up in rhyme, and a pretty little thing it is! ft is’ entitled . THE HOCCASIX FLCrtTEn. [ ’Twas just one hundred v-pars ago, down off the Little Suainico, a maiden, on the yellow sands, was tearing,' with her pretty hands,’ her long and glossy raven ligir. It was a civilized despair; for tl}Offgh she knew not. ‘f Ovid’s Art of Loye'j'! slid had a human heart . that loyed tyith more than art: ’twas life—al(. that defines that one word w.ifp; wps gone and I blotted from the world; tho' stars and moon to’ i darkness hurled, Life ran, ap ever wid’nipg ’ river, to seas where darkffoss hung forever:- 1 — Plow oil, thou careless jSuamico, by golden sands forever flow; the honeysuckle blooihing wild lcans down—tholittle lndian child kneels down to kiss thy wave, beside the Indian warf riors grave, and there the bride walks with her lover, under the summer’s le.afy cover, ■ under boughs of yerdant tr.ces that jffiirmpr in tho evening breeze, nor flowers of one hffffr dred years can equal now that maiden’s tears, that fell a century ago,- and sanctified the . Suainico; . .. . “By why should mhidens thus despair?’! she said, and smoothed her raven hair. “I’ll follow in the pathless wind, and, this dark river leave behind. Better die in Idvo’s en deavor, than sink in hopelessness foreyor." - Tho red stars, gleam, the \Phip-ppprrwilJ. answers tho owl, under the hill, ■ The quakes’ are coiled in tangled swales; tlfe woofls qeenf full of human wails, and flfends flt f