■ ''‘ ' ''' **' '^-V ~~.’i'' ** .■'* ■' ''" ■"■■ *■' '"■- .i VOL. 50. AMERICAN VOLUNTEER. vbßttSHsb Eybftr Thursday horning by >onnr b. bratton. TERMS: • ‘StfiißOßiPTiON. —Two Dollars if paitl within tbo >mrj,an d Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid £ituin tho year. Those bo rigidly ad- Borod tOi iA&fttA'oo. m Subscription die pontinncd-untll all arrearages arc paid unless at thq option of tho Editor; . by tho cash, and liot exooeding ono square, will bo inserted throe for One Dollar, and.twonty-fivo cents for each additional insertion. Those of a greater length in proportion. ... t JoB :? nIN ™ 8 - S ™ has Hand-bills, Posting-bills. Pamphlets, Blanks*; Labels,.. <fco. <ko., executed with afc tho'shdrtcatrnotico. DEAD LOVE. ; : Wb are faoo to face, and between ushcro Is the love,we thought could pover die; Why has it only lived a year?,; U; >Vho has murdered; ? Mo matter Who—the ddod ifcdonq;, .- 1 By one or both, and thereitlios ; The smile from the lip forever gone,- And darkness over the beautiful eyes. *i)ur love is dead, and ohr hope is wrecked; • f So frhftt does it ftrhfit td talk and raV6, Whbthefr it poshed by thynbglbcV • vr fthbthor your brueity dfag t Why should you say that lam to blnjho; s Or why should I charge, the sin to you ? Our work isboforo hs.all tho same, And the guilt of it lies between ua two. : Wo have praised pur love for its beauty, and grace, Now wo stand here and hardly dairo 1 ' To turn'tbo face-cloth back from ~the face, And seethe thing that ia hlddoh.thoro. Tot look! ah, that heart has boat its last, Arid the beautiful life of oiir lifers o’er, And when wo have buried,and left-tboipast, Wb two together can walk no more. ; Tou might stretch yourself on the dead, and weep And pray as tho Prophet prayed,, in pain' -But not like him could you break the sleep, And bring the soul to the clay .again. Its head in my bosom I can lay, And shower my woo there, kiss on kiss, ■ •But there never was resurrection day In the world for a love so dead as this 1 •And,.since wo oannof lesson tho sin, By mourning o’er the deed wo did, Lot ua draw tho winding-shoot up to tbe*chin> Ay, up till the death-blind eyes ate hid 1 Mvmllmmm. THIS CAPTIVE. A Tragic Scene in a Private MadhoiiSe. lIV. THE LATE At. C. LEWIS, ESt). Wo are enabled to present to out tedders 31 literary curiosity—a mono-drama 3inpublished) by .the late M. G. Lewis, pop ularly known as Monk Lewis., It Was writ ten at a time when, by his' 1 Monk,'- bis • Tales of Wonder.’ his;‘ Castle Spectre,’ Ac. the anther bad established .himself the un ;dispuled sovereign of the realms of terror.— It is not bur purpose here to enter the'ques tion of the merits of Sir; Lewis’dramatic', ■productions, nor would wo have it inferred from our silence upon the subject, that .we think slightingly of them ; but as.eviuoinga, knowledge of stage effect, and the power by such means of exciting interest, surpriee. and {chiefly the author’s favorite' object) terror, they are scarcely surpassed. In the present instance, however, he has somewhat over stepped the legitimate boundary of his own 'dominions, and trenched upon the territories of horror. This the mere reader will ac-, bnowledge. They, therefore, who have wit -1 nessed any of the powerful performances of the representative of' the ‘ Captive,’ (Mrs. Litchfield) will readily conceive the impres sion, that must have been produced upon ,the •audience by the acting of the piece. • The first performance of the ‘ Captive' is thus announced in the Coyont Garden play bills of Tuesday, March 22,1803. “After which (i. e. after the comedy of ‘ John Built* then to be acted for the 10th time) will be performed for the first time,* n new mono-drama, or tragic scene,' called ‘The Captive,’ to bo performed by Mrs. Litchfield.' The overture and music com posed by Dr. Busby,” , " ].’■ The following notice is from the Biograph ic Dramatical , “ ‘ The Captive,’ mono-drama, by M. Gi ; Lewis, performed at Covent Garden, March 22, 1803. It consisted only of one scene, acted by Mrs. Litchfield; but the. author had included, in this scene, all the horrors -of a madhouse ; imprisonment, chains, star vation, fear, madness, &o.; and many ladies were thrown into fits by the forcible and! affecting manner of the actress." Bigo. Dram. 1812.' THE CAPTIVE, The scene represents a -dungeon, in which, is a grated door, guarded by strong bars and chains. In the upper part is an open gal lery leading to the cells above. [Slow and melancholy music. The Cap-; tive is discovered in the attitude of hopeless grief; she is in chains; her eyes are fixed with'a vacant stare, and her hands are fold ed. -After a pause, the gaoler is seen passing through the upper gallery with a lamp; he appears at the grate and opens the door.— 'ftho noise of the bars falling rouses the Cap tive. She looks round eagerly, but on seeing the gaoler enter, she waves her hand mourn fully, and relapses into her former stupor. . i'be gaoler relinquishes a jug with water, and places a loaf of bread by her side. He then prepares to leave the dungeon, and when the Captive seems to resolve on making an attempt to excite his compassion, she rises from hor bed of straw, clasps his hand, and sinks at his feet. The music ceases and she speaks.] Stay, gaoler, stay, and Lava my woo! oho is nut mad who kncols to thuo ■I or what I’m now too woll I know, T’li w * la tft was, ftn d what should ho. h wavo no moro in proud dospuir 1 my language shall ho calm, tho 1 sad : ■Hut yet I’ll ilrmly truly swear Inmnotmadl {kiaainy hi*haml)Vm notmndl oilers to leave her; she detains him. nd continues, in tones of eager persuasion,] A r ', lnt husband forged tho talo whu*l» chains mo in fin* Oronrv mil ; • ni ° un,< n«>wn >nv (Vitimls bewail— m. . , attolcr ' Umt late to toll I 'pi • f to ,n * v heart to clioor; ‘p./t 8 ,lt «»<**■•» will tfHuvo uiul glad now, rimnicli kojir a CHjitlvo hero, uot wad ! iu l wad J uot mud! [Harsh music, while tho gaoler, with a loo*, of contempt and disbelief, forces his hand from hor grasp; and leaves her. Tho bars are heard replacing.] , . ■ Smiles in scorn I Ho turns the hoy! Ho quits tho grate !—I knelt ia vain! Still—still—his glimmering lamp I see— [Music expressing the light growing faint er, ns the gaoler retires through the gallery, and the captive watches his departure with’ eager looks.] ’Tis lost! and all is gloom again! (She ahioera and wrapt her garmenta more cloaely around her.) Cold—bitter cold! , No warmth ! No lio-ht! Life ! all thy comforts onob I had j ° Tot hare I’m chained this freezing night, (Haycr/y)-Although not mad ! no, nd! tfb't Viifi.t! [A few. bars ot melancholy music, wiiich she interrupts by exclaiming suddenly,] .’4’iss'u'ro a dfoam.!—some fancy vaiii ! {Proudly,) X—-I, tho child of rank and wealth! ■ Am I tho wrotoh who clanks thisohain, Deprived of freedom, friends, and hoa|th ■? Oh! while I count those blessings flod, Which novor more iny hours must glad,' How aohos my heart, how burns my head ? {lnterrupting heraelf haaiily and preaaing her hand ■ forcibly againat her forcceead,) But’tis not mad ? no’tis not mad. [She remains fixed in this attitude, with a look of fear, tiU. the music, changing, ex presses that some tender, melancholy reflec tion has passed across her mind.] My child 1 ' [A few bars'of music, after -which she re peats with more energy,] My child I Ah ! hast thou hot forgot, by this, 1 w ®hy '“other’s face—thy mother's tongue ? She’ll no’or forget your parting kiss, Nor round her neck how. fast you cling,• Nui-how you-seud with her tostay; Nor hoW that,'suit your sire forbad 1 Nor hoHr—( (TiV/i a looko/lerror.y ■l’ll dfiVo such thoughts away; [fa a holWib hiirribd voice.) They’ll rtiako tto mad 1 they’ll make mo mail! A pause. She'iheti pi'dceiih, with a mclaueMj .•' ‘ ■ ttihile.) His rosy lips, how sweet they stttfled I His mild bluecyoshow bright they shone. Was never born a lovelier child 1 ‘(.lKir/t a'sudden buret of 2)aasxonute grief. mwi-oaQ ' ing to frenzy.) . f And art thou now forever gone ? And must I never see thee more ? My pretty, pretty, pretty lad I ( With energy.) I will bo free j- '• Unbar this door ! lam not mad—l am not mad! . [She falls exhausted ; againsf the grate, liy the bays of which she supports herself. Silo is roused from her stupor by loud shrieks, rattling of chains, &c.] Hark! Hark!—whiit moan those yells ? ( The living yroivs ttnidrr.) Hia chain sorao furious uuulmau breaks*!' [The madman is seen to rush across the gallery with a blazing firebrand in his'haud.j. • ‘V s»W7. e "iv [The madman appears at the gate, which ho endeavors to force, whilst she shrieks in > an agony of terror.] Now I—now! my dungeon bars ho shakes ! Help! Help ! (Scared by her'cries the dual si An gbits ihe%rh'te.) ■ jd’he madman again appears above-, is seized by his keepers, With torches; and after soino resistance is dragged awiw.j 'He's gone I ■ Oil I- fearful wo, Sadi screams ,to hoar I such sights to sec! My bruin ! any bruin—l know, 1 know I am not mail, hut soon shall ho! •Yes! soon ! For 10, you—-while I speak ! ■' Mark yonder demon's oyo-bulls glare ! Ho secs mo! now with a dreadful shriek, ■ Ho whirls a scorpion high in the air! Horror !‘ Tho reptile strikes his tooth Deep in my heart, so crushed and sad! Ah—laugh, ye fiends ! ■ I feel the truth ! ■ 'Tis done ! "i’is done ! I’m mad! I’m mad! (She duehee herself in frenzy upon the ground.) The two brothers cross the gallery, draw, gihg the gaoler; then a servant appears with a torch, conducting a father, who is support ed by, bis youngest daughter, They are followed by servants, with torches, part of whom remain in tho gallery.. The brothers appear at the-gate, which they force the gaoler to open ; they enter, and on seeing the captive,' one is struck with sorrow, while the other expresses violent anger against the gaoler, who endeavors to excuse himself.— The father and sister enter and approach tho captive, offering to raise her, when she i starts up suddenly, and eyes them with a look of terror. They endeavor to make her known to them, but in vain. She shuns them, with fear and-aversion, and taking some of the straw, begins to twine it into a Otown, when her eye falling on the gaoler, she . shrieks in terror and hides her face.’— The gaoler is ordered to retire, and obeys.— The father again endeavors to awake her attention; but in vain, [to covers his face with his he ndkerchiof, which the captive draws away With a look of surprise. Their hopes are excited, and they watch h.er with eagerness. She wipes the old man’s eyes with her hair, which she afterwards touches, and finds it wot with tears, bursts into a de lirious idiigh, resumes her crown of straw,- and after working at it eagerly, fora mo ment, suddenly drops it, and remains mo tionless;, with a vacant stare. Tho fnthor, &o. express theif despair of her recovery ; th.d-rausio ceases—-an old servant enters, leading her child, who enters with a careless look,; but on seeing his mother, breaks from the servant, runs to her and clasps her hand “■she looks at it with a vacant stare, then with an expression of excessive joy, exclaims ‘ my child I’ sinks on her knees, and clasps him to her bosom. The father, &c. raise their hands to heaven, in gratitude for tho return of reason, and the curtain falls slowly to solemn music, *lt was never repeated Marriage,— lf there is a tie deemed sacred on earth, and Holy in a brighter land, tis that which binds, man to his kindred spirit to become as one in unity and love; and yet it rarely happens that ho properly appreciates the, kindnoss-ahd .sindority of the female heart, by setting right value ori a gem so pro ductive of happiness to the possessor. 'There is nothing in hfe.so pure and devoted as the unquenchable love of woman—more priceless than the gems of Qoloonda, and more di/vou t than the idolatry of Mecca, is the unsealed and gushing tenderness which flows from the fount of the female heart. It may here witli propriety,ho asked, what so often enhances the sorrow of the female heart, causing many anxious days and sleep less nights? Is it not for the inconstancy of man ? For whoso sake does she hid adieu to to the homo ol her childhood ? For whom does she leave the loved father and the doting mother and the sweet sister who played with her in infancy? To whom docs she cling with a fond embrace, when all but her have for saken him ? i naturalist in the highlands. Habits and Instincts of Birds and Beasts. AVIio that has road that most delightful of hooks, White's Natural History of Selborne, nut has wished for the opportunity and the faculty do explore, in like manner as the gen tle curate, some isolated district, and patient ly learn the habits and the ways of life—and ot thought ?—of its birds and .beasts. The ftntural History of Selborne stands alone; but once and a while W 6 get a volume—of tenest from England—written by some ar dent naturalist who shows traces of the same skill and the same gentle kindness which made the curate of Selborne as w*6lcohVe among the animals as untortg the nion and women in his parish. The late .Charles .St. John, author of ft Wild Sports in the Highlands,” seems to have been such a man. An English writer de scribes him .as “an atdont sportsman and a keen obsbrVcr, whoso systeni was to de scribeand note down nothing he did not cer tainly know to be true, his own personal ex perience forming, in nearly every instance, the basis of his statements.” Ho had “ not only killed and. seen in their native state (with one &c two exceptions) every bird which lib describes, but he. had also,.without exception, tfiken the nests of s>ll which Wed-, watching their habit of feeding. ‘ froth the golden eagle to the golden-orestcd wren, from the wild swan to the teal,’” Iho work, from which we print ti' few ex tracts below, is made up from Mr. St John’s journals and letters. It Is full of aneedote and incident, and the somewhat random itnd haphazard nature of the Volume is one.of its charnis. .The. writer remarks tin the peculiarities of various animals; . “I could give numberless. instances of birds and other animals, performing actions and adopting habits which to all appearance must be most difficult and most unsuited for ’ thorn : all these prove that wo .are not ..to judge of any fixed and .arbitrary rules, and still loss should we attempt to bring all thd countless varieties. Of animal life into any system of probabilities of our own devising. The more.we investigate the capabilities of hying animals of every desriptioa the more o'ur .powers of belief extend. . Eer my own part,, indeed, having devoted many happy veats to wandering in tlic woods and fields, at'all hours and at all seasons, I have seen so man3 T strange and unaccountable things j PoiVnectcd with animal life.that now nothing appears to me too wonderful to be believed.” ' TIIE OSI’REV AND HER I’REV. The sliill. with which the osprey and loan seisin their prey afltmis an illustration : “ The rough and strong foot of tlio osprey are perfectly adopted to the use which they are pot t<>, that is, catching an d holding the slvpptVr.y ami strung sea trout for grilse The luot of a bird darting down, froth a height in the aii\ and securing a lish in deep. VviUet, consider the rapid i ty with winch "a/ii-h, ' particularly a sea trout; darts away at the slightest shadow of danger, and.a Iso whed wo .consider that the bird who (Pitches if is net even aide to swim, hat mast secure itspre.y hy one single dash made froth a height of Perhaps fifty fcbt, The StViftesfc littl'C croat-h Wre in the whole s'Ca is the sand cel; and yet the terns catch Lh'Cnsands of these fish in the same Way as the osprey eatehos the treut, excepting, that the lorn uses its sharp point ed hill instead of i'ts feet. I Imve; often ta ken np the'sand eels which the terns,have dropped on being alarmed, and .have invari ably found, that the little fisli laid hut one small wound, immediately behind the head; Unit a bird should, catch, such a little' siin- pery active Hwli as a sand eel, in the manner in ,which a lorn catches it, aecnis almost in- conceivable; and yet every dweller on the sea cost sees .it.done every hour during the period that these birds frequent our shores. In nature nothing is impossible; and when wo are talking ol habits and instincts,-no', such word as impossibility shuuld.be used.” THE PERBUIIIPB F.UiOOY. Mr. St. John lias niuuh. to say about ea gles, owls, ami hawks of all (Inscriptions, the peregrine faluun, amongst the latter, heino his especial favorite.' Its habits andapnear anoo are thus desorb.ed ; hero is no handsomer or more coura geous Jinvvk than the peregrine. In a re claimed'state its confidence and boldness art wonderfully great, and when wild it does not hesitate to attack birds far heavier and lar ger than itself. The upper part of the plnr rage in the mature bird is a rich slate color. Ihe lower part white, more or less barred with dark bruwn or black. They vmvv, how ever, very touch in,the shadp and depth, of or, both of the upper and under parts.— ilio throat nnil breast in some birds bavo n fine cream colored tinge. The cere, legs and ■ r ? et !U0 '"'g l ' 4 yellow, the feet remarkably strong and largo. Altogether, I know no bird uhicli.lias ho firm and. musculftr an ap pcarance as this falcon. TbS iridos are dark brown approaching to black, and the oyo is very fall and prominent, "The peregrine builds no nest, but lays her eggs, lour in number, in soine slight do- R 1:® 8 . 810 " ln the rook or turf growing on the elm. a ear after y ear too same range of rock is tenanted by a pair of peregrines, and if they are killed, the next year afresh pair usually appears. If one is killed, the survi vor immediately finds a mate, and continues the duties ol incubation or feeding the young without apparent interruption. The young at firsthand till nearly full grown, are cov ered With thick white down, For the first year they are brown above and white below withlongitudinalinstead oftransversostroakp, As soon ns they arc able to hunt for them selves the young are driven away by the pa rents, who admit of no rivals within a con siderable distance. , “In the winter peregrines are seen far more numerously than at any other time.— lliero are always some bunting the large marshes, such ns tho Loch of Spynic, etc., and they may generally be seen cither hunt 'll? for their prey or perched on some tree or rook near those places. I have frequently known a peregrine appear suddenly at par | ticular spots when lam shooting, and carry off a partridge that I have Hushed, often sing ling out a wounded bird, as if knowing that it would bo an casv prey. Tho porogrino seldom strikes a bird on tho ground, prefer ring to make its swoop at ono on the wing, and cither carries it- off at once or strike.s it : with gicat force with the two hind talons, ■'and then cither lotting it fall dead to the ground or catching it halfway in tho act ofi falling. So strong on tho wing is this bird that a full grown partridge appears to bo iio inouinbranco to its (light. “Tho first thing that tho hawk does on knocking ,down its prey, if it is not already dead, and often even if it is so, is to break tho nook of tho victim by bending tho head back. It then begins with tho brains, and after that cats all tho most llcahy parts. Tho wild fowl, nu seeing the peregrine approach "Gun country—may if Always be uiailr— but right or wrong our country.” CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, OCTOBERS, 1863. , betake themselves, if .jtoniblo, to the water, knowing'that so long aS'thoy keep to this el ement they are sare. ,i ’ll have ofteh seen the falcon make several swoops close to tlic beads of ducks, &c., while swimming, ns if endeav oring to make them rise, hut always without success. It will not strike a bird too hoavv to carry off at once'whileOver the water but waits till its prey is Hying over the land. . "The peregrine was >}ways very much in request by falconers; piung. to its courage and generous- temper arik disposition. It is the easiest trained of. tjy hawk, and it,.ap pears not only to be socublo and fond of com-’ pany,, but also to bo capibid of considerable attachment to its master. If, regularly fed it may/be allowed full; liljprty, seldom leav ing its home or attacking'tbo poultry, except when driven to it by hunger. The eggs of the peregrine are .marked all over with rich rod brown spots, and arc’, more round than oval. There is considerable difference as to plumage and size in different individuals, and though the female is larger than the inale, as, in ell hawks, the difference in,this respect is not sogfedt'as in the g/s-bawk.or sparrow haw'k. .’The female, vybei! trained, is suppos ed to.be not Only stronger, but of a fiercer nil more corageous.disposition." . Ho relates that wild dijoks arose fun J of potatoes they leave tboif natural, food, eyon for heaps of rotten p'ptaVoas ; , ' . ' “My attention )vas firstcalled to iiioir feed ing pn them by observing fliat my domestica ted wild ducks had managed to dig Well into a heap of -half-rotten potatoes which had been put partly under the grpflSid, and then cover-, od over with a good thi&ness of earth, as being unfit fof pigs. or any other animal. However, our wild ducks .had scented thfcm put, and,although well ’supplied with food they had,dug into life heap in all directions, feeding grtodiby oh tlfo. rotten pofiUpes—in ■ fact, leaving their corn for them, 1; then found that the wild ducks.from the bay flew every evening to the potato fields to feed on ■ the roots which had been left; and so fond 1 were they of them that ;I Often saw the ducks rise from the fields in, ttio.middle Of tlie day .' —in the evening it was always a sure plAci j to get a brace or two.’’ - ,i •; tt seems that the crow is somptidlbb vib iruized by the wild duck, ivhieh lays il s eggs' in the crow’s .nest, - Th" common horned o\Vl also indulges in tlic. sanio oehvenibnt propensity, A person, on whoso word Mr. St. John was able to rely, told him that one day he took -six or seven wild duo-k’sr'eggs put of an old crow’s nest;,in a fir tree, and ten days or a fortiiight aftwwards lie saw an owl fly out of the same nbst. and on climbing up to it found that she, t)o, had deposited’ three of her own eggs thow. , As to the wild .duck, when she does build on' her own ac count, she chooses tho iiipSt uiilikely places —sometimes in the densoit wood; at others close to'a road or path, and..frequently, in the long coarse grass or. r|\,shcs at'the edge of a lake. “In taut,” oljsei yed Mr. St, John,' Kind of; ground,'Wot or dry, 111 which they hreod. In tlmglen-at.Angdslhoy nest freoly ip the holes deft by pcMdes-m the plum-pud ding took, at JeAst tod OF-twelve feet above the witter. 'When strong enough, I suppose, the young are thrust oyer, the edge and let fall into the' stream.” Tim shores of the Moray Frith are frequented by every sneoies of wild fowl. . . The author tolls of a very simple way of taking the young perigrine falooh which puts one in mind ofSlnhad’s experiment to escape from the Valley'.of Diamonds: “A person having reached the top of the rock immedi ately above the nest, ties a rough bine bonnet, or some similar substance, to a bundle of heather the size of a man’s head; then drop ping this, attached to a rope, upon the nest, the young falcons, in/deud of being frighten ed, immediately attack it, and sticking their talons into the cap; bold on courageously an d determinedly till they arc dragged to the top of the cliff. Even it is sometimes necessary to cut the cap to pieces before they will re linquish their hold,” Mri St. John had a peregrine falcon which lie kept in his garden-. Though nominally tamo, it was a dangerous customer to other animals, and Would lly at anything, hilling rats with all the dexterity of thd Celebrated dog ‘Tlilly.” ft was more noticeable-fell' Courage tliun estimable fur companionship, fur, happenin' to quarrel with n pot owl over the. remains of some bird that had been given for their mutual dinner, the falcon finished his meal by disposing of his friend,"nothing-being left of the owl but a leg mid porno of the larger feathers. . Mr. St. John lias a good opinion of owls in general, believing that they are far more friends than enemies to man: “The mischief an owl does is,” he say.g “very trifling ; but the ser vice ho is of to the gardener, the farmer, and even to the planter of forest trees, by destroy ing rats and mice, is incalculable.” Like poor Tom in the. tragedy, “rats and mice and such small deer’ 1 are the oWlVjirinciple food; but ho has Online tastes also, when ho falls in with the hoarse tenant id' the marsh, though his nanner-of feeding is not quite a la Ftancaise: iVlien an owl catches a frog, instead of swal- lowing it whole, ns bo does a mouse, .he tears it-to pieces, while still alive, in tile most cruel manner, regardless of its sbril cries. -Here are some interesting notes on the ot ter; “When accompanied by Iter JnttHg, tile fe male otter throws aside her usual shyness, and is ready to do stout battle in their h'ehalf. A Highlander of my acquaintance happened to find a couple of young otters in a hollow bank, and having made prisoners of them was carrying them homo in triumph in his plaid. The old otter, however, attracted by their cries, left the river, and so opposed his carrying them away, by placing herself di rectly in his path, and blowing and hissing like a cat at him, with tail and bristles erect, that the man, although a stout fellow asever trod on.leather, was glad to give up one of the young ones, and make his escape with the other while the mother was occupied in assuring herself of the safe condition of the one she had rescued. “When an otter is caught in a trap, all its companions that may be within hearing of its struggles to escape immediately repair to the spot, and try to assist tho captive in es caping. During tho daytime ho lies quiet ly in some concealed spot, dither in a hole excavated under some overhanging bank or root of a tree, or. in some hollow place amongst a caifn,of-,stones. Occasion ally, however, whou_sprpcjscd by tho light of day in a situation whefe ho deems it impru dnjit to continue his course towards tho usu al ho crawls quietly into some convenient drain, or choose a dry place in a 'clump of rushes, and there ho will lie during tho whole day, till tho gloom of evening ena bles him to continue his journeying, or to commence llshing again. “Though tho otter is natui ally piscivorous, on emergency ho will cat llosh or fowl, and is occasionally caught in the traps baited with a pigeon, a piece of rabbit, or whatever aßßwwßMawfaggniwiiiii —■- - THE CUOW A VICTIM. OTTERS, else, the gamekeeper may make usp of in catching other vermin. Tho trap that holds him must; y hdWekar,shave both a powerful spring anilTe well chained to its peg; with a swivel or two on the chain t<i (Ifovent the animal breaking it by dint of twisting. In hunting down the course of a river lie always keeps the water, gliding in.hisquiet, ghost like, manner down, the deep pools, making scarcely a ripple as he floats down, some times dividing, and, indeed, rarely showing much of his hpad above the surface! except when to listen to some distant , sound, or to gaze at some doubtful- object, ho suddenly raises half his length perpendicularly out of the water. In passing the fords ho: wades down the shallowest place, or if the stream there is very rapid ho comes out of the water and follows the bank of the river, moving along in a curious leaping manner. 'When in pursuit of fish lie seems, ns far as can ho observed, to try to got below his prey, that lie imiy sioze it by the throat., “It is not often that, an ottorcomipits him self so far .as to bo found during the day time in any situation where he Pan beapproaehed; but one day in this month I was out for a quiet walk with my retriever, looking at some wide drains and small pools for wild duiet, when suddenly 1 the flog went off, nose to the ground, in so eager a manner, that I knew nothing but a fox or an otter could have been the cause of.his escitcm'ont; and I soon found ip a nearly dry open drain tpe quite repent track of a very largo otter. For a.long time he would not Show himself, till suddenly the dog rushed into 4 thick, jumper bush," and the next monient dog. and otter word tum bling oyer each other into a deep black pool. The otter escaped from tho flog in the water; but the.hole being only about Six feet square, though doop, I took my. retriever out by main force . And waited for. the water to become clear itgain. .When it did so, I lookcfl fOr the otter for some time in vain, till at last, hav ing , stooped down- close to tho pool, I vVas Slurtlefl by seeing his faco wltliin a few ihoh 'Cs of my o\vn-, his body being olnlqst'entirely concealed by (he overhanging hank. I. tried to muko him ICaVo bia cover, 1)01 in VaiO• SO Isent the dog ih.again, who soon found him-, and, after a short souflle, the otter left til'd pool, and went off along a wide out shallow drain, and :thero the battle begitrt. hgiliri-. The dug, though Onable tO ihOster tliO otter, who was onO of the iitfgest size, Managed to prevent his escape, and ht last 1 ond'Od thoopn test by a well-applied blow fro in a piece of railing whioh I had picked up." The GytT>PEticir\ Thee.—The tree cal . led Gutta, which furnishes the g«Jjff|)«a>lia?is it native of the tiidian'A'rcli iplPgo itjfflalte adjacent lands.* A few years so nco thijsubs taneo, now of suisli ,widely-ex tended.use, was totally unknown.in .Europe; JRr though from time immemorial the Malays "inployed it fob making the bundles of their hatchets Shu ci-'oes'oS, it wiis ohly.i'U tji'o year 1843 that Mr Mont&oriVery, ■an,English sUr -niching _■ onauaiVy heeiuiio licouOintcd ; it, with samples, to the'iloynT'Sdointy-, for which die received its gold medal. The falno of tho new article spread rapidly throughout the world; science and speculation seized up on it wjth equal eagerness; it was immedi ately analyzed, studied, artd tried in every possible way, so that ills'do# as well known and ns extensively us'ed sis if it had been in our pdsossion for centuries. The Isonandra Gutta is a largo high tree, with adensc crowwof rather small dark green leaves; and roundtou'ooth trunk. The white blossoms change irift a sweet fruit, containing an oily substance fiFfnr culinary use. The wooit is soft, spongy, and contains longitudi nal cavities tilled with brown stripes of gutta percha. The original method of the Malays, for collecting the rosin, consisted in felling the tree, which was then placed in a slanting position, so as to enable the exuding fluid to bo collected in banana leases. This barha- rous proceeding, widely from the enormous demand which suddenly arose for the gntta, would soon have brought tbe'rapidly-rising trade to a suicidal end, fortunately became known, before it iVrtS too latß and the rosin is now gathered in tlidsarilO nWnher aycaoutch otic, by making ihciiiohs in thmdmrk with n Chopping knife, ctillccting the thin white milky fluid which okudes in largo vessels, and allowing it_to Cvilporato in the sun or over the fire. The solid residuum, which is the gutta-percha of commerce, is finally soft ened in hot water,,a(td pressed into the form of slabs or flat pieces, generally a foot broad, a foot and a half long, and three inches thick. .Gutta-p.orchn has many properties in comm n with caoutchouc, being completely insoluble in water, tenacious blit not elastic, and an extremely bad iiotldiicbor of calorie and elec tricity.' Tim Uses of gutta-perCha are ' mani fold. It'servesifor water pipes, for vessels,lit for the reception of alkaline or’nciil iiq.Uids which would corrode metal or wood, for sur gical implements, for boxes, baskets, ciimbs, and a Variety of other articles.— llartvdiy’s Tropical woi Id. jitsdovERt es at Roue. —ln a letter address ed to t.ho I’ans Nation, M. Dncbesnny gives tut interesting account of the discoveries late ly made iii the environs ofll-imo, on the. spat where Constantine defeated Maxcntins, that is, near Crcmera, outside the Porta del Pe tiole. On one of the bills of that locality a villa .believed to have belonged to Calpurnia,' Caesar's wife, lias this year been entirety ex homed. Otic of the conduit pipes found on the spot bears the name of that lady. j\,t an insignificant depth below the surface of the soil, a suite of rooms has been'found, which must Imvo been the ground flour of the villa The walls of or;o of these rooms are decora- ted with painted landscapes; ono of them represents a grove of palm and orange trees, with fruits and birds on the branches. The colors are perfectly well preserved, and as vivid as if they had been painted but a few days ago. The ceilings have fallen in, but from the fragments it is easy to perceive that they were decorated with aerial figures similar to those discovered at Pompeii. Glass and pottery have also bddn found on this spot; but the grollt Object of attraction is a beautiful marble statud of Aghstus, in bis triumphal robes, open enough to reveal a richly sculptured breastplate, tho subjects of which are Jtomo with a cornucopia, and tho twins by her side j Apollo with his lyre, mounted ou a hippogrypli; Biana with a heart, Mars sheathing his sword, a trophy, and a trinmphal oar drawn by four horses, and prccoodod by winged figures of Victory. Tho feet of this statue are broken off, but not lost; one of them is flanked by a enpid on a dolphin. Tho statue is 2d metres in height, and boars evident traces of paint on its sur face. Tho busts of Septimus Soverus, Ins wife, and his son Gota, have also been found. O” A little girl,, showing her cousin, about four years old, a star, said, “ That star you see up there is bigger than this world.”— “ No, it ain’t” said ho. “ Vos, it is.” “Then, why don’t it keep the ruin off? j Habits of Lobsters; Many of our readers have a fondness for lobster llesli, who may know little about the habits of this prince of shell fish. As a kind of dcaej-t. after a.licarty mertl on this luxury of the table, Wo‘commend to their attention the following sketch; by Mr; G.’l>. Di leeway: , Who does not like, the flesh of the lobster ? .kvon .the child knows the■ nursery .riddle— " Black in the kitchen, red on tho table.’’— Without any wArmth in their bodies,.or even without red blood circulating, through their veins, they are wonderfully voracious. They even devour each other, and may be said to eat themselves ; fur changing- their shell and stomach every year, those remains arc gen crally the lirst- morsel to glut their.new sys tem. They are always in harness, heavily armed’to the teeth ; seven-jointed in the cun ningly forged, mail of their back. Beneath this protecting rouf move four, yes eight sprawling feet, four on each side, pushing forward the unwieldy war engine, like the Unman legion under the shelter of the bat tering ram. ■ ■ . .. v The two great claws are the lobster’s in struments of provision and defence, and by opening, like a pair of scissors, they have great strength, and take a firm hold. Bo tvjeen tho. two claws lies the animal’s head, yitcy small, with eyes like two black, horny specks, on each side, and these it can ad vance out of the socket or draw in at pleas ure. The mouth, like that of insects, opens lengthwise of the body, not crosswise, as with men and higher races of animals. It has two teeth for its food, but throe more in the stomach. Before the pointed nose, the long, Wire like feelers or horns are stretched out, that sootri to aid the dimness of its sight. The tall, or jointed- instrument, is its great locomotive, by which it is raised and pro ; polled through the water. Beneath this we see lodged the Spawn in great abundance-. When the young lobsters leave the parent, they seek refuge in small clefts of the rucks, or crevices at the bottom of the seas. . In a few weeks they grow much larger, and Change their'shell for lobsterhood. In gori elal-, this is done once a year, and is a pain ful operation. For some days before this change, the animal discontinues its usual strength.and vigor, lying torpid and motion less • but just before easting its shell, spiking its cltlws against each other, .every, limb seems to tr'embl'6. Then the. body swells in tin-unusual manner, and the, shell begins to divide—it seems turned inside out, the stom ach coming 'away, with its shell. In-like manner, the claws are disengaged, the lobster casting them off as much ns you or I would ■kick Off A hoot too big for us. For several lidur's itnoVr continues enfeebled and motion less, hut.in two days;the now skin -becomes hardened, and forty eight hours the shell is perfectly formed and bard, like the ‘onejust-east off'. ' The lobster Ims now increased more than a third in its size, and like, a boy who lias outgrown bis pants, it,deems wonderful how clement, bo 1 reaches the ago of twice ten years, and loses a foot or claw without fool ing bis loss, for bo very well knows that they will grow again. At certain seasons lobsters never moot.each other without a light, and when a leg or even a claw is lost,.the victor carries it off, while the'vanquished retires for a thorough repair of his injured anatomy.— This is quickly- accomplished, fur in three weeks the new limb is nearly as largo ani powerful ns the old one, ; When hunting, the lobster resorts to strill agem, if Iris strength bo insufficient., In vain the oyster closes tllb door UgitinSt Ilia gasp ing, vice like claw, for so sodn as the dmsus- .peeling muscle opens, its house,'in he pops a slone, and the broach made; tllO 1 (fyst'dr ihUst surrender. ■ ' The lobster has his looby hold at a depth of from six to twelve fathoms, and the pro pagation of his race is continued on in mar- vellous hjumbers. More than twelve thoi sand eggs have been eminfed in a single fe male ! .When ho-reaches the light he is in active, but in his oiVn realm he dashes with rapid spiled oVbr chasms and rooky table lands.ilf tile odeiin. Amotion of the tail is sufficient to liurl him down more than fifty feet deep, and thus espapo the swiftest pur suit. So sure is this leap, that he never misses the entrance of his cavern, even in the most precipitous flight, although too, it merely offers space enough to admit his body. How Louts Nappltun looks. A Paris correspondent'writes as follows: “During five or six mouths passes] in ‘Paris, I never saw Louis Napoleon until yesterday! I never took the trouble to sec him. If‘it were possible for the mule and feinalo Sphinx to form a matrimonial alliance with one of the sons or daughters of Israel, t should ex pect thataVman-chihi or a woman-child would uli hbrn with a vis Sage of precisely the same t.Vflp as that of the Emperor of the French. In its expression is-combinod the mystery of the Sphinx with the cunning df the Jew. And all the world knows that the character istics of the man are in harmony with these traits of his physiognomy. Louis Napoleon has a hooked nose, hut its hook is more that of the hawk than of the eagle. “Eoturning to Paris fronrSt.Cloud through the JJois de lloulogne. ho descended from the carraigo and walked for half.an hour along the border of the great lake. Ido not re- i member to have scon a face with a more pro found expression of stony gravity, but I would not say of impassability. The lines are slightly deeper than one would expect to see in a man of fifty-five, and a very deci ded general tone of age is beginning to settle Upon tho U-hole physiognomy. The skin has a leittlißty, billions hdo, and the features bear . ir.ioes of the acute pains which it is known he I suffers. I noticed a swaying motion in the gait ns ho leaned rather heavily upon the arm of his companion; the Emperor’s malady is Shell that ho is not aide to go on horseback without suffering intense {win, and all his visits to Mineral Springs do not seem to pro duce ntly permanent -relief. Happily or un happily Emperors also are but mortals, and rtrt lithotomists can be found in all their wide dominions who rife able to use the knife tvithout causing pain. Think of Louis Na- ; poleon bound to a surgeon’s table fiftOr hav ing escaped the bombs of Orsini and other at- ' tempts upon his life.” Best Time to Si.eei-. —Two Colonels in the French army had a dispute whether it was most safe to march in tho boat of tho day, or at evening. To ascertain this point, they got permission from the commanding officer to put their respective plans into execution. Ac cordingly, tho one with his division, marched during tho day, although it was in the beat of summer, and rested all night ; tho other slept in tho day, and marched during tho evening and part of tho night. Tho result was, that the first performed a journey of six hundred miles without loosing a single man or horse, while tho latter lost most of his horses aud several of his mea. 4 3 ' ■; ctiijfS>siß out, ; ■ Among the restaurants in Philadelphia, is one kept by ex Coroner Joseph Delavan.— Coroner DelaVnn is a pattern of amiability-, with a degree of tonnage growing daily ihpfdi*' remarkable. A few days ago a gentleman •. entered the bouse.and ordered a dozen reed birds and a pint of claret. While discussing these delicacies, ho touched the bell hud re quested the .waiter to send Air. Delavan to I him; Mr. D. requested the Stranger .to take , I n seat’,, and in a IqW minutes .the' twiliH WSrU - cosily.,rts tlioog!i /hoy hadheriri. raised together from childhood. ; “By tlio way, Ooronor”—-he is still called so-masked the stranger, ‘‘ the last timo I was id iforci you had,a fuss With somebody ; pray what caused it? 1 ' “ A chap contracted a bill for $2 50, dud then refused to jiny bp.” “ And whiitdid you do with him ?” “ Chucked him out df dOorS;” *' la that all ?" , , . “ Yes—"ding to hlw don’t pay. To have obtained twenty shillings worth of law would have cost twbnty dollars worth of time." 11 TlUSrt Whtm a rilrttj swindles you, you merely chuck him otitf” • * . “That’s nil.” _ “ Well—what kind of wines have jroii i” ' “Aa good an article of Hoidaiec as isnow extant. Will you try a bottle ?” “On one condition, and that is that you will join me in drinkutg it ?" “With pleasure air." Again the bell tinkled, again the, width aproned darkey disappeared down this oellaf way, and a moment after, the bltlck bbftlc with its silver nock tie stood before the affa ble stranger. Its, contents, were' duly iced and disposed of, when the Cofdaof begged to be excused in order to attend tb some custo mers who wore waiting for him in front.— The stranger shortly afterward finished his reed birds and emerged from the dining box; lie confronted the Coroner within a few feet of the front door. “ Mr. Ddavan, your feed birds wefO cooked’ ton turn, and ns for your Ileidsieo, a finer article never crossed the Atlantic.” “ Happy to hoar you say so, sir,” replied ho Coroner. “As n memento, of the repast, I have a slight favoi; to ask;*' “ Name it, sir.” “ Vhuch me out:’* MVhatf” “ iou (lon’t mean to 6dy that you’re 3 swindler?” “ I don’t mean anything else, 1 haven’t a nickel, and if you want pay for those rood birds, you must take it as you did tho other' day—'chuck me out.” This was too much for the Coroner; Thij stranger wore a bran now hat, fresh and glossy from tho hatter’s. Tho Coroner made a dash, took the shyster by tho nook tie, re moved his castor without ruffling a hair of the nap, passed it over to the barkeeper, and then walked hack as coolly as thoilgh noth ing had happened. The stranger was a good 1 deal nonplussed, but being caught in his own trap, could say nothing. C®“ If you want to mats a girl; vriio !i vain of her beauty, mad, tell her ydii'vtont td a party last night, and was introduced id Miss —■ , the handsomest girl you ever saw in your life. The moment your back as turned she will commence making faces at you. That’s so, try it. IC7” Dresses are coming down, The sign before the door of a mautua water’s shop;, in the city, reads thus: , “ N. B.—Dresses in add lower thin over.” JBSylf you wish your neighbors to notice you, buy a dog and tie him up in the cellar nil night. They won’t sleep for thinking of you. from tho dcipl and read their epitaphs, some of thorn would think they bad got into the' wrong grave. SO” The heart that.sours upward escaped little cares and "vexations; the birds that lly high have not tho dust of tho rojid upon their wings, t ” XT It is loss important to a young hidy that hor lover’s diamonds should be of purer’ Mater than his drinks should’ be. XT Why was Adam the best runner. lh‘ ( ever lived! Because he’was theflrßtih'tu 1 liupmuiaoo.. •> Bich innisiMS In St# lorL A Now, York correspondent of tho Boston [ Post, in the course of a gossipping letter ito' that journal, touches on the subject of “ Hcli ministers” in Qothnrii. At the head of,Urn list the writer places, ns of course. Archbish op Hughes, who jo private property (ho says) amounts to .the snug iittlo snm of around million of dollars, lie in' the millionaire minister par .excellence* In the Lutheran Church there is a Rev. S, W. Geiscnhainor, who is reckoned 'worth §250,000, and win s» secular ' hours are fur tho-.iSost pftrt occupied ih forging “ the silken chain that hinds two' willing hearts." of couples, mat* rimouialiy iiiolinrd, havc. by his,aid, reached* tlib consunirilAlibn devoUtly wished'.' Ifis residence, in- Fourteenth, street; is*litcrally besieged by the.orowds who.desiro to exchange the true lover’s knot for the Gordian knot which nothing but doatjl catt cUt; V . ~ Among the .Dutch Reformed blorgymeS, , Royi A. R. Von Nest ranks ns the riwicat,—. This gehtleman has one or two and dollars now, and ‘thas a goodlyJierilage" dn prospect of half a million snore, when wenltliy father '-reaches til'd Shining shore; Key. Dr. llardenborgh, of the same dedonii hatipn, is estimated worth n hundred thous and dollars. The Presbyterians, perhaps, have more riph ministers than any other do | nomination; At the head of the list—the Nestor of the Church in this city—stands Dr. Spring, clarimi venerable nomen, who is eas ily worth a hundred (jhousand dollars, and whoso ydng and interesting bride is set down ns having throb hundred thousand dollars moro._ Rov. Dr. Adams no one thinks of es timating at less thandtte hiltidrbd thousAml dollars, ; Rev. Dr. Potts and Rev. Dr. Phil lips each are worth fifty thousand, and- sev eral. others of the- Presbyterian clergy are. - equally able to keep the wolf front the door., Bishop .James, of the Methodist Church, po sesses treasures on earth to the value of ono hundred thousand . .dollnas, and so does the; Rev. James Floy,.'the best politician in that denomination. , Rov. Dr. llagany ie worth • about thirty thousand, dollars. . Among tho Baptists, Rev. -Bp.. Dowling And Sortinicrs arb set do#u At thirty thbilsand Apibco, ami Rev. S, A. Corey-, At about twenty thousand ” dollars. . Rev. Mr. Bebchor and Dr., R. S. Storis, of,Brooklyn, own fine residences, and are called worth twentyj Or thirty thousand each.; :■ ■ Flave said that if men should rise 1869. - ( ft NEW r m NO; 18; .
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers