VOL. VIII
THE PEOPLE'S JOURNAL:!
BY ADDISON AVERY.
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,Setrct Voetvg.
From the London Adler:venni
GOING HOME.
We said that the days were evil,
We felt that they might be few,
For low was our fortunes level,
And heavy the winters grew;
But one who had no possession
Looked up to the azure dome,
And said iu his simple fashion,
"Dear friends, we are going home."
"This world is the satne dull market
That wearied its earliest stage;
The times to the wise are dark yet,
And so limb been, many an age.
And rich grow the toiling nations,
And red grow the battle spears,
And dreary with desolations
Roll onward the laden vears.
''What need of the ch . angeless Ftnry
Which time hath so often told,
The specter that follows glory,
The canker that comes with gold,—
That wisdom and strength and honor,
Must fade like the dark sea-foam,
And death is the only winner ?
But friends, we are going home!
•' The homes we had hoped to rest :in
Were open to sin and strife,
The dreams that our youth was blest in
Were not for the wear of life;
For care can darken the cottage,,
As %yell as the palace hearth,
And birth-rights are sold for pottage,
But never redeemed on earth. .
"The springs have gone by in sorrow, -
The summers were grieved away,
And ever we feared to-morrow,
And never we blamed to-day.
In depths which the searcher sounded,
On hills which the high heart climb,
Have trouble and toil abounded ;
But, friends, we arc going home ! .
"Our faith was the bravest builder,
But found not a stone of trust ;
Our Jove was the lavish gilder,
But lavished its wealth on dust,
And time hath the fabric shaken,
And fortune the clay hath shown,
For much they have changed and taken
But nothing that was our own.
"The light that to us made baser
The paths which so many chose,
The gills there was found no place for,
The riches we could not use;
The heart that when life was wintry
Found summer in strain and tone,
With these to our kin and country,
Dear friend=, we are going home!"
BAYARD TAYLOR IN THE MAMMOTH CAVE
Bayard Taylor has been in the Mam
moth Cave. As his descriptions. are
among the best that any traveler has
ever given us of the places, he visited,
that of so celerated and remarkable a
spot as the Mammoth Cave, can hardly
fail to be interesting. After relating
his arrival at the Cave Hotel, he gots
on thus:
The season for travel has hardly
commenced, and we found but seven
visitors on our arrival. Two of these
had just. returned from a trip beyond
the rivers, under the charge of Ste
phen," the famous cave guide, and
their clothes, bespattered with mud,
gave us some indication of tie charac
ter of the trip. As our stay was
limited to two days, we decided to
visit the cisfluvial avenues the same
afternoon, reserving the grand jour
ney over the .water for the next day.
The rivers bad been gradually rising
for four days, and were then at pre
cisely the most inconvenient .stage,
though not yet impassible. Mr. Miller
informed us that they rarely rose more
than four days in succession, and there
was no likelihood at present that we
should not be able to cross them. I
engaged Stephen for the next day, and
took Alfred, one.of the other guides,
for our initiatory excursion.
After dining off a noble haunch of
venison, Alfred made, his appearance
with a bundle of lampS and announced
that everything was in readiness.
Turning around the hotel to the north
ward, we entered a rocky ravine in
the forest, and in a few minutes were
made aware by a gust of cold wind
that we. had reached the entrance to
the underground world. The scene
was wild and picturesque in the ex
treme,-yet the first involuntary sensa
tion was something akin to terror.
The falling in of the roof of the main
avenue of the cave as it reached the
surface of the earth, has formed a gap,
or pit, about fifty feet to depth, ter
minating in a dark, yawning portal,
out of which a steady current of cold
air was breathed in our faces.• Trees
grew around the edges of the pit,
almost roofing it with shade; ferns
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and tangled vines fridged:its sides;:and
a - slender:stream of water failing,frorn
the rocks .which arched above the . en
trance droppd like a silver veil be
fere the mysterious gloom.: The tem
perature of the cafe is 59° throughout
the year, and that of the : upper air
being ahom i 75°, :the colder stratum
was ebbing out. When the inside and
outside temperatures are equal, as
they were this Morning previous to
our visit, there is no perceptible , cur
rent.
Taking. each a lighted lamp, we de
scended some rocky steps to the floor.
of the Cavern, passed behind the
tinkling cascade, and plUnged into the
darkness. The avenue rapidly con
tracts, and,is closed by an ,artificial
wall, with a door, which is sometimes
locked to exclude pilferers. Having
passed this, the daylight disappeared
behind us. • Our eyes, blinded by the
sudden transition. to complete dark
ness, could barely see a roof of solid
rock not far above our heads,, and
masses or_loose'stones piled . on either
side. This part of the . avenue is
called "The Narrows." The space
gradually expanded ; the arch of "the
ceiling became more dim and lofty,
and the walls only showed themselves
by a faint and uncertain gliinmer. The
floor under our feet was firm and
well-beaten,'the air we breathed pure
and refreshing, and a feeling of per
fect confidence and security replaced
the shrinking sensation which I think
every one must feel on firit entering.
As the pupils of our eyes expanded,
and we began to discern more clearly
by the light of our lamps the dimen
sions of the grand avenue, we reached
a spacious hall called the Vestibule,
which is said to bo directly under the
Cave Hotel. It is 70 to SO feet in
bight, branching off on one side into
a spacious cave called Audubon's Ave
nue, Near it is the "great Bat-room,
which hundreds of bats have chosen
as a place of hibernation. We were
now in the Main Cave, which ex
tended for three or four miles before
us with an average bight of about 50
and an average breadth of at least SO
feet, in some places expanding to 150
feet. What are the galleries of the
Vatican, the Louvre, Versailles, and
the Crystal Talace of London and
Paris to this gigantic vault hewn in
the living rock ? Previous to the
crossing of the Bottomless Pit in 1838.
'and subsequently of the Rivers in
18.10, all the published accounts of the
Mammoth Cave described only this
avenue and its branches. The sides
are a perpendicular wall, with a dis
tinct and sometimes cornice and
a slightly arched ceiling which oftFn
resembles a groined vault. The lime
stone -lies in horizontal strata .with
scarcely a fault, and all the wonderful
forms which it assumes are clearly
traceable to the•action of water.
Immediately on entering, you see.
the remains of the saltpeter works
which wet e carried on here form
I.BOS to 1814. The old hoppers or
leaching vats, the sluices for carrying
off the water, and many other appli
ances, arc still almost as perfect !if
the manufacture had just been *relin
quished. The wood work remains
pmfectly sound and uncorrupted, and
even the ruts made by cart wheels and
the prints of the oxen's hoofs in the
then moist soil have not been effaced.
It is said that saltpeter to the value
of ...i.'20,000 was washed front the earth'
in one year, and in the course of three
years the:same earth became as richly
impregnated as before. This property
is also communicated .to the air,_but
probably in a less degree. lam not
aware that it has ever' been analyzed;
but whether n o m the absence of veget
able exhalations and the consequent
purity of
. its constituent elements, or
from the presence of some exhilarating
property, it is certainly more bracing
and invigorating than the air of the
upper world. After we had become
accustomed to its diminished.temper
attire, its inhalation was a luxury. I
;can only compare it to a very mild
nitrous oxide. The oxen which were
taken into - . the cave to haul earth to.
the saltpeter vats became fat and
plump in the course of two or three
months without any extra feed. As a
sanitarium for consumptive patients,
the cave: does not seem to answer ;
but the experiment has- - not -yet been
fairly triedmost of the invalids who
came here having beeniin the advanced .
stages of the disease. Besides, the
absence.of sunlight—which seems to
exercise a subtle influence : upon hu
man as upon vegetable vitality—might
counterbalance in many cases the ad
vantages of an equable and stimulating
air:
Nearly a quarter of a mile beyond
the Vestibule, we came to •
.a second
dome inserted, like . a transept, in the
main avenue or nave, and called The'
Church. • The roof, which is about 80,
feet high, is almost Gothic;- and on
the left band is gallery,or choir, with
a- projecting pulpit at one pf the,
DEVOTED TO
. THE PRINCIPLES DEMOCRACY, AND TILE DISSEMINATION OF, MORALIT : i 7 , LITERATURE, AND DIENY,S,,
COUDER,SPORT,. POTTER COUNTY, PA.; JUII,Y . 5, 1855.
angles - ;, 'here' service is often • per.
on Sundayi during the sum=
*Men We' took our ieats, on some
timber that was taken from the Salt
peter vats, while - the — guide ascended
to "the gallery and finally took his
station in the pulpit.- Here he 'kin
dled a Bengal • light, which. hissed and
sputtered like a sacrificial flame,
throwing - a strong pale-blue lustre up
against the • vast, rude - arches, and
bringing out the jagged walls in vivid
relief against the : profound darkness
ou either hand.. 'ln spite of the semi
sanctity °riven to the place, this illu
mination seemed to me nothing less
than an offering to the Kentucky
gnomes and kobolds—thennderground
fairies who have, hollowed out for
themselves this marvelous palace under
her green bills.
Coritinuing'our walk, with eyes that
now saw clearly not only the vend
dimensions of the avenue, but, its rude
suggestions of pilasters, friezes and
cornices', 'and the dark cloud patterns
that mottled its gray ceiling,We passed
in succession the Kentucky Cliffs (so
' called from their .resemblance to the
rocks on Kentucky River), Willie's
Spring, a tiny thread *of water which
has channeled .itself *a fantastic fluted
filche from the top of the baso to the
wall, and the Second Hoppers, where
the operations of the old miners seem
to have been prosecuted on a very
' extensive scale. Above these' hop
pers, on the right hand, is the mouth
of the Gothic. Avenue, brapching off
at right angles to the main cave. It
is reached by a flight of steps. The
scenery of the cave became mare and
more striking as we advanced. The
roof is coated with a thin incrustation
of gypsum, which is colored in patches
with Ida& oxide of manganese, giving
it a rude resemblance to a gray sky
fleeced with dark clouds. In the
waving and uncertain light of the
lamps, these clouds seem to move as
you walk, and 'to assume capricious
and fantastic forms. Now you see an
oval lake surrounded with shrubbery,
now a couchant beast, or a sitting
figure like the colossal deity of a.
Theban tomb. In one place there is
a huge ant-eater, very perfect ; in
another an Indian chief wrapped in
his blanket ; then* a giant, with his
wife and child ; and finally a charcoal
sketch, in which . the imaginative can
see Napoleon crossing the Alps.
Under the last, of these pictures
Alfred stopped, and after stating that
we were just .one Mile from the en
trance, threw the light - of, his lamp
Upon alarge white rock' which lay
upon our right hand, and
,asked us
what it resembled. " Why," said one
of us, " it is very much likea coffin."
" You are right," said he ; " it is the
Giant's coffin, 57 feet in length." He
then informed us that he should leave
the main-cave and take the road to -the
River Styx, in.order to show us some
cf the most remarkable objects on this
side of 'that' stream. We followed
him, one by One, into a crevice behind
the coffin,. at the bottom whereof
yawned ,a narrow hole. Half stoop
/Lipp:lof crawling, we descended
through an irregular, contracted pas
saglif to a Series of basement halls,
called the Deserted Chambers. 'The
lit of these is the *Wooden Bowl, , a
'room about 10,0 feet in diameter, with
4 low, slightly concave ceiling. The
'name may have been 'suggested by
this circumstance, although there is a
story of an ancient wooden bowl hav
ing been found in it .by the first per
sons who entered. A staircase called
the Steps of 'Time—fur what reason .
it is impossible to say—leads to still
lower chambers, two of which are
connected by a passage called the
Arcked Way, from the smooth and
regular curve of its white ceiling.
In the fdrthest one is' "Richardson's
Spring," a little bowl of crystal water,
which we found very cool and refresh
ing, despite, the flavor of the limestone
rock., •
The root presently )hot up into a
pointed, irregular vault; and We heard
the sound of dropping water. Alfred,
who was in advance, cautioned us to
remain still while he leaned forward
and held out his lamp, which disclosed
the mouth. of a pit. The sides were
as smooth as if hewn by a stone cut
ter, and worn into deep - grooves and
.furrows by the waters of ages. A log
is placed along. one side to protect
visitors,' and. we leaned upon it while
he kindled. a sheet of oiled paper and
suffered it to 'whirl slowly down into
the gulf,,glimmcring on the wet walls
and : the' dark .pools of water in its
mysterious womb.
Leavingthe:deserted chambers, we
descended - a.' deep staircase - into the
Labyrinth—awitiding 'way thirty or
forty feet high; and barely" wide
enough for two .personsto pass..• This
brought us to, another_ pit,„ along the
brink of which We walked,.clainbered
up -a 'ledge,' and last reached a
window-like' opening;- where Alfred
bade us pause. Leaning over the thin'
'partition wall, the light of our. united
lamps disclosed, a vast' glimmering'
hall, the top of iVhich: -. fanished rq
darkness, and the bottoM of which we
could only conjecture by the loud,
bellow splash of ivater-drops that
came up out of the .terrible gloom.
Directly in front of us hung a gigantic
mass of rock, 'which in its folds and
masSes'presented a wonderful .resem
blance to a curtain. It had a rbgular
fringe of stalactites, and there was a
short' outer curtain 'overlapping it at
the top. .The length of this piece of
litnestone drapery could not have 'been
less than one hundred feet. In a few
moments Alfred, who bad- left us, re
appeared at- another window on the
right hand, where he first dropped
some burning papers into the gulf, and
then kindled a Bengal light. It needed
this illumination to enable us to take•
in the grand dimensions of-the dome.
We'could see the oval arch of the
roof a hundred feet above our heads;
the floor studded with stalagmite as
far below ; while directly in front the
huge curtain that hung from the center
of the dome—the veil of some sub
terranean mystery—shone rose-white,
and seemed to wave and swing, pen
dulous in the awful 'space,. We were
thoroughly thrilled and penetrated
with the exceeding. sublimity. of the
picture, and turned away reluctantly
as .the fires burned out, feeling that if
the cave had nothing else to show, its
wonders bad not-been exaggerated.
Leaving Goran's Dome—the name
which has been given to this hall—
we retraced our way through the lab
yrinth, and following the main passage
, a short distance further, came to the
Bottomless Pit, formerly the limit of
excursions in this direction. It was
finally 'crossed by means of a . ladder,
and is now securely bridged and the
path along its brink protected by .an
iron railing. The bridge is renewed
every four ' years, even though the
timbers remain sound, to guard against
all possibility of an accident. The
Pit is 175 feet deep, and is covered
by a pointed dome forty or fifty feet
high. It is a horrid gulf—dark, yawn
ing as the mouth of Tartarus.. Peices
of 'inuring paper dropped from the
bridge slowly fell into the depth,
eddying backward and forward and
showing the black, furrowed walls on
either side. The vault above our
heads, in its grooves and niches, and
projecting points, reminded me very
vividly of the' Moorish domes in the
Alhambra. There is a stalactic ele
ment in Saracenic arehiteCture which
tnusthave had its suggestion in Nature.
The avenue beyond the pit leads to
the river Styx, but as we had reserved
that portion of the cave for the next
day's trip, we returned through the
Deserted Chambers to the Main Cave.
A short distance beyond the Giant's
Coffin we reached the Great Bend,
where the avenue changes its direc
tion at a-very acute angle. is still
upwards of 100 feet wide arid 60 or
70 in bight, with the same rough
friezes and cornices, and the forms of
clouds and phantom figures on its ceil
ing. We passed several stone and
frame *houses, some of which'were
partly in ruin. The guides pointed
them out as the residence of a number
of consumptive patients ivho came in.
here in September, 1843, and,re
mained until January. " I was one of
the waiters who attended upon them,"
said Alfred. "I used to stand on that
rock and blow the horn to call them
to dinner. There were fifteen of them,
and they looked more like a company
of skeletons than anything else." Onti
of the number died here. His case
was hopeless when he entered, and
even when conscious that his end was
near he refused to leave. I can con
ceive of one man being benefited by a
residence in the cave, hut the idea of
a company of lank, 'cadaverous inva- -
lids wandering about in the awful
gloom -and silence, broken only by
their hollow coughs—doubly hollow
and sepulchral_ terrible.—
On a mound of - earth near the Dining
'Room I saw some cedar trees which
had been planted there - as an experi
ment. - They were entirely dead, but
the experiment can' hardly be consid
ered final, as the cedar is of all trees
'the must easily injured by being
transplanted. . •
I noticed that the ceiling became
darker, and that the gray cornice of
the walls stood out from it in strong
relief'. Presently it became a sheet of
unvarying blackness, which reflected
no light, like a cloudy night sky. 'All
at once, a few stars glimmered through
the void, then more and more, and a
firmament as far off and vast, appar
ently, as that which arches over the
outer world, hung above our . betids:.
Wewere in the celebrated Star Cham
ber. Leaning against a rock which
lay upon the right side of the avenue,
we looked uprard, lost in wonder at
the marvelous illusion. It is impossi
ble to describe the effect of this mock
sky: Your reason vainly tolls you
t hat it is but a crust of black oxYd of
manganese, sprinkled with crystals of
gypsum, seventy-five .feet- above your
head: You see that it is a . , fathomless
heaven, with its constellations twink
ling in the illimitable space. You are
no longer upon this Earth. You are
in a thunder-riven -gorge of the moun
tains of Jupiter, looking up - at the
strange firmament of that darker planet.
You see other constellations
far up in the abyss of midnight, and
witness the occultation of. remoter
stars.
The . fascination-of that scene would
have held us there for the remainder
of the day if the guide had ,permitted
it. After indulging us for, what he
considered a sufficient length of time,
he took our lamps, and ascending
into a branch cavern that 'opened from
the floor, treated us to some fine
effects of light and gliade. By a skill
ful management of his lights, he pro
duced the appearance of .a thunder
cloud rising and gradually spreading
over the sky. The stars are lost; the
comet, gleaining portentous - 'on the
horizon, disappears; and the gorge is
-wrapped in shadow. Then the clouds
break and- - clear away, and the stars
seem to twinkle with amore bright
and frosty luster after their obscure
tion. "Take care of yourselves!"
cries the guide, and we can now see
but a faint glimmer through the open
ing he entered. Now INs but the
ghost of a glimmer, and iau.v, as his
footsteps are more indistinct, it cones
altogether: Yes, this is darkness—
solid, palpable darkness. stretch out
your hand and you can grasp it; open
your mouth and it will choke you.
Such must have been the primal chaos
before Space was, or Form was, or
" Let there be light !" had-been spoken,
In the intense stillnnss I - could hear
the beating of my heart and the hum
ming sound made by the-blood in its
circulation.
After a while a golden, : nebulous
glow stole upon the darkness, seem
ingly brighter than the sunrise radi
ance
. of the East, and increased until
our. guide and lamps rose above the
horizon. We how • returned to ' the
Second Hoppers and mounted to the
Gothic Avenue.. For more than a
quarter of a mile this avenue has a
ceiling perfectly flat, with every ap
pearance of having received a coat of
plaster. It is smoked over in all parts
with the names of vulgar visitors,
from which circumstance - it is called
the Register Room: Persons formerly
carried candles in their trips through
the cave, and by tying them to poles,
succeeded in not only smoking their
names upon the ceiling, but in many
instances •heir -portraits—for there
were frequently rude attempts at draw
ing the figures of sheep and - pigs.
The lamps used at present prevent all
such desecration, but there are still
(and probably always will be)toucbing
applications for candles..
The roof gradually became broken
and rugged, studded here and there
with unfinished stalactites, and we
now entered the Gothic Chapel. where
those stony icicles becornela rge enough
to form ribbed pillars and fair Gothic
arches. The ceiling is not more than
thirty feet high, so .that this hall has
nothing of the grandeur of Goran's
- Dome, but it is .very curious and beau
tiful. Beyond this the - specimens of
stalactic formation are very numerous
and I have not time to describe them
minutely. IWe !passed Napoleon's
Breast-works, Vulcan's Shop, the Ele
phant's Head, and the Pillars of Her
cules, hard by which is the Lover's
Leap, where the journey - ceased..
Here the floor of the avenue suddenly
falls 'away; leaving a gulf about fifty
feet deep, Over which projects a long,
pointed nick. By descending- into
the gulf you can enter a lower gallery
leading to other wonders, amongwhich
the guide mentioned the :Devil's Cool
ing Tub, but we had.icarcely sufficient
time td explore it. •
We retracted our steps to tleiSac
ond Hoppers, and then returned to
the mouth of the cave; having be.mi
four hour* underground, and traveled
about five; miles. When •we reached'
the entrance and looked out from be
hind the falling skein of water and trees
seemed to be illuminated with an un
natural fire: . .The'daylight had a warni
yellow line, intensely 'bright, and the
sky was paler but more luminous than
usual: The air by contrast with the
exilirating nitrous atmosphere below
felt close; unpleasantly warm and op
pressive !like that of 'an ill-ventilated ;
green-house in Winter. There was
too
.much perfume in it—to Many ;
varieties; of vegetable smells—for
found that the short absence had made i
My scent unusually keen 'and . • ;
gent. This first sensation soon *ore.;
off and left us with no. other unpleas7
ant effect'from our trip than that'ef
great hUnger, of which •Mr. Tliller
speedily relieved us.
Enough °ldle Manamouth Cave for
one day. I-shall soon write to you
ffffMESil
,
again, describing our second trtp.un
derground. = -BrT
ENTINPERANCZ Di THE CBIXRL
The report from Scutari - 04'
ence..Nighting was ill,.worn , out by'
her heroic devotion to the duties . she/
had undertaken . , fell sadly on a - rualti, 4
tude of hearts on this_ side the ocean ,
that now rejoice to know she is recov
ering her strength. BUt'as we learn .,
from.a letter of hers just published in
England, the cause of this illness his
not been correctly understsod. It is-;
not the poison breath .of ).infection. or;
the exhaustion of untiring toil or the.
glaring
.summer sun wnieh already..
stares with thircb glciw.on the shores'
of the Bosphorus tnat • weighed 'down'
her "slender form. "All this-I- could ;
h a ve hOrne with dpcp joy,' . ' she writes,
"but to see the - stretcher brought te :
the gates'every• hour laden - with men
foaming in the mouth dud black in the
face, nut - with the gore of battle but •
with the horrible defacement of a• lea .
more dreadfukor deadly - than.the Itus-,
sian or .the plague, oh it is terrible!"
This foe of which she speaks in'
such touching language, is intemper
ance. The hawkers of a poison that
has worked more ruin and wretched-.
nusS on earth than all other wars awl
wickedness, have followed like a pest
in .the wake of the camp and atoleu
on their prey. They have worked,
Miss Nightingale • says, more havoc
than the ball•of the Russiaii or the
stroke of disease. Nor is this foul;
curse of drunkenness confined in the ;
Crimea to men alone. 'Before Flor
ence Nightingale sank and'abandoned -
her post of duty, she had night after.
eight to sit up, unable to tru)3t the:
women appointed as nurses and paid .
to watch over the couch of sickness.
'Until the grog-shops were started
iu the Crimea her,work•was toilsome
indeed, but s till a labor of love and
hope. Her nurses were vigilant and
took pride in sharing the honors of
their task. They are now profligate
and abandoned drunkards. So this:
noble girl, not until repeated efforts at
reclamation, has been forced to adinit.
Before drink came, her patients were
heroes; now they are sots. Veins'
swollen with liquor are, Under the;
Crimean sun-glare, like .powder in,
the foci's of a burning leas. She has
had to move with disgust through
lines 'of beastly victims of intemper—
ance. Hitherto she had overcome the
incapacity of rulers, the .- obStructive ,
nesi of subordinates, dirt, dearth, dis,.,
ease and death, but before these last
horrors, in which under the raging
physical distemper a still fouler moral' •
disease% destroys, no wonder that,
heartened and distressed, the brave'
heart which had so long, supported:
her frail •strength gave way.
From her sick and almost dying
couch she has sent an imploring voice, -.
as many noble children of humanity
have done before, calling ,upon that
country whose incapacity her heroism
has redeemed, to sweep 'away those ,
wretches who fatten and feed upori the
misery and ruin of their fellow-men,
who, as she says, "know- not -What
they do." Banish, she cries, banish'.
this deadliest of enemies from your ,
own ranks! It can hardly, be
: that.,
such an appeal, coming from siich a
source and at such an hour, • can puss
unheeded. It will touch- not alotie••
the heart of England, but will 'rouse r .
and animate to new exertion the brave
and the good of every land.
The picture of the work of this de ,
mon of drink in the, Crimea, • is but a
faithful typo of its doings in every
spot in which it obtains dominion. If
those only, who often "knowing net- •
what they do," engage in and sustain,
this fatal traffic, could follow its vic
tims and have passed before them the,
brute dCgradation to which has .
brought once honest men; and the
cry . it has planted on many a happy:'
hearth,' we cannot believe but that,.
they Nv ould shrink with horror from
this wringing of wealth out of the
of, their fellow-beings. •, It is
not in the revel round the camp-fire r
of the Crimea that . the effects of in... -
temperance are found. It is•in those
scenes which have struck, ,dovin :the
gentle spirit of Florence.Nighingale,".'
it is in the hospital and death-leap at,
Scutari. It is not in . the glee Of the
gilded bar-room or the riotous reps
tqr of the convivialcircle that-drink!
is to be seen in its true fora, but
the foul dens of vice in the poor-hoUse'
and in the prison, to width: it is the' . '
ever -teeming fountain . of poisonous
supply. And let, those . everywhere '
who labor to set bounds to this - dead)?
evil, take new courage and, gather a
more. persistent ,resolution from the,,
cooperation of this !liable wo r naa,n, wha t
now so justly commandathe_sympathy..,
and admiration of she wpr)d.,—
Although birds do not :i'ieacli,..lll4
larger species prey continually. '
. •
:._ ..M,•
NO. 7.