VOL. 48.
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For Ibo Volunteer,
MI, NATIVE LASiDj /
!t ia wy nature to brood,, and not to talk',
whoa anger first takes hold of me, and just,
now I was very' angry. I would not look at
her when she addressed me ; I would not look
at her when she laid her hand upon my
shoulders, and by-and-by she loft the room,
and I remained alone,’
I thought on until, one by one, reasons and
excuses .for what I had seen, presented them;
solves to my mind,' There’were other per-.
sqns in the house ; those footsteps might have
been made by some amongst them. Shadows
are playful things, and some fold of drapery
or projection of wood-work might have thrown
upon the curtain the similitude of a man’s
head. Why should she deceive me?—what
possible motive couldsho nave in so doing ? 3r -.
my little innocent wife/whom I had wedded
in a quiet country, place, far from the,city’s
wickedness ? The nightmare was lifted ; !
atood’up, drew' a deep breath, and wept in
search of heri In my contrition I did not
even ask ber.a question, or hint at what bad
been hidden in my mind; Yet the suspicion
was not quite dead—-it only lay quiescent.
Had! been asked the education, I should
have said I did not doubt her ; yet, why was
it that X had caught myself looking for a lace
which 1 had never seen in every crowded street
through which I passed ? IVhy was I always ,
expecting th .see. before mo an .oriental’’head
covered' -with masses "of dark hair, which
/might east in the lamplight such a shadow as
X had seen upon the curtain on the previous
night ?
’. Aly wife had a friend—a woman whq»n I
disliked and doubted—a widow who lived in
dashing stylo, and had a bold, unfomiirine
manner, and a reckless way of talking. Xloso
said she was good and ‘warm-hearted. I be
lieve that she was bud and deceitful, When
I found this woman .at my house, upon the
following day, I was . provoked, and not dis
posed to bo’ particularly polite. Still, I fell
obliged 1 to see Mrs. Hawley home ; and when
she arose to go,,soon after tea, I donned niy
hat and overcoat, and walked opt beside her.
’As a goiicrirl thing; i’he'Wa's ready enough to
accept my escort-.; but on this night she pro
tested that she felt no alarm, and would not
allow rao to trouble myself.. She was so much I
in earnest—sso'really anxious that I should
not go—that I was determined! would. I
disliked her, and loved to thwart her, and it
pleased mo to sod her b>to, her lip when I per
sistently offeree! her ray arm, , and declared
myself only too happy to see, her home. Be
fore we reached her house, I understood that
she did not mean to ask me in, and resolved
to invito myself. She baffled me, ho’wevfer.
On the threshold she turned, and, with her
broad back towards the’door and her large
eyes looking into,mine in a determined man
ner, said, very severely: “I grieve that I can
not ask you in, Mr. Mourdant. There is
somebody waiting to soo nyo. on business,,and
it is already late."
Of course ndthing remained savq to.bow and
retire, and I did so immediately. But before
I could decond the steps, a servant opened the
door. It was’closed almost immediately;
still, I had time to descry, behind the wid
ows’ portly figure and the more slender shape
of the girl who 'admitted her, the figure of a
man who stoocl in the hall, in tho full light of
tl\e hanging lamp. In that instantaneous
glinipse I saw the outline of an oriental head,
a black moustache, a pile of purling hair—
the shadow which I bad seen upon my wife’s
window curtain ; every line—oh! how good
my memory was—every line and curve, the
same; There was a secret—was it my wife’s
or'Mrs. Hawley’s 7 I hoped the latter; I
T , . , . ■ ■ , . feared the former. Any other man would
1 had always trusted her. I bad never, for have questioned her, or uttoi od his suspicions,
a moment, had reason to doubt her purity and never resting until they were refuted or oon
truth. .When the thought first crossed my firmed. I only brooded over mine, warming
f ®“ an S‘7 T ftt "hvself, and not at her. tliem into life, and keeping watch for further
- phot that I am.] I soliloquised, ‘tt ip because proof before I acted. I had hiding places in
lam a man of the world, familiar with its own house, where I used to.crouch hour
wickedness, used to the dark scones behind after hour, watching’her. I followed her at
the fair ourtoinofhfe, and to tho lifting of in- a distance when she went abroad. I had
nooent masks from the brows of wanton-heart- P j a t 0 i lor dosks and drawPl . s , of which she
ed women, that this suspicion has crept into ba d no knowledge. I rohd her. letters, even
W l’ ’C a ,t lts JVi not llde ‘her shopping memoranda, and camo upon her
thore whore hers rests nighty. Of my own suddenly, Rt unexpected moments. Still I
Sfc^ ? *T' , Mr 88 .^ ,ff ’ ,andIwillBl;r,l ! , S 1 » lt saw nothing, heard nothing, and found no
w s furtimr. food for my jealousy The ilame
bv-and hv t 0 ej;< ? v £ lEo tllG fiend)' ftml gnidvildered, ashes lay above it,, but it wo,a net
ov-and-by it left me, and I saw tho. red eyes dead . '
dreamf ““onlTth^S^fH 8 ? ( r my For a week I had not opened her desk, and
4as on Imr As f ? ot hn( i grown calmer in m/suveillnnee of her
pi the old story was haunted bv the hetog of H I '] ne . day B ‘. ttil W in tl,e
his own creation, so was I hannthd Uv g the M“ n ’ S l on ’ J T V i
memorv of the snsnirimv Mrs - Bawley’s servant at the door with alot
vW a r‘‘ ter in his hand, and in a little while heard
i tsjaws a , sca^J l ! l S. t°iipnfc which will merits had grown to be like those of a thief
I” *’"'!’*
-Would nevor J comc t b ’ 1 b ' eVC tb ° ’ P ,^0 I r '; hldo . tied with a blue ribbon ; a valen-
It was a sliVhf o ’*!.’ i-i i a tine I had onco sent her lay close bosido them;
BuspSlonto n f ,„P V 'I 0 ' 1 awako " fidm y nothing, new. I know that desk by heart.—
Ugh 1 what “ tt . r!ark , and a shadow. But, while I looked upon those things care-
through ”mv Imn rtf “V B ®°' ned lessly, I caught sight of the corner of an en
thou-rht o fi pn velopa protruding from tho corner bfa pam-
Bannttbo sXI. that 4,10 doath -° hlll phlot. >y heart boat faster. I pulled it out.
Wo had been t , T V wn s directed to my wife, and tho contents
Caine homoone rdMit a " d I wor< ? ns foll pws; “Ho—you know who I moan
nioro than usual! v“ „/ for her, and —will bo at your house on Wednesday eye
rvhich wo alwnvsmn?« 1 l ° x' ls ? Wlt '* n!n «’’’ Xt was s! gned Alice Pawley. ’ '
vpon the doorston T f 101 "’ 1 sto . od ‘.‘Ho—she know who was meant’’—would
Sow of tho pnrlo?’ 4 ' 6 Wm r ’ 3O at m ! house on Wednesday evening I I
Bus hour, waitine- f nr . S -mi a "’ ay3 Bat , at was to bo absent on that night—my wife
unthtn, andon tho whitl' 0- F.liero wora hphta knew it—ad did Mrs, Rawley, Who was he ?
,0 P ro fflo of^ a mJi a shadow, | Had he an oriential profile, a heavy mous
juoustacho nniJ mns ,‘V a h b !f °°f, a ,18av y taohe, and n pile of massive black curls heaped
wa„ ? plo3 ' a n orroutol i,„ i P 01 u P 11 abou . t l\P nn h 'B head, and flying around h a temp os?
wna ‘ ed afullfl inT ;^^ eadl , Sav ® tllat lt Was ho dark? and would his eyes glitter in
When she cauio tcT tin's t 0 Inactl '7 Perfect.! the light of a lamp hanging above his head?
Pftor a l ongor de « to the door to ndmit me. Did ifo oyer sit so that Kislhadow foil
vas nn( , u»ua I she a white curtain ? Whore those his feet wllioli
tonio? 8 j° d mto Bio parlor toi>-niw , V ld " 10n dirked thomselves upon tho wot impression
dann°a dt .° find B cmnL I” r r Ma T going out as mine went!..?
about tho Moni Pt uiat her w °i?’i SS Ho I—what a horrible he it was I Brooding
. oom, that her work-basnet in, my lonely corner of the library-looked in
My country I my dear native land, .
My'heart how bleeds for thco,
Thy States were once a,glorious band*
Proud of ; their liberty.
Our name for. agoB,".long has stood
High on the rolls.of fame ;
Among the wise, the great, the good,
Wg ? vo had a glorious name.
Glorious and free, our name,has boon*
In every-land where known, : ■
.As a nation of all nations blest,
..God’s gifts most wisely sown.
Our land with blessings has been filled*
And plenty smiled around,
And every hill top, every vale,
, With a rich harvest crowned.
Our sails on every o.cdan spread*
' With the products, of our land*.
And blessings innumerable,
>■ Prom a wise and gracious hand.
But now, amid,the blessings given*
Our,Union’s rent in twain,
And far and wide, in every clime,-
our glorious name ; .
i And liberty our Polar star,.
•Sheds' but a feeble light;
' Our. Union and. our'.freedom scathed.
By. sins'dark withering blight; ’.
More fearful than the lightning’s, flash*
.Or the deep thunders roll.
Our sorrows and our miseries, .-
• • Aro spread from, polo to polo. *•
Ob, God! this, fearful curse remove,
Our national sins arrest; • 46
tturn toes tb.-friondsj turn hate to lovo,
And lighten each'Sad breast.
And make us know' that thou art God >
Thy.band alono can atity .
• sho raging storiu; tho bitter strife,
’ That’* banging, o’er oyr way* ’ « ' *
*- 1 vVV
■ ' country/my dear native land*
‘ I plead to God Tor theo, ' .
‘ .. To-mako-thoso Slatoo. a V
THE LOVER’S OFFER.
TIUNSIiATfiD FRO3I THE PERSIAN.
Wore minc’tbo wealth of Croesus.old; ,
Had I os many diamonds bright
As loaves that shako in summer's light.
Or sands o’er which tho deep batb’rolict^;
Had las many-purest pearls ,
As grass-blados hang upon tho lea,
Or ripples ddneo along tho sea ,
When o’er its breast the zephyr curls jr-?
Had I a palace, crystal built,
And filled as full of golden,bars
As yonder heaven is filled ivith stars
When evening fair the skie's hath gilti-p-
.Like lordly knights and kingly oarla
With orders were I titled o’er • ,
As thick as waves that kiss the shore
When wind his banner broad j—
X swear by yon bright worlds above*
I’d givo thoiri all this blessed night
To' moot beneath, this fair moonlight,
- And clasp thoo in my arms, my Lovo !
MBullmmm.
MY WIFE’S SEC 11E T
BY - MARY KYLE DALLAS.
Jay, overturned upon the carpet, and that the
door which opened into the adjoining parlor
Stood a little ajar. • ,
“No one here?’' I asked, won.deringly, and
she answered—i .
“No one hut you and 1.”
, As she spoke,. 1 heard the eater door ahu,t,
and saw.a red glow spring out upon her.
cheek. Wo both started, and stood apart, for
a moment, and then I stepped towards the
d,oor. As I did so, I saw by tire restless flut
tering of her hand, and the quick turning of
her head; that she wished to„stop me, and re-,
■strained herself. •
I went to the outer door and opened it,-
Upon, th.o white marble porch ware the marks
of and. those of another;
mine ascended, the others decended ; mine
Wore wet tracks from thy. muddy streets—the
others were dry impressions, which had made
their marks only by wiping out mine.
When I wenfbaok, she sat beside the fire,,
placid and smiling, with no trace of the blush
which had frightened me upon her cheek. I
sat down opposite her, and brooded over the
■Agxes.
“OUR COUNTRY—MAY IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT—BUT, RIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY.”
so that no, one might enter—l learnt how Cain
had felt—l learnt what thoughts torture the
hearts of devils. I entered, in my living body,
their dwelling-place, and understood why souls
are lost, Revenge, rage, murdot) took pos
session of me. I found myself muttering fear
ful things, and making bedlamite utterings
unconsciously. I gnawed my lips until they
bled, and drove the nails of my clenched fin
gers.into my hands without feeling the pain.
My passions master my body—the inquisi
tor's tortures-could not have wrung one groan
from me. . •
After a while X sought my pistols, lyipg
within a. secret drawer of the bonk-oaso. f
cleaned them, loaded them, and hid them in
my bosom, and then unlocked the door, for
she was knocking at it and calling to me play
fully. How sett and young and fair she look
eias wo went down stairs together ! How
hard and old and dark my face had grown 1
She was like some smiling angel; I like a
brooding demon, with my scowling brow arid
grini mouth. There was a mirrbr in the cor
ridor, and I saw both of us as wo. passed it.
.Wednesday night—Wednesday night-rr-.with
those pistols in my bosom, I waited for its
coming and for the' horrible revelation, of my
wife’s secret.
I had read .stories of jealous husbands who
bad wrongfully suspected innocent wives, be
cause of tho stolen visits of brothers, . or.of
fathers, who had,committed crimes, and were
in hiding.. My wife.had brothers.and a fath
er. I know them all well. No stealthy. vis- v
- its would come from thorn. They were hon
est country , people, who would walk in stur
dily on heavy boots—Johns,; and Richards,
ahd'Vyilliams,, who were drovers or farmers;
and fcftd yell ,§lled pocket books, and were
npt ashamed of themselves. 'No such a ,ro
could bo woven oyer them. This he was of a
different kind, I was watching for bint.
Wednesday night came—a clear, bright
evening, with a frosty sky full of. glittering
stars. \ went out at dusk, and canie in softly
again in a few moments to; hide in ‘a great
pantrf in the old-fashioned hall.. .The clock
struck* seven,as I entered: I counted' the
strokes. Hours and hovers behind then*
before that'clock struck eight, At
last tho hour came round, and on tho very
stroke the bell rang, not loudly, but with a
light,secret sort of sound. Tho servant opened
the door and a man came in. No word was
exchanged. Ho passed straight into my wife's
parlor, and the door was dosed behind him.
I heard the tones of her voice, and then-m
.nothing.,.
I put my. hand upon the pistols in my bo
som, and strode from my concealment. The
next moment I. was in tho parlor; saw through
tho door which opened into tho adjoining room
a light gleaming and a shadow dung.by it up-i
on the wall—tho. shadow of an oriental face
and a head of massive curia and ringlets.— 7
Then, in an instant, my wife ran forward to
meet me, coming but of tho light of the inner
room into the darkness of-tho parlor.
“Stop, Reginald 1 Don’t go in,” she said,
putting her hand upo-i my arm. “I want to
explain. ' I—there is some one thor^.”
' “I know it .1” I khoutad. * “Lot mo pass!”
My hand clutched the weapon in my bosom,
and I strove to put her away, but she clung
to mo the closer.
“Stop !” she said. “Bo not look so angry:
I only do as others do ; Mrs, Rawloy says it's
very customary.” ' .
I paused aghast. Was this hardened wo
man truly my wife ? ' ,
“There is a dear,” she went on. “After
all, it is not much—only my blue silk an,d
white crape shall. Mother would say it was
extravagant, I know,' but nobody wears white
crape any more, a,nc\ the sill; is very old.-fqsh
ioned.” .
AVaa ahe trying to delude mo ?■ I flung her
from mo and clashed into the, inner room.—
On, his knees in the centre of the apartment
was a man., At my entrance he started up,
and I looked upon his face. A dark counte
nance; with an oriental profile, piles of black
curls upon the temples and amnustaeho upon
the.upper lip. Tho shadow 1 had soon upon
the curtain 1
“Who are you ?” I shouted. “Tell me yom
name 1” .The villain trembled; bis teeth chat
tered in his head. Ho seemed to have losl
his voice, but he drew a card from his bosom
and extendod-it towards me. 1 snatched it
and read : “John Smith pays tho highest price
for ladies’ and gentlemen's castoff-clothing.;
Sixty dollars for. coats, eighty lor dresses, and
the highest rates fo£ all articles. Ladies at
tended by Mr. Smith, Junior.’-’
I saw it all. My wife had been soiling her.
old silk dresses. My shadow was an old
ciothosman.—JV. lj Sunday Times.
EjiHALMing the Dead. —A Washington
correspondent gives tho following account of
the . process of embalming adopted there :
Tim body is placed on an inclined platform,
the month, ears, nose, &0., are stopped with
cotton ; if wounded, cotton is put in the
wound and a plaster is put on ; an incision is
made la tho wrist, the attachment is made
from an air pump, and-fluid injected through
out tho arteries. Tho wound is then sowed
up and .the body is hoisted up to dry. To
save tha eyes from sinking, in, was is put un
der the eyelids. The hair I found to come
out very-easily, but after tho embalming it
could not bo removed; Tho bodies take, on
an average, about seven quarts, but General
Lander’s took seventeen quarts. There were
some eight bodies on hand ; some had been
there thirty days. The operators say in four
months the body will become solidified like
marble, but ho chance lias yet boon had to
prove' it. Colonel Baker’s body on arrival
at San Francisco was in an advanced statu of
decomposition.
A Thoughtful Wife. —A friend says lie
has a dear, loving little wife, and nn excel
lent housekeeper. On her birthday she
moved her low rocking chair close to his side.
He was reading. She placed her dear little
hand lovingly on his arm, and moved it
along softly towards hiscont collar. Ho felt
nice nil over. lie certainly expected a kiss.
Dear, sweet, loving creature !—angel 1 She
rpoved her hand up and down the coat sleeve.
“ Husband,” said she.
“ What, my dear 1”
“ I way just thinking—”
“ Were you,|my love ?”
“ I was just thinking how nicely this suit
of olothosyou have on would work into a rag
carpet.” lie says ho felt cross all day, the
disappointment was so groat.
A young fellow of our acquaintance,
whose, better half had just presented him
with a pair of bouncing twins, attended Rev.
Mr. -—'s church on Inst Sunday evening.
During the discourse tho clergyman looking
right at our innocent friend, said, in a tone
of thrilling eloquence: “Young man, you
have nn important responsibility thrust upon
yon.”- The now-flodged dah-dah, supposing
that tha prenoher alluded to his peculiar home
event considerably startled the audience, by
replying; “.Yes, sir, I have two of thorn.”
CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, APRIL $4, 186*.
110VY MEN HA\E RISEN,
Men great in science, literature and art
apostles of great thoughts and lords of the
groat heart—have sprung, indiscriminately
from the English farm and tho Scotch hill
side, from the great workshop and the mines,
from the blacksmith’s stithy_and tho cobbler’s
stool. The illustr’asions which present them
selves aro indeed so numerous, that tho diffi
culty consists in making a selection from
them, sUoh as should fall within the compass
of .a reasonable hook. Take',' for instance,
the. remarkable fact, that from the barber’s
shop, rose Sir Richard Arkwright, the inven
tor of tho spinning-jenny,, and the founder of
tho cotton manufactures of Great Britain;
Lord Tendefden, one of the most distinguish
ed of English Lord Chief Justices ; and Tur
ner, the very greatest amojig-iarjdscapa pain
ters, ' f-;'.'
No one knows to a certainty what Shakc
pearo was ; but i-t is unquestionable that ho
sprung, from ;a : very humble rank. His fath
er was a butcher and a glazidr-; and Shake- ‘
pearo himself is supposed W have been in
early life a wooleomber; whiSt others aver
that ho was an usher in a school, and after
wards a scrivener’s clerk. He'truly seems to
havo been “ not one, but all mankind’s epito
me.’- 1 For such is the accuracy of his phrases
that a naval vyyiter alleges that, ho must have
been, a. sailor, i whilst a clergyman inlors
from ,Sternal evidence-in hi£ writings, that
he was probably a parson’s clerk; and a dis
tinguished judge of horso-fles»insists that lie
must have been a horsc-dodffir. Shakspoare
was certainly an aptor, and.'m the course of
his life “ played many parts,-# gathering his
wonderful stores of knowledge from a wide
field of experience and observation. In any
event-bo must have boon a close student arid
a hard worker ; and to this day bis writings,
continue to exordise a powerfdl influence up
on the formation of English character.
The common class of day , laborers have
given us Brindley, the engineer, Cook, the
navigator, and Burns the Poet,. -Masons and
bricklayers can boast of Bon; Johnson, who
worked.at the building of Lincoln’s Inn, with
a trowel in bis band, and a book.in his pock
et. Edwards and Telford . the engineers,
Hugh Miller the geologist, arid Allen Cun
ningham the writer and sculptor; .whilst
among distinguished carpenters wo find the
names of Inigo Jones the architect,.Harrison
the chronometer maker, John Hunter- the
physiologist, Iloriinoy and Opie the painters,
Professor Leo the orientalist, and John (Jib
son the sculptor. .
From the weaver class have sprung Simp
son the mathematician, Bacou the sculptor,
the two MilnerS. Adam Walker, John Foster.
Wilson the ornithologist, Dr. Livingston the
missionary traveller, and Taririahill the poet.
Shoemakers have given us Sip Cloudesly Sho
vel,.-the- great admiral, Sturgeon tho elec
trician, Samuel Drew tho - essayist, Gifford
the,'.editor ol the Quarterly Jleview, Bloom
field the poet; and William flarey the mis
sionary ; -whilst Morrison,.nuOtber laborious
missionary, was it maker of jsVnieldsta.' With
in the last year, a, ,nr<ffqt\ Id. naturalist-, has'
been discovered in the person-cjli shoemak
er at Banff, named Thomas Edwards," who,
while maintaining himself hv hia trade, has
devoted his leisure to the study of natural
science in all its branches, his researches in
connection with the similftr onistacote having
cheer; rewarded by the discovery of a ne w
species; to which the name of “ Parniza Ed-i
wards!!;’ has boon given by naturalists. I
Nor have the tailors been altogether un
distinguished, Jackson the painter having
worked at the trade until he reached manhood.
But, what is perhaps more remarkable, one
of t hogall«ntastof the British seamen, Admi
ral Hobson, who broke, tho boom of the Vigo,
in 1702, originally belonged to this calling.
Ho was-working as a tailor’s apprentice near
Bonchurch, iu the Isle of Wight, when the
news flew through the village that a squad
ron of men-of-war wore sailing off tho [aland,
lie sprang from the shop-hoard, and ran down
with bis comrades to the beach, to gaze upon
tho glorious sight. Tho tailor boy was sud
denly inflamed with the ambition to be a sai
lor, and springing into a boat, he rowed off to
the squadron, gained the Admiral’s ship, and
was accepted as a volunteer. , Years after, ho
returned to his. native village full of honors,
and dined off bacon and eggs iu the.cottage
Where, ho had worked as a tailor’s appren
tice,
Cardinal Wolsey, De Fob, Akenside and
Kirk White, wore the sons of butchers ; Ban
yan was a tinker,.and Joeeph Lancaster a
basket-maker, . j\m«ng the great names iden
tified with the invention.of the steam engine,
are those of Newcomer, Wattand Steplflmson ;
the first a blae.ksm.ith, the second a ranker of
mathematical instruments ; a>jd the third an
engine-fireman. Huntingdon, the preacher
was originally a coal heaver, at\d Biowick, the
father of Wood engraving a coal minor. Roda
ley was a footman, and Ifoloroft a groom.
Balliu the'navigntor began his soafaringafareer
as a man before the m,aet, and Sir Cloudesloy
Shovel aa a cabin boy. llorsohol played the
oboe in a military band. Ciiantroy was a jour
neyman carver, Rtty a journeyman printer,
and Sir Thomas Lawrence a sou of a tavern
keeper. Jtichaol Farraday, the son of a poor
blacksmith, was in early life apprenticed toa
bookbinder, and worked at his-trade until ho
reached his twenty-second year ; lie now oc
cupies the very first rank us a philosopher,
excelling even his master, Sir Humphrey
Davy, in the art of lucidly expounding the
most and abstruse points in natural
science,
JSJot long ago', Sir Roderick Murchison dis
covered ut Thurso, in the far north of Scot
land, n profound geologist, in the person of a
baker thwe, named Robert Rick., When Sir
Roderick called upon him at the bakehouse
in which ho baked and earned bis broad,
Robert Dick dolinieatod to him by means of
flour upon a board, the geographical features
and geological phenomena of his native coun
try, pointing out the imperfections in tho ex
isting maps, which ho had ascertained by
travelling over tho country in his leisure
hours'. o,n further inquiry, Sir Roderick as
certained that tho humble individual before
hint was not only a capital baker and geolo
gist, hut a first-rato botanist. “ I found,”
said tho Pjreotor-Qonoral of the Geographical
Society, “ to my great humiliation, that this
baker knew infinitely more botanical science,
aye ton times more than I did,,and that there
wore only some twenty to thirty specimens of
flowers which ho had not collected. Somo ho
had obtained as presents, somo ho bad pur
chased, but tho greater portion had been ac
cumulated by his indi\stry, m bis native
country of Caithness;, and the spooimons
were all arranged in tho mostboautnul order,
with their scientific names nllixod.^
It is tho glory of our country that snob men
as fhoso should so abound ; not all equally
distinguished, it is true but actuated alike
by the noble spirit of self help. ; Lhoy furnish
proofs of cheerful, honest working, and ener
getic effort to make tho m,ost of small moans
and common opportunities. For oppqrtum
tics (is ffo shall afterwards find, full in tb©
way ofeyory man who is resolved to take ad,-
vantage of them. Tho facta of nature* are
open the peasant and mechanic, ns well ns to
the philosopher, and by nature they aro ca
pable of making a inoral, use .of'those facts to
the best of their power. Thus, even in the
lowest calling, the worker may win tho very
loftiest results.
TUB FARMER IS,KING.
“ Cotton, is king," said n Senator. “Nay,’*
said another, “Gold is King.” Nay, say we,
the Farmer is King!, A monarch is prepared
tor his throne by careful education. But who
is nurtured with such an education as a far
mer? He-is nursed dn the strong embrace of
prolific, many handed Nature. Our mother
Nature keeps the wisest school, Great Nature
—rude, yet gentle ; stern yet kindly ; terri
ble, yet loving ; frugal, yet bountiful. Wo
almost believe that no men can be God's gregt
men, unless nurtured in the strong, embrace
of our great mother on the bosom of the earth.
All men should, some , time in their lives,
live in the midst, pf Nattire and till th,e soil,
lie who has been born and feared and who
lives in a city, debarred the privilege of com
muning with Nature, is most unfortunate.—
He can never he a whole man. He lacks the
stern poetic teachings of this great school.—
Nothing can compensate for it; “An unde
vout astronomer, is mad!’’ exclaihjed a wise
man. An undevout farmer is, si nioristof !we
exclaim. What! can the husbandman re
ceive his food direct from heaven—its rains,
and dews, and sunshine; it smjlos over him
in the blue and, spangled vau.lt,,sun and moon
and, star lit; all around hinj. in the wavy grass
and grain, the. many-tinted flowers; in the
voices of the-wind and the bonding trees; un
derneath him, in profile, fresh turned Soil
arid still be a monster,'out of tune with outer
and inner Nature ? Who. lives so far from
temptation? Ayiio . lives so nigh his Creator
enwrapped all about it with his arms—
Cod from liia dazzling munificent hand. Ho
sleeps between,', the leaves' of God’s picture
Unlyersp.
•“Ho loved,husbandry," is tho encomium
that inspiration pays to one of the best Kings
of Israel, and who. had one of the longest and
most prosperous reigns. “Uzzah, the King,”
says the sacred writer, “digged many wells,
for ho had much cattle:; husbandmen also,
and yinevdressors in the mountains, and Carr
meal, for he loved husbandry.” If this could
have been sgid of his successor, the Jews had
no.t parted ftnd scattered, as at this day, among
the nations. As long as it can bo said of the„
sovereigns of those States.,“they loved hus
bandry, ’ the Republic is safe. Small farms
grow true-patriots. The wealth of tho Re
public must be a. conimoa wealth. It is the
nature of power to seek to increase itself.—
When monarchs increase in power, it is in
bold words the growth of tyrany. .Not so tho
King Farmer. Ilia tyranny, is over barren
ness. Ho smiles, and lo 1 the- sterile earth
. groans; but it 18 with.abundance, lie brings
his,enemies.to tho fagot and the stake; but]
they are thistle, tho daisy and: tho briar. Ho
overruns and subdues the territories of bits
foes,'but they are tbo swamp and the quag
mire. He plows up the very foundation of
the.strongholds oflus destroyers j'bufthby are
deadly malaria, the stinging insect, and the
fangod and poisonous reptile. The earth is I
his slave; but it is the slavery of love, for it
buds and blossoms before him, and the trees (
clap their hands for joy: for him. lie chains
his servants to do his.will; but they are the
elements, the huge and willing, ox, and the ,
majestic librso, impatient to do his bidding,
[ and champing for the word that bids him, go. I
When the monarch Farmer raises himself
on high and stretches his sceptre abroad, cit
ies spring up under its shadow. The sound
of the spindle, the loom, the anvil, and the
ponderous foundry and mill are hoard. The
hum of the industrious multitudes coming up
like voice of many waters ; whito-.winged ships
fly over the unstable • main ; men cast aside
their, hides and tig leaves and are elothed in
imperial garments, and women are arrayed in
fabricks as flue as gossamer and many tinted
as the.sunset cloud. Penury, pestilence and ,
famine ho keeps bound in his prison house.
Labor stands in the floor of his magazines,
and in his stalwart hand ho holds the scales
of human life, and weighs out the supplies o,
trade and art, and artists and armies; of
school and church and stale ; food and rai
ment, abundance And luxury. lie deals opt
the progress of human kind.' The farmer is
King —the Monarch of men.
FT* Jones went to’ serenade his lady-love,
and could only'sing af;er this fashion :
“ Cub, oh, cub with-me, -
The hloou is ho/uiin ; .
Cub, oh, cub with mo,
■ The Stars aro gleobin,
And all around above
With*bertUty*tcabiug ;
Boodligbt hours aro best for !üb.”
Jones fell that ho was an unfortunate be
ing, when a small boy opposite where ho
was singing cried out “ Blow your dose, you
dab fool.”
Influence of Song.—Most of us have ex
perienced the luxury of tears when listening
to an old man -who, having led a long career
of vice and crime, was at length banished
from the country ;■ and who, while undergoing
his period of banishment amidst the wilds and
jungles of a distant land, hoard in the sum
mer oven tide, a. sweet voice, singing in his
own language the very song which had lulled
him to his infant slumber, when ho knew
crime, only, by name, and know it only to ab
hor,, ft had been sung, too, by the cradle of
an infant sister, one who had died young
and is now- in heaven ; the. mother, too, WM
no more,
But the song—the old song, had not lost
its influence over him yot. Baok cnmo troop
ing upon him tho old memories which had so
long slumbered down thoro in the uuconsum
od depths of tho heart; tho mother and tho
father ; tho household gathering ; old hooks ;
tho old school house ; the time-worn church,
half-hidden by the ohlyowtrees,wlio ero ho had
first hoard the hiblo road, all came back on
hin> as frosh as it it woro yesterday ; and
overpowered by his feelings, he gave vent to,
them ip a flood of tears. And then tho old
man grow calm, and bis latter days woroh i s
best days ; and when tho term of his punish
ment bad expired he came back to his father
land, and there in that old village grave
yard, amid whoso grassy hillocks ho bad
played and gamboled, and where tho mother
and her little ones were sleeping, to lay
down h's weary limbs, and sunk peaceably
away into a common grave,
Good Fisk. —ln eases whore gold fish are
kept in vessels in rooms, &c., they should be
kept in spring water. The water will re
quire to bo changed, according to the size of
the vessel or tho number of fish kept therein,
but it is not woll to obango tho water too of
ten. A vessel that will hold a common sized
pail of water two fish may be kept in by
changing the-water onoo a fortnight, and so
on in proportion. If any food is supplied
them, it should bo a few crumbs of bread
dropped in, the water once or twice a week.
A Chapter bn Corns.
Hear how the inimitable Jones, of the
Harrisburg Patriot, pathetically disooursoth
on corns. Ho has had tho affliction himself,,
and therefore “ speaks by tho hook
Who hath sorrow ?-—who hath woe 1- —who
hath pains without stint ?—who ambleth
in his gait like a spavined'army horse? I,le
that hath corns on the approach of a. storm !
Was there over anything .more annoying
than, a corn, not a spiritual corn, but one of
those pestiferous follows abou.t the .size of ft
dime on a toe-joint ? If corns had been inclu
ded ip the ills sent, upon the children of Is
rael-, our opinion . is, that their sufferings
would have been intolerable. ;
. Corns ftro a modern, institution.,, Of course
they date back, farther than our memory runs,
but'wo. do not read of Moses pr David, or
any of the patriarchs walking as if they wore
tramping on eggs to avoid, the full pressure
of leather on a gay bid corn the size of a hicko-.
ry nut; still wo remember the time well
when corns were not as plenty as they are now
—when they were ascribed to tight boots, and
were deemed a fitting punishment to pride
by the straight-laced. But all those old theo
ries are exploded, since it is found that wheth
er men wear loose dr tight boots, it is all'the
same, and corns are frightfully on the in
crease. .
A night or two ago wo stood upon the pave
ment listening to an itinerant vendor of corn
salvo. An old chap on the left foot, that wo,
pared down little less than a hundred times,
felt as if a. hot darning needle was run into
him. The .vendor was eloquent, and,.with a
pair of highly inflated lungs ho spoke of , the
virtue of his medicine in eradicating ohms in
such a manner that thrice wo throttled a stray
quarter in our vest pocket to go in,' but
thrice we let it drop again, as the thought
came upon us how often wo. had our eye shut
up by, corn doctors and. vendors of .corn .salve:
We Ivavo tried all the," known, and. some of
the unknown remedies, and up to this time
we have found no permanent cure for a corn.
Wo have road “ Durlochcr oh Corns,”'nnd de
rived no other "knowledge from it than the
fact, that the euynpnt, writer himself must
in his time, have, had corns, so accurately
does ho describe the active pains of “ har’d
corns,” ” soft corns” and bunions.” Tempera
ry relief may bd had by some remedies, t,he
most popular of which'is frequently boohing
the foot and’paring the thick cuticle un.til the
little black spot appears where the soat of.
pain evidently lies,, but as for curing them—
talk to us of bailing the Mississippi with a
gourd, nr bring down elephants with pop
guns I—but oh 1 talk,to us no more of a cure
fin- corn I —it is' not in the books—apd .the
discoverer thereof has not yet, Iliads, his de
but upon this mundane sphere.
USEFUL RECEfPTS.
Frozen Costard— Slice a Vanilla bean I
d boil It slowly in half a-plnt of milk,’till
all the. strength; is extracted and. the milk
highly flavored with tho Vanilla, then strain
it and set it aside.. Mix a quart of orcani and
a pin t of nulkor-.if you cannot procore cream,
take.-thr.ee (3) pints of rich milk, and put
them, in.to a skillet oy. squoe. pan; sot it on
hot coals and boil it, ' When it has comp to a
boil, mix a tabje-spooriful of flour in three
(3) table-spoonfuls of milk and stir it into
the boiling,; Afterwards add two (2) eggs,
which hgvo. been beaten lip with two (2) ta
ble:epoonsfp.ls of milk, pouring them slowly
iqta the mixture. Take care to stir it all the.
time it is,boiling. Ijlive minutes after, stir in
gradually half a, pound of powdered loaf su
gar, and then the decoction of Vanilla.—
Having stirred it bard (i few moments, take
it.off tli.o fire, and sot it to cool. \Vhon quite
cold put it into a mould and freeze it, as you
would ige.-crcam, for which it- frequently
passes.
You may flavor it with a tea-spoonful of
strong oil of lemon, stirred in just before you
take it from the fire, or with n quarter of a
pou,nii of ah,oiled bitter almonds, blanched,
popnded in a mortar with a little water, imd
thou boiled in 'll the
flavor, is extradi
Icb-Ciieaw —.1
bciin, and boil i
flavor-ia well e;
two (2j table-spoonfuls of arrow-root powder,
or the. same quantity of fine powdered starch,
with just sulfieient cold milk to make it u
thin paste.; ruhbjng it till quite smooth.—
Boil together- q pint of crcnm nnd a pint of
rich milk, and while boiling stir in the prep
aration of arrow-root and the milk in which
the Vanilla has bpe ll 'boiled. When it has
boiled hard, jakq jn adinlf pound
of powdered {oaf sugar, and hj-t it come to a
Then strain it,' p.u,fe it in,to a
freezer, placed in a tub that has a hole in the
bottom to, let opt the water, nnd surround it,
on all sides, with ice, broken line, and mix’od
with coarse salt; turning the freezer continu--
ally for twenty minutes, then let it rest; oc-.
oasionally taking off the coyer and scraping
down with, a long spoon the cream that slicks
to the sides. When it is well froacn transfer
it to a mould, surround it with fresh salt and
ice, and then freeze it over again.
If you wish to flavor it with lemon
of Vanilla, take a largo lump of sugar, be
fore you powder it, and rub it on the outside'
of a largo lemon till all the yellow is rubbed
off upon the sugar ; then when the sugar is
all powdered mix with it the juice. For
strawberry ice-cream, mix witli the powdered
sugar the juice of a quart of ripe strawber-
rios squeezed through a linen bag.
Pbtze Coax Bread Receipe. —The prize of
SlO offered by Orange Judd, the publisher of
the. American Agriculturist, for the enrn bread
loaf, was awarded to Mr,- James O'Brien, of
Garrick, Pa. The reeoipo for making the
bread is as follows: —To two quarts op meal
add one pint of bread sponge; water snfiieiont
to wet the whole ; add half a pint ofllour and
a tablespnonful of salt; let it rise; then knead
well for the second time, and place the dou; h
in the oven, and allow it to bake an hour ai d
a half.
flow ns Staijted Them. —A preacher whoso
hearers were in the habit of going to sleep
over his preaching, bought a tin whistle, and
on- Sunday, when he saw a goodly number un
der the spmnolesoant influence, ho drew forth
his whistle and sounded a shriek. In ah in
stant the whole congregation was wide awake,
and upon their foot, staring at the minister,
at one another, and wondering what in the
name of human nature was to come next.
“ You’re a sot of smart specimens of hu
manity, ain’t you ?” said the divine whistler,
as ho slowly gazed around on the highly as
tonished assembly. “ When I preach the
gospel to you yoi\ all go to sleep ; but the mo
ment I go to playing the devil you’re, all wide
awake, up and Rooming, like a rush of hor
nets with a polo in their nest.”
It la very curious,” said an old gentle
man to his friend, “that a watch should bo
perfectly dry when it has it running spring
inside.”
(Db&.nnb <Wj&
Bgy* When society casts off the restraint*
of law, all tiling* form, uniform deformity,
BC7* He wha says, he can. neither stand nor
move probably liea if ho tells the> truth,,
ITT” Ggatitudo is the music of the heart
when its chords arc swept by kindness.
By* AH that some young womoa need to
inflame their hearts is. a spark.
O” Why is p palm-treolikp chronology?
Because it furnishes dates.
Why is a blush like a little girl ? Be
cause it becomes a woman.
K - It is said that the seat of war on tha
Potomac is worn threadbare.
geological character on which
drunkards split arc said to ho quartz.
0f7”“ What’s in a dress? ” asks a popular,
writer. That depends on who the wearer is.
\CT A cotemporary says, “ a fetpale recruit
in Rochester- was detected by trying topnt
her pants on over her head,”
C 7 ?. “Xipt the. toast he, dear woman,” ns
the hoarder said when his landlady was about
to,remove, the plate., .
IE?" Same slanderous old bachelor says it is
much joy ”. when you first got married, bpt
it is moiojawy after a year or so,
Df7” The soldier’s great risk is that of be
coming extinguished before he can beep,mi},
distinguished. •' ’• • ’
[CT’An editor out West says if “• time is
money,” ho is willing to exchange a little Of
his for the hard-, ■
of7*i It, is said that some mothers nie,grown
so affectionate that they givo tbpir children
chloroform previous to. whipping-them.
O* To make a, girl-love-you, coax her to
love somebody else. If there be. anything a,
wopmn .relishes, it is to bo contrary.
DC?* No matter how dull trada.Bjay he in
Other cities, N.ew, Bedford always.does a wha
ling business.
017” A cotemporary has been studyingpho-.
nofyphy. Here is a specimen—t“ Wat kantj
b q rd must b- hdured.
OCT” Tears at a wedding are-only the coma
meucement of the pickle, that the young folks
are getting into.
(CT" We are-never satisfied that a lady-un
derstands a kiss unless w,e have it from, her
own mouth.'
O* A lazy fellow lying.down on, the, grass,
said, “ Oh, how I wish, this, was called, work*,
and well paid for.”
017” “Well, Jom.whaVis a commentator? ”
“Why, I suppose it is the commonest of all
talers.”
ET* The liDuVsviUe Journal says that the,
discharge of ouf duty at the present time in
. yolyea. th,e d?soharge-of canppn.
, ai-nja.
CIF'A partof the mountain, of aorronr.
which an inebriate had heaped upon lys own,
head, lately slid off, and broke down bhp,
bridge of his nose,
fl@“ “ Oft in the stilly night, ’’ pathetically
snug Julius, ns ho carefully deposited in his
capacious pockets several of the feathery tribo
of a neighboring barn yard..
File right,” said,- an, officer to. h,ia
company, “Bedad,” said: an Irishman, whp,
stood near by, nhorpening bis say, “it’s njy.
own property, and i’ll, bedoin’ as, I phjspwfth
B&T It requires little. acquaintance with,
the heart, to know that woniah’B first wish, is,
ti) lie handsome, and that,. tho.
readiest method of ol'huning her kindness ia,
to praise. hor beauty..
[E 5 * A pretty girl was, lately complaining
to a Quaker friend that she had a cold, 1 arid
was sorely plagued in her lips by
“friend;” said O.hodiah, “ thee should nevei;.
let the chn.ps oomo near thy Ups." . ,
“ Pray, Miss C.,” said a gentleman,
tho other evening, “ why are ladies so fond
of officers ?■” “How stupid,’'' she replied ;
“is it not natural that a lady should-like, a
good offer, sir i" ' , ' ’
unilln,
.ilVttra~
Mix
t!®" - Some country editor gets off tha fol-,
lowing: “The Battle of Life—Courtship is
tho engagement; the proposal is the assault t
and matrimony tho' victory." Then, we con
clude that a treaty of peace is made on tha
appearance of Envoy Extraordinary,.
JSSf- Sidney Sinith was once, .examining,
flowers in the garden, when a beautiful girl,
who \va,s ope or the party, exclaimed:, “Oil,
Mr. Smith, this pea will neyof crime to per-,
lection t" “Permit nio, then,”’ said be K
gently taking her liand, and walking toward
the plant, “ to lea.d perfection, to, fl^appa,!"..
B®' A man who cheats in. short
is a measureless rogue. If in whisky, ho ia
a rogue in spirit., ff he gives q, bad title to,
land, then he-iaa, rogue in deed.' If he gives
short measure in wheat, then he is a rogue in,
grain. And if ho cheats when he cap, he is
in deed, in spirit, in grain, a measureless
rogue,
J6ay- A wicked wng of a lawyer, ip one 6 {■
our county courts, lately scandalized .the
bench, by putting the following query to his
professional brethren : ‘.‘ Why is Judge ,
like necessity The members of the bar,
then and there present, quickly answered,
“ Because he knows no law."
V ‘
A pious minister, after lecturing a
ragged Sunday School class in a most edify
ing manner, proposed to close the exorcises,
by singing “ Jordan,” meaning thohymn,
“On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand.” Tho
worthy man was horrified by bearing tho
whole school strike up, “ Jordan am a. hard
road to travel, I believe,”. . ■ ■" . ,
jgy* The customers of a certain cooper in
a town out AVest, caused him a vast deal of
vexation by their saving habits and persists
once in getting nil their tuba and casks re
paired, buying but litllo work.
“ I stood it long enough, however,” said he,
“until one day old Sam Crabtree brought in
an old bungholo, to which ho said he wanted
a new barrel made.' Then I quit tho busi
ness in disgust.”
BSy Recently we came up with two hoys
—one carried an apple in his hand, and the
other was using, all his eloquence to obtain
just one bite of, it. “ AYell,” said tho young-,
or one, finally, “ I’ll give you jes one bite.”'
Tho larger one took the apple. opened a
mouth that would have boon creditable to a
hundred and fifty pound catfish, and brought
it down on (ho fruit, leavinsr a very small
share on tho outside. “ Jim,” said (he lUtla
one, looking at tho operation with astonish
ment, “ you take tha apple and .give uie.tbf)
bite.”
NO. 46»