THE POTTER JOURNAL
A. INT 13
3\T El "W S ITEM.
Jno. S. Mann,
Proprietor
VOLUME XXIV, NO. 48.
fche POTTER JOUMAL
AND
>FAVB ITEM.
P "BLI>HKI> EVERY FRIDAY AT
lc< >U I )ERSPORT, PA.
1 ~
Qdicg in OhnsU ? 71 lock. l
I TERM- & Per Ye.vk in Advance.
I Jno. S. Maun, S. F. Hamilton.
Proprietor. Pubtieher.
I C. J. CURTIS.
I Attorney at Law and District Attorney,
f omce nMAryst • r the I<t Q*ftee.
COUDERSPORT. PA..
f Solicits all business pretiiiiaw to p:
Sfiecial attoiii: -n given tocoi-eeiK-ns
I ; HASX ARTHTK BSi% 55
JOHN S. MANN & SON.
Attorneys at Law ami (<>nv( yancors
COt iieksiurt, PA
, . ... r:..-ns pr.ropl 'J atteadod to.
Arthur B. Mann.
Oenersi 1 a - iimcee Agent A Pnbnc.
S. S. GREENMAN.
attorney AT law,
OFFICE TEE F ESTER'? S7OEF,)
COUDERSPORT. PA.
L 6. 01 *STE!> D. C. LARRABEE •
OLMSTED & LARRABEE,
I-: ;.M - AND COUNSEI.ORN AT I AV\
iOffice in o!mtPd Black. l
( m deunpoht, Pknx'a.
SETH LEWIS,
attorney at Law and Insurance Agent,
LEWISVILLE, PA.
A.M.REYNOLDS,
X) E X-I X I S X ,
FFICF 15 OLMSTED BL ' K.)
COUDERSPORT, PA.
E aker House,
Bi.nws 5. Kfh.t. Propr's.
Mm r of SB! 059 and i AH! Struts,
< OUDEP.SPORT. PENN A.
Lv,-. attention paid t > *h a < nnvenience and
comfort "f i:i.-
I, .1 .tatd'.tig attache U
Lewisville Hotel.
Corner of MAIN ami >"OP.TII Mmt-.
LEWI.-VH.LE, PA.
#••• d Sta'e'.it.sattii !-ed-
PEARSALL & WEBSTER,
PAINTERS,
Y.AIS ST. ABOVE SEC OND. er Free -tore.
COUDERSPORT, PA.
Ji -• -,iniiar. cilaring, Ora.ninc. < T -training. •
-
w.'p neatness. }>r mot new and
dlspa'ch in a!! i-e-. ami
sat:-fa-tlon sraar
autled.
MIXED PAINTS u--ate. 144-.-1
* 5. TIT >*r-0S J. s. MASS
THOMPSON & MANN,
PKALE 1 - i
lirnts Medicines Books, Stationery,
ftNCt GOODS.P'INTS. OILS W-'LI PAPER, &C..
i' - M tin and Third St*..
COUDERSPORT. PA.
S. F. HAMILTON.
BOOK AND JOB PRINTER
'' /* Main and Third.)
C OUDERSPORT, PA.
C. M. ALLEN.
Snrtrical and Mechanical Dentist,
LEWISVILLE, PA,
A 1 ork guaranteed t<> giv<- stiti-ifaction.
D. J. CROWELL,
*s—~. r w .cinAST &~ . ■
MNNEMAUOXINc.. Came.' d! l. Pa.
*td t'n SJI>E i. CT SHI SO LI. MACIIISHU
'* m to '2K irrb**.
t .iring Machines *n i General Co* torn Wort
esse lo order. 24'd2-tf 1
r y f*
Willi W a will,
'
11 oit <s . *i if n ,
Ornamental, tlcroratuc & fresco
PAINTER,
COUDERSPORT, PA.
GRAIMM; and P.iFER HANGING done
with neatness and dispatch.
v U->:..;.-t >n guaranteed.
Orders left viiih
BAKFAi HOUSE
w '-t* promptly attended to.
I>. B. NEEFE,
carriage factory.
loud e import, penn'a.
p-* N of Wag .n-raakmt. B;ai k--mit!iine.
; 3 j i .1- l-Ajre Tnmmiiar and Repairing done
--
rt *~T>-l.:e. 5426 iy
C. BREUNLE,
mvßu r. P: WOR K ,
COUDEHSPt >BT. PA
Of*,. o J ,tteadstone*. eti.. tinLhei to order,
it.,. " -i* -tvie and workmanship, ou
0 r '' 1 " '•*. •• i : ins.
a. r ■ r at th • of Jock
• lUaawillnMlTl ; r> nipt attention.
PRECEPT UPON PRECEPT.
DBAOOJf ADAMS ADM SI;HEc HIS 805.
AY hat them things in your pocket. Jack, a bung
lir,' out sot Hey?
M hat? Apples! After ail my good advice, yon
mean to s-ay
Y'ou've lieen stealin' apples ag in on the S&bbuth
day!
1 A stealin': Haint I told ye 'tis a sin to steal a pin?
: And stealin - apples Sunday is a blamed sight
meaner sin;
But you will keep >tealin' uv em, time and time
agin.
Sweet apples, too. I'll venture? The sickliest
kind of trash!
Such condemned foolish wickedness beats pa
tieuee ail to smash:—
I wouldn't had it happen—not fur fifty cents in
cash.
To st>-al sweet apples Sundays, aiut no way to
behave;
If you dodge the cholera morbus you'll live to be
a knave
And bring lay wig and nat'ral hair in sorrow to
the grave.
I've t; •••it"': h > >uupt go in a religious way,
And k 'pthc s.ibbuth holy. You've often herd
rue say
I'd rutlier steal all through the week than on the
Sabbuth day.
You'd make a party de.i n. wouldn't you? Why,
look at me!
Did I get to be de;vcon by petty larceny?
No! Neuiin' i - too risky fur genuine piety.
This is a with \ world and pious men in self de
fence
Mu-t circumvent the wicked and cheat with di
ligence.
And make had men the victims of misplaced con
fidence.
We needn't alius tell the truth to -pile a trad
that's a brewin'.
For if you didn't tak strangei -iu in trade, why |
they'll take you in—
B.it stea ia' a;v-* - Sunday is tlie road to mora
ruin.
I d n't s.Jacob, where y..u got your stock of
thi-veiT;
It unit .• Adams" sty'... Tft •Ad uuses was just
.ike itte;
j An;! "it n> ti.ei's -ide. th- Br wns was fam
ed for honesty.
I ho; i re"y hope, that wu wont .-teal again,
my lad.
Fur if you should get ketched at it't would mak.-
me very -ad
lit in! Jacob —l.aiut ;• u got a go- <1 sweet apple
fur yerdad? — F.-nnl; < e
LOVE ON A LOO.
'Mi-- IJtt-ky Newton.'
AYtll. >;,•.•
•Will you inarry me?'
•No. I \v,>n't.'
■
Mr. Fred Kc r.-on dr v atuy a'
chair and pu" l.i.- i'eet n)>on the
j-iazza Ui.i' l L i a new-p :] r. Miss
B(cky Newton 1 it her lip and went
j
il' that w.-.- L." : 'ig t Ik- the last of it.
>he had felt ois j roposal for
a month, Utr the scene s'i ha i anti
cipateil w s nt.t at all like this, "-he
had intended t > refuse him, hut it
; was to be done gracefully. She was
to it main firm, notwiti..standing hi
most easier entreaties. >ie was to
liave told hint that thouch resjeet
insi his manly worth and upright
character, she could never be to hint
more than an appreciative and ear.
nest friend. t?he had intended to
shetl a few tears, perhaps, as he knelt
writhing in an agony of supplication
at her feet. But instead, he had
asked the simple question, without
any rhetorical embellishment, and on
luting answered, had plunged into
his newspaper, as though lie bad
merely asked the time of day. She
could have cried with vexation.
•You will never have a better
chance.' he continued, after a pause,
as he deliberately turned the sheet to
find the latest telegraph reports.
'A better chance for what V she
asked, shortly.
•A better chance to marry a young,
good-looking man. whose gallantry
to the sex :s only exceeded by his
bravery in their defence.
Fred was quoting fn>ru his news
paper, but Miss Newton did not
know it.
•And whose egotism is only ex
' ceeded by his impudence,' retorted
the lady sarcastically.
'Before long," continued Fred,
i 'You'll be out of the market. Your
chances are getting slimmer every
day.'
{ *Bir!'
•It won't be a great'while before
vou are ineligible. You will grow
old and wrinkled and—
•.Such rudeness to a lady, sir. is
monstrous," exclaimed Miss Newton,
rising hastily; and Hashing to the
temples.
•I ll ixive you a final opportunity,
Mi>> Becky. Will you mar—'
•N"t if vouwer the King of Eng
land.' interrupted Mis< Newton,
throwing down her work. *1 am not
accustomed to ~uek ii -uh-. sir.
So saving she pa.-sed into the
house and slammed the door behind
her.
'She is never so handsome as when
COUDERSPORT, PA., FRIDAY, JUNE 27. 1873.
she is in a rage.' thought Fred to
himself, after she had gone, as he
slowly folded up his paper and re
placed it in his pocket. *1 was a fool
to goad her so. I shall never win
her in that way. But I'll have her,'
he exclaimed aloud. 'By Heaven
I'll have her, cost what it may!'
Very different was the Fred Eck
erson of the present, pacing nervous
ly up and down the piazza, from the
Fred Eckerson a few moments ago,
receiving his dismissal from a woman
lie loved, with such calm and imper
turbable exterior. For he loved
Becky Newton with all his heart.
The real difficulty in the way. as he
more than once suspected, was not
so much with himself as his pocket.
Becky Newton had an insuperable
objection to an empty wallet. The
daughter of a wealthy Louisiana
planter, reared in luxury and the re
cipient of a weekly allowance of p n
mouey sufficient to pay Fred's whole
bilL for a month she had no immedi
ate idea of changing her situation
for one of less comfort and indepen
dence. Besides, it had been inti
mated to her that a neighbor planter
of unusual aristocratic lineage had
looked upon her with covetous eves.
To be sure, he was old and ugly, but
he was rich. and. in hei present mer
cenary state of mind. Mb- Beekv
Newton .id not desire t<• allow such
a chance of becoming a wealthy wid
ow slip by unimproved.
But. alu.- for human nature! If
Becky- was really so indifferent to
Fred Eckerson why did -he run up
-fairs after that interview and take
the starch all out of iter nice clean
pillow shams by crying herself into
hysterics on the bed? It was not all
wrath, not all vexation, not pique, i
There was somewhere deep down in 1
Becky Newton's heart a feeling very
much akin to remorse. She was ic>t
0
'
had no doubt she would be very
happy as Fred Eckerson's wife, after
•But." she cried, growing hot with
to ree< Ik-etion. "he was so rule and
-o insulting! I never could live we ' ,
-uch a man—never!'
When Fred Eckerson had walked
off some of his feeling- on the piazza
he concluded to take a b ok at the
Mississippi, which flowed within five!
hundred yards of tlie hou- . v :t - at
that time nearly at the he ght of it
annual --pring rise.' Its turbid wat
ers, rushing swiftly toward the sea. I
had nearly filled the banks an 1 in 1
many places had broken through the
levees and flood- 1 the low lands for
many miles. A crevasse of this de
scription had been made in the far
ther bank nearly oppsite to the
house, and the windows of Newton
mansion commanded a view of a va-i
and glittering inland sea. not laid
down on the maps. The main cur
rent of the stream bore upon its cof
fee-colored bosom an enormous ma—
of floating timber, which was dashed
along the boiling flood, rendering
navigation wholly impossible. The
waters were still rising and the fre- j
quent era-las tar and near told of
the undermining power of the cur
rent. as sections of the sandy banks
succumbed and disappeared carry
ing with them the trees which over
hung the stream.
Now it happened that, by a curious
coincidence, Miss Newton also re
solved to look at the river. She
dried her tears and putting on her
hat. slipped out by the back door to
avoid Fred, and soon found her-cll
at the foot of a huge cottonwood tree
on the bank below the house. Throw
ing herself upon the grass and lulled
by the bubbling of the rapid flood
beneath her, she soon fell asleep.
Had she possessed any power of
foreseeing the future, it would have
been the last thing she would have
done, for though it was very pleasant
dropping asleep there in the shade,
witn the soft sunlight filtering
through the leaves overhead, the
awakeuing wa- not all to her mind.
A terrible crash came and nJade
chaos ot her dreams; th< ground
-lipped from beneath her; and the
tall cottonwood toppled and fell:
an<l Miss Becky Newton found ln-r
---i If suddenly immer-ed in the cold
flood, with h .' : r 'ty mouth f'td of
muddy water. In a moment more
somebody's arm was around her. and
she felt herself lifted up and placed
somewhere in the sunshine, though
precisely where she was as yet too
bewildered to know. Getting her
eyes open at last, she found Fred
Ec-kerson's whiskers nearly brushing
her face.
•Well!'
•Well!'
'Where am I?' asked Becky, shiv
ering and looking around her.
'You are iu the middle of the Mis
sissippi.'replied Fred,'and vou are
in the forks of a cottonwood tree and
you are voyaging toward the Gulf of
Mexico just as fast as this freshet
can carry you!'
•How came you here?'
'ln the same conveyance with
yourself. Miss Becky. Iu fact, vou
and I and the tree all came together,
to say nothing of a portion of vour
father's plantation, which I fear, is
lost to bird forever.'
Becky was silent. She was think-
I ing. not of the accident or their peril
on- position, but of her apjx-aranee
when she was lying asleep on the
grass.
•How long were you there before >
thi- happened?' she asked. ,
•As long as you were. I was up
| in the tree w hen you came.'
•You had no right to be up there." <
: said she coloring—*a spy up .u my <
:n< .vements.'
•Nonsense!' he replied. You in
trude'! on my privacy and while you
-lept I watched over y u. like the
sweet little cherub that sit- aloft.'
•Thank you for your sendees, I 'm
-tin.-.' she said, bridling.
•Y<>u -nored awfully.'
'Mr. Eckerson, remove your arm
from around mv waist.' >
*
•Then put yours aiound ray neck."
'lndeed 1 shall do no such thing.'
'You will fall into the river if vou
i • *
don t.
Ix-eky was -dent fur several min
utes. while their unwieldy raft
widrl.-d along in the current, roiling
i'roui side to side, and tlm ening
' '
and tip them off. At lit-t, - ;!r easd ;
•What are we t ■> do V
•I think, now that I am -tamed. 1
-hall go on to New- Ch h an.-.' he re
pi ie 1.
'New Orleans!' exclaimed Becky.
•It i- a luindtv 1 miles.'
'Ye-, and the chance of a free pas
sa_e for such a distance is not to lie
in . levied. You can go ash re if you
pr. 1" T."
She burst into tears.
*Yi u are cruel,' sue said. *to treat
me so.'
•Cruel!' exclaimed Fred, drawing ;,
j her clo-er to him. quickly; ■cruel to
you?"
There was no help for it and she
relapsed into silence, quite content,
apparently to remain in Fred's arm
: and evincing no disposition to rebel.
; For once in her life she was depend
ant on a man.
•I want to go to New Orleans."
continued Fred, after a pause, 'be
cause there is a young lady of my
acquaintance residing there, whom I
i have some intention of bringing into
this neighborhood.'
•O!"
•If we don't go to New Orleans.
and if we get sale out of this scrape,
I shall write to her to come any
.
wav.
' 'Ab
'l shall obtain board for her in Bt,
_
Jeane, which will be convenient ft
me a- long a- I remain v our father -
guest, i can ride over after break
fast every morning, you see.
•She is an intimate friend, then?"
said Becky.
'I expect to marry her before long.'
he replied.
•Marry her! Why, you—you pro
posed to me this morning."
•Yes. but you refused me. I told
you then vou would never have an
other chance.'
Becky was silent again. It is a
matter of some doubt whether had
Fred at that m< ment. -itting astride
that cottonwood log. with his feet in
the water and hi- arm- around her
waist, propose-1 to la-r the second
time. - lie would have accepted him
or not. To be sure a marvelous
change had come over Becky's feel
ings since her tumble into the river.
She felt ju-t tlnn that one strong
arm like that which supported her.
wa- worth a thou-and decrepid
planters; and she recognized the fact
that a man who could talk so coolly
and unconcernedly in a situation of
such extreme peril was one of no or
dinary courage. But she was not
}et quite prepared to give up her
golden dreams. The dross was not
quite w ashed out of her soul and
she did not yet know how much she
loved Fred Eckerson. Besides, she
did not half believe him.
Their clumsy vessel floated on, 1
now root first, sidewavs, and now
half submerged by a boiling current.
1 tieir precarious hold became more
uncertain as their frames became [
chilled by the cold water, and everv
] hinge of the log threatened to ea-t
them once more into the river. In ;
vain Fred endeavored t-o attract the
attention of some one on shore. The
I cottonwood retained a course nearlv
in the middle of the stream, too far
from either bank to make their out- i
cries of much avail. As it grew dark
their situation seemed more and
more helpless, and to Bi ky there j
appeared to lie no escape from cer
tain death, either by drowning in the
darkness or by exhaustion before
daybreak.
Yet to die in this man's arms.
seemed not wholly a terror. She
could hardly think if death must
come, of any way in which she would
rather meet it. Was it possible she 1
loved him, an 1 needs be brought
within the valley of the shadow be
fore she could know her heart? Had
-he loved him all along? While she
wa- thinking about it. chilled by the
exposure and night air. she fell
a-K-ep. When she awoke the star
wore out, but she was warm and
c-'infi i table. Rai-ing her head she
found herself envelope 1 in Fred's
coat.
'Fred!!
.Wed?"
>u have robbed yourself to keep
me warm. You are freezing."'
••No. 1 a! : J took it off because
it was -> ; wful hot:' and taking out
hi- hauilkerc'i' f with his di-eng iged
baud, he- maii.*} tvtensi of i .'ping the
.
*ll<' long have 1 been asleepV
■AI nit tiiiv'.- h >ar-. We are drift
ing in -iiore now.'
•Shall we be saved?'
•I don't kn w\ Put your arm
around my nt k. for 1 am going tc
take mine away.'
IK ckv did this time as she was
Lid. She not onl\ ;h'ew her arms
quickly around his neck, but -he
laid her head upon his breast with
out the slighte-t IK-siuition. In the
darkness, Fivd oil not know that
she imprinted a kiss upon his shirt
bosom.
•Hold fast now,' he cried. 'Hold
on for dear life.'
The log had been gradually near
=>
ing the shore for -ume time and now
it shot suddenly under a large syca
more which overhung its banks and
trailed its branches in the brown
flood. Quick as thought Fred seized
the limb overhead and pulled with
all his might.
The headlong course of the cotton
wood was cheek- 1; it plunged beavi
i
Iv and ] artiy turned over, it- tot be
came entangled in the sycamore and
a terirtlc crackling of limbs ensued.
With a sudden spring Fred gained
the protecting branch,dragging lb
clinging burden after him. In anoth
er instant the cottonwood had broken
awa\ and continued its voyage down
the river while the bent sycamore re
gained its -hapv with such a quick re
bound that the two traveler- were
nearly precipitated into the stream
again. Fred halt" supporting, half
dragging Becky worked his way to
the trunk by a series of gymnastics
that would have doue no discredit to
Blondin, and in a moment more both
had reached the ground in safety.
•That's a business we are well out
of,' he said, when be had regained
his breath. 'Now. where are we?'
He looked about. A light was
glimmering iron a habitation be bind
them, a short distance from where*
t'-iov stood. Becky coulo not walk
.without great pain and Fred lifted
her lightly in hi- arm- and -tarx-d
for t'.e hou-. . It proved to be the
dwelling fa -mail planter, who was
not lacking in hospitality. Here
their wants were quickly attended
to and, under the cheerful influence
of warmth and -belter. Becky was
soon herself again.
They drove home the following
day, Fred having procured the loan
of the planter's horse and chaise for
that purpose, iiromising to return
them by Mr. Newton's servant the
day after. The morning was bright
; and clear and the fragrance of the
orange groves was in all the air.
Becky, who had maintained almost
; utter silence since their escape from
the cottenwood, was no less silent
now. Fred himself did not appear
particularly communicative, and ma
ny mites of the long ride vvt-re taken
without a remark from either. It
was Becky who spoke fir-t.
•Fred." -he said.
•Yes?'
•You have saved my life, have you
not?"
•Happy to do it any day,' rcmark
i ed Fred, not knowing exactly what
; else to say.
"I thank you very much.'
•Quite welcome? I'm sure.'
There was another long silence.
, broken only by the sound of the
horse's hoofs upon the road. Fred
himself seemed to have lost some of
his habitual ease, for he kept his i
. whip in constant motion mul held i
the reins nervously.
•Fredi'
•Yes? 1
'Are you going to write to that
young lady in New Orleans?'
I s'pose -o."
•Hadn't you—better—try—again
—before you—write?'
•Try again! Try what?'
•I've been thinking through the
night, said Becky, bending low to
hide lit-r face, and carefully separat
ing the fringe of her mantilla, 'that
—perhnp:—if you ask me again the
same question—that you did yester
i day morning— l might answer a lit
tle different.'
Becky's head went against Fred's
shoulder and her face became imme
diately lost to view.
•You darling!' he exclaimed. T
never intended to do otherwise. The
young la ly in New 'Mb an- was
wholly a my tii. JJut when, may I
a-k. did you change your mind :'
*i h. 1 never changed it.' -lie mur
mured, T have loved you all the
; time, but J never knev. it till la-t
night.'
And to this day, when Mrs. Becky
Eckerson i- asked where it was that
she fell iu love with her husband, sin
answers. *on a log.'
Dr. Charming- and His Writings.
The re-publication of Dr. Chan
ning's complete writings at the low
price of one dollar, not long since,
called forth a sneer at "the cheap
estimation in which the Unitarians
hold them.'' But hi- reputation will j
take care of itself.
The eminent service which he did
for the cause of human freedom, at a
time, too. when it required no ordi- 1
nary degree of moral manhood, would
alone ensure liim undying remem
brance. The individual never lived
who had a more exalted sense of the
rights of man. and few have ap
proached the subject with such can
did and reverent spirit. And in
reading hi- essays, lectures and let
ters on slavery one is forced to ad
mit that he went over the whole
ground and made u-e of all the ar
guments. Subsequent writers and :
the reformers who helped prepare
the way for emancipation drew large
ly from him.
In answer to the statement that
the slave holding States bore the
same relation to the North that a
foreign country did, and consequent
ly must be treated with the same del
icacy. he said:
"The position is false that nation
has no right to interfere morally with
nation. Every community is respon
sible to other communities for its
laws, habits, character; not responsi
ble in the sense of being liable to
physical punishment and force but
in the sense of just exposure to re
probation and scorn."
> ich was hi- appeal to denial jus
tice. A retired and - diolarly mi u,
by his own fir side, uucor
ruj ted by t'.ie w rid. he showed the
k< euest insight and the greatest -a
gtirity. a:. 1 wrote as his own tender
ness of c uscience mow .1 him—and
• always with sincerity and courage.
. I He wa- thoroughly aware that he
S. F. Hamilton,
Pub'iutUer
S 1.75 A YEAR
might, by statesmen, be deemed in
capable of seeing the various bear
i ings of the question; but he ground
ed his conclusions upon the truth
that principle* never change, that a
moral evil cannot IK? justified ou the
ground of expediency. In closing
a letter on this subject he savs, u We
are soon going where the disturban
ces of time will never reach and to
the presence of Him in whom all the
interests of humanity are safe."'
The range of his subjects is very
limited. M ith the exception of ar
ticles 011 Bonaparte, Milton, a Na
tional Literature and the Union, his
writings are in comparatively few
channels. \et who that has read
his discriminating suggestions on
V ordsworth, seott and Dickens can
doubt bis ability— could he have
spared the time Ttom more vital
themes—to have made wi>e criticism*
' upon literature, and who but mu-t
wish that he had so done? His
1 clear vision would have seen in its
true relations whatever lie turned
his attention to; and his chaste and
; elegant style would have invested
any subject with attractiveness.
But after all that can be said about
the cliarm of his productions we must
always come back to the one thought
which runs through them all like a
brilliant thread shot in and out, and
never lost sight of.—his lofty sense
of the intrinsic nobleness of the hir-
I man soul. It is this which is first
in hi* close analysis of the character
;of Bonaparte; reineml>ering this he
Silages the enormity of his crimes as
a wholesale shedder of blood. This
lies at the heart of his religious in
dignation against slavery.
And this, we must be persuaded,
influences him in his radical opposi
tion to Cahinism. For this cause
its tenets looked darker, it- bounds
narrower. To him the doctrine of
original >lll and it- transmit.ion l'rom
generation to generation was mon
strous; consequently he saw no need
of the new birth, made possible only
through repentance and faith in the
abmenun!. when the soul in it-elf
(tosses- ed elements by which, thr-unrh
jiraver to the Fatk> r. it could go on
to jierfectiou. And yet. if he failed
to see the nect—ity of the gospel
plan of salvation 011 the one hand he
would, on the other, have -hiank in
horror from many of Lie theories of
modern radicals.
Dr. ('banning*- character was one
of unusual sweetness, nobleness anil
' simplicity. Those who knew him
bear witness to the beauty of his dai
ly life; to his sympathy with the
common people and his great re.-pt et
for them: and to his charity towards
all who differed from him in religious
opinions, not at all inconsistent, how
ever, with independence in the ex
pression of his own.
He.is described by one of his as
-oeiates in his college days as having
then a grave and melancholy expres
sion of countenance which seldom
relaxed into a smile.
In conversation, although not re
served, he was always serious and
rarely attempted a witticism. There
seemed about him many indications
of feeble health.
One who knew him later in life
says: "He was a very small man—
very thin, went out but little, put
his feet on his fire-fender and there
sat and thought. After Dr. Gan
nett was settled as his colleague Dr.
Channing prepared sermans as his
health or pleasure permitted. Very
frequently the former did not know
until after the latter came into the
pulpit whether he would preach or
not. Dr. Channing's voice was very
clear: he had a kind tone peculiar
to himself which brought out his
ideas very forcibly. He commonly
S held his notes in one hand and ge
| sticulated with the other."— Christian.
I Union.
LOCKYER and Seabrook. working
together, publish a joint paper giving
an account of a new spectroscopic
arrangement with an angular slit, by
means of which they are able to study
the whole circumference of the sun
at one view, for the purpose of ob
serving the s->!.rr prominence-. With
spectr>-cop - now in use it is a tedi
ous task. occupying at least half an
hour, to examine the entire limb of
the sun. as onl\ a small portion can
be seen at once. It i- hoped that by
means of the new instrument daily
photographs may be obtained of the
whole solar border. It the inven
tion proves practically successful, of
1 w iiich. unfortunately, tic. re i still
• considerable doubt, it wiil be ail im
? mense acquisition.