cYSMWD-M , U. 0 'W .k. BM & 8 -WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 20, 1845 Tea Le-ICASTIII Dsmocasx, in noticing the coin risiats, made by several of our Democratic cotempora. rasa, against Mr. Horn, collector of.the Port of Philadel phia, for his avowed proscription of the country in his a ppointments, says : The story that Mr. Horn intends to confine all his appointments to the city, needs confir. mation--so does Mr. Horn's nomination. Watts' Lt-rrEns.—lt is a strange, though often•re. marked fact, that the youthful productions of men'of ge nius, are almost invariably their best. Years—though they may add to their knowledge and:experience—seem to have no ages y in developing the Heart; and the ar tiMeal and finished production of' the poet, though they may be more correct, are not more to be adMired, than the heart.wqm effusions of an earlier period. This is particularly true of N. P. Willis. He should have thrown away his pen tars ago. His Sacred and other poems—written long since—won for him a fame, Which high as it is, can hardly withstand the weak, silly and puerile productions he has of late put forth. His Sacred poems, in particular, tho' hearing the marks of a high finish, breathe the true spirit of religion; expressed in true poetry. But of late years,-he has laid his offer ings on the shrine of Fashion; and in catering and writ mg for the Upper ten thousand," he has adopted a tone and style which make him, appear contemptible, when exposed to the test of his former writings. Chandler, of the United States Gazette, in spen:ring of his writings, .call them " Wil!is' inimitable nothings," and we know no term better calculated to give an idea of his "skim ming the superficies of society." Probably, the insignifi cance of the subjects and incidents which come under his notice, may be accounted from the well-known fact, that whatever is lightest rises to the top, and Willis al ways looks up, rather than down. Mr. Willis is now in England, engaged in writing Leiters to the New Mirro . i. The only one tvhich we haw seen worth reading—and this barely conrea,within the test—will he found in another column. We must ranfem that we are more disappointed in these letters this in anything Mr. Willis has ever written. His 'Pencillings by the Way," published some years since, sew sensible, well-written sketches of things seen, and :•ressiotu rerciscd, such as a person could read without fc,:rl.7 contempt for the writer, or pitying his mental im ecility. It is.but charity to Willis to mention, that be has been severely afflicted with brain-fever, since his armsl in England, which may be the cause of the dete r:.-vion of his late letters from his former. Seriously, t: its person, unknown to fame, had asked the editors the New Mirror to have published the letters Willis ha, written from London, we will venture to assert, they would have laughed at his impudence. Can he not find anything more worthy of being com municated to his American readers, than the dress of fe males ; accounts of coats and hats and white cravats ; visits to Lady Blessington ; Count D'Orsaff painting, statuary and good looks; dining with great. men, and suiting the opera, with other important matters that rtvould interest and delight young ladies? Are there not tales to tell" of the situation of the oppressed and down trodden pier of England—which could strike a chord of sympathy and interest in every American breast—her mighty.aristocracy, and her humble operatives; no les sons of morality or philosophy to draw from the splendor tithe one and the squalidity and wretchedne.s of the other: no speculations upon the political and social con dawn and destiny of that country in whose midst is now at work, silently, though it be, amid starvation and tears and sighs, a mighty revolution? A person who can go to England, and view her in tor present conditiontand write home the nonsense that Wlilis has written, has no feeling in common with the Athericari people, and no sympathy for those suffering cads oppression and tyrranny. He would pay his ho 'maze to the wealth and splendor that has been the cause of all this misery. sad turn his back upon the suffering, to ' , bend the suppliant hinges of the knee," to obtain - a nod from Royalty. But associations are aristocratic; he writes, too, far those who delight in rank, and are dazzled with the splendor of royal institutions; and his life for years, has unfitted him to think of aught else but foshiiiiiis and operas, and their 'nonsensical appends. Consnently, his railings are of his style is pecu liarly Willis' --and he ventures, in some of his flights, to the extreme borders of Willis-dom. It is a style, we presume to say, which he will never need to have copy righted, as the Brigadier" has his letters. lot we are not finding fault : 'we du this merely to give those interested our reasons for not publishing his letters. They ore, intended for the "Upper ten thou. k moil," ,and calculated for the meridian of London, and won't answer for this latitude. Nonsense from N. P. Willis, is nownse still —and even his name shall not be a passport to admit it to our columns. As he writes an interesting letter, however, see shall, give it to our readers, W e God in one of his letters, the folloWing pieces of poetry, which he highly commends, and he is still a judge of. though he has ceased to write, good poetry. They are the production'ef Mr. M. F. Tresza, of London, and probably have never been published before. The first teaches a good lesson, and the second has a lo fly , noble sentiment Never Give up Never give up! it is wiser and beuer Alway s to hope than once to despair ; Fling off the load of Doubt's clinkering fetter, An break the dark spell of tyrannical-aye. Never give up ! or the hunhen may sink you— Providence kindly has mingled the cup, And in all trials or tmublei, bethink you, The watchword of life must be, Never give up! Never give up! there are chances and changes Helping the hopeful a hundred to one. And, through the chaos, High Wisdom arranges Ever success—if you'll only hope on. Never give up ! for the wisest is boldest,- Knowing that Providence mingles the cuif, And of all maxims the best, as the oldest, Is the true watchword of Never give-up. :Never give up ! though the grape-shot-may rattle, Or the full thunder-cloud ever burst ;- Stand like a rod, and the Storm or the battle THE B'- ADFORD -. ' REPORTER. Little shall harm you, though doing their worst. Never give up! if adversity presses, Providence wisely has mingled the cup, And the best counsel, in all your distresses, Is the stout watchword of Never give up. Awily with false fashion, so calm and so chill, Where pleasure itself cannot please— Awriy with cold breeding, that faithlessly still Affects to be quite at its ease ; For the deepest in feeling is highest in rank, The freest is first in the band; And nature's own nobleman, friendly and frank, la a man with his heart in his hand. Fearless in honesty, gentle yet just, He warmly can love and can hate, Nor will he bow down, with his face in the dust, To Fashion's intolerate state; For best in good breeding, and highest in rank, Though lowly or poor, in the land, And nature's own nobleman friendly and frank, The man with his heart in his hand. His fashion is passion, sincere and intense, His impulses simple and true, Yet temper'd by judgement and taught by good sense, And cordial with me and with you; For the finest in manners, as highest in rank, ft is you, man !or you, man ! who stand • Nature's own nobleman, friendly and frank— A man, with his heart in his hand ! Itiessns.EDlTonsi—The following was written on hear ing of the suicide of an acquaintances young man of brilliant parts, but who bad been- through life the victim equally of his misfortunes and follies. You may give it an insertion in your columns, if you think pro per: To persons occupying different conditions in the world, this enigma which we call Life, is interpreted with very different and opposite meanings. The man who has al ways basked in the sunshine of fortune, who was born to the inheritance of affluence and Metals; blessed with such a happy equanimity of temper and moderation of pas sions as have always preserved him from fatal indulgence in thriSe, guilty pleasures which are equally ruinous to health and' destructive to peace—such a man can form but a faint conception of those sorrows of the mind, of that utter desolation of the soul, which driye the unhap py to madness and self-inflicted death. To seek death, to long for it, •• as for hidden treasures," to rush into his embrace as a refuge from evils too heavy to be borne, to greet the dread monster as a friend—all this to such a man incomprehensible. Is there not glory in the sum mer cloud, is there not' oy in the sunbeam ? Is not the earth overspread with a mantle of beauty and loveliness? Do not the herveits glow by day and by night with un imaginable beauty and splendor? Do not the human form and face divine" beam with sympathy and love? Why then should a living man, with an eye to behold, and a soul to drink in, the splendor and the joys which the goodness of God has gathered around our mortal state, dose his eyes against the consolations of nature, of revelation and society, and occupy his mind with gloomy thoughts of the tomb Why should a man with the glow of life around him turn away to muse on death 7 No man was ever able able to enter fully into the feel ings of another so as perfectly to understand his true case. Grunt that many of the sorrows of men are irnag inarfand unfounded in any sufrwient cause—.they arc nut the less real to the sufferer. It is from the inmost recesses of his own being that each individual looks forth upon the world, and it matters not how much glory or splendor there may be around him so long as there is darkness there. Everything external appears to us in the light or in the twilight of our own spirits. Nothing is bright or beautiful considered distinct from the mental dispositions of him who beholds it ; no external bright. ness can compensate for the extinction of that .within one's own bosom. Go speak to the unfortunate man whose spirits have consumed away under the influence of long disease, in whose breast, hope having long flick ered, has at length expired ; and say to him—" Come, let us go forth over the flowery meadows, let us listen to the melody of the groves, and refresh ourselves with the cool breezes of the mountain tops ; let us clitith the hills and gaze upon the red sunset, or let us wander under the stony roof of the solemn night, for the spirit of nature shall flow in upon our souls and attune our inmostbeing to harmony and joy." Will he not seem as one who mocks at the wretchedness of his neighbor! Those meadows, that woodland =music, the red sunset and the solemn majesty of night, are associated in his mind with the early dreams of childhood, when every sight and sound cherished those illusions of hope which are now fled forever. What are the choicest viands to him who cannot eat ; and what are all the beauties of nature and and the sympathies of social life superadded, to him who has lost the capacity for their enjoyment? .Almost every individual ties some time or other in the course of his existence met with some adverse fortune, some bitter trial of nature, when be has been constrained to say with Hamlet, How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world! The loss of a dear relative and friend has for a time dispelled the illusions of hope, darkened the future, and made the ideal of joys to come seem like an impossibili ty. Recall that hour of deep gloom, that midnight of the soul, when all the ends and purposes of life seemed summed up in one bitter disappointment, and form some conception of his state in whose breast hope is extin guished. Remember that there may be a despair which endures not merely for one bitter moment of grief and which time softens and removes; but a despair that be- Comes the fixed and settled habit of the mind, which over spreads this gloriorts creation with the blackness of dark ness and Purscies its wretched victim to the grave. H. B. [Written for the Bradford Reporter.] A word to a Young Man. Young Man, I entreat you to let that bottle.alone. It contains ardent spirits, and ardent spirits are evil spir its—and with them the laws both of God and man for bid all commerce. Do you think it going to far' when I call ardent spir ile, evil spirits• Bee what they do. But a few days •I am told that a certain priest, in a certain 'place, says openly to his flock,"—street ought to be called h-11 street," and this I understand because these same spirits often walk there. This I conceive to be good au thority. PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. S Nature'm Nobleman. " REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." since, one of these hot days, when every one in his sen ses slept in the shade, if possible, I saw, within three miles of this place, a man lying upon his back, on the open highway, looking for all the world as if smitten down by some raging disease. And what do you think was the matter I He was so near a house, which I will not name, that I cannot doubt he had been assailed by the very spirits in question. His appearance bloated, and so feverish, was just what I have often seen upon the drunkard, % And there the man lay—one not ac qdainted with such cases would have directly roused the neighborhood to bring him relief, Two hours laves, when night had closed kin , I passed by the same spot, and he was gone—where I cannot tell, but I know where his road leads ; and I hope he will try another before he comes to the end. But I need not give details of these work.sofdraknesti. There is nothing so good or so precious, but these same spirits will rob you of it, and thatin a method so stealthy, you will never set up a cry against your assailant. It is their daily practice to rob men of health, property, char acter, friends, peace of mind, reason, and finally of the soul itself. You must have remarked instances of all these. If such are not evil spirits, I know not where they can be found. Be persuaded then, to let them alone. You have fac arid opportunities too good to be lost in this fool ish way. Look about you. Here is a world in which you may do much good, and share sotneyourself. You have a curiously formed body, and a spirit mysterious ly endowed, every faculty of which might be employed for noble purposes. You might become a valuable mem ber of society, en ornament to your species. You have lost some time, and something more, but there is room for hope. Only let that bottle alone, once for all ; your prospects will directly brighten. And there is no other hope for you. I speak considerately; you had better be in the dungeons of a Beadle to day, and for life, than to be such a slave, as you must inevitably become with out the amendment here proposed.. ' I could say much more; but a word to the wise is. sufficient. If not you may hear from me again. , Your true Friend, Aug. 12, 1845. Bss z vote. P. S. lam not sure but you might as well throw;,_ away that cigar too. There are not wanting instances,, to prove the possibility of 'some mysterious relation be• 11 tween spirits of tobacco fume and those of the barring l' liquid sort. I speak this softly, not wishing to offend . any of my respected neighbors. [From the Edinburg Review.) Importance of Manuxe. The progress of agricultural improvement brings with it increased demand for manures of. easy transport. The supply gradually fella short of the demand, and the market value rises until they reach a kind of famine price at which, the corn they can be made to raise, barely pays the cost of applying them. This high price which at first appears to be an un mitigated evil, leads, however to good in many ways. Perhaps the simplest and most intelli gible way of treating our present subject will be to follow in order, the successive effects or im provements to which this high price naturally gives rise. In the first place it causes all known manures to be eagerly sought for and collected. The home dealer is stimulated to search for them in every quarter, and each bone-mill employs its staff of humble collectors to preatubulate the towns and villages. Foreign and larger deal ers spring up in the seaports. Our east coast puts the whole seaboard of Europe under re quisition—whole fleets of merchantmen from the west skirt, the Irish shores, or, crossing the Atlantic, bring their cargoes of. bones from the United States ; and even to Buenos Ayres and Montevideo, suggest a new article of ex port, in addition to the hides and tallow of their numberless cattle. Such is.. perhaps, the earliest national advantage which springs from high prices and increased demand. It is interesting enough to mark low agri culture arid' commerce thus aid each other— how the wants of one country impart a new value even to . the refuse substances of another, and afford-a new employment to its idle popu lation. But it is more interesting still, to ob serve how such a traffic commenced with a view to the benefit of our own farming interest, reacts upon the minds of the agrictlltural popu lation in these distant countries—awakening in them new desires, and leading them to in creased skill in the art by which they Bones for example, they come to think, may he useful at lime, if it is worth the while of English merchants to bring them from so great a distant{e. How are they to be used they ask, when and where applied, to _what crops, on what soils, and after what prepare non ? Such questions called forth, by de grees, a vast amount of practical information, the diffusion of which, in Sweden has already given rise-to the complaint that bones are not to be obtained by the home farmer, because of the high price offered by the exporters to En gland ; and in the United States of Amenca, to the reflection, that they are worth more for home consumption than the seven or eight dol lars a ton which the English agents pay for thWm. How striking to see the awakening in telligence of a few thousand agriculturists in our own island. thus rousing a spirit of inquiry. and actually pushing forward the art of culture in the most remote and distant parts of the world ! A second and no less important consequence of this high price of manure, is the, saving to which it leads, of such - as were previously wasted. It is only the more skillful farmers who use these comparatively costly substances in any quantity. The less skilful cannot afford to use them. Their land is not in proper con dition, perhaps". because it is undrained, or they apply them after a wrong method, or at a wrong season ; so that if,' by way of experiment they are tempted to try them again, they suffer en actual money loss, and they are long deterred from employing them again.— Nevertheless, the absolute value of manure of every kind rises in the estimation of the far mer, as that of portable manures increases.— He comes to see that every waste of manure is an actual loss of money ; and when satisfied of this, the slowest begins to move, and the most wedded to old customs to think of de viating from the methods of their forefa thers. The instructed look with amazement, when, on the borders of the Roman Campagna, they see whole hills of dung, the long accumulating refuse from the stables of the post house, or when, on the breaking up of the winter's frost, they see the yearly collections from the farm yards floated away on the ice of the Volga. almost literally realizing the times of the Au gean stables. We never dream that anything half so barbarous, could by possibility happen among ourselves ; and yet a visit to a hill-farm in Northumberland, may show us the same winter accumulations emptied purposely on the side of a brook, that the water may carry them off, or in some neighboring hollow, where they are least in the way, and have been permitted to collect for entire generations. Such palpable waste is seldom seen, indeed in in the lower country, where intercourse is greater, and where knowledge and public opinion spread more widely, and exercise a more immediate influence ; and yet the no less serious waste of the liquid from our farm yards is still too widely prevalent, even in our better cultivated districts, and among our more improving and intelligent farmers. Within the last few weeks, we have walked over the farms of the first practical farmer on Tyne side, and of the most celebrated breeder in York shire, and yet from the fold-yard of the one, the liquid was conducted by a drain into the nearest ditch; and from the cow-house of the other, into a shallow, open pond, where it stood reeking and fermenting beneath a blaz ing sun ! W hat merit as a farmer can that man claim ; who, though he annually lays five tons of guano, bones or rape dust upon his farm, yet allows what is equal to ten or twen ty tons of the same, to run to waste from his farm-yard, in the form of - liquid ma nure ! It is such waste as this, that the high price of portable manure tends to check. It is now happily checking here and there in various parts of the island ; but it will be long before the evil is remedied over the general face of the country. But after he had done everything in the way of saving wilat he had hitherto inadvertently neglected, the inquiring farmer still finds that his wants are not all supplied; that if he would farm high—raise, in other words', the largest possible produce from his land—he must still incur a considerable annual expense in the purchase of foreign manures. Can I ' not, he next asks himself—can I not husband those manures which cost me so much ? Is there no way in which I can more economical. ly apply them, so as from the same quantity of manure, to obtain a larger return of roots or corn I This inquiry leads him to three' suc cessive mechanical improvements, as they may be called, which are severally applicable to one or other of the crops he cultivates. First, to put his manure into the ground before he sows his crop in spring or summer, rather than in the preceding autumn. This is a result of the same system of saving to which vie have al ready adverted. By examining the waters which escape through the drains during the winter—upon his thorough drained land—he finds that they actually carry with them a por tion of the manure he had previously laid upon his fields in the autumn, and that thus he had unconsciously suffered a partial loss. To put it in therefore, only when springs arrives, will ensure him a certain saving. Second, to de posit the manure in the drills when his seed is sown, putting it all thus within reach of the plant, and wasting none of it on the unproduc tive or unprofitable part of the soil. And third. with the drop drill to bury it only beside the seeds it is intended to nourish, and thus inure perfectly to - effect what laying along the whole drill had only in part accomplished. By these methods, he husbands his manures, and at the same time, calls in the aid of the ingenious mechanic to furnish cheap and efficient imple ments, by which the several operations may be easily performed. They may not be ap plicable to all his crops and there are certain circumstances under which the intelligent, practical man will wisely refrain from fully adopting any one of them; but-they are valua ble illustrations of rural economy, nevertheless, and of the line along which improvement will proceed in endeavoring "to raise the largest amount of produce. in the shortest time, at the smallest cost, and with the least permanent in jury to the land." But the same desire to husband his manures, leads him also to what may be called a chemi cal improvement in the form in which he ap plies them. "If," says he. •• as chemists tell me, the roots of a plant drink in only that which is in a liquid form, the manures which are already in a liquid state, or in such a con dition at least, that the-rains will immediately dissolve them, should be more immediately useful in the nourishment of my crops. If I apply dry bones to my turnips, they must take a considerable time to become soluble, and may not yield all their substance to the growing bulb before its period of maturity arrives; and the residue of the bones left in the soil does , benefit the after crops, still the rains of winter must wash away some of their constituents. and thus occasion to me a variable loss. Would not the same quantity of bones or rape dust, or even guano, go further in the production of corn, or potatoes, or turnips, if I could apply all their constituents to my land, in a fluid form I" 'Theory and experiment both answer these questions in the affirtnatice. Recent ex periments, especially upon the action of bones dissolved in sulphuric acid, have thrown _new light upon this subject; and though too hasty inferences have by some been drawn from them, and the benefits to be derived from the new method have been exaggerated, and un reasonable expectations have consequently been excited, yet such good , may fairly be ex pected from the use of the , liquid form of ap p,lying manures, as will encourage, we hope, the continuance and extension of experimental 41quiry. GOODRICH & SON. [From the N. Y. Mirror.] Willis' Letters from Europe. Power's statue of the Greek - Slave—Great Western - Railroad—lf buoy Castle—Read ing—Miss Milford's residence-3 rural subject for Mount, the artist—English sur liness—,New way of advertising—llliberal conduct of Macready's friends towards Mr. Forest, etc. etc. MY DEAR MoRRIs—I took advantag e - of long interval between the packet of the eliti-and 16th, to consign my precious companion lo the rural vicarage in the neighborhood of Oxford,- which is to be her future home. lam now in London, alone. These two or three days of mental idleness have quite restored my brain to working condition, I believe, and now let me see what I have to say to you. Power's statue oldie .; Greek slave " is one of the topics of London, at this moment, and, in my opinion, if it fare as well, as to preser van& as the Venus de Aledicis, it will be more admired than that first marble of the world, when London shall be what Rome is now. Power should be idolized by woman for the divine type of her, by which he has now elevated men's ideal of the sex, That so wonderfully beautiful a thing can be true to nature—that this divine mould is unquestiona bly like some women—is a conviction that must strike every beholder, at the same time that it makes him thank God that he is born one of this • kind " and makes him adore wo man more intensely than before. This Greek slave stands ti,r sale in the Turkish bazaar.— Her dress hangs over the pillar against which she leans, and she is nude with the excep• tion of the chain hung from wrist to wrist. It is a girl of eighteen, of beauty just per fected. A particular criticism of the figure and limbs would hardly be interesting to those who are not to see the statue, and .1 can only speak of the expression of the face, which is one that gives the nude figure a complete character of purity—a look of calm and lofty indignation, wholly incapable of submission to her captors. Power has secured, by this work, I fancy, commissions enough for new works to fully occupy his time. It was bought by an Englishman, who has been offercd four times the sum for it. If we are to believe one of the London critics (?) the chief merit of the statue is due to Mrs. Trolloppe, who discovered Pow er's genius when he was making wax figures in Cincinnati, and induced him to embrace the art and go to Italy !! ! My trip to the country was made by the Great Western Railroad, which is the most complete in its arrangements, ands Vs the lastest trains—two every day going the . ( route at the rate of sixty miles in the hour !' he scenery in this direction from London is ex ceedingly fine.•Winsor Castle lying on the left of the track, among other objects of interest, and reading, the fine ola town, honored as the residence of Miss,Mitford. Nothing in Ameri ca can give you any idea of the expensive ele gance and completeness of the railroad stations, its hedgings-m, and its arrangements of all kinds. Every foot of the ratite is watched by a guard in uniform, and do human being ex cept workmen is ever seen within the limits. At every stopping place, the cars glide into spacious buildings, with magnificent refresh ment rooms, costly offices, and attendants in the lettered dress of the cempany's men. The system for admitting and discharging passen gers is admirably complete, the delay is but an instant, yet sufficient for all purposes, and I should think ingenuity and order could no fur ther go. A hundred delicious pictures glided under my eye in our rapid flight, but I saw one that I wished Mount, the artist, could have seen - thirty or forty haymakers, men and women, eating their dinner upon the edge of a stream, the field half mown on which they had been working, and the other half completely scarlet with the poppies that overshadowed the grass. A thicket behind them, a shoulder of a hill ris ing beyond it, and various other features, made the mere rural scene singularly beautiful.but the acres of this scarlet flower, gave it somehow a peculiar and racy mildness. The farmer has no great affection for this brilliant intruder up on his land, but the owner of the splendid park, and the scenery-loving traveler look on its no vel addition to Nature's carpet with very vivid admiration. • On my return I saw an instance of the En glish surliness so much talked of, and, I think, so seldom seen. A remarkably elegant and high-bred looking lady was separated from her party by want of room in the car before us, and on getting into ours, she found herself opposite a manifest aristocrat of sixty. Think ing she recognized an acquaintance in him, she leaned forward with a charming grace of manner, and said, " Mr. I believe ?" Not my name, madam !" was the reply in gruff repulsion,- and the gentleman turned and looked very steadfastly out of the win dow. The English have a new way of advertising that is quite worthy of Yankee invention.— They have hit upon the time when men's eyes are idle—(when they are abroad in the street) —and you cannot walk now. in London with out knowing what amusements are goink on. what new specifics are for sale, what is the last wonder, and a variety of other matters which send you home wiser than you came out. Mammoth placards, pasted on the side of a structure as large as a one story house, are continually moving along on wheels at the same pace as you walk—the street rdally re sembling a gorgeous pageant with the number and showiness of these legible locomotives.— I observe one particularly, which more!) by some mysterious power within—a large, showy car, making its way alone. without either horse or visible driver, and covered with advertise ments in all the colors of the rainbow. An every day sight is a procession of a dozen men. in single file, each carrying on a high pole. exactly the same theatrical notice. You might let one pass unread, but you read them, where theni are so Many, to see if they ate all alike ! Alen step up to you at every corner and hand you, with a very polite air, a neatly folded pa• per. and you cannot refuse it without pushing your breast against the man's hand. If you open it, you are told where you can see a mysterious lady." or where you can hate vow corns cut. In short, it is impossible to be ignorant of what there is to see and buy in London, and this applies also to the large class who could not, formerly, be reached, because they never read the advertisements in newspa pers. Possibly the carriers of these sign boards and the drivers of these vehicles might make a better use of their time and horse-flesh in America..but otherwise I should think this a notion," worth transplanting. Forest is still in London, and has two pro jects in view—one of playing in Paris, andt another of a professional trip to St. Petersburg. In either capitol he would do better than in a place 'precluded, as London is, by Macready and his crew. A gentleman in no way con nected with the drama, told me that, on one of the nights when Forest played, he sat next a man who confessed that he :was paid for hissing him, and for calling any subordinate actor before the curtain to drown any call for Forest! I wish there were no disagreeable topics ; but I will try to avoid them in my next. Yours faithfully, Our Conatty. There are already finished and in use in the United States, five thousand miles of railroad. Three thousand seven hundred and sixty-eight miles have been made since the year eighteen hundred and thirty-five, making, in all, almost twice the distance across the continent. The average cost is set down , at twenty thousand dollars per mile, making :theffst of the five thousand miles already in use, one hundred millions of dollars. If through the energy and at the expense of private companies and indi vidual States, such art amount" of money has been raised, and such an extent of railroad made, how easy it would be for the United States in their aggregate power to construct the one proposed' The Government should con struct it. It should be national property. It would be, during all coming time, a proud monument of national glory, not, however, like pyramids. pillars, and obelisks, raised as mementoes of the past,but Ailing, ever abiding witness to a great Confederate Republic, that the bonds of its union are founded in social in tercourse. In the accomplishment of so great, so grand, and so useful an object, all sectional interests should be merged and local jealousies be laid aside, for it would contribute to the great good of the whole. The views which I have here and in the preceding remarks pre sented, are no fancy sketches. They are not castles in the air. They are facts which must, and will ere long, be realized. Since-the set ting up of this Republic, since the establish ment of its independence, facts under the ex periment of freedom of government have been developed which have astonished the monar chial governments of the old world. Facts have outsped fancy, and the dreams of the visionary: have fallen behind the realities. The mot fervid and glowing imagination. while we as a people were achieving our in dependence, never portrayed to itself the ra pidity with which we have advanced. Can you believe that the fertile imagination of Dwight, when he sang Columbia! Columbia! to glory arise, The Queen of the world, and the child of the skies.— could have presented to hie ken its verification so speedily ? Think you that the sages and statesmen who held their deliberations in yon der ball, could have imagined that their most sanguine hopes could he realized even by the first generation after them, and that however resplendent it might appear at that time, it would be but the dawning of the future great ness and glory of their country ! Is it possi ble that Fulton in his experimental trip up the Hudson in his first steamboat; at the rate of four or five miles an hour, could have foreseen that in forty years from that time, the vast lakes and rivers of the continent would be tra versed by steamboats propelled against, the strongest currents at the rate of twenty miles an hour, and that the broad Atlantic would be ' crossed by the most magnificent ships, pro pelled b'y the same power. and making a voy age of three thousand miles a mere pleasure excursion for a few days ? And then again, that the productions of his inventive genius should bop, applied as to hurry along earth's surface, th`rough hill and over dale, ponderous cars of burthen and passage at the safe and easy rate of thirty miles an hour? Think you that Franklin would not have been stared at as a maniac. if after having playfully, though tremblinglymmtucted the lightning of heaven' to earth, he should have predicted that in eigh teen hundred and forty-four an American citi-, zen would seize it, and charter it to the go vernment as bearer of its despatches ? These are realities which pass daily in review before us, and if such has been the onward and up ward progress vl ibis Republic during the first half century of us political existence, what may not be anticipated of its wealth, its power. its greatness and magnificence, in two hundred years from this time Anditill further. when it shall have ripened into maturity, when the age of England, of France, and other European powers shall be upon its brow, what a glorious manhood will it present r! _ _ THIRSTING TO DEATH Di THE SIDE OF FRESH ATER...—The United Service Journal. 01 Lon don, contains a paper on the subjects of the defence and resources of Canada, in the course of which the Writer comments upon the absur dity of the British Government, during the last war, in sending out etaves for water casks to the fresh water Lake of Ontario. The Courier, of New York. apropos. of this, tells a story of an old English salt of that time, and upon that Lake. uttering a most vehemeht and profane aspiration for a drink of water ! These old sea doge had been suffering for hours from thirst, without a suspicion that the water along side of them was drinkable. Such is the force of habit. . WW2 MWIIMIE N. P. Wain.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers