lo
TROMPAI.STIDALB
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WEDNESDAY, JUNE 3;1846
Fremont's Exploring Expedition.
Weere indepted to Hon. D. Wirotor, for a copy of
fremoots Exploring tour to Oregon and North Califor
mi from which we promise our readers manyan interni
ng e xtract. We have heretofore given that part eels
um,; to his perilous passage of the Sierra Nevada;
r.l below we extract the following brave advert
, performed by two of his party, which will give
more idea of the character of his party and the scenes
rd adventures every where presenting themselves :
While encamped on the 24th of April, at a spring
nor the . 6panish trail, we were surprisea by the sudden
D ararance among us of two Mexicans, a man and a
the name , of the man was Amities Fuentes, and
Llit of the boy (a, handsome lad I i years old) Pablo
liernandey. With a cavalcade of about thirty horses,
Vi had come gut from Puebla de los Angeles, near the
Pvair; had lost half of their animals, stolen by Indiana,
1 1 nuns sought my camp for aid. Carson and Godey,
ofr my men; volunteered to pursue them, with the
Wnc,n; and. wdl mounted, the three set off on the
• In the evening Fuentes returned, his horse having
•,',.d, but Cane= and Gorky had continued the pure
hn the afternoon of the next day, a warhoop was
mrh as Indians male when returning from a vie
'Ls enterprise; and soon,Carson and Godey appear
!rang before them a band of horses, recognized by
moos to he a , part of those they had lost. Two bloody
1.4 dancled from the end of Gotley's gun, announced
thew had overtaken the Indians as well as the horses.
,es he l continued the pursuit alone after Fuentes had
them, and towards nightfall entered the mountains
which the trail led. After sunset the moon gave
r. Sal they followed the trail by moonlight, until late
the riteht, when it entered u narrow defile, end was
n , u,it to follow. Here they lay from midnight to
, t.ez. At daylight they resumed the pursuit, and
diecinered the horses; and immediately Elise
intiong anti tying up their own, they crept cautiously
ruatng ground which intervened, from the crest of
they perceived the encampment of four lodges
, y. They proceeded quietly, and had got within
or forty cards of their object, when a movement
the hover; discovered them to the Indians. Giv-
a i r ,hout they in4antly charged into the camp,
of the numbers which the four lodges might
lie.!oinv received them with a flight of arrows ,
their long bows, one of which passed through.
shirt radar, barely missing the neck. Our men
oleo rifles: upon a steady aim, suilrushedin. Two
••,.. were stretched upon the ground, fatally pierced
2 1!•0';evs; the rest fled, except a lad who was.cap
•-.!. The scalps of the fallen were instantly stripped
'. in the process, one of them, who had two balls
• u.:h hot Wily,. sprang to his feet, the blood streaming
en Lis skinned head, and uttered a hideous howl.—
failitful spectacle appalled the stout hearts of our
In, but they did what humanity required, and quickly
.mated the agonies of the gory savage.. They were
maters of the camp, which was a pretty little re
- ;a the mountains, with a fine spring, and apparent
sik from all invasion. Great preparations had been
it fir feavtintra large party, fur it was a very proper
we f o r a rendezvous, and the celebration of such orgies
ntliliers of the desert would delight in. Several of
`iest horses hail been killed, skinned and cut up—for
ladiass Itting in the mountains, and only coming
the plains to rob and murder, make no other use of
than to eat thein. Large earthern vessels were
t. he ire. boiling and stewing the horse beef; and al'
l.a.kets containing fifty or sixty pairs of moccasins,
-yid the piesence or expectation of a large party.—
Ow boy, who gave strong evidence of the
w.m thing else of the savage character, by
i. 14 breakfast upon a horses head, as soon
'.11,t1 he 'was not to be killed, but only tied as a
accomplished our men gathered up al
h..rses, littlest in number, returned upon)
o.id s and rejoined us at our lemt, in the afternoon
s,lne d.iy. They had rode about 100 miles in the
• , ,,e and return, and all in thirty hours. The time,
'e and ton,,her conisdered, this expedition of Carson
fi , .!dry ally be considered among the boldest and
t I , .eve•e.ted which the animals of Western adven-
full of &mug deeds, can present. Two men in
vslidernes4 ; pursue day and night an unknown
into the defiles of an unknown moun-
them on sight without counting nurobera,
.lefrat them in an instant—and for what To pun-
;L e robbers of the desert, and revenge the wrongs of
!A•ucnas whom they did nut know. I repeated, it was
~o n and G,,dey who did this—the former an Amen-
W I ter n In Boonidick County, Missouri ; the latter a
mrhman, born in tit. Louis, and both trained to Wes-
v -3 entrrprise from early
f,Written fur the Bradford Reporter.]
i'rtst Teets and Flowering Shrubs of Bradford
County.
ee Woodman ! spare. that tree."
MCSSIti. EDITORS.—In presenting you with sketches
"I . nor forest trees, and the attractions of woodland
" ,, r!, the bumble wild flowers that bloom in every
rct and :rove about us, are not unworthy of a pawing
W e may admire the oak for its grandeur, the
i ae for its stately green, and every tree of lisser growth
`'" , ts . form, its shade, or its blossom; but the.summer
' ,. .rbantme n t of our forester is in part in the lowly flower
4 , carpets every grove, and smiles by every foot path.
`loeog and universal has been the admiration of
Lore. that each has been thought to be a silent moni
-I,e. and to each has been appropriated a language or
"ment. expressive of its influence on the imagination
ad.', beholder. The custom of associating with them
ventiment Or emotion of the mind, is at least es
"" as the palmy days of Greece, for they were en•
11 .rsiuti c in their love of flowers, and lavish in the use
at4ern. With them they decorated their temples, and
offered thew on the altars of their deities. The
as he returned from battle was crowned with
garland., and fair hands scattered flowers along his path
7,They were used, too, by the Jews on days of
3 7. for Solornefb says, " Let us fill ourselves with
L : t
Um co o l y ° 's, and let no flowers of the Spring pass by us.
can ourselves with rose-bwis before they be
altered"
THE . BRADFORD REPORTER.
In all ages and among an nations they have been con
sidered the poetry of nature, the symbols of -beauty, or
the emblems of fragility. Man -ia compared to !the
grass that withereth, and the flower that fadeth;"—and
Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like a filly of
the field. Flowers are born of the sunshine,—they are
baptised with the dews of Heaven, and though
- "They blush unseen,
And waste their fragrance on the desert air,"
yet they still show the perfection of Deity, and receive
the admiration of unseen intelligencies—for
"Millions of Spiritual creatures walk the earth
Both when we wake and when we sleep."
Flowers too, have ever been the emblems of love;
and man has chosen them as fittest gifts for her who is
more beautiful than they. With them he speaks his
flattery so bewitchingly, that it would win an Angel's
smile of approbation ; and with them he whispers love
in accents so soft, that the ear of Heaven might stoop in
vain to listen. Yet woman's heart is quick to read such
language. Man gives the Myrtle as the emblem of his
love, and if the ted Pink is given by fair hands in return,
he takes it as
" A token of all the heart can keep
Of holy love, in its fountain deep."
If he ventures to speak his love but timidly, he gives the
sose-bud with its blushing beauty half concealed; she
assures him of her friendship with the Acacia, her con
fidence with the Polyanthus, or coquets with the Geran-
Woman's heart with all its purity, is ever a myste ry ;
and whether it speaks its language on the '• face divine,"
or tells its thoughts in flowers, man reads with hope
what blushing beauty gives, or feels dispair with wither
ed blossoms or indifferent looks.
• but Messrs. Editors, I will hasten from ibis unnavi
gable stream where so many have been drowned, to the
safer task of describing to you some of the inanimate
beauties of our native forest.
Among the trees of our forests which are conspicuous
for their blossoms, is the Box tree, of the genus Comm
No trees of this genus attain much size—the largest in
our county being the common Box that flowers in May
with its large white blossoms, and it embraces many
species of smaller size, down to the low Comel, which is
an herb but six or eight inches high. The genus may
easily be distinguished by its showy white flowers which
consist of many minute florets, with their organs distinct
and perfect, and the whole being surrounded by a large
white floral appendage, called the involuerunt. The
genus belongs to.the fourth class and first order of the
Linnean system.
The common Tree Box, is the Comas Florida of
,botanists. It grows plentifully in the upland woods of
our county, and is showy white, and blooms in May.—
It grows to the height of twenty or sometimes even
thirty feet—has a rough ragged Park, with smallish leaves
which are oval and pointed. The leaves dpi not begin
to expand till its white blossoms are fully perfected.—
This tree is of slow growth, and the wood is very hard
and compact., and is often used fur mill cogs, small pin
ions and other work where friction is required. Its
bark is very bitter and has been used in medicine.
We have besides the swamp dog-wood ( C. Sericea)
Which grows in our swamps, and flowers in June. It is
a shrub of the height of ten or twelve feet, has white
flowers, with an involucrum, end bears a blue berry.—
Its leaves are like the Box in shape, but they are silky
and brownish beneath. This tree is sometimes called
red rod.
The common Dog-wood( C. Sanguinea) also be
longs to this genus.. This grows to about the size of
the swamp dog-wood = has straight branches—ovate
leaves, eolored alike on both sides. and has dark brown
berries. It flowers earlier than the swamp dog-wood.
There are perhaps other species of the Corium in our
county, but lam not familiar with any of them, except
the lois Cornel C. Canadensis ). which is an annual
'plant growing in wet thickets to the height of eight in
ches, and is classed with herbs instead of shrubs.
Many species of the Box are handsome ornamental
trees, and are well adapted to shady situation& Thu
trees, though of slow growth, are long lived. H.
Towanda, May 28, 1846.
Oh ! rend it not—still let it wave,
That star gemmed flag, o'er land and sea,
The cherished signal of the brave,
The glorious banner of the free;
Still let its eagle soar on high,
Its stripes still fresh, its stars still bright,
No tempest in the smiling sky,
No gathering cloud to quench their light.
Oh! plant it on each glorious spot,
Unfurl it wide, but rend it not.
There comes a voice from every plain,
From every mount of strife and glory,
Where valor's blood has left a stain,
Or history found a theme for story ;
From Bun'keE ... Bill, from Bennington,
From glorious York the cry is heard;
From vale to mount the sound rolls on,
And e'en the ocean-depths are stirred ;
From fame•remembered spot
The cry is heard, Oh! rend it not !
Oh ! by the chiefs whose awful forms
Are bending from the starry sky.
Who bore that flag through war's wild storms,
And proud and glorious bade it fly,
Their blood-bought gift do not despise,
%be proudest gift a nation knows—
A flag, bright, streaming to the skies,
That droops not to its vaunting foes.
Oh! be the treasure he'er forgot—
Unfurl it wide, but rend it not.
Oh! ye, the sons of noble sires,
Who bravely struggled side by side,
Where blazed the tented field's watch fires,
Or navies pressed the surging tide; •
Shall petty bickerings rend the tie,
The oath fraternal sealed with blood !
Shall that proud hinner cease to fly,
A victor flag o'er field and flood!
No! be the Union ne'er forgot—
Unfurl it wide, bat rend it not.
"One extreme follows the other." as the
little dog slily remarked when be flew around
after is own tail.
CI
PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0. & H. P. GOODRICH.
The Flag of the Union.
TIT 'ME. E. L. SCIIEHMEREOTEN
" REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
I Hunter in Extreme Peril.
Thernost interesting hunter's story I have
ever heard was told me by our host, Mr. Perci
val, who Eras followed the forest chase from his
youth. In 1807, he was on a trapping expedi
tion, with two
,companions, on the Washita,
when they left him to kill buffalo, bear, and - the
larger game, and he remained to trap the streams
for beaver. He had not met with very good
success; and had been 'tyithont meat for about
twenty-four hours, wherOurning a small bend
of the river, he espide a noble-luoking old male
buffalo lying down on the beach. Having secur
ed his canoe, he crept softly through a corn
brake, which lay between the aninial and him
self, and fired. The shot was an indifferent one,
and only wounded the animal in the side, but it
if:kneed him, and, having crossed the river'. be
soon laid down. This was about noon, when '
the animal having again grazed, was resting him
self in a cool place. Percival now crossed the
river in his canoe, and got into the woods, which
were there very open and somewhat broken by
little patches of prairie land, a very frequent oc
currence in these parts of Arkansas, where for
est and prairie often seem to be contending for
the mastery. But the bull, being suspicious,
rose before the hunter came near enough to him,
and took to the open woods. Percivarwas an ex
perienced hunter ; he had killed several hundred
buffaloes, and knew their tempers to every sort
of situation. Ile knew that the animal, when
in large herds,-was easily mastered, and was
well aware that wheri alone he was sometimes
dogged, and even dangerous ; he therefore, fol
t lowed his prey cautiously for about a mile,
knowing that he would lie down again ere long.
The buffalo now stopped, and Percival got with
in .fifty yards of him, watching an opportunity
to strike him mortally ; but the beast, seeing Iris
enemy so near, wheezed completely round, put
his huee shaggy head close to the ground before
his fore feet, as it is their custom when they at
! tack each other, and rapidly advanced upon the
I hunter, who instantly fired, and put his ball
I through the bull's nose ; but seeing the temper
he was in, and knowing what a serious antag
onist he was when on the offensive, he also,
immediately, turned and fled.
In runnin g down a short hill some briars
threw him d own, and he dropped his gun
There was a tree not far from him of abut eigh
teen inches diameter, and every thing seemed to
depend upon his reaching it ; but, as he rose to
make a push tot it, the buffalo struck him on the
fleshy part of the hip with his horn, and slight
ly woundee. hint. Before, however, the beast
could wheel round upon him again, he gained
the tree, upon which all the chance he had of
preserving his life rested. A very few feet from
this tree grew,a sapling about four or five inch
es in diameter, a most fortunate circumstance
• for the hunter, as it contributed materially to
save his life. The buffalo now doggedly fol
lowed up his purpose of destroying hisdversa
ry, and a system of attack and_ defen ce com
menced that. perhaps. is without a parallel.—
The buffalo went round and round the tree pur
suing the man, jumping at him in tne peculiar
!flannel of that animal, every time he thought
there was a chanee,of hitting him ; whilst Per
cival, grasping the tree with his arms, flung him
self round it with greater tepidity that the ani
mal could follow him. In this manner the buf
filo harassed him more than four hours, until
his hands became so sore with rubbing against
the rough bark of the oak tree, and his limbs
so fatigued, that lie began to be disheartened.
In going round the tree, the buffalo would
sometimes pass between it and the sapling ; but
the, distance between them was so narrow, that
it inconvenienced him, especially when he want
ed to make his jumps ; he, therefore, frequently
went round the sapling instead of going inside
of it. the time thus consumed was precious to
Percival—it enabled him to breathe, and to con
'. eider how he should defend himself.
After so many hours' fruitless labor, the bull
seemed to have lost his pristine vigor, and he be
came slower in his motions. He-would now
make his short start, preparatory to his jump,
only at intervals, and, even then, he jumped
doubtingly, as if he saw that Percival would
avoid his blow by swinging to the other side.—
It was evident he was baffied, and was consider
ing what he should do. Still continuing in his
course round the tree,but iu this slow manner,
he at length made an extraordinary feint, that
does honor to the reasoning powers of the buf
falo family. He made his start as usual, and,
when Percival swung himself round, the bull,
instead aiming his blow in the direction he had
been accustomed to do. suddenly. turned to the
side of the tree where Percival would be brought
when he had swung. himself round, and struck
with all his might. The feint had almost suc
ceeded : Percival only just saved his heal, and
received a severe confusi. is on his arm, which
was paralyzed foran instant. He now began
to despair of saving his life ; his limbs trembled
under him ; he thought the buffalo would wear
him out, and it was so inexpressibly painful to
him to carry on this singular defence, that at one
time he entertained the idea of leaving the tree
and permitting the animal to de3troy him, as a
mode of saving himslf
.from pain and anxiety
that were intolerable.
But the buffalo, just at that time giving deci
ded symptoms of being as tired himself, now
stopped for a few minutes, and Percival took
courage. Remembering that he had his butcher's
knife in his breast. he took it out, and began to
contrive plans of offence, and when the bull, hay;
ing rested awhile recommenced his old rounds,
Percival took advantage of the slowness of his
motions, and, using a great deal of address and
management, contrived in the course of half an
hour, to stab and cut him in a dozen different
places. The animal now became weak from
loos of blood, and, although he continued to
walk round the tree, made no more jumps. con
tenting himself with keeping his head and neck
close to it. This closed the conflict, for it ena
bled Percival to extend his right arm and give
him two deadly stabs in the Byes. Nothing"
could exceed the frantic rage of this unwieldy
animal when he had lost his sight. He bellowed.
he groaned. he pawed the ground, and gave out
sign of conscious ruin and munitigable fury.—
He leaned against the sapling for support, and
twice knocked himself down by rushing with
a
his head against the tree. The second fall ter
minated this strange tragic combat, which' had
now lasted nearly six hours. The bilffalo had
not strength to rise, and the conqueror. stepp
ing up to him, and lifting up his nigh shoulder,
rut all the flesh and ligaments loose, and turned
it over his back. He then, after resting him
self a few minutes. skinned the beast, took a
pin of the meat to his cantle. made a fire, broil
ml and ate it.— Fathertfonhaugh.
A CUTE YLNKEE.—A correspondent of the
Boston Star tells the .following good story :
Early one morning, the scholars of one of our
district schools were agreeably surprised to find
written upon the outside door, " No School ;"
and the must of them immediately made pre
parations to enjoy the 'holidaynot dreaming
but that it was a genuine order. It appeared,
however, that a roguish youth, a lover of mis
chief more than his books, had written in large
letters the joyful news. No Scule was pasted
un , :, the idea was understood, but the spelling
was had. The afternoon brought all together,
and inthe stern visage of the master enough was
seen to convince us that all was not right. He
had been out-witted, and now came the tug of
War.
He soon ordered the boys to appear before
his presence, antrime by one, criticised our
spelline, as far as the s word school was concern
ed. They stood tho test. until the hero, with
his comic phiz, made his -appearance, who,
with confidence, distinctly said S-c-u-I-e."
school. The master took him by the collar,
and with a joyful expression at the success of
his ruse, laid on the birch right merrily.
PICTURE OF A MEAN MAN.-MV friends,too
many of you, (city folks, especially, are - ,over
inclined to meanness—l know some who-are
vastly little—ill may be allowed to use the
term—that when they are brushed from earth
into the devil's dust pan, the old chap will have
to put on double magnifying spectacles, and
poke for a long while, among the rubbish of
morality, before he can find them. There is
neighbor Tightfist, in some respects a worthy
member of my congregation, and yet, I regret
to say. he is mean enough to chase a fat mos
quito through a five mile swamp, for the sake
of his suet. To his credit however, he once
made a sacrifice for the good cause by putting
an unfortunate looking penny in the' box, and
going supper!ess to bed. And neighbor Stick
in-the-mod,-too. iMie had the power, and could
enrich himself ihereby, would brush the silver
stars from the fimament, snatch the golden sun
from the sky, and sell the moon for brass and
if sixpence was recteired at the gate of heaven
rather than pay his fee, he would rise from his
resting place at midnight, and pick the lock
with a tenpenny nail.—Dow, Jr.
A SCENE AT THE GATE OF PARADISE, -A
poor tailor, being released from this world and
a scolding wife, appeared at the gate of Para
dise. Peter asked him if he had ever been in
Purgatory.
•• No," said the tailor, but I have been
married ?"
" Oh !" said Peter, "that is all the same
The tailor had scarcely got in, before a fat,
turtle-eating alderman came puffing and blow
ing.
Hallo ! you fellow," said he, " open the
door."
" Not so fast," said Peter, " have you ever
been in purgatory ?"
"No," said the alderman, "but what is that
to the purpose ! You let that poor half starved
tailor in, and he has no more been in Purga
tory 'than myself."
But he has been married," said Peter.
" Married !" exclaimed the alderman," why
I've been married twice."
"Then please go back noir'," said Peter,
Paradise is not the place for fools."
SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. -At a late ball in
this city, a gentleman having danced with a
young lady whose attractions, both personal
and conversational, seemed to have made an
impression on his sensibilities, asked, on lead
ing her to a seat, if he might have the pleasure
of seeing her on the following day
• Why, no sir," replied the fair one, I
shall be engaged to-morrow evening, but I'll tell
you when you can see me."
•• I shall be most happy," exclaimed die
stricken swain.
Well, on Saturday night," resumed the
lady, " you can see me at Fulton Market, sell
ing cabbages."
If the young man is wise he'll be there to
night certain, fur that girl will make him an
excellent wife.
A WlFE.—When a man of sense comes to
marry it is a companion whom he wants, not
all artist. It is not merely a creature who can
paint and play, sing and dance ; it is a being
ho can comfort & counsel him,who can reason
and reflect and feel and judge, and discourse
and discriminate ; one .whocan assist him in
his affairs, lighten his sorrows, purify his
hopes, strengthen his principles, and educate
his children. A woman of the former descrip
tion may occasionally figure in the drawing
room, and attract the Edmiration of the compa
ny, but she is entirely unfit for a helpmate to
a mail, and to "train up a child in the way he
should go."
HoNE.—The ordination of Providence. says
a distinguished - writer. is. that home should
form our character. The first objects of pa
rents should be to make home interesting. It
is a bad sign when childern have to wander
from the parental rid fn. amusement. A love
of home is one of the strongest safeguards
azaimt vice—not to childern only. but to men.
Men who delight in their own firesides. are
never seen lounging about bar-rooms and oys
ter saloons, Make home attractive to your
children—so that they will leave it with regret
and return to it with joy—for this is a 'mighty
preservative agafnet vire.
Mike, why don't you fire at them ere ducks,
boy ! don't you aee you've got the whole of 'em
before your gun I" Yea, but jilifia I gets
aim at one, another • swims right 'twill him
and me."
The Hamlet.
IB=CTEUEEIMEI
The binds how blest, who ne'm beguiled
To quit their hasnleCs. hawthorn wild,
Nor haunt the crowd, nor tempt the main,
For splendid cue, and guilty gain
When morning's twilight-tinctured beans
Strikes their low thatch with slanting gleam,
, They rove abroad in ether blue,
To dip the scythe in fragrant ;
The sheaf to bind, the beech to fell,
That nodding shades a craggy dell.
Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear,
Wild nature's sweetest notes they hear :
On green untrodden banks they view
The hyacinth's neglected hue:
In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds,
They spy the sqeirrers airy bounds;
And startle from her ashen spray,
Across the glen, the screaming jay:
Each native charm their steps explore
Of Solitude's sequester'd store.
For them the moon with cloAtess ray
?donuts, to illume their homeward way :
Tbeir weary spirits to relieve,
The meadows incense breathe at eve.
No not Mars the simple fare,
That o'er a glimmering hearth they share
But when the curfew's measured roar
Duly, the darkening valleys o'er,
Has echoed from the distant town,
They wish no beds of cygnet-down,
No trophied canopies, to close
Their drooping eyes in quick repose.
Their little sons, who spread the bloom
Of health around the clay-built room,
Or through the primrosed coppice stray,
'Or gambol in the new-mown hay;
Or quaintly braid the cowslip-twine,
Or drive afield the tardy kine;
Or hasten from the sultry hill,
To loiter atshe shady rill;
Or climb the tall pines gloomy crest,
To rob the raven's ancient nest.
Their humble porch will honey'd flowers
The curling woodbine's shade embowers.:
From the small gardens thymy mound
Their bees in busy swarms resound:
Nor fell Disease, before his time,
Haines to consume life's golden prime:
But when their temples long have wore
The silver crown of tresses hoar;
As studious still calm peace to keep,
Beneath a flowery turf they sleep.
The Orange.
As this is a favorite fruit in our eountryand.
is probably much prized and admired by many
who would like to know more of its nature s it
may be well to give sonic ceount of it. The
following facts end remarks are taken from
Burnet's Outlines of Botany.
The Orange is a tree or shrub, with almost
always smooth stems and branches. Its juice
is balsamic, and the plants are covered with
leaves, flowers and fruit. with receptacles of
essential oil. The flowers are regular and
united, color white, red or yellow, and very
fragrant.
Although originally a tropical plant, it is
cultivated in the temperate latitudes, and im•
ported into this country (England), in such
abundance as to vie in plenty and cheapness
with our native fruits,
The Orange' has been believed, by some
classical commentators, to, be the golden apple
of Hesperides.
Citrus Aurantium.is the Orange or Golden
Apple. This is the sweet orange, too well
known to need description, and too highly
estimated to admit of praise. Its varieties,
like those of most cultivated fruits, are many.
The most important are, Ist, the 6111114074
Sweet Orange. 2d. the China, 3d, the Majorca,
4th, the Nice, sth the Geneva, Gth the Thick
rineded Portugal 7th, the Teat-Fruited, Bth.
the Double Flowered. 9th, the Ribbed. 10th,
the Malta or Blood-juiced, 1 1th, the St. Mi
chael's, and 12th, the Oporto, or Pipeless pot
Oranges.
Citrus Vulgaris is the bitter or Sevilla
Orange; of which, like the preceding. there
are severifirieties. But they are less cul
tivated, ata, • although preferred for medicine,
they are less palatable fur food.
Citrus Decuntana is the Shaddock, so call
ed after the captain who first introduced it to
the West Indies from China. It is a large
handsome Whit. but not so pleasant in its. fla
vor 'as the orange.. It will. however. .keep
fresh and good longer at sea, and hence is
valuable. There are several other species of
Citrus. whose fruits from pleasant food ; such
as the C. Nobilis ; both the rind and pulp of
which are eatable. This latter is called in
China the Mandarin, and is considered the
most delicate of the whole." D. 13. E.
A ocstte. lIINT.-A spruce young beau,
gallanting his intended, a few evenings since
wasconversing upon the late turn out at Lowell,
when he remarked that "he wished he was
able to maintain all the factory girls in Lowell
for six months. He would do it to prevent
their returning to the mills."
His fair one, who had till now been a silent
listener to his - patriotic discourse, replied with
a sigh—
" Ali, I wish you were able to maintain one
of them."
A TOLERABLE HARD HlT.—Archdeacon
Fisher having preached an old sermon once.
which he was not aware that Constable had
heard before. asked him how he liked it:—
Very much indeed. Fisher." replied Consta
ble ; •• I always did lit:tau:a sermon."
Yuman° To Cractraismuccs.—Mr. Hall and Hiss
Lillie, the story of whose "marriage in fun" bits been
" kepi before ths people" some two years, through their
application to the New York legislature for a divorce,
which has been refused, were on Sunday evening mu'
Tied in-earnest.
:
_
; 777
•
7AMT*S3-8110
[From the ',Tacit; Sam.],
The Wapiti.; wife.
,
When hither talked with old Zeke Butters
about my haiite his daughter, he took 'fit'it Very
knt. So when I went over to sire hs, They
let down the bars for me. and I went in in her.
She knewed what I had come arter, and Sir •as
we sot before the old folks, and I was swinging
my hat in my hand between my knees,, she
snickered and I snickered, and then she blush
el, and I blushed, and so we kept it tip till tea
time. We had toast aid sausage for tea; but I
couldn't eat a mouthful ; so Thankful put u sau
sage into her bosom to keep it warm for me till
the courtiu' begun. When the otd folks bad
gone to bed I talked to Thankful. She was as
tender-hearted us a weeping willow, and when
ever I said anything tine shewould shed tears like
a rain-waterspout. So I thought she would be
easy managed. Finally we got published. and
then we got martied. So, one day I come home
and finds the dinner wasn't done, and I just said
it was a great pity, as I was very hungry; and
in a great hurry to—l was cradling oats.' On
that, if you'd seed how the tears began td run,
and how she put her handkerchief up to her
eyes, and come and pnt her arms round my neck,
and said she was so sorry to think she had 'cam
tuned me a minnit's pain, and I was so struck
all of a heap that. I swow, 1 thought I should
have cried too. So I took the bellusses to blow
the lire. At last I got it to burnin' and finally
we had • dinner, but I lost an arternoon's work
by this job. When I went to go to bed at night.
the bed want made, but I couldn't bear to say
nothing, for fear I should hurt the feelings of the
tender-hearted critter. So I went to bed just
as 'twas, and slept so bad my bones aked all the
nixt day. She didn't get up time enuff for
breakfast, and I jest insinnivated when she got
down to table arter I had got the meal teddy.
that I should be glad she would try to get np a
leetle artier. Then she began to cry agin,•and
such a dolerous fuss she made with her hand
kercher, and begging my pardon and all that,
that I intarmined never to say the like again as
long as I lived. So I let everything go, and I
thought I wouldn't say nothin', till one Sabbath
day, I went to pull on my new trousers, and
found a hole in em. that I'd told Thankful to
mend a week before. So 1 seed I couldn't'go
-to meethe, and then I did jest say,-' I'm sorry
for this, Thankful—it's too bad, by GOshl"
Then she looked right at me and busted Into
tears like a melted snowball ; and says she—
.. Oh ! my dear ! how sorry I am that- you
shout 1 be offended with me" and she came and
threw her arms around me, and her hands had
just been among the pots, and she blacked niy
clean starched collar all over. Then I did feel
worse than ever, mid before I thought, I ripped
out : •• Dam at I stand off! see what you've
done !" Wheal said that—all of a sudden she
left off crying, and I seed there wasn't a twin
her eyes, but they looked. like two cat's eyes
glaring at me, and says she : who cares for
your old collar I'll have you know I didn't
come here to be your slave, and I've got a fa
ther's house that I can go to if I like, es my
sister did before me, when her husband told fier
she was too extravagant. Heigh dey ! it's pret
ty work if I come here to be jawed and dogged
round by one of your sect !" time she
looked at me like a wild cow when she is point
ing her horns to run you through the gizzard .
' M y stars ! how 'stonished I was to see this
tender-heartederitter charged so, all of a sudden
like ! I stepped back into the bed room • and
shut the door, for I couldn't say a word. So, a
day or two afterwards I found fault with some
thin, and she begun her crying, and being Sony.
and putting her arms around me, and so she
kept it up—sometimes calling use all the hard
names that the old Scratch is 'called by. and
sometimes having her cryings. jest as suited
her.
About a week afterward I came home and
found her setting down and reading a book.
while the house laid all sixes and sevens, and
not a breakfast dish had been washed, and I slip
ped down in a puddle of greasy water. So I
jest said it was too had, and then she began to
shed tears and be flaterin' like—but I said I'd
rather she'd wash the dishes than talk soft
speeches to me ; and then she flew out like a
tiger, and begun to call me a brute and a• hog,
and all that air compliments.
So I waited till she got done, and then I
turns to her and says : •• Now, Thankful. I've
got a word to say to you. and in right down
arnest—so mind me. You must jest do one
thing or the other, hereafter. You must eith
er fight with your tongue or your tears, for I
won't be lout with two weppons. So you
needn't never cry to me any more ; but you
may scold and 1 will scold. But I can't have
both, bekaae that makes us oneveri. If cony
one can jaw like you. they needn't cry too—
and if they cry, they musn't jaw.
So I cured her of cryin',for she seed she was
found out, and we've lived as peaceable as two
cats in a bag ever sense. •
CONFIDENCE.—How delicious that conver
sation is which is accompanied with a mutual
confidence, freedom courtesy, and complais
ance! How calm the mind, how composed
the affections, how serene the countenance,
how melodious the voice, how sweet the sleep,
how contentful the whole life, of him that
neither deviseth mischief against others, nor
suspects any tq, be c nitrived against hinnielf.
IRISH BLUNDERS.-" Well, Patrick," asked
the doctor, " how do you do to day ?"
"Oh dear, doctor,' I enjoy very bad health
intirely. rheumetis is very distressing
indade. When Igo to sleep I lay awake an
night, and my toe to swelled up as big as -a
goose's hen's egg, so whin I stand up, I fall
down directly."
HUSDANDIM-A man with eleven daughters
was complaining to a friend that he found it
hard in live.
You must husband your time," said the
other, " awl then you'll do well enough."
"I could do murh better.", was the reply.
"if I could husband my daughters.",
A country paper speaking of a blind wood.
sawyer, eaye, Although he can't ace, he can
saw.'
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