SM-pMWtt* gttUttijMW, PQBLISHED BVBBY WEDNKSDAT BT U. O. SMITH * CO A. J. Steihman TERMS—Two Dollars per annum, payable In all oases in advance. TiAtcnAS’TEB DAILY INTELLIGENCES Ifl published every evening, Sunday excepted, at 35 per Annum in advance. OFFICE—Sooth west oobneb oe Centb* Square. ACROSS THE ItlVEft. When for me the (■llentoar Parts the Silent Hlver, Anil 1 stand upon the shore Ofthesirango Forever, Shall 1 miss the loved and known? Shall I vainly seek mine own ? Mid the crowd that come to meet Spirit slu.forglven— Listening to their echoing feel Down the streets of heaven— Shall 1 know a footstep near That I listen, wall for, here? Then will ' ne approach the brluk With a hand extend, d. One whose thoughts I loved to thlnK Kro the veil was rendtd, Saying ‘ Welcome ! wo have died, And bgiln aie side by side.” Haying, “I will go with Hies, Thai thou b* not lonely, To yon hills of mystery; I nave wuiled ouiy Until now, to Climb with tbo Yonder i.i.ls of mystery.’' <j,tn the bonds that make us beur Know uiiiselvcK immorlul, Drop away, like lolluge sear, At llle’s inner portal? What Is holiest below Must forever live mid glow. I aliall love the angels Wf Jl, % Aller 1 have luuirl iliem I n i he mail si ons u here th< v dw With ihe glory round them. Hill at Mrs', witnout surprise. Let me look on human byes. Slop by .step our feet inu«l go Dp liie nolv inouu'aiti; I.M-op hy drop within ns llow] Liie’s tin a lu g louniaiu. \u'o*l's slug with crowns Hi at bur We'f.hall have a t-oiis to learn.; 110 Who o;: our . r.rMilJ puli; Kids U> help encli other— Who lii'i Wei 1-Heloved hath Made our Kld* r liiolhei Will bit • ciasp lue chain o! love Closi r when we meet above. Therei'nre dread I not to go O’er ilie Mienl Klver. iii-alii, my hasten lug our l k:im»;. Hear me, thou Llle-giv. 1-. Tnrough the waters, to t he shore, Where mine own ha\ e gone before ! ANavaxe Beauty 11 win on onu of tilt* great Ktutern rivers that 1 made Lire experience you ure about to heur. There are reusous, which I must not disregard, for pro- Hurving thin vagueness us to thelocality. liutff would assure tlie reader, with all seriousness, Hint my story is true, aud ila moral wound. As a rule, one expects anonymous adventures—without dale or address—tu be alike amusing, scan dalous, and false, —but the two latter qualities, my tale decidedly lias not. Strictness of fact is its justification, for the moral corttained therein can neces sarily be useful only to a few. Picture to yourself a solitary canoe lying moored in the mid-waters of a great tropic river. There are now houses-and towns on the banks which, at tlie lime 1 knew them, were but verdant swamps, broken hero or there by u Liny patch of rice-ground, a cluster of liltlo huts, or the tall dwelling of a chief. (Hi the evenirigof which I speak, ten yeais ago, notan Kuropeun could have becu found withiu a hundred miles of my canoe. The night fell sud denly down, dark and windy; the tide was at its highest, and only the extreme tips of the “ nipas ’’—that ugly sister in the graceful family of palms—rose above the Hood. My eatioe was anchored above their fern-like crowns, and over it and under the slid', awkward branches thrust themselves. The breeze moaned aud wliislied among them, rattling their harsh leaves together. There were as yet neither stars nor moon; the clouds seemed to hang almost on the dark sur face of the water, which stretched, rip pled and soughing, oti oiLlier-mlc, (ill its eddies were lost in an sir, ss of vapor. P’ar olf, above the i n >. i.«iMe bank, a red light glowed thr.iudi the mist, anil the boatmen declared that it burned in the house of a great war chief a mile away. There was nothing to sec through the dull evening vapors, except that distant lire; imr to hear, except the rustling of up- wind, the bending of tlie “nipa” boughs, ami the eager but mo nolnuoussueking of the tide. My hnatimMi lighted their tire foi» ward. Soon it bewail to blu/.e, undeH the fostering of a dozen hands already numbed with cold. The red sparks leapt from swirl to swirl of the river timidly, l > rig k trued, look courage, flamed up, and irradiated a wide ex panse of troubled water. My native boatmen clustered round their stone hearth as closely as the narrow sides of my canoe would sillier them. A brave and honest set they were a* ever trav eller loved, hut most exceedingly ugly. As they crouched before the tire for ward, their pictureMpie costumes aud misshapen features outlined against the blaze and ruddy smoke, 1 pleased myself, lying mi my mattress, with recalling tin* old (ferman stories of gnomes and gobhns, to which strange creatures my poor boatmen were curi ously like, But I don't know that in all my wanderings I ever felt so utterly alone, so small a speck on the great breast of nature, as that night. I watched the wreathing swathes of mist stalking over the water to my very side. 1 listened to the gurgling of the tide, ami its steady “lap” ugainst the guu ' wale, and I thought of limes and faces id pleasant Europe with a sort of de spair. Suddenly, my meditation was broken by a pealing “Ho —o,” from the mid darkuess. My boatswain auswered the irtiseeu challenger, and held a short conversation with him in the dialect of the interior; then, addressing me, thus announced visitors: “The brave chief from the next reach, my lord, desires to present his slavish worship.” “Tell the bravo chief of the next reach,” I answered, that his slave, and all his slave’s ancestors in their collius, rejoice at this happy meeting. Ami pass a ■* candle aft, if, there happens to be one left in the locker!” There was one left lu the locker, which 1 stuck into a bot tle and lixed to the gunwale. I u another moment the sharp nose of a canoe shot out of the misty curtain into our red lialf-circle. I was used to these visits from savage chiefs, and felt little inter est ill the strangers. Their courtesy en tailed a certain diminution of my pre cious stores, specially of spirits ami tobacco, and an uncertain sacrifice of other valuables. Not that these naked friends of mine stole! .But they had a horribly frank habit of asking point blank for aught that took their laucy, aud it was notan easy, or perhaps quite a safe think, to disappoint them. There fore,' though prepared to give current value for the presents which this worthy chief was sure, under any circum stances, to send next day, I could easily have dispensed with his courteous visit over night. There were three persons, I saw, in the approaching canoe. Two paddled, and thej third sat aft. I did not look particularly. My boatmen had hastily raised over me the thatch, called “ Ka joug,” which protects a traveller from the sun ; this ceremony was no doubt proper under the circumstances, but it had the effect of limiting my view. The canoe grated alongside my larger craft, but the deep shadow cast by the “lea jongs,” hit! from me the appearance of its occupants. I raised myself in the crossed-lcgged position which the East ern voyager so soou acquires, aud pre pared a neat oration. In another mo ment a tall, muscular old mau emerged from thj darkness, rested his hand lightly on the guuwale of my boat, aud stepped iu, with no more commotion than is caused by walking aboard a •three decker. “The brave chief of the next reach,” observed my boatswain ceremoniously, and I greeted the old man with a smile aud asbakeofthe hand. He sat down at the farther side of the boat, silently, but in great and visible conteutment. I prepared to as sail him with certain statistical ques tions, such as, I assure you, these sav ages are neither perplexed to 'hear, nor unable to auswer. “How many fight ing men follow you?” I was about to ask, when auother hand was placed upon the gunwale, another figure came up suddenly from the dark river, aud stepped with ease upon my rickety craft. “The wife of the brave chief who lives on the next reach,” an nounced tlie boatswain, who sat crouched beneath the kajongs. I smiled aud shook hands. The wife took a place beside her husband with a familiar confidence pleasant to see. “How many fighting—” I was interrupted again! My left hand rested on the gunwale, instinct ively placed there when the “ brave chiefs wife” bdarded me, to counteract any ugly lurch which her unskilfulness might cause. On this hand was sud denly placed another, belonging evi dently to a person outside my boat. So —rszr***'’- ®l)e 1 micasta' iintdlujcnau: VOLUME TO small and slender were those fingers that thus clasped mine, so soft" and dainty and deiicate —all the blood in my body tingled ; for I thought, surely ’tis the hand of a mermaid!—a Lorely ! But no! A third visitor rose from the darkness —rose, resting its hand still on mine—rose and stood upright before me framed in the velvety blackness of the night. It was the figure of a young girl sixteen years of age at most, which thus stood up suddenly before me, sparkling, shining, in the candle-light. She was simply clad in a short petti coat of woollen stuff, which did not quite reach the knee. Her arms and wrists were encircled with many brace lets of gold and shell, and ornaments of brass; it was acrimeso to overload them, for their shape was worthy of Hebe. Round and round her waist a chain of small gold rattles was twisted, which tinkled faintly with each motion. Her graceful head had no covering, except such coils of fine black hair as three English women might with joy have shared among themselves. The hair was not parted, but drawn back from the forehead, and in a smooth knot, with a quantity of strongly-scented flowers; the ends fell in a shower be hind, almost to her waist. This fashion, which civilized ladies are just adopting, is the common coiffure of the laud I speak of. The girl’s features were per fect, from low, round forehead to dimpled chin! And wholly European in character, save that no eyes of our zone could laugh with such velvet soft ness, nor plead with humility so irre sistible. For this young savage’s face shone down upon me with dewy lips parted in a timid smile, and innocent, saucy eyes, that said, plainly as words, “Am I not pretty? You are a great lord, ami-almost more than man, but you cannot refuse me a place in your canoe!” And all the while she kept her little soft hand in mine, while I started dimly upwards, marvelling at her loveliness. “The daughter of the brave chief who lives ou the next reach !” gravely announced my boatswaiu from under tho kajongs.' “ The daughter of the brave chief who lives on the next reach is welcome to her slave’s resting place !” I said, with an affectation of mighty indifference. But the attempt failed, I suspect, for my boatman forward, who had, like all their race, a truo Italian interest in the minutest a Quire do arur, laughed gently as they sat beside their fire, and stole a glauce aft. But the little beauty was too profoundly conscious of her own value, personal and political, to care one straw for the impertinence of mere boatmen. She murmured a few words, in a voice sweet as tho lips from which it issued, and received a merry answer from her father. Then she looked down at me with a joyous smile, add, putting her foot on thegun vrale—Ah ! but I cannot leave that foot undescribed. Would I were-a poet, gifted with Theopiiiie Gautier’s skill to celebrate the divinity of form! His fervor I feel in recalling the vision of that fairy foot, but not a tone of that wondrous voice have I. What was It tiiat enraptured me?—a foot!—a mem ber common to ail animals, and sullici ently despised. I will give tiie measurement of it, as taken afterwards. The girl was of ordi nary height, four feet ten or so ; her foot lay easily in my hand, —that is, "was something under seven inches long. When I closed my grasp on that dain tiest of prizes, my second linger and thumb could meet within an inch round the instep, or, by an exercise of some little strength, could bo made to touch. Bui what is measurement of Hues and inches in a work of supremest art? Color and shape and exquisite life give the charm. The prettiest of English, feet, white as milk, and veined with* sapphire, is to the little dusky limb of an Eastern girl as an elaborate marble ofCanova’s to the small bronze gem I hold within my baud'. That child’s foot revealed to the acute beholder great facts iu ethics, on which big books have been written, and big arguments expended, lie saw there expressed the suppleness | of her race, the grace and delicacy that 1 shuns exertion, theactivity which, with hare-like speed, distances our tortoise pace ; and tie saw, besides, the hurried, nervous circulation, and the fragility ol structure. But, indeed, that little foot, resting still on my gunwale, was a bronze of the beat period 1 mined to life. The skin was smooth aud polished as metal, and the tone, save where its natural color was subdued by a tinge of henna or turmeric, matched that of Corinthian brass. The ankle was wor thy of the foot. Such graceful lines, “ attaches ” so prettily rounded, I never hope to see again iu living llesh ; instep arched as an Arab's, lean ami smooth like his ; toes, not crushed together, nor curled up, nor pressed out ol all round ness by the habits of boots; neither spread abroad like a negro’s, but each standing slightly apart, lithe, tremu lous, dimpled as an iufaut’s at each joint. The nails were carefully polished, ami regular as those of a baud ; a stain of henna gave to them the very tones of agate. Ah, such au exquisite foot! She stepped on hoard, laughing mer ily, and sat behind her father. The Id folks talked of their barbarous politics,—how the neighboring tribes were threateningTo renouuce their al legiance to a chief now aged. Insidious propositions were made me to abide awhile, for no visible object, at their village ; but not even the charms of that lovely girl who sat, all silent and sub missive, by the gunwale, could tempt me to permit my name anti color to be used as a political influence among these astute, yet simple savages. Whether the daughter had been brought aboard with hopes of swayiug me, I do not know, but I am inclined to think not. She was the only child at home, and the pet of ihis venerable chief. Besides, I doubt much whether even her parents kuew or guessed wliat a treas ure of beauty they possessed in her. The loveliness was not quite of the stylo most admired by these good folks. The points I have described to you are common to many, to almost all, of their women, except the features. Doubtless, hud I asked the critical opin ion af any dusky Don Juau roundabout touching the merits of this girl, he would have answered, with that superb air we see daily at the “circle,” —“Not bad. Her mouth is too small, aud never stain ed rod with betel. Her teeth are white, which is a terrible blot, and reflects the gravest discredit on her parents. Her hair is long, aud her feet are small, but Tragi’a daughter has longer tresses and tinier hands, while her teeth are black as burftfc cocoa nut can make them, and no man ever yet saw her without a crimson stain like blood upon her chin; mais pour ce qul s’appelle une dot, mon cher!” She did not speak ten words all night, but sat uudor the shadows of the ka jongs aud slyly watched me, smiling from time to tHne?rwith ..such girlish grace as made ifiy very heart stir. Now and then she laughed at some unintel ligible witticism of her brave old father; a sweet, happy laugh that did one’s ears good to hear. In fact, I fell in love that night, and I know that if we had not met again, I should have returned to civilized life a victim henceforth to Byrouic melancholy; feeling a despe rate conviction that the only being I could ever love dwelt spine fifteen thou sand miles oIT as the crow Hies, in a palm-thatched house beside an un known river. But I met her agaiu. My business on this river of her father’s took me almost to its head waters,’and in a month's time I began to drop down stream again. Will you bear with me, reader,.while I vent my soul in telling the delights of a canoe-voyage through the watery highways of a tropical forest? Heaven grant that before many mon tbs I may again be. floating on their deep bosom ! Ah, why can I not paint these scenes as vividly as they press upon my memory? I cannot, for often have I tried, aud never with success. I would, tell of the start at early.dawn, while yet the night-mistsarecurliDg on the water, —while yet the monkeys call musically to each other in the forest-trees. I would describe the eager bustle of my boat men getting ready for the day’s labor. I would tell how, with a wild cheer, they dip their paddles in the chilly stream, and make the tiny craft to fly from its halting place of over night. Ay, I would have my companion sit by me in fancy, underneath the matted awning which obstructs the glare of early day, rifle on his knees, and glass ready to his hand. For they have keen eyes these boatmen of mine, and long ere yourdull sight discovers thecreature they point out with such mute eager ness, it will have flitted through the trees and disappeared, leaving naught but a doubtful trail. Game is thick in these woods Cfrhim who has quick eyes and a steady hand, but not one hoof or paw willhesee who takes to the brilliant East the listless motions of Pall Mall. Hist! What does he whisper with such still excitement, that brown “ serang ” squatted on the bows? Steady behind! The eager paddlers cease their clanking stroke, hush the broad jest and extem porized song. They dip their paddles with bucli skill, that velvet sinking into oil would make a splash as loud. With out a sound we glided above the water, steadily, as. with a wish, onwards. The “serang’s” outstretched band guides our eyes to a black shad owed reach, where the water sleeps and rots,overdrowned with fleshyjleaves and pallid, unwholesome flowers, tak ing no color from the sun. .What is there? Too well we know our trusty boatswain to fear false alarms from him. We strain our eyes; and at length, be neath the deepest shade, just- where that dark-leaved shrub drops its pendu lous boughs into the stream beside the fallen trunk, all clothed in ferns and orchids and many-colored fungi, that lies rotting in theeddy, we think to trace a shadowy outline as of some mon ster crouched along the ground. Gent ly, silently, we drop down. The quick sighted monkeys have fled thi3 spot, and far in the distance we can hear their clashing progress through the tree-tops. The very birds are still. Gradually, gradually, a fulvous coat delines itself against the oily green leaves. There is on all nature a hush that may be felt. Hound and eager eyes, widely distended now t half in fear and half in threat, gleam irridescent in the dusky nook. We can see the flash of while teeth between lijrs drawn back, we cau almost hear the “spitting” like cat’s, which welcomes us to this solitude. New is the moment! Up rifle, both together! With a savage snarl he turns and shows all his spotted side. Now,—now ! And the panther, —“trots airily away with his tail up raised, and considerable contempt de picted oahis features! This Is your exclamation, doubtless, but the cruel facts of memory should not be allowed to mingle with the bright picture of imagination. I have missed many easy shots in stern reality, but in my simplest dream I’d scorn to intro duce a rifle not warranted to carry twenty miles, and true as death. But if you will have it so, we’ll leave the panther in his wood and pursue our voyage. Thedaygrows onto noontide! Ashore every living thing has sought the shade aud rests therein ; but we, gliding ever downwards with the stream, hug the reedy banks where great trees overhang aud shelter us, aud so press on. Flowers are over us, and under, and around; uunamed weeds, but the more beautiful in our sight for the world’s ignorance of them. Lilies, blue and red and white, of every shape aud every size, sleep on the surface of “black-waters” and warm, stagnant pools beside the river; of such calm spots now and then we catch a glimpse through some arch of tufted reeds, or under the green-fringed bridge of a fallen tree. No man “ hath comesiuce the making of the world ” to see the beauty here. For beauty there is, in these little solitary ponds, more exquisite than human skill can imitate. Ah ! but there are other denizens than tiie sweet flowers aud the pretty “Hy lic” aud the honest, loud-throated bull frogs. Great snakes dwell here and twiue themselves among the lily-roots. Colorless monsters they are with scales mouldy, as from long solitude ; but now aud again appears among these hideous dwellers a brilliaut jeweled golden crea ture, from the swiitstream near by. lie dashes round the pond in high impa tience and disdain, raising his shiny head aud seeking the outlet with wick ed eyes that gleam like lire. Sometimes the horrid creatures of the pool, the sickly looking snakes aud enormous worms yet more ghastly than the others in their foul softness —grow jeal ous of the gemmed intruder, aud set on him with hooked teeth and whip-like tails aud deadly poisoD. Then to one who stands by, a terrible sightis given. Now ou the surface, now in the still depths below, the merciless fight goes on. The hunted reptile darts hither aud thi ther, plunges bead fore most down among the lily roots, springs into the air, twists through his foes witii exquisite ac tivity. They, the foul crowd, in chase! They swim against one another, they bite and strike in their vexation or in payment of outstanding feuds. ‘Though each enemy be three times his size, yet is this brilliant stranger, armed with a subtler venom, more than a match for any two of them ; but numbers prevail, and unless he liud in time the grass grown entrance to the pool, he common ly falls a victim to the outraged ugliness of the indwellers. Yet in general one might stay long beside these still and flower-grown waters without discover ing a trace of the monsters they contain, l’retty sights are those most common on their banks. In the dawn and at even tide a hundred curious, graceful crea- tures come here to slake their thirst. Chattering monkeys slide down a creep er, and thus suspended iu mid-air, drink from their small hollow hands, —glanc- ing ever round, above, below, with eyes of quick suspicion, pausing each instant, cliattering uninterruptedly to reassure themselves. Birds of every size and hue flutter to the shallows, and drink gratefully. Big herons and huge white cranes stalk about and chase the little bull-frogs in their muddy nests. Squir rels—from the small beauty not bigger than a mouse to that vast fellow with the crimson stripe along his sides hop about the banks, suckiDg the buds and roots of water : plants. Deer, too, sometimes visit this spot, when hunters or wild beasts have scared them from their favorite stream. Butterflies hover over it; orchids trail their blossoms down almost to its sur face. There is more beauty than horror here. I was wrong to put those snakes first in the description. And then afternoon comes od, and evening. The alligators slide down in their oily’ manner from the sand banks, as the declining sun begins to leave the river. And theu, then, what wondrous effects of golden light succeed! How keen the blue shadows! How mysteri ously dim each long vista of the trees! The sunshine seems almost to drip in liquid gold from twig to twig and leaf to leaf, as it breaks through some tiny gap iu the overarching foliage. Redder that lightgrows, andredder; darker the shadows; the air more full of life. A scream breaks the forest stillness, —of what tortured animal none Roused by that signal, birds of prey that fly by night wheel suddenly out from their retreats and swin; across the river. Night-hawks shoot into the air, turn over, and sweep down along the watery surface, noiselessly as the moths they seek; save now aud again a faint twitter shows their thanksgiving for a prey. Then a little later, when the topmost boughs are blazing in red flames, and all below is dim ami misty, the mosqui toes sally forth, the bull-frogs wake and sound tlie key note of their night-long chorus. Fire flies, by one and two, flit across the grass, vanishing and reap pearing. Presently, as it grows darker, they come forth iu swarms, and hover rouud some tree that has attractions for their kind. It is beautiful to watch the sudden flash of light from the thou- sands of these little insects, illuminating the darkness for an instant —going out and throbbing forth again. O, I could dilate by the hour on the glory of the tropics! There only does one see the pride of life and the true lust of the eyes. But my readers grow impatient! It was perhaps a month after the visit to my canoe. I was descending the stream, and had reached a point some fifty miles above the dwelling of my sav age beauty. The day was at its hottest, but for ten minutes wehad been consci ous of an unnatural noise which swelled through the forest like the noise of men cheering, laughing, singing,—in fact, like the roar of a multitude. We were prepared forany event, when the canoe, suddenly shooting*round a point, came in view of a very large native house, evidently crammed people, all evidently drunk. “ This is a great feast, my lord,” exclaimed my servant. It may have been. Most certainly it was the noisiest gathering I ever assisted at. “ Keep to the other side of the river, and slip past, if possible,” I ordered. But to escape was hopeless. The men of the festive party were, indeed, far too drunk to feel sure of their vision at the distance, but a troop of girls stood by the river-side, laughing, compar ing notes, overlooking their coiffure, and criticising their friends 7 costume, just as do civilized belles in like case; save that these simple children of the forest had no mirror but the limpid stream, nor any dress to speak of, ex cept flowers and beads. No hope of LANCASTER PA. WEDNESDAY MORNING JUNE 9 1869 eluding those bright eyes! But unless some well-known warrior were sum moned to their aid house, I had little fear the girls would dare to address a white man, “Spin along !” I cried, and we flew past. But theattempt proved vain ! A slen der silvery voice called aloud across the water by the name these savages had given me. Discovered, I had to submit, and unwillingly gave the word to pull ashore. The girls scattered as we drew in, some running away iu real or affect ed panic, some laughing hysterically at a distance. But the greater number rushed together, aud stood in a compact body, holding each other tight. “Who called me?” I asked, gayly, approach ing the phalanx. Direful confusion and dismay resulted. After somewhat of a struggle in themidrecessesofthecrowd, a slender girl was silently thrust out, while the others looked at me with speechless anguish. The victim thus abandoned, held her bands before her face, and all her graceful frame, scarcely concealed by clothiDg, trembled, so that I could hear the rattling of her innu merable golden ornaments; but whether her emotion wasof fear or mirth I could not tell. In either case the situation might well embarrass a shy man like me. Not knowing what to do with this slender child, and profoundly dis comforted by a scorce of dilated eyes fixed on me from the one side, while on the other I could hear my boatmen laughing to themselves, I boldly seized her in my arms, and pulled apart her hands. It was the heroine of my fancy ! She looked up at me with eyes brimful of terror,—whether genuine, or assumed as a likely weapon by the little flirt, I have no idea. Do not think that the white race has a monopoly of arts ; there are few tricks in social optics which Hindoos, Malays, and Negroes are not thoroughly alive to. While considering what I should say or do, the damsel broke from me, aud ran at topmost speed towards the house, screaming with laughter. At this ex ample, all the young girls dismissed their terrified expression, and loudly joined the outburst. I stood —it is not to Be denied —in some confusion, feel ing, indeed cut to the heart, as much by the.indelicacy of this action as by the proof it gave that no favorable impres sion had been made on my adored one’s fancy. This perturbation of mind was not relieved by the frankness of my serang, who observed with tbecalmness befitting an undeniable statement of facts, “ The girls make a fool of your lordship!” I turned to regain my canoe, and hurry from this ecene, but a dozen potent chiefs, with their gold fringed head-handkerehiefs, all away, their necklaces wrong side before, and their dress In an indescribable confus ion, came to entreat my presence at the feast. To refuse vras impossible. I fol lowed them into the house. All intelligent creatures drink, aud most of them get drunk from time to time. High reason, true morality, the best medical opinions, and the expe rience of every man, in vain combine to discourage the practice. Daily are we told that the custom is extinct, never to come to life again in civilized commu nities. Daily we read such assertions, aud no man dreams of contradicting them, because every one knows the truth too well. People drank in all ages, to excess from time to time, and they will continue so to do till the mil lennium. Butifauy sight on this round earth could causejthe British Parliament to pass Sir Wilfred Lawson’s Bill, and could persuade the English people to accept it, —that sight was before me when I entered the house. Of this we will say no more, iu charity to my sav age but generous hosts. You will have observed the young lady’s shocking rudeness to me at the water side. Nothing creates iu my mind a more abrupt revulsion than hoyden ish conduct. If the Venus de Medici in flesh laughed loud, or maliciously, or in the wrong place, I should flee from her. I cite the Medicean Venus, because, looking critically at that young person, I could believe her to be not too well bred. Fancy Milo’s goddess mistaking her “moude !” It cost me a severe men- tal struggle to admit excuses for this very doubtful conduct of my Hebe. To laugh loud; to laugh loud and run away ; to laugh loud and run away from me— showed excessively bad taste. But 1 was overcome in meeting her at the threshold. Such soft penitence was expressed in her swimming eyes, such graceful mutlnerie about her mouth! as though to say’, “Please forgive me; if you won’t, I know how to avenge my self!” I longed to clasp her in my arms again, and vowed that she should not escape so easily next time. I walked up the long veranda of the house, es corted Dy r her father, aud numerous chiefs, as distinguished, I was told, as I saw they’ were drunk. They set me in the place of honor, where the rock was strongest, and the suu most fearful. — Half a dozen of the leading men held me upright with touching care, and I, so far as my limited supply of members went, reciprocated the service. There were two brawny fellows who support ed me under the arms. Both of them I held'up by hand. There was another valorous warrior who insisted that a prop was needed for my back, and near ly pushed me down, face foremost,in his endeavor to sustain himself. Putting my legs apart, and leaning forward, I supported him also. “ Howlong is this to last?” I asked the seraug, who was treated in much similar manner by warriors of less note. “They’re going to perform some tomfoolery,” replied the Mussulman sulleutly, for their ido latrous rites entailed upon his orthodox conscience an infiuite amount of su pererogatory prayer. Meanwhile, my T tawny belle had taken a place opposite to mine, and there stood, watching me with great eves. I wont tell what tne ceremony was. Drinking was its commencement, sing ing its mid course, and getting drunk its logical conclusion. Among other absurdities, etiquette required that a large bowl of liquor should be placed on my head. I insisted that the vessel should be empty. The dispute grew re spectfully hot; but it was at length ter minated by the utter overthrow of bowl, liquid and bearer by a drunken chief in a red petticoat. The young lady had been much interested in this discussion, and did not hesitate to pronounce in strong language her opinion of those engaged. “What does she say?” I asked of my serang. He gave a slaDg translation of her words. The language, though notactionable, was by no means what one likes to hear from a “young person.” Nevertheless, when I found time to look at her, and marked’ the perfect and artistic repose in which she leaned against a pillar—her moulded arms raised above her head, and oue ex quisitely-shaped anklecrossed upon the other—l felt that almost auy crime must bepardoned to such acreature, I stepped across, and, looking on her smooth and rounded shoulders, could not resist temptation, —I put my around her neck, —en tout honneur, s’U vous plait!— Picture, if you can, my horrified sur prise to find the pretty yellow color of her skkin “come off” on my white sleeve! “What the devil’s this?” I asked of my serang. “Turmeric, my lord!” the answered, promptly. That was a great blow ! I overcame the emotion by an effort. With the tendereat expression I looked down into her eyes, which smiled shyly back to mine. I started. Those beau tiful lids, so thickly fringed with silk, were unmistakably stained. “What the devil’s this?” I asked of my serang. “Burnt cocoa nut, my lord,” he calmly answered. Again I felt a shock ! It needed a certain moral courage longer to contend. Yet I kept my place. Suddenly the young girl broke from my arm, and pursued a stalwart slave, reel ing down the house with a bundle of tobacco, and a basket of maize leaves, him Bhe overhauled, and from his load snatched a handful of either substance, wrapped the tobacco in the dry leaf with a swift motion, thrust one end of the cigarette thus made into a blazing hearth, and returned to me leisurely puffing at her prize. This was the third blow! Still I held fast to my illusion, and entered into conversation with the houri. She muttered a few frightened words in answer to my remarks, and stood with downcast eyes, the very image of inno cence and propriety. On a sudden, a’ rush of warriors took place behind us, • and one burly fellow, most notably ex cited with strong drink, clasped my companion round the waist, and dashed down the long veran da with her. “Is that her brother, orherloyer?” I asked of my serang. “ Probably neither, my lord! ” he an swered. I looked on this profanation 1 with eyes indignant, and disgust ex- pressed in my features. She laughed, the houri! At the extreme end of the house, another partner, drunk as the first, seized hold of her, passed his braceleted arm round her delicate waist, and “ rushed ” her up the veranda once more. She paused beside me, breath less, her eyes danciDg with glee ! There was not the slightest trace of shame on bereountenance! Andyet these ruffians who had taken such a freedom on them selves, were nearly as drunk as a man can be to stand upright. I was utterly overwhelmed. 1 hastened from the house, leaped aboard my canoe, and vanished down stream. I did not expect to see my dusky Hebe any more, nor, at the moment, did I greatly wish to do so. But a month after, I found myself once more in her neighborhood, having ascended the river again, aboard a na tive gunboat. We had with us a flue, tail warrior, who gave himself out as sou to the “brave chief” of whom I have spoken. On making inquirios, I found this fellow was half brother to my dusky Hebe. Arrived at the nearest point to his father’s house, I put myself in a canoe with him and paddled up the stream, not wholly unconscious of a cer tain thrill at heart. We reached the spot aud landed. The old chief sallied out, with all his household, warriors and slaves. It was somewhat touching to see that recognition of the long-lost heir, for the youth in our charge had been captured by pirates long since aud reduced to slavery. But I looked still lor the fairy form, which, in spite of a\l, haunted my fancy. She came at length, bounding fr«m the jun gle; her long hair loosed, and streaming to the ground, her eyes afire with eagerness aud excitemeuf. She threw herself into hor brother’s stalwart arms, nestled to his bosom, and cried with girlish vehemence. And when at length the first emotion had subsided, she drew back a little, still encircled by a lovjng clasp, to view the stately fellow we had restored to her, and then threw herself again upon his breast, and and “Kissed him, of course!” you ex claim, my hearer. Not at all! Deliberately and thought fully smelt him all over! It was too much. Thus was I disenchanted with “lovely savages.” It will not oe necessary to point out the more obvious moral; but there is one which vras lately explained to me, —myself, the hero of the story. I had told it to a lady, much as I have told it you, reader. When I bad con cluded, she remarked, with some em phasis, “Let me give you a piece of advice, Mr. Peregrin. In telling this tale again give dates and localities frankly, for fear of misconstruction. — And, further, I would recommend you not to cling overmuch to this life below, since, savage are civilized, the feminine nature shocks your taste. Perhaps among the real angels you may find a non-masculine creature, who powders not, nor brightens her eyes, nor talks slang, nor smokes, nor loves either waltzing or scent. With mere eaithly women of this day your search would be hopeless !” This was the moral a lady gave me. A Home In the Ocean. Correspondence of ttie N. Y. Journal of Corn- Let us visit Minot Ledge Light-House now, while this storm is at full power. This ledge is covered by water, except for a short time at very low tide. It rises in Boston bay, about twenty miles'from Boston, and one mile and a half from Cohasset. Into it are fitted and bolted down the stones of the tower, which are dovetailed and bolted into each other in such a fashion that no stone can be moved witiiout lifting tower and ledge with it. The tower, lightand all, is 11-1 feet in height; yet over it, clean to the very top, the waves are dashing. Does not their thunder make your very heart tremble? But fhese keepers tell you there is no danger! For forty feet the towers are built up solid, except the well, which is in the centre, thirty eight feet deep. It holds a supply of water for one year. The water keeps good and pure. The well holds 2,000 gallons. It is rather warm in the sum mer, and in the winter becomes as oue of the keepers says, “a kind of porridge, ice.” We will suppose we enter the tower from a boat. To do so we should either climb a ladder forty feet long, fixed into the side of the tower, or he swung up in a chair. At the top of the ladder are two sets of oaken doors, against which are now beating the hun gry wares. Between the otherdoorsand the inner is an entry about three feet long. En tering this room (which is the cellar), from the doors are seen on the right hand*.the coal and the wood. There stands also a flour barrel, and over these, suspended oil hooka, hang buckets of various sizes, containing, doubtless, many good thinga for food. On the left is the oil pump for pumping oil into the tank in the oil room. Here are chests, ropes, brooms, tubs, pork barrels, aud a little of everything needed for light keeping and housekeeping. It is dark and chilly here, aud wo had better as cend. Ah! how good it amells here, in the room next above the cellar. Kitchen and dining room aud everything cosy, comfortable aud neat. A table well set—hot cakes aud hot coffee and boiled fish —“Of course we will.” And down we sit, not waiting a second invitation. Well, is not this a singular situation? It seems like dining in a whale’s belly. Stormed about and dashed about and poured about by the remorseless sea, and eating a relishful meal quite at our ease. It is certainly oue “new thing under the sun” to some of us. Each of the four keepers is off one week and on three. Communica tion with the land is often dangerous and impossible. In the winter they cannot get home as often as once in three or four weeks. They all have families on shore; and here they sit during storms that shake to its founda tions their lonely tower and envelope its crystal summit in foam, and they think of wives and little ones who may be sick or dying without thepossibility of sending word to their beloved watch men on the soa. “Do you not take pleasure in the sights you must behold during all these isolated days aud weeks?” asked one. Oh, yes! We have a very extended prospect, and one which is never twice the same. Both sea and sky are for ever changing, and everything that is on the sea comes and goes. There is nothing stationary but our tower. We see all the vessels that go in and out of Boston harbor, and in the summer we are visited by pleasant parties in sailing vessels and steamers, the latter of which sometimes bring out bands of music, which|play to us. They approach close to us, and give three cheers for Minot Ledge light. When visitors come into the Light we sometimes find as much amusement as they do. We have all sorts of visitors, as you may suppose. They come from China, California, and from all parts of the world. We have many famous and some infamous names upon our visitors’ book. It may seem straDge that so far as we are from shore we should be visited by birds, insects, millers and butterflies from the land. The butterflies are of huge dimensions. I have in tbe morning swept of the walk that surrounds the lantern, thirty, forty, and fifty of these little shore birds, which, allured by the bright light, have flown hither over the waters to their death. “ And here is a bit of the glass from one of the squares of the lantern broken last week by a large sea fowl, as we sup pose, for we did not see the gentlemau. This is the first accident of the kind since the light was erected.” “ How long was this tower in build ing?” “ Five years and four months.” “What do you men find to employ your minds and hands with, and keep time from hanging too heavily upon you?” “ Oh, we manage to keep busy. We make almost everything, from an ex: tension table to a clothes pin. Then for sport and to supply our table we fish. We don’t have to ‘goafishiDg. 7 We are already there. All we have to do is to heave a line from the door, and in a minute we have our dinner by the nose. Then we have reading and writing and sewing to do.” By this time dinner is finished, and up we go. The next room is a bed room. We notice that the rooms are all of one size, twelve feet in diameter, and six or seven in height. Overhead in this first bedroom is a long piece of joist, which can be put out of the win dow and used for raising up heavy ob jects. Here is an iron bedstead, and a chair that is also a bedstead, a on which lies a register for the names of visitors, a wardrobe, a marble wash bowl and a water closet. Up again, and we come to the oil room. About the wall are ranged oil tanks, copper colored oil cans, trays, &c., show that we are nearing the light room. There is one water tank in this room, also a work bench and a box of glass for the lantern. There are here au oil measure, a tool chest and a spare lamp. Another of the steep narrow stairways brings us to the watch room—sitting room of the tower. Here is a table, an arm chair, a stove, books, papers, a few pictures, and the machine for ring ing the fogbell. From this room we may now, since the storm has ceased to send the waves so high, pass out on the balcony that surrounds it. "Well for us that the iron railing is so strong. There! now you’ve no choice but to go home bareheaded. Why did you not cling to your hat and wig ? This wiud is enough to take hair out by the roots, even if it leaves the head Itself. What a scene I what a noise! We cannot describe it. Let us go on. One more flight aud we are in the light room. Hire is the ob ject for whose elevation and continu ance allthismasonry was made —all this skill and labor called forth. “ Aud the light is the life of men,” Thus we ren der it. At sunset the lamp is lit, and sunrise it shines on iu the darkness —a beacon aud a warning to all who sail on that dangerous sea. The lamp has three concentric wicks, and is in the centre of a lens four feet in diameter and ten feet high. Step within and look at your friends through these prisms—how do you like the looks of faces three feet long ? This magnifies the power of the light, and the glass walls of this room probably have the same effect. There i 3 another walk aud balcony without, but wo will not try it. It is only on calm, clear evenings that being out there is agreeable. But within, not all the cold and frost and storms of winter, ut its worst, can effect one’s bodily com fort. One is as thoroughly protected as if he was in his tomb. Wonder if these keepers ever have a nervous fancy that they are entombed ! It would not be strange. On the first balcony, about three feet wide, we should have seen the fog bell could we have seen anything for the wiud and spray. It weighs 1,500 pounds, and is hung up against the wall of the tower. The Oriole and Bobolink “Do yon no’er think what wondrous beings ihese ? Do you ne’er think who made lhara, and who taught The dialect th«y speak, where melodies Alone are the Interpreters ofthouahl Whose household words are bougs lu many keys, Sweeter than Instrument or man e'er ciugui! Whose habitations In the tree toys even Are half way houses on the load to heaven.’’ Loiuj/clluic, The month of beauty, the month of song, the month of all months, is now at baud. The birds, with all wealth of voice and plume, are with us now. They are calling to us from the forest, chal lenging one another in the meadow, piping in the orchard, flashing through the shrubbery, building in the porches, dancing in the threshold, ami peering into our dwellings with disdainful looks, which seem to say, “How rude, how dull, how gloomy are your homes!” Sit down, I pray you, with me, in my quiet library here, this pleasant after noon, and I will have a familiar chat with you about some of our birds, their manners and their melodies. See, yon der, beneath that glass case (which I will remove, that you may examine more closely), where those four speci mens of the taxidermist's skill are perched, looking almost as if alive. Poor fellows, they will never sing again —they have piped their last; but could you have heard them quiriug their melting madrigals, you would have thought, that some careless tpigel had left the gates of heaven ajar, and strains of the celestial anthem were stealing upon your ear; such a quartette would these dear American birds have sung for you. One would have caroled to you of tiie orchard, another of the meadow, another of the wild wood, and another of the summer night. They are our own birds—tiie Old World knows them not —and each in his own sphere is without a rival. THK OHIOI.I. This regally habited bird,seven inches in length and eleven iu clear-spread, is the Oriolus, the /cfern-v.lhegoldeu robin, the fire-bird, tiie haugnest, the hang ing-bird, the Baltimore oriole—call him by whichever of these names you will, his plumage will as splendidly flash, his song as sweetly sound. lle was swing ing on the topmost bough of a lofty tree, as was his wont, pouring forth his soul in song, when the winged destruction fell on him. Poor fellow ! 1 can hard ly believe him dead, and therefore it is that I speak of him, as if he were stir ring nimbly around us. See, how beau tifully the black midnight of his head and wing contrasts with the gold aud saffron morning of his breast and back ! He is none of your upstart birds, but must be content to plod on in a brown plebeian coat for three long years before he cau assume these regal rubes; aud then, when he has learned humility, how royally, and yet how modestly he wears them! Free aud airiy is he iu all his motious. On the farthest twig of the swaying brancli he sits and sings. There, too, he builds his nest; while his dusky mate, rocked by the summer winds, and lulled by his song of love, warms her quintel of flesh-tiuted and purple flecked eggs, and rears her callow brood, feeding them with the insect swarms which in feat the orchards and the avenues. How deftly he aud his mate construct their pensile nest, stitching together with horse hair, more neatly than ever care ful house wife can, their flax aud hemp aud wool, lining the bottom with solt cow hair, the better to warm and still their querulous fledgelings. The oriole is a bird much in love with man. You may look through the forest for him in vain. But in the orchard, where the creaking of the old well-pole is heard, where the prattle and laughter of children float in music through the air, and the grufl* toues of man grow gentle and mingle in melody with the low, soft voice of woman, you will find him with his goldden plumage aud his bright and cheerful song. Yea, atuid the crash and din of the great cities, where humanity becomes oblivious of half its higher, nobler, and purer quali- ties, and when God himself is forgo*,' into the avenue trees the oriole leans his mate ; there he builds his nest, and through the dust his gorgeous plumage gleams, and above the roar and confu sion of pride and mammon riugs out his merry roundelay. No bird is more easily aud perfectly tamed than he. I knew one that was caught and caged. In a little while, however,"he became so familiarized that he was taken from his prison, and a lit tle nook on high, in the office ot his master, was set apart for him. So con fiding did he become, thathewould feed from the hand, answer with affectionate chirrup to the call, and often perch, un bidden, on friendly aud familiar shoul ders. And, like the gentle Kui.li, through the golden summer and the crimson autumn, he went and came, gleaning in the azure fields of air. Aud with many a merry gambol, cunning prank, and pleasant way, he cheered for his master the long and weary win- ter. But when the spring-time came again, he went forth ; and his visits home became less and less frequent, un- til, at length, he forgot his kind master aud his snug little nook. Alas! after that old, old fashion which passeth not away, the poor fellow had fallen in love, and taken to himself a mate. It was not that he loved man less butthatheloved his kindred more. I bethink me now of two of these Or- ioles, with whom I have been acquaint ed for several summers. Ido not know them by their shape and plumes. I recognize them by tbeirsongs. During their sojourn here, which extends from May to October, they take up their res idences within about aquarter of a mile of one another ; the one in a public park, and theotherin an orchard. And often have I heard the chief musician of the orchard, on the topmost bough of an ancientappletree,sing his peculiar note, to which the chorister of the park, from the summit of a maple, would respond in the same key, and, for the life of me, I never was able to tell whether their songs were those of rivalry, or of greet ing and friendly intercourse. THE BOBOLINK. But hark, listen to the Bobolinks in yonder meadow. Hear them jangling like a chime of silver bells in the air. Ah, a rare bird is this Embcriza oryzi vora, this rice hunter, this reed-bird, the Robert of Lincoln, this joyous, rol licking Bobolink ! Heisour own bird. You may take him to merry England, or sunny France, if so be that you can | bear him over the foam alive, but there ! he wili piue for the meadows and rice ! fields of his native and changeful eli minate, sit aongless on the porch, and in ! a little time droop his wing and die. A : shrewd bird is Robert of Lincoln, and he must be more than a passablesports man, aud keep a keen eye open, who ' would bring him down —that is, before, on his return to the South, he gorges 1 and fattens in the rice-fields. ; This pied coat of black, yellow and white he puts ou in thespring, when he 1 goes a-wooing his quiet Quakeress of a ! sweetheart. Ah, what a gallant little ' lover he makes; how he jangles around • and above her in his gayest garments , and with his sweetestsoug. With what ; volubility he tells his tale of love. Aud : what a fond and careful husband he makes, and how merrily speeds the : honeymoon ! Singing his cheeriest, he builds beneath the tufted meadow grass , his lowly, secret best ; aud while his modest little wife broods over her five , white and browu eggs, beguiles for her ; the long and patient hours, hovering ' above her in mid air with his fautaatie ! plumes and song. But let the duties of a father press upon him, the rollicking lover, the light-hearted bridegroom ceases his amorous aud delectable de scant, assumes a grave manner and ser ious tone, aud exchanges for his wed diug garments a plain and dusky brown , attire. Never puts he on that gay robe j again, uulessto woo and win once more. I hor place him in a cage, he will not drop while his pleasant native vales are around him; he will sing, though the prison bars shut him out from commun ion with his kind; he first saw the light where music, like the broad, sweet sun shine, lay about him; ami he cannot slitle the melody within his heart; but he will drop, oue by one, those beautiful plumes, and never put them on again, till love and freedom are once more his. When the autumn comes, you will see these bobolinks gather together their household bauds to troop for the South. The elders have lost their voices, while the youthful have not yet learned to sing. But every now and then an old oue will try, on hover ing wing, his melody, as if teachiug his young the strain, and after uttering a few broken notes, sink down in seem ing sorrow among the assembled broods. It is as if an aged sire, sitting in the calm suushine of serene old age, should try, with feeble voice, some fond song of his lover-days, or some childhood’s ditty that falters in forgetfulness, and drop bis head upon his bosom “to muse and brood and live again in memory with those old faces of his infancy, heaped over with a mound of grass.” a favorite bird is the Bobolink, and from the Bt. Lawrence to Terra del Fu ego he is a welcome visitor. Not a child but thathaiis'his comin^with de light, aud with some queer jargon or babylonish dialect mimics his metallic melody. Verily a strange song is that of his— set in no key, and yet wandering through every key—as incomprehensi ble as Wagner’s “Music of the Future” — so fantastic, so incoherent, that it would task the powers of that great Tone-Beer to score it. Indeed musical notation would utterly fail to preseut It. But a little innovation upon the children’s mimicry would give us this : Bobolink! Bobolink! hero I bring My sung oi the sweet Hummer'a glee, glee, glee! Ami 1 tilDg, oh I Bing, w lid roses from my wing To the butler-cups, that swinging All their tinkling bells lu tune, (joidru peal on peal are ringing O'er the bridal bed of Juue, Aud with links ofluve to heaven link the lea! Which you may accept as an inter pretation of his melody, if you please ! Aud when the winter comes again, aud you wish to revive your pleasant mem ories of Robert of Liucoln, prevail upon some-sweet, fresh-voiced maiden rapidly ami laughingly to repeat this verse, aud my word for it, if you do not turn iu memory, or in anticipation, to the meadows filled with suushine, bloom ami soug, it will be because the greater charm before you dims the lesser charm remote. These Bobolinks are singular little birds (not so little after all, as they are about the size of the Orioles), singular in all their habits and ways. They come to us iu May by nocturnal flight, as if they thought their sudden surprise of us would occasion a greater delight, the females some days in advunce of the males. And when, ou some clear morn ing, you iicar their merry jangling over the leaves, you may rest assured that the beuutifu), bright-blue weather is at baud. Thejmever come till tbesummer has pitched its green and golden tent in the meadows, i have seen the swallows earlier than I have heard their song. Their return southward i 3 by day, so that we may watch them as they wing their way to the rice fields, and wave to them our farewells as they take their flight.— Ptltrsonfor June. Trout liaising. Our fiietid Jeremiah Comfort, whose residence is near Spring Mills, Mont- , gomery county, and whose postoflice , address is Conshohocken, will soon be- i come as famed ai Hetli Green, of New ] York, in his speciality of trout raising. We paid his propagating establishment a visit last week, and we were not sim- ( ply pleased with the suceess which has thus far attended his efforts, but were . absolutely surprised that in so short a space of about eighteen mouths the building should be erected, and twenty thousand healthy (rout disporting in hia ponds! It is next to impossible that greater success could attend any attempt of the kind. And what .is quite re markable, Mr. Comfort never saw a trout until ho hatched them upon hie own premises! The oldest trout was hatched early in January of last year, and though only sixteen months old, measures full nine, inches in length. There are, liewever, several of this size, and about two hun dred from six inches up. These are in a separate pond. Then in the next pond are the next size, ranging from four to six inches ; aud in a third pond or ‘division the remainder of the last year’s‘ r hatching, amounting to seyeral thousand, and raugiug from two and a half to four inches. But it must be re membered that all these trout were hatched about the same time, and are of all theseMiffierent sizes. In the pro pagating bohse is the great bulk of the stock, hatched two or three months ego. They are a little overan iuch in length, and appeared to be in the best health. Indeed they could not be otherwise under the particular sanitary; arrange ments adopted. There is positively nothing left undone to the spawn aud the young fish to secure purity of the water and exemp tion from the diseases to which even , the ova is exposed. Mr. Comfort said lhat he realized about SO percent, offish from the eggs, which is as high as auy result we have yet seen. He is ;about ; to enlarge hia ponds, and ho expects largely to increase the volume of water, 1 which is of great purity and peculiarly • adapted to theculture of trout. Hewill • soon produce enough to supply this • whole region of country, at moderate , rates, and will become renowned for his ; operations throughout the country.— , U< rmanlown Telegraph. Effects of Trees on Climate, Theground on which stands Ismallla, a town of 0,000 inhabitants, on the Suez Canal route, aud the headquarters of M. de Lesseps, was but a few years since a dry, sandy desert, on which rain was never known to fall. All is now trans formed. The old, dried-up basin of Lake Tirnaah has been again filled with water from the Nile by a fresh water canal. Trees, shrubs, and plants of all descriptions grow rapidly wherever the soil is irrigated, and the artificial oasis widens fast. “Accompanying, 1 ’ writes a correspondent, “this extraordinary transformation of the aspect of the place, there has been a corresponding change in the clim&to. At the present time Israailia, during eight mouths of the year, is probably the healthiest spot iu Northern Egypt.” The mean tem perature for the four months, June to September, is 94 degrees.; the following foui; months, 74 degrees, and the four winter mouths, 4-5 degrees. Until two years ago rain was unknown ; but in the twelve months endiDg April lasy there were actually fourteen days jefn which rain fell; and very lately there fell a tremendous shower of rain, a phe nomenon which the oldest Arab a&d neverpreviously witnessed. Rain ceases to fall on a couutry deprived of its for ests, or only falls in violent storms. — Here we see rain returning to the des ert on restoring the trees. A few days ago Anton Richer, a German, while sick of brain fever in a third story room at Bethlehem, in a delirious fit, jumped through the window to the pave ment. No evidence of injury could be seen, 1 although he died the following day. NUMBER 23 By Balloon to Europe. Slona. Cbovnller’s Balloon Trip Acron* the Atlantic from Xew York—A famous Aeronaut— tilg Previous ixploiw plnoji ana Preparations lor tUe Urcat Enterprise. About three mouths ago a small para graph in oue of the moruiug papers an nounced the arrival upon our shores of a balloonist of the name of Chevalier, who was going to make au aerial voy age from New York toEurope. Readers of theparagraph recalled ‘‘Prof.’' Lowe’s money-makmg fiasco in a similar pro ject a few years ago, and dismissed Chevalier from miud as a humbug. Mons. Chevalier, however, little recked whatsuch peoplosaid about him, indeed does not appear to have cared whether the general public said or knew any thing at all of him, for scarcely a word in his behalf has been seen in the public prints from that day to this. Meanwhile lie has been consulting with gentlemen whose counteuance and support are worth having —such men as Prof. Lore raus aud Prof. Heury of the Smithsonian Institute, aud a number of solid men ot means down town, and to-day the great enterprise is in a most auspicious state —the bailoou and Us appurtenances in complete order, thecouuectiou with the gas pipes for supplying gas made at Laudmaun’s Park, and the period of departure definitely fixed for about the middle of July. ■who is on i:val.li:r. ' He was born in St, Petersburg in l'' l -' ll , being tlie son of an olUcer of the Hus sian army. The Emperor Alexander himself stood godfather at his christen ing; but Mons. Chevalier claims a; closer relationship to the C/.ar than that ; of godson eveu, tor his mother was an Auowfriefi* —which is tlie family mime of the Graud Luke Constantine, who ought, by the rights of descent, to be on the throne instead of the present Autocrat. After having gone through the wars against tichauiy i the Circassian, j with his father young Chevalier was j taken to by his mother, ! where he was placed in the University j of Geneva, to be educated for a surgeon. He finally abandoned surgery, however for chemistry and metallurgy, ami eventually followed his brother to Au stralia, where they engaged in mining. In a few years he had returned to Paris, where, in lSfj-, he was studying pho tography with Nadar and Disderi. From the days of his student life ho had a penchant for aerostation, aud had lavished his patrimony on balloons of all shapes aud varieties—fish-shaped, bird-shaped, cigar-shaped, cylindrical, with machinery aud without, but be yond the gratification of his taste for ballooning study, aud no result save the reduction of his fortune, lie finally made one invention in his art, however, which will give him an enduring fame, and which goes far toward assuring the success of his perilous enterprise of traversing tne wide Atlantic. This was the “compensator” balloon —a small reservoir balloon placed beneath the mouth of the main balloon to receive the gas which escapes by expansion iu high altitudes, aud which iu ordinary balloohs is lost. It was during his stay In Paris with Nadar that Chevalier en gaged in the greatest ballooning feat in history, the voyage of THE FAMOUS BALLOON “i.K GKANT." The remurkable incidents of the as cent of "Le Gaunt,” which took place in Paris iu 1804, aro doubtless fresh in the memory of many of our readers. Chevalier had with him as amtpagnons du, voyage, the Princess Le la Tour L’Auvergne. a then famous “girl ofthe period,” Nauar, M. DeleßHert, the two brothers Godard, M. Tirion, (great grandson of Mongolller, ami M. Le St. Felix. "Le Gcant” was lbS feet in height, held U50,0U0 cubic feet of gas, and was of such tremendous power that previously to the final start it took up 54 soldiers of the National Guard, or as many as could be packed iuto the car and its rigging. The bailoou was pro vided for the voyage with iudia rubber beds, a printing press, from whioliflbul letlns in the shape of printed handbills were scattered out during the progress of the voyage, with directions in sev eral languages to forward them to Paris and London, a complete photographic apparatus, and a set of the best astro nomical instruments, presented by va rious scientific societies. "Le Gcant” left Paris at 5 I*. M. on the 10th of Sep tember. The same night, at luo’cloek, its electric lights attracted the attention of the guard on a boundary post between Holland aDd Germany, who informed the balloonists that they were TOO miles from home. They then ascended again, and during the night Chevalier had the proud pleasure of seeing the value of his compensator balloon practically demonstrated, as it was at one time half full of gas that would otherwise have been lost, and rendered further progress impossible. The landing was ellected the next day at 8 o’clock, not without serious casualties, however, as the Princess, Nadar, Bt. Felix, Lelessert, and Chevalier, all bad limbs broken, i aud were otherwise seriously hurt. The j bailoou had traversed I.SUU miles in 15 ; hours. Several other ascents of Chevalier’s have become historical. In lsiiT he crossed the English Channel from Lub lin, landing in Westmoreland, after a sail of 154 miles, done in 4 hours. In 18(53, he ascended from Hull, England, and attaiued the altitude of 3U.0U0 feet, a heighi|whichhe claims has{uever been equalled, and beyond which he believes it is not given to man to go. He was privileged to witness on this occasion phenomena hitherto unrecorded, but it was at the expense of the most acute suffering. At the bight of 14,000 feet breathing became difficult, aud some pigeons lie had with him were unable to fly; at 30,000 feet the blood started from every pore of his body, as well as from nose, eyes, and ears, and his clothes were saturated. lIOW THE ATLANTIC VOYAGE IS TO UK ACCOM II LIS HKD. M. Chevalier has made 105 balloon voyages, and may be presumed to have a moderately good understanding of the difficulties liable to a voyage across the Atlantic. He declares that these diffi culties are not peculiar to the Atlantic voyage, except as it is one of unusual extent aud duration. They naturally range themselves under two heads, viz : J. Maintaining the buoyancy of the balloon. 11. Keeping to a direct course. The great cause of the diminution of the buoyancy of a balloon is the rising and falling iu the altitude of its course. In the case of the ordinary balloon, ev ery flight above the average level costs an expenditure of both gas and ballast. The gas is lost by expansion and conse quent overflowing from the mouth of the balloon ; this Joss of gas then causes the balloon to sink below the course, which in turn compels tho throwing out of ballast to bring it up again. The loss of gas in fluctuations is a very se rious consideration in the case of a bal loon of the size of that in which Prof. Chevalier is to make his trans-Atlantic trip. "Jf Ks}>erance" for that is its name, has a capacity for 30.000 feet of gas. At the height of 50,- 000 feet the atmospheric pressure is, sky I—l Utli less than at the surface of the earth, and the gas consequently ex pands 1-lUth in volume at that eleva tion. If, every time Chevalier’s bal loon should rise 3,000 feet, it were to lose 1-lOth of its contents, equal to 00 pounds sustaining power, it would not be two days before L'Espcrance would sink iuto the sea never to rise again. HOW TH EGAS AN I) BALLAST A KK SAVED. i It is here that M. Chevalier’s own in vention, the “compensator” balloon, comes into play. Attached to the lower part of L’Esperanee is a second or res ervoir balloon, which is not inflated at the earth, but is ready to receive the excess of gas resulting from expansion | at high elevation. Prof. Chevalier has | also devised an ingenious contrivance j to secure a rebound of the balloon from ' the depression consequent upon one of j these flights without any expenditure j of ballast, which, of course, is most pre- j cious on a long ocean trip. the j hoop, to which is fastened the netting that covers the balloon above and the car'below, he has extended a windlass* .made of a hollow cylinder. A rope of sufficient strength aud length is attach ed to and wound upon this windlass. At the lower extremity of the rope are fas tened, at proper intervals, a number of ' small waterproof canvas bags, whose mouths are kept open by small rings. Between these at stated distances are disposed a number of small conical floats, which are intended to serve the purpose of supporting the length ol rope when it reaches the sea by the depres sion of the balloon. As the balloon de scends the lower portion of the rope is gradually deposited upon the surface of the sea, relieving the balloon of its weight, until a sufficient quantity has BATE OF ADVEBTIBIBG. Business advertisements, $l3 a year par quare of ten lines; f o per year for each ad ditional square* read Estate Advebttbino, Meant* a llne;for ibe drat, and 5 oents for eaoh subsequent in sertion. nresmAT, advertising 7 cents a line for the first, and 4 ceDtt for each subsequent Inser tion. Special Notices Inserted In Local Column 15 oents per Una, Special Notices preceding nmirlage* and deaths, 10 cents per line for first lnsertioni and & cents for every subsequent lnsertlonf! Legal akd oth r b Notices— Executors’ notices — IAIIB jOUkv. T-^- Admlnlstrators' notloes,.. *.■•••»- Assignees’ jWO Other “Notices, ’ten lines, or leu, 3 three times .. ..... 1.60 been thus disposed of to arrest the bal loon's further descent. Suppose the hailoou to have passed through rain showersor dounda highly charged with vapor during the night, and the ropes of the uettlng and other parts of theappa* ratus to have become heavy with mols* ture. No less thau -00 ,or 300 pounds weight is often added to a balloon In this manner, and if there be no sun to j dry up the moisture the added weight I brings the balloon to the earth. As , soon, however, aa the rope from the oar jof Espcrance begins to trail ou the j surface, the balloonjceases to fall, aud l continues ou its way at an unvarying | elevation until the suu or wiud takes i the heavy moisture out of the rigging, | when she is enabled to regain her pre ; vious altitude iu theskies. Now, again i the rope acts as a check to a too great ; nsceut with Its attendant loss of gas. I The water bags ou the rope have beeil 1 filled as they were trailed through the water, and the increased wdight pro ven (s a high (light aud keeps the balloon down to her work, so to speak, with the whole original power or buoyency of the rebound. By this simple aud beautiful arrangement of the ropo with its water bags, the ballast of the balloon isdiinln ished or incrcu&al at will; indeed the balki.it itsiff without the inter vention of the aeronaut, according to the necessities of the moment. Prof. Cheva lier is cotilUlent that by meaus of the compensator aud the ballast with such a balloon as L’Ksporance, con structed for the occasion, elevation can be maintained for a period of one month should circumstances require it. HOW Till-; IS I’KKSKIIVKD. The second of the two great problems of the undertakiug is how to keep the balloon on a direct course. Chevalier is not bv any means a victim to a belief in balloon navigation. Iu fact, he has a perfect contempt for the balloon,con sidered as an airship, and says it is good for nothing but for the purposes of scientific observations. A balloon, he says, so far from being a ship is uot even a buoy let loose from Us moorings ; for a buoy floats on the surface, but tho aerial sea has no surface. A balloon, says tho Professor, is a jelly-fish im mersed in a Haul by whoso every cur rent it is helplessly carried to and fro ; the jelly-fish makes feeble efforts to di rect its own course, with about aa much success as those of a balloou. How then, is M. Chevalier to know when he ascends from Laudanum's Park next July, whether he is about to cross the Atlantic or tho Pacific? Tho answer is, that though Chovalier does not be lieve in balloons lie does not bolievo In currents. In every ascent during his long career, he says, lie found on reach ing an altitude any where between H.OOO and 10,00 U feet that the wind tvaa inva riably from the west or rather the north west, however way the wind was blow ing near the ground ; In each of his one iiuudred aud sixty-five asceuts he fouud a northwest current iu tho upper atmoa phero. Chovalier believes this currout to bo a discovery of his own, and it Is for the glory of establishing his theory, rather than of sailing three or four thou sand miles over the water, (which lie regards quite an every-day aflair) that lie undertakes his balloon voyage from North America to Kurope. Tins ouiins uoi*b. He will be greatly assisted In deter mining tho actual course which his balloon may be at any time pursuing by the rope suspended from the ear, de scribed above. As tho rope, when touching tho water, will always drag In the rear, it will only be necessary to observe its direction by the compass, aud that of tho balloon itself is at ouce indicated. Another equally Important determination which the guide ropo will afford, ami which will not be at tainable by any other means, will be the distance at which the balloon is from tho immediate surface of the earth at any timo when the view is obstructed by clouds, fog, or darkness. The barom eter ufTords information only as to the height above the mean level of the sea, and, without the warning given by tho guide rope, tho balloon might at any time, when sailing too low, ho dashed against mountainous waves; and, owing to the velocity with which it would bo moving on the wings of a storm, such a shock would ho fatal. !•'INAI 4 I’llKl'A HATTONS Foil THE VOY* Mods. Chevalier may bo seen almost any morning quietly ut work pulling the finishing touches on his balloon at Lundmann's Park. He is a quaint, unobtrusive, yet prepossessing young man of .‘l3 years, of dark complexlou and with black hair and mustache. Ho has a large aud kindly black eye, and a cou tenance which impresses one that its owner is a stranger to physical fear, lie converses and writes in excellent Eng lish, though ho speaks amt writes in French, German aud Russian as well. He is very communicative and enter taining in elucidating his plans and theories. He has not yet determined as to how many and what companions ho will take along with him on hia voy age. The applications for passage on the rare but perilous journey have been pouring iu on him by hundreds. Au opportunity to try the accommodations of the ship will be given these aspiring candidates for aeronautic fame during the several preliminary ascents at the end of a rope which will he made at Landmann’s Park next week. The final varnishing of the balloon hasjust been completed, the valve was being ad justed yesterday, and the Professor is busy with maze of knotted cordage which forms the rigging of the silkeu ship. A life raft has been presented L'Espvrancc which will bo suspended beneath the car of the balloon in read!** ness for use should the aeronaut find it desirable to take to the watery element. The balloon is bo feet high, fio feet in diameter and has a buoyancy capable of sustaining 8 tuna. Horen Id Cattle. It is to us a little curious to see this subject coming round again In the va rious agricultural papers, with sundry receipts, applications aud treatments recommended —such as making an incisiou into the paunch with a knife, to let out the gas—giving tar, soft soap and milk, linseed oil, etc. — when a cure results not, (excepting in the first one) directly from either rem edy, but indirectly from the liberation of the gas in the stomach by the /area applied in either case, to raise the anl mil’s head, aud the struggle it makes in resisting. The most cruel and unneces sary oi all the remedies proposed, is piercing the paunch with the knife; next to this, In unnecessary cruelty to the animal, is driving them rapidly, with a stick, which often liberates the gas in the stomach, resulting from the 100 rapid swallowing and lermeutatlon of green food. All that i. 4 wanted to cure hoven in cattle, (and we mention this ouo because it is generally the quickest to be got, and fjuickncM is important,) is a broom handle. Put it iu Hie animal’s mouth crosswise, of course, and tie it up lightly behind the horns, so as to jjreas hard on the corners of the mouth. The aul j mal in biting at it, to get rid of the an | noyunce, works the jaws , and the gas |is liberated. Let the first stick be j seized which is convenient,and applied I in this way, when the swelling will 1 soon disappear. , Our Giiester county farmers use this : remedy, and want no other if the case jis discovered soon enough. We once cured withiu five minutes a short-horn j hull, which cost us $-700, by twisting a ! hay rope aud inserting it in the mouth aud behind the horns. It operates tho same as the broom handle, by causing the jaws to work.— Practical Farmer. A Kcrncdy for Cribbing llorses. Hanford Nowell, of Sanford, Maine, informs us that his remedy for a horse addicted to the habit of “ cribbing,,, is to buckle a strap around the neck of the horse, just hack of the ears and jaws. Have the strap an inch or an Inch and a half wide, aud buckle it as tight as the animal will bear. This strap may remain upon the auimal’s neck In the stall, or harness or pasture without any iucouveuience, and will, he writes. “ surely stop the horse from cribbing.” He continues, “ This disease, if you will permit me to call it such, ißinmropln ion entirely a nervous disease. I never knew a low-lived horse.to ‘crib it is most always the high-nerved or high spirited animals that are addicted to It.” —Maine Farmer. The Mcadeville Republican of Wednesday lust says a little boy two years old, son of Peter Stoyer, of Coehrantown, in trying to. climb through a fence, lost his foothold, and in falling his head locked between two rails, and thus be hung until lire was ex tinct. His mouth was pressed down bo that he could make no cries, nor could he breathe through his nostrils, bo that he soon suffocated.
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