'' ' ' ; l■ , ' '■
VOL. 48.
AMERICAN VOLUNTEER.
PUBLISHED BVJEIIY THURSDAY KORNIKH BY
JOHN B. BRAXTON.
• m ■T ERM S .
SoflSoirf^mm.—One Dollar and REty Cents, paid
In advance; Two D-dlars if paid within -tho year;
and Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid within
tho year.. Theso tormstfill bo rigidly adhered to in.
■ovary instance. No sufiSeription discontinued nnlil
■all arrearages are paid unless at the op
Editor. ' ,
, AnvsjmsEiiENTS— Accompaniedby thocash,an
=uofc exceeding one square, will Lo in h
:timos for One Dollar, and twenty-fivo coeh
■additional insertion. X’lioso of a greater g
proportion. \ ‘
Jon-PniNTiKO—Such as Hand-hills, Posting-hills,
Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, Ao. Ac., oxoentod with
accuracy and at tUo shortest notice.
THE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW.
(CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES.-
m’ I.CCV A. BANDAI.L,
Mrs. Tompkm’a parlors were in applepie
order—not a spook of dust on the shining pi
ano—not a stray shred on tho velvet carpet,
not an atom of ashes under the well-filled,
grate. For Mrs. Tompkins was one of those
thrifty souls Who keep.up appearances in spite
of everything, and delight in handsom.ely fur
nished parlors, -while the kitchen is stlptod
■to the very closest degree of parsimony.
"... She was flying about, shaking out .chair
.covers and arranging the little china orna
ments oh the mantel, was Mrs. Tompkins, in
,a manner that betokened a considerable
amount of inward disturbance. There was a
Jerk to her elbow and a toss of her head,
'.which forebodedwoe to somebody or other.
“l am clear out of patience!” ejaculated
Mrs. Tompkins, at last. “I don’t believe there
ever was'a poor mortal half so badgered as I
am, with poor relations 1 Why couldn’t Mar
ry have married a rich wife, while he was
.about it, instead of Mary Glenn, who walnH
worth a red cent —only a governess at that,!
And now the poor dear boy is dead and gone,
.and left his dolly-baby of a wife pn my hands.
J declare, it’s enough to make a woman crazy.
Don’t see why I should be obliged to support
her just because she happened to be my son’s
■wife ! Why can’t she go toWork and do some
thing? Too .much of a fine lady, I s’pose
with her wljite hands and long curls, and pink
And white cheeks. Never brought up to do
chores. about the house —can’t wash dishes,
nor make biscuit, nor d.o anything useful. I’m,
’tired of this sort of •business.".
And just as. Mrs. Tompkins made this, em
phatic assertion, the door softly, swung open,
• .and a delicate' girl of not-nioro.than eighteen
summers,* glided in. Her deep mourning
■drees gave additional fairness to a complex-,
ion that Vas like snowy wax, shadowed with
the softest rose-tint on check and lips, and
the timid, fluttering glance ofhordark eyoin
dioated her position dependant.
“Can I assist you.about arranging the par
lors, Mrs. Tompkins?" she faltered, as if un
certain ho'ivju- 1 ' ofler might chance to be re
-ooived. J
“No Mrs. Tompkins, Junior, you cant I
said the old lady, with .a toss of her cap border.
“I couldn’t think ofallowingsuoh a fine lady
to soil her fingers-about my work. There—
you needn’t go to crying—l don t beheve m
people that have such very tender feelings I
“I did not intend to cry,” murmured poor
Mary; “but indeed, I could not help it!”_
“I tell you what, Mrs. Tompkins, Junior,
said tho old lady, wrathfully, “we may as well
come to upderptapding first as last. Zeph
aniah and me -aintrich-n-and we’ve a big fam
ily of our own, and now that poor, dear boy,
Henry, our older boy, has been dead and gone
a year.” Hero Mrs. Tompkins, mechanically
pulled out a red bordered pocket-handker
chief, and made a random dab at her eyes,
“and I don’t see tliat you have any very par
ticular claim on us ; so you’d better look out
for a situation as governess or to do some
■plain sowing, or something, as soon as you
can, for, to speak my mind, you’ve beenspong
in’ on us about long enough 1”
Mrs. Tompkins stopped, with her mouth
shut together like a steel trap. Her daugh
ter in-law had grown very pale.
“And while I inn about it,” continued tho
.old lady, “I may as .well .say that Hetty don’t
like it because you insist or. stayin’ in the
parlor every time Col. Redcliffe calls. He’s
; worth a eool half million, Yephaniah says,
end if our Hetty makes a catch of him, why
' tho family fortune’s as good as made. Of
course, when Hetty is Mrs. Col. Redoliffo,
jyou won't expect her to notice you much—
*-pbe may give you sonic sewin’ to do once in a
jvhile, but— —rmy gracious! there’s his car
riage at the door this minute ! And ho was
hero only yesterday., Biddy ! run up and
tell Miss Hetty to.put on her pink dress, and
take her curls out ot the papers—Col. Red
clifie’s at the door I You can sit in the kitch
en while lie’s Imre, Mary, and peel potatoes
for dinner, if it isn’t too common work for
Jilly fingers 1 Hetty don’t- want you payin'
round when her beau’s here! !”
And as Mrs. Tompkins, Jr., disappeared,
Mrs. Tompkins, Sr., opened the door with a*
simpering smile. ,' *
“Dear me, Col. Redcliffe, who’d have
thought of seeing you? Da walk in—wo’re
highly honored, I’m sure 1"
Col. Redcliffe was a tall, elegant looking
man, whoso wealth and station in society fully
warranted tho calm dignity with which ho
bowed to Mrs. Tompkins’ adulation. ,
“Take a seat on the sofa, C 01.,” chattered
Mrs. Tompkins. Won’t you sit u littlo nearer
thofiro! Not cold, eh? Well, it aint so free
zing-like as it was yesterday, to ho suro 1 I
hope you won’t get impatient,” sho giggled,
“Hetty’ll bo down in a minute 1”
“ Who will bo down inquired Gob Red
cliffe, looking up from tbo book bo was care
lessly turning over, with some astonishment
expressed in his fine features'.
“Hetty—my daughter 1”
“I bog your pardon,” said the Col. quietly,
“there is some mistake hero. I called to see
your daughter-in-law, Mrs. Tompkins I ”
“Harry’s wife 1” gasped the mamma-in-law.
“And," added 001. Redeliffe, “as you are
the nearest relative and, guardian at present,
it may be well for me to mention to you that
i intend making her an offer of marriage,—
Her beauty and grace render her a fit wife
for any man, and I am proud to think I have
won her affections. Of oour-o I may reckon
upon your sanction and approval 1”
“Ye-ycs!” stuttered Mrs. Tompkins, win
yvas completely taken aback by'this sudden
overthrow-of all her Aladdin visions concern
ing her rod-hnired'daughter, Hetty. How
ever, oven if Cob Rodcliffo’s palatrial estab
lishment wasn’t for daughter Hetty, still it
was something to keep so much wealth in the
family.
“I’ll call her," she said humidly, slipping
out tho room, iust in time to arrest the trium
pliant entry of Miss Hetty, with her curls all
in a quiver of liair oil and oolono. •
“Go back, Hetty !” slie exclaimed in a stage
whisper, “you are not the one that s wautedl
It’s Harry’s wife 1“ , ’
And sho shot down stairs as fast as possi-
UIo
‘‘Mary, dearl” sho said in tho softest of
tones, “you're not peelin’ potatoes i.'Well, you
always were so obliging 1 Give mo a kiss,,
love—l always did say Harry’s wife was just
like my ow.n daughter. Now run up stairs
and see what Col; Kedcliffe has to say to you.”
Mrs. Harry Tompkins was uncertain wheth
er her respectable mother-in-law was not a
little demented. Never before had she list
ened to such softly affectionate syllables from
the old lady, and sho went up stairs like one
in a dream.
“And when may. I calf you mine, dearest,”
was tho parting question of Col. Redcliffo, as
he held, that fair young widow to his heart.
—-p.v..j.yvr..T.T,.jM>- Tvaq wn Innn* since she had
heard tiie accents of love and kindness, and
how to be the chosen of one to whom
the world looked in admiration —oh, it seemed
too much happiness!
“Remember, I shall not wait long," he ad
ded, caressingly smoothing down the jetty
tresses. “The sooner I take you a,vay from
this vulgar and uncongenial atmosphere the
better.” ’
“Vulgar and -uncongenial!” gasped Mrs.
Tompkins, who was listening at tbe key-hole,
“Well, I never 1” ’ '
", '“Mary, dear,” sho said that evening, “I
shall bo,very sorry to lose you. You’ve .al
ways beenjustlikomy b .in child, havn’tyou?
Come and kiss me, thcros’ a love —and lie
sure you don’t forget your poor dear ma-in
law, when-you are. married to Col. Redcliffe,
Hetty, come here and congratulate your dear
sister, i wonlfl not have given you up to any
body else, hut Del. -Redoliffo is a man that
serves you.” ■ ,
Mary smiled, quietly, she was of too gentle
.and forgiving a nature to resent even tlic hy
pocrisy of her mother-in-law, and in the bright
future, opening before her, slie hqd forgiveness
for all. . " ■
; “Harry’s wife.§||oing to be married,” said
Mrs. Tompkins to one of her gossips .soon af
, .“What, -that, lazy, indolent, ■good-for-noth-
■'■••■
“Huslnshrah!”. cried the .old lady, clapping
her hands over-Mrs. Sykes’ mouth, “thatwas
all a mistake. Sho is a dear, sweet love.”
“Oh!” said Mrs. Sykes, (’then I conclude
ho is a going to marry rich.” ’ ,
“Yes,” said Mrs. Tompkins, complacently;
“It will be such a trial to part with her
' And such is the. weakness of poor human
nature that tho good old lady” had actually
boljoved.what she said.
THE (IDEE3 BEE.
In connection with''.the-iiaprbved beehive,'
illustrated in our last' uumlTarjlfwe publish
, the following curious facts, widen, have long
since been ascertained, but which wo extract
in -this form from tho admirable article’ bn
the bee id “Appleton’s New American
podia”
The queen bee is the largest, belngS} lines
in length, the males being 7, ami the workers
.6 : her abdomen is -longer in,proportion, and
Ims 2 byaria of .considerable size i .'her wings
are so short as hardly to' reach:.beyond tho.
third ring, andhercollor is of a deeper yellow.
She is easily recognized ,hy the slowness of
her march; by hei- sizc.'and by the respect
and attentions paid to Jier i.slio lives in the
’interior o( thp.jiiyb. ancl iibldOin depa.rta from
it unless for tlio' pbr pbse ,, qf bein giin p reg 1 1 a ted
-or to lead out ah new;;- ewa -rtrj; -if she be re
moved from the fiiwitho, whole s.wanu will
follow her. The’queen-governs the whole
colony, and is in fact ils-mother, she being,
tho only breeder.out of 20,000 or 30,000 bees;
on this account she is loved, respected and
obeyed with all the external marks of affec
tion and devotion which human subjects could
give to a beloved monarch. ■ ,
Tim eggs and larva of, the royal family do
not differ in appearance from those of the
workers; but the,young are more carefully
nursed, ami fed to repletion . with a more
‘stimulating kind of food, which causes them
to growso rapidly that in five days the lava
is prepared to spin its web, and on tlio six
teenth day becomes a perfect, queen. . But as,
only one quoon ban ■ reign -in the hive, the
young ones ara,kept close prisoners, and. care
fully guarded against tlio attacks of the queen
mother, as long 'as there is any prospect of
her leading another swarm from the hive ; if
a new swarm is' not to ho sent off, .the wor
kers allow-tlio* approach ot the old .queen to
the royal colls, and she immediately common
cos the destruction of the royal brood by sting
ing thorn, one after tho other, while they re
main in the colls. Huber observes that the
cocoons of the royal larvae are open behind,
and he believes this to bo a provision of na
ture to enable the queen to destroy the young,
which, in tho ordinary cocoon, would be sale
against her sting. When. tlio old queen de
parts with a swarm, a young one is liberated,
who immediately seeks tho destruction of her
but is prevented by the guards ; if sho
departs with another swarm, .a second queen
is liberated, .and so on, until further sivarm
ing.is impossible from tbe diminution of tlio
numbers .or tlio coldness of the weather; then
tho reigning queen is allowed to kill ail’lier
sisters. If two queens should happen to como
out at tho same time, they instantly com
mence a mortal combat, and the survivor is
recognized as tlio sovereign j tho other bees
favor the battle, form a ring, ft id excite the
comhitants, exactly as in ahunijin prize light.
Experiments amply prove that on" tlio loss
of tho queen the hive is thrown into the groat- .
ost confusion ; tho inquietude which com
mences in one part is speedily communicated
to the whole; fife hoes rush from the hive,
and seek the quoon in all directions ; after
some hours all becomes quiet again, and the,
labors are resumed. If there bo no eggs nor
brood in tho combs tlio boos seem to loso their
faculties; they cease to labor.and to collect
feed, and the whole community soon dies.—
But if there bo brood in the emtitmtho labors
continue as follows: having selected a grub,
not more ; than-throe days old, tho workers
-sacrifice three-, contiguous cells that tho cell
of the grub miiy lie made into a royal coll ;
they supply it with -tho peculiar stimulating
.jelly reserved for tho queens, and at tlio end
of tile usual sixteen days tho larva of a work
er is metamorphosed into a queen. This fqot,
which rests on indisputable authority, is cer
tainly a most .remarkable natural provision
for tlio prosorvat on of the lives of-the colony.
While a hive remains without a queen swarm
ing can never take place, however crowded
it may bo. Tho possibility of changing tlio
w-irker into a queen is taken advantage of in
tho formation of artificial swarms, by which 1
the amount of honey may bo indefinitely in
oroased. In a well-proportioned hive, con- -
tabling twenty thousand bees,'there would bo
nineteen thousand four hundred and ninety
nino worker's, five hundred males and one
quoon. —From the Heicn/i/ic American,'
“OUR COUNTRY—MAY IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT—BUT, RIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY.”
DOW NED SMITH WON HIS MED.It.
Sumo dozen years ago, before tho railways
now throbbing like arteries through the land
wore in existence, I wont with two friends
to lodge in Cornwall. Tho placo was tho most
retired I over saw. Far removed from tho
cross-country road, and only reached by ven
turing over a track —for it could not oven,bo
called a' path—winding along the edges of
cliffs often two and throe hundred feet sbovo
the beach, it was a place to delight all whose
fortune had carried them within sight of it. ■
Tl4Sjouthernm°st end of the bay closed in
a steeplmpo of living green, caused by a land
slip, in wßlch the turf had slid down like a
veil to hidoSßfc min it left behind, of which
nothing wqfcge&jt from tho boach but a back
ground Like some old
Normal still resisting
step by.stcp lt was
near this traces of
former to bo seen.
v -11 1w.1,. .. don, led
into a of French
brandy had often single Sight.
■ We weroanxious to learn whether the tales
wo had heard ofCornish wreckers wore true,
and it was some questioning on - this subject
which drew from the old miller the following
. story: • '
“I cant say I of such tilings,
but! never seed, no such doings myself. X
have lived Hero,, man 1 and boy, these seventy
years,” .ho said; “ many and many's the
night, we’vo been watching oil these bleak
cliffs for a chance ,to help the poor creatures as
had" only a trail plank between, them and
.death. ■ Scores of Ijyea I've seed saved, but
never took oho‘; no, not oven,the brute beast
that came to the shore from all the'multitude
of wrecks I've seed,. ‘ X am not going to say,
that when theshipa, poor things, are all broken;
up and the timbers come ashorc—l’m not clear
to say, there .is not some small matter as nev
er gets reporteto, the king's man. ■ Little I
blame, those that take it,for the Lord .above
knows, I believe it is mpro the fault of those
.that keep back the honest dues for the salvage.
I remember in the time tlxat barwood'^ j
(and he pointed to some pretty things made
.byhis son, of the bright colored logwood)
•“ was coming in, there was those as worked
night and day,.landed- it, -and, after all their,
toil th.ey wanted to.pay thcpi off with just a
quarter ofVhatwas the right money, • So t> if.
they that are so Well off to try to cheat eikt
that; I'd ask your honors if it is notsetting an
example to the poor?
‘•■ There’s Nod Smeatb, now—ho has’, got'
that fine medal from'that grand place.up to
London, —I am sure he is as tender-hoartet}
as a,child, but you'’!! never make him believe
there is any sin in’taking a stray baulk ortwo
tlio t\do'brings in, and nobody owns ; while,
after he’d been working for a whole week they
wanted -to pay him .with a little '’more than
nothing; That's what X call stealing!
•.*; **. EoLmy old- head is
Woll/woli, you must please It
. does muk&iiiy blood >|joU to hear.such falsi
’ -tics. , •• • ; Vf-. .. "■
. •.“'Twas'soycnyeaTjslastNovcmlfcv—rl mind
-it vrell-b-mo and* Ned wore standing as your
honor.and mo is now,- by my old hut here.—
If had been a bitter flight of weather,"and was
so dark we could, not see even the clonos o-f
foam that, kept flying in our faces. I’d just
put the . mill agoing with some barley, and
' was minded to.lie down for a nap, (for you
see I always wake when the corn's downj and,
So. don't trouble -about the mill,) when I
- thought I heard aguri. 1 could not raakesuro,
for thq wind was lashing the waves mountain
higli, and the rako of'the. beach was most
enough to stim a body. Says Ito Ned, Ned;
you’re'more a spray man than me, just take
a look out to sea. Well, he’d not gone but a
few steps, when the report.camo full and true,
and even my old eyes could sec- the flash, I
stepped up and turned‘off the water, and Nerl
and rae went and called up the I
sent a boy on horseback to Trebarfoot to bring
more help ; and getting the ropes and things
we should want if anything could be done for'
the poor creatures on board’ the distressed
ship, wo went to ,the point wo thought she
would strike on. Wo had no help from our
■eyes, bub were guided by our knowledge of
.the wind and tide. ‘ ‘
“ It might be about five, or between that
and six o'clock, when we got to SaUstonc.-rr
We could notstand against the wind, but were
obliged to lie down, on the edge; of the cliff to
discover the vessel. -It seemed a'whole night,
though I suppose, it could not be more than
'an hour, before wc could see orhcar.anything.
more than the flash of the gun and the roar of
the wind and waves. After a bit wc touched ,
hands, and wont back to.a more sheltered j
place to talk over what was host to be done. I
Sbmc were for lighting a-fire to try to guide ,
them into Widomouth. Sand-day, but 1 knew j
'twas no use, for I was sure the vessel had I
not a rag of canvassstanding tobelp her holm
oven if the helm- itself was still - serviceable,!
and so she could never make a reach to Dead- i
man’s Corner, and might miss the only chance
of running into deep quiet water near the
Cupboard Rock.
“ All at once, while wd were doubting what
to do, wo heard a crash and cry, such as only
a stranded ship and the perishing souls on |
board of.heivcan make; Ah I you talk of
Cornish wreckers—but there was wet eyes
among us then, and nten’s hearts that never i
knew fear fluttered like leaves on the lime
tree, ... I
“ Wo stood right, above where the .vessel
struck. Sheer up from the beach —wo meas
ured it afterwards -"-two hundred and fourteen
feet. A mouse could not have found
down that cliff and as it was within an hour pi
high wator, no help could como to them poor
jsouls but by letting some one down from the
i place wo stood on.
“ The dim light .of morning j ust enabled us
toscoeacix other, and, the-white lino of the
shore-waves. Some thought they could see
the wreck; I cannot tell if it was so. For
certain wo could hear now and then, fainter
and fainter and fainter, theory ot mortal man.
“ ‘I can stand this no longer,' says Nod,
at last, ‘I can’t stand hero in health and
strength, with my two hands idle, while they,
poor creatures, are beaten to death against
the very rocks wo stand on. Boar a hand,
hero—l’ll go down this place.”
, “ We stood like men blind and deaf for a
minute, and then all tried to persuade him
out of it, for wo thought it was certain death.
The rope, most likely, would bo out through,
fraying over the cliff, or Aho wind might dash
him with fatal force against the rocks. But
nothing would stop him ; lie knotted the rope >
around his waist, and taking a short gaff in
his hand, stood ready tp slip off. Ho turned
a moment, and, says lie:
♦< Give my love to Mary and the children,
and if I don’t see them more, don't lob them
on come the parish.
He shook hands all around, and .then step \
pod off, and in a moment ho was hanging al
big weight on the rope wo held.
“ ‘ For God’s sake, lower away/, ho cried,
‘ I see them.' , ’ ■
“ Wc saw them, too, for God rout the black
CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 1862.
clouds, and looked through to see that noble
deed. In the cast there Was a space of clear
sky, throb”!! Which a stream of light fell on
tlio scene before us. An awful scene it was!
The ship was broken tdi pieces, and every
turn of the Waves her timbers tossed and wor
rolled, and among them wore tho sailors.—
Some past help forever, anil two or three still
striving hard for life. j
“ Just as Ned touched the beach, one man
was swept out, from the, narrow ledgo they
were trying to hold on to. yvith every third or
fourth wave breaking over thorn. Tho man
Nod came to first was just such another for
height and strength as hiirfsolf, and wo held
our breath with terror when we saw by his
actions that ho was (as is, often the case)
driven mad by his danger, and was strug
gling desperately with tlio.'only man who
could save him.
For full five minutes tliDj 'rwrestlcd togeth
er. Sometimes we thought of pulling Nod
up, and so making's'nro ; for ’twas .a
hard choice between thepofirdemoutedstran
---- —--I—.vmmir u-ifri\m] thrnn lifUn
children. But ttien 'the water left them once
more, and wo saw. Ned had him down with
his knee on his chest, ond’wo knew if the
tide gave him time he ,wr-4 master. So it
proved. IJe whipped a turn ,or two of rope
' round his arms, and c?«diitlg tight to him
with his left, gave the haul away.
“They had barely left’the rock—for we
pulled easy atdh-sfrr-when tjie whole keelson
of the vessel was thrown agabtet tlrt very place,
they stood upon. Wo had'■them*in-our lift,
however, and if the weight, jjad been twice as
much, it would have come tbrgrassif the rope
held. ■ .
“ We were all too busy drawing them up
to look to see what happened on the Way. I
hold it as Bible truth, thpt there’s scarce
another man but - Nod : wmijfl have brought
that sailor up. lie had, as; ! have said, one
arm around him, and, with the other, warded
himself from the sharp fatie'ef the cliff, but
he had some grievous, hfuiscs for all his cour
age and strength. :
“ When the man found hinisolf lifted up in
that strange way he got liloro raving tluhr
.over, and finding ho could mjt.uso his lmndfc|
he fixed his tieth in Ned’s cheek,till they inert'
For all the gain and danger Ned hold on, and
■I shall never forget to my list h3ur l
felt as wo drew them in over! the edge uf the
cliff, and they wore safe. '!.!
“Boor Nod, wo laid hint’ in a sheltered
place, and would have put (ho stranger witltj
him, but we soon found he Was too wild to ho
trusted, SO wo hp.und 4im for his own
safety, . ' 1
■ “ In a few minutes after tlfey wore landed
Ned’s wife came. We hadbsept .a boy for
sumo spirits, and things,_,an|£ he, youngster
’like, told' what Ned;iw*s r ab|bt.‘\, None who
wore there Iwillkeycitf forget young
thing as .she fell 'on her kridis by her .hus
band’s side, and swooped awas with-.hor head
on.'his breast. ' , V.'f
-. “ Ah, the' man iliut apeh
danger, wept like a-child as he smoothed the.
golden hair ol his wife..
“ As weak ns a child he was, too, from loss
of b100d... Well, other women came soon af
ter and hound up their Wounds, and then wo
got a cart gnd brought them, down to, my
liouSb. :
■‘f Eleven nrehtnnd throe boys were the crew
of the Hesperus, as the sblp'wnd called, and
only that one man saved. , lie lay for days—
very quiet at last—and scarce spoko a word.
What ho did say was about bis mother, and
the name of some young woman. When we
stripped him—by the doctor’s orders—wo
found a little paokot'hung found his neokby
a blank riband, and ds it was wot with the
salt water we took it, away to dry, My wife,
who tended him more than the rest, said ho
seenfed to keep groping for something in his
bosom, so, she put it back round liis neck
again; and when he found it there all right,
he never strove to rise and call out as ho. did
before. It is not for mo to say, bat my old
woman always considered that packet to hold
some true love-token, gho. often said she
wished she knew, for she thought how glad
his mother apd sweetheart would he to know
ho was alive.
“.Well, ho went on in that strange way
nigh on three weeks, and wo'did not know so
miioh as the name, of the sick man. Just as
Nod was going about again all well, _wo
thought the sight of hinj might bring the sailor
to big recollections.' So Ned wentp.pdsathy
the bed-side till ,he awoke. It was getting
near Christmas, and ho wanted the poor man
to be well enough to enjoy, the time with us.
When hd opened his eyes, Ned held out his
hand, and says lie : ,
' “ 'Give you joy, comrade. • Ay, I see you'll
ho more than a match for me the next turn
wo have, particular when ’tis the grass we
stand on.’ '•
“With that the tears came into his poor
dim eyes, and catching Ned's hand, he said :
“‘ I remember now. Were none saved but
me?’
“ 1 Nod was fearful to toll the truth; incase
it might make him worse, so hejust laughed
and said : .
“ ‘ You’ve boon so long sleeping off the ef?
fects of your wotting, that they are gone and
left you. But ’tis time wo know your name,
stranger, if it please you to toll.'
“ 1 Gascoigtm,’ ho said— ‘ Richard Gas
ooigno. Has ijo one written to my mother?’
“ ‘ How shopld we,’ says Ned, ‘ when wo
did hot know whore she lived.’
“With that ho got up. to come away, for he
was afraid if ho stayed he'd tell himself out
about his shipmates, only three of whoso
bodies we ever found.
“ ‘ He’d just got to tho flfbor when tho poor
man wanted him to cothe back, but before ho
could turn about the parson camo into the
room, and Ned gpt away.
“ Wo never know tho particulars for cer
tain, but always believe to this day tho young
man was ho common sailor.
“ Tho parson vised to como and sit with him,
hours together, and a fino lot of letters they
wrote between them. But wo woro never
tho wiser for any of their scholarship doings
but in one thing, and that won’t bo forgot
round boro for many’s tho long day.
“ I'ho Christmas day wo were all stand
ing about the church door, shaking hands,
and wishing each other a merry Christmas
and a happy now year, when the little gate
that led from tho parsonage lawn into the
church-yard was opened, and a lady came
among us so beautifully dressed and so beau
tiful herself that wo all stopped talking to
look at her,
“ I’m before my story, though, for I should
h'ave told you the stranger had gone to the
parsonage as soon ns ho could bo moved. _
“ Well" tho lady came right forward into
tho midst of the crowd, and she said: _ ■
“ ‘ Which of nil you brave, kind men is to
ward Smeoth ?” . „ i
“ Ned was just behind mo and seemed
ready m slink away, but I pushed him ’fore,
' U, ‘ C ‘ If it ploasojyotir ladyship, that’s him.’’
“Well NoiTkiiowo’d manners too well to
run away tben/ so therc ho stood, blushing
like a girtvf»ic‘’ ; , :
| ( “The lady took his hand, and seemcd|go-
Ing to make a speech ; hut she had only just
begun her thanks when her heart rose in
in her throat, and the tears stood in her eyes,
nod she only said “ God bless you!” and
put a little box into Ned’s pands, and then
kissed his great rough hand ns it’t had been
a baby’s face. Nod seemed struck all of a
heap. He looked at tho things she had given
him; and turned his head as if ho expected
to soo a mark where her beautiful lips had
touched.
“'Well, as the lady could not speak for
herself, the 1 parson up and told us all the
sense of. it' How that there was a grand
placo up to London, with a groat many grand
people who subsotibed among them to re
ward thorn that saved life..
“ ‘ And proud," says the parson’ " proud
I am that such a token has corao into my
.parish.”
“ Ho said many kind and good words, and
then told Ned to open the little box and
show what was in it. There, snro enough,
was a beautiful rate dal, with Ned’s name and
the name of the mnnjsavea, ana siJIiTBTiUTnr
words, which , tho’pjfvson said was that we
should. never give pp trying save life, for
perhaps a little spark of hope might remain,
though all sMined gone. -
“Ah I h«e comes Ned, he'll ho proud to
show your l»nors the medal.”.
So wo wpjkod. to Ned's cottage hard by,
and were- delighted tofind that, though sever
al, long years had passed—years that had
robbed him of hfs fair young wife, and laid
her with her now-born babe, in an early
tomb—his dark eyes . would brightegj and
his lino form look taller, as. he oxhibitea that
al Humane
aqua, y groat. Flumes,
(lams and' quartz mills have, boon-swept 1
away, in many instances the people barely,
escaping with their lives. ~'c 5
‘The loss of stock, fences, horses, hay.'grinif
and other property is almost heyond,cnleula|<
tion, and will foot up millions, bringing.li
ruin upon -thousands. Sacramento Gity jia|
been covered from ,two to throe feet doep for q
month past, and the people have been drivdn
fronj their homes to seek ■-refuge in Saq
Francisco. Public and private bouses Imyi}
boon - thrown open to the -sufferers, nnd coW
tributions continue to flow in from old and
young, and committees go aboutfrom tohoutyj
seeking contributions of money clothing ahq
provisions, and their efforts are rewarded hjf
donatiopaufcrticlcs suitable to the wants ofthe
sufferers,
, The California Steam Navigation .Compa
ny bring down all who present themselves,
free of charge. On their arrival hero the
committees take charge of them, and'procure'
lodgings, food and clothing, and seek Ip 1
every way possible' to alleviate the sufferings,
of the poor creatures who have lest their all,
and from comparative comfort are reduced to
want and despair: Several thousand have
been provided for, and more are coming..
Whore it will end nobody knows. The steam-,
boats go .up daily, loaded with clothing ,'iind
provisions for the destitute nt Sacramento,
and boats are playing in pll directions, pick
ing .up people from the tops of houses and
barns on the branches, whore they have in
many instances clung in desperation for
days. There are, of course, many remote
.locations that have not yet been reached, ami
a great loss of life must already have ensued,
It still continues to “pour down," and the
waters continue to rise,' and no hopes of plea
sant weather. Sacramento is a ruined pity,
and it will ho a miracle if it can never recov
er from this blow, and the whole'State has
received a chock to its prosperity that will
require years to recover frdm.
Educated Feet,
toll to what uses the feet and
toes odomho put, if the necessity arose for.' a
■full development of.their powers ? There is a
way of educating the foot a s * well ns the
hand or. eye, and it is astonishing what an
educated foot can bo made to'do. Wo know
that in the timo of Alexander, the Indians
wore taught to draw their bows with their
feet as well as with their hands, and Sir J;
E. Tronnctt tolls us that this is done up to
the present time by the llock Veddahs of
Ceylon. And nearly all savage tribes can
turn their toes not only to, good but to bad
account; like the aborigines of Australia,
who while they are cunningly diverting your
attention with their hands, are busily engag
ed in committing robberies with their toes,
with which they pick up articles as ancle
pliant would with his trunk. So also the
Hindoo makes his toes work at the.loom, and
weaves with them with almost ns much dex
terity as with his fingers.
The Chinese carpenter will hold the bit of
wood ho is planting by his foot like a parrot;
and will work a grindstone with his foot. ,
The Banaka tribe, who arc the most famous
canoe men on the West African const,-will
impel their light canoes (weighting poly
from 0 to 10 lbs,') with great velocity over the
waves and at the same time will use one
foot to bail but the water; and when they
would rest their arms, one log is thrown out
on either side of the canoe, and it is propelled
almost ns fast as with a paddle. There was
also Monaier Duoorent who died only four
years ago, who although he was born with
out hands, was brought up as an artist, and
who annually exhibited at tho, Louvro pic
tures paintotl by. his foot. Then there was
Thomas Roberts, tho armless huntsman t>
Sir George Barlow, whoso feet were made to
perform tho duties of his hands. And there
was William Kingston, who with hi.s toes,
wrote out his accounts, shaved and dressed
himself, saddled and briddlod hip horse,
throw sledge hammers and fought a stout
battle in which became off victorious.
Poor freedom is better than ricu slavery,
THE COLLIERY ACCIDENT IN ENGLAND.
Dreadful Catastrophe in the Hartley. Coal
Mines—Two Hundred and Fifteen Miners
Buried Alive—The Finding of the Bodies.
Wo have already announced tho fact of a
fearful accident at the mine known ns tlio
“ Hartley New Pit,” near Newcastle, Eng
land. Tho arrival of tho mails of tho Nova
Scotian places us iii possession of tlio de
tails of the affair—one of tho most appalling
catastrophes that tho annals of accident re
cord, involving tho loss of. probably two hun
dred or more. _
The accident occurred lGth of Janu
ary, at ten o’clock in tho morning, ~'i’he New
castle Chronicle, says:
“Had it taken place a little later in tlie
day its effect would have been comparative
ly trilling, for the night shift being in pro
cess of coming to bank, the pit in a short
time . would have been deserted. Out of the
two hundred, however, whoso hours 'of labor
had expired, only sixteen had loft the shaft,
drawn to bank ii) the cage,by means of the
winding machine. 'iVlicn abuuthalf-way up,
ithebriam of tlie engine snapped at tlie axle,
fflria’ihs outer half—a mass of iron upwards
of twenty tbns in with the-volo
oity of a whirl wind arid an emphasis which
defies calculation, sheer down the shaft. The
result baffles description, while the horrors
which presented themselves after the dust
had subsided are almost beyond conception,
The falling mass appears to-have first struck
the brattice, which it smashed and- scattered
like chaff in its downward career. The iron
edge in which the man were riding to the
top was shattered by the impact, and its un
fortunate inmates overwhelmed by an avalan
che of lebris.: , To properly understand thier
position it must bo remised that the head or
light end of the beam'having entered the
shaft first, the violent oscillations of the heavy
end—if the expression may be used—to over
take the other would bring, down with a
crush an inconceivable, amount of rubbish
and planting. -Two of the unfortunate man
wore instantly killed and ; prooiptated to the,
bottom, while three otherslingercdonly avory
short time after being struck.; .The. remain
ing two wore tilso'-injured, hut riot seriously,
and. after the expiration of twelve weary
hours, during which every exertion was
made to save them, wore ultimately.rescued
and brought to hank. .
fdermenio a
Francisco,
blowing ad
'groaf floods
ly exceeded
in forty days
continually,
'.singly since
ibout twelve
mi that date
is keen that
md lowlands
Jages swept
'ashed clean,
in six to ten
toy, from the
to fifty miles
;ain to moun
i area of two
Irani fifty to
of trees and
if being -yiai-r
.re in a tumi
diatriots the
By this catastrophe no loss than two hun
dred men entombed in the bowels of the earth.
Of course people flocked from miles and
miles around and instant efforts were made
to relieve the unfortunates, but the labor of
clearing away the debris Was. immense, and
only half a dozen h?en could workjn the
1 choked up shaft at u tinio., ■ .
■ ... ', TIIE'SCEX R.QX. SATURDAY.,
Changed from that last recorded, 'What
a change in the aspect of ilia place a short
space of forty-eight hours lias produced. In
stead of the usual routine work of a coal
, ; mine in active and operation nothing is to be
i‘seen around with groups of persons,of both
■ .sexes watching yrit||Mger loots the mnnoto
. ipbps and anvariedflHbt and descent of the
'rophs hoisting broken timber and
rubbish with which Hie shaft is choked, to
thnyuppor seam, by wbicli a considerable
of time is effected-. On ail sides,
Vyhefover the eye is turned, groups and knots
.p'fcpboplo are seen sheltering themselves from'
Sihe,’ldling frosty air behind every shelter
liig projection about the buildings, lumbers
of women, many of them having pasted the
dreary, cold, long, night, exposed to the, in
clemency of the weather, their sense of phy
sical pain being completely neutralized by
the anguish of mind under which’they labor-,
ed, are seen around. The excitement aroused
by the first intelligence of the catastrophe
has greatly subsided, and it has been suc
ceed by a feeling of patient,,hopeful expecta
tion. ’The wives of tbo jeopardized men pass
from place to place, turning their wan, tear
swollen faces from one friend to another, in,
the hope of gleaning some confirmation of 1
their aspirations for the safety of those dear
to them. One poor woman, named Oliver,
has n,husband and six'children; besides a
boy whom they brought up, in the pit. Her
anguish, may be imagined, • Others are aimi;
larly situated, though 1 not,, perhaps, to-the
same .extent.. Numbers of aide and experi
eiiocd minors are hurrying in from all Hie;
surrounding neighborhood, and ofieriug their
sendees.' ‘ . . : |
'Among tlio episodes of the catastrophe wo
may mention that the elder Sliarpe, after be
coming, cpvorod with the falling rubbish,'
was heard audibly praying, and his supplica
tions ceased with his life. Watson, one pf
the men rescued, joined with'him in his
prayers and received his last breath. Sharpe’s
wile has, during to day, (Saturday) been wait
ing, in the full hope’of her husband being
rescued alive, &t one of tbo cabins near the
pit,'with warm coffee and. food, in expecta
tion that they -would bo needed when her
husband was brought to hank. What a
shook the poor creature will receive when
afflicting fact of his death is communicated
to her.
PRpGRESS OF THE WORK.
After one hundred-arid twenty hours ol
labor the distance to the.entrenched men’was
reduced to eighteen feet, but only two men
could work on the shaft at once. Fur some
hours on this day (Saturday) buried men
and lads imprisoned in the yard scam could
bo hoard “jowling” or working in. tho shaft,
but biter they had no sign, and though*l
every ' effort has been made to get a signal I
from them, it failed. ’• I
The accident, ns wo are told, took phmo on
Thursday, tho 10t!i. All of l'™lay, Satur
day, Sunday. Monday ami Tuesday the work
of rescue proooeded. but in vain. Our room
prevents us from'giving tho details of this
labor. .Tho feeling on'the sixth day is. thus (
described in tho London ' Timei: ,
“10 o’clock, r. 3i.—Notwithstanding that (
tho various, officials on the ooai platform on-
dcavor to put a good faob on the matrer, it is
painfully evident that tho hnpo now roiiinin
ing is of that clmractcr which serves merely
to gild despair. Those only who descend
tho shaft and work for (ho removal of knotty
obstruct!ops they find there can form p eor--
root opinion of the tusk on which they pro,
ongagod. Those moil have boon from ,tlio|
first, if not despondent, at least doubtful ns to
tho accomplishment of their task, and while
they have refrained from expressing might
that might lead to increase tho fears of those
affected by the calamity, their silence on the
subject has boded no good. The viewers, on
the contrary, always express themselves in
hopeful terms, and invariably put the most
favorable construction on tbe sternest facts
tiint are communicated to them from below,
while, if there is any intelligence of an en
couraging nature it is by no means rendered
I le'ss (sheering by the version given by these
gentlemen. Meanwhile inoloiiolioly broods
' glooming over tho row of cottages facing to-
TIIE EJfXQSBtfi?;
wards the colliery; and the. occupants, con
sisting npw almost entirely of women, habitu
ally speak it} ft fearful undertone, as though
a sick man lay in each house whoso life de
pended on the presoryatioip of death-like
stillness.’'
Alt EXPERIMEttJi,
By this time the gas from the shaft nearly
killed several of the'rescuers who wore at
work, and by way of experiment a ,cat was
lowered down the shaft in a basket frbiu the
upper seam twenty-four fantoms, and was
kept there half an hour. When brought up
it was stupid, and it afterwards died. ¥et
notwithstanding this danger the rescuers
still keep at work.
THE SAD BEN’OUSIENT.
The following telegram, published iii the,
London papers of Thursday the 23d, gives
the sad result of the calamity ; ■
. “ North Sultans, 10 p. m.— The sad trage
dy at llartoly, Colliery, lias hooil revealed to
us in all its horrors’this evening.
“-The cloth battieo was completed this
m- and eiaai
tent of gas, Three pitman (volunteers) wont
down, penetrated the obstruction, got into
the yard seam by the engine drift, and found
njon lying dead at the furnace. They pushed
their way through. The air was bad. With
in this door they, found a large body of men
sleeping the sloop of death,!. They retreated,
nud oiupu to bank frith the appalling intelli
gence.' ’
“ Mr. Humble, viewer of'colliery, qnd Air.
Hull immediately wont down, and retOrnbil
in an hour and a half. Both had to bo taken
off the sling .seriously affected by gas. They
have boon all through the works, and found
no living man, but a hcoatorab of dead bodies.
The bulk of the bodies are lying in the galle
ry near the shaft. An affecting report, which
has touched'all hearts, hits been made ,by
them. Families are lying in groups ; children
in the arms of their fathers ; brothers with'
brothers, Most of them looked placid, as if
asleep but higher up, near the furnace, some
tall, stout men secerned to have died bard.
The corn bins were all cleared. Soma few
of the men bad a little corn iq their pockets.
A pony was lying dead among the men, but
untouched. ;
“ Several volunteers have since penetrated
the workings arid confirm this statement.
Nearly all of them; however, have been
brought to bonk seriously affected by gas. .
■“There .was great danger of more-mop
losing their lives. Alodionl men, of whom
there ■ were numbers at tho colliery hold; a
coknciLat eight o’clock, and by their advice
no njoWnicn wiil .be allowed to go down un
til tliffTOn Illation is improved. . _ .
“ ItdSRP bo some time before the- bodies
can be bright to bank.
“ A telegram was received from her Ma
jesty tins' afternoon asking intelligence as to
the hopes of saving the men.”
Egyptian Emits.
- - Skirting those meadows, you observe a
1 -succession of orange groves, .which possess'
itho peculiarity of being in flower while tho
fruit , iq all stages hangs clustering among
the branches. Sonjo of a bj-Iglit green ; some
of a bright green ; son) e half ripe, covered
with patches of green and yellow, others, SO
ripe ns to bo ready to drop, look like spheres
of gold suspended among branches of emer
ald. Close at hand riser 'the banana, with
loaves too or twelve feet in length and a foot
■and a half broad,.reaching from the summit
of the tree to the ground, and afiV.liog at.
noon a delicious shade. High up. among
their stem s , you behold tho clustering pur--
pie fi-pit, covered with a delicate bloom like
that of the poach, and emitting a fragrant
odor.’ If there beany fruit surpassing the
banana in flavor, it is the mangosfeon of the
Malay Peni.nnaula, to tasto which the travel
ed lovers of such delicacies maintain to ho
wor.tb a.yoyage to Malacca.
In flates, however, which, ripe or dry,!you
might.cat.forever, no .part of the world can
truly be said to equal Egypt, .where, near the'
tropic, they attain to the length of throe inch
es, a"d qre ,of corresponding thickness!—
These tire the golden dates which perfume
the apartment-into which they are brought,
and appear at a distance, like amber, Tho
.palms on .which they grow are the most su
perb trocs.iii the creation. Ranging from one
hundred to one hundred and twenty feet .in .
height, they become in autumn almost top '
heavy with dates, which hang betwedn.the
stems of tho loaves in liege.clusters, each of
which is sometimes one hundred pounds iq
weight, by many, tho purple dale .is-prey'
forred before tlio"yellow ; but being''more lus
cious, it cannot, when ripe, bo eaten in . any
great quantity, When laid dp for use, thp
dates are commonly dried aepara.tely; but iq
sorno parts of the valley; as well as in tho
desert, tho Arabs collect of a quantity of yej
low, and pttrplo dates, and having taken out
the stones, pile them indiscriminately iq
heaps; then subjecting,them to pressure, they
reduce thorn into masses something like largo
plum puddings, which they cut in slices and
cat like cuke. The only objection to this con
serve, .when made in tho desert, is, tlmtit
usually contains'small particles of sand, which
grate unpleasantly under the teeth.—Cham
bei J s Journal.
Luminxo.—The man that laughs is a
doctor' without a diploma, Ills face doe?
more good in a sick room than a bushel of
powders Pi-, a gallon of hitter .draughts., Peo
ple are always glad to see him. Their
.hands instinctively go half way to 'meet his
grasp, while they lorn involuntarily from the
calminy touch of the dyspeptic, who speak
in the'groaning key. lie langlis you out of
your faults, while you never know what a
pleasant world-you arp living in, until hp
points out tho sunny streaks on its pathway.
lb,r.iti;\T or Success.—Tfe who is open,
without levity; generous without waste, se
cret without craft, humble, without mean
ness; bid i, with insolence; cautions, with
out anxiety: regular, yet not formal ; mild
yet not timid ; firm, yet not tvyannicalis
made to .pass the ordeal of honor, friendship,
virtue. -
I’niuE.—To subdue pride, consider wlmi
you shall bo. Topr flesh yetprns to oorriip
tlojj and coiunpn earth again. Shall your
dust j;i? distinguished from Uie meanest beg
gar,or. slave's? No. not front the dust of
brutes and insects, or Hie most contemptible
pf creatures,' And ns for your soul, that must
stand before (led, in tho world of spirits, op a
level with the rest of mankind, and divested
of all your haughty and llatterih'g distinctions;
none of them shall attend you to tho judg
ment seat. Keep tljis tribunal in view, and
pride will wither pud hang down its bead.—•
[Ur. Watts.
“ Toll your mistress that I’ve torn theft
curtain,” said a lodger to the servant. , “ Yfity .
well, sir, mistress will put it down os ‘extra
rent.”
NO. 38. '
the shaft to some ex-