froNa *l7 , 7.10
~a
~_.~`~:J:~JAs
WEDNESDAY. JUNE 10._ 1846
[Wnttrn for the Bradt - on! Reporter.)
forst Tuts and Flowering Shrubs of Bradford
County.
Wocxtraan! spatv that tree."
, The p r ovisions which nature makes for the preserve
propogation of organized bodies, is worthy of
e:l in vesirpiion of the curious. The principle of
cacse of vitality, has never been opened to our view
:5 a my-dery which is locked up in the unfathomable
i,v.trry .d Deity. But the laws which govern organ'zed.
lss:les, whether animal or vegetable, in the various
clAnzrs ohwh they undergo in their dilrerent stages of
devay. are open to our inspection, and can
sto,lird and comprehended by us.
pursuit can be mote worthy of a rational mind,
t".su to invesugste nature's worts, and 'see the various
etauaos of her laws, Deity has stamped His perfec
,,ns on all we see about us, and has clothed us with
,-ovos to read these perfections an His works, and He
~a,ras that homage of the heart which they alone can
who read and understand. While we admire the
irtnsture. there is a Voice which says to us
- I . 7.dronardest thou what thou rustiest." The book of
Is the hook of God. It is the revelation of His
•Vo MiTlVell by his hand on all His works; and
'e •le reselstion of His will calls us to obey, Him,
irve:stion of Nature calls us to adore Him.
, Me works of Deity, there is something in the
by
is hich the vegetable world is kept inexistence
carious stages of germination, growth and de
pr, nhich intkes us at once with wonder ■nd admira
tsvy. Who that sees the lofty Oak, standing the mon
cf the I,rest, would suspect, bad neither he nor
.4' en ,t , en. that at had its birth (roman acorn like those
;L.lrinches t Whocoukl trace its changes back to
:5 mil M:inning! let that acorn alone, had not life
I ,lm."l"hcre was a Hind that gave it the sunbeam's
ant warmth, the Heaven's dew and rain, and
•eiurt to the It to the first acorn given, it sprang to
. two- mode of elistence then g-ave it new wants
v. at tst its 11,tht and heat, its dew and rain, it sought
- tett red I,ara the earth food cat its future greatztetsk.
it,. roots w a ar-•uth to de•olur the earth
o. and'each leaf misted to purify and
roOt devoured. There to a prilieess
ti.• r• throu.th vihtch the whole vegetable Log
,t s 7 s. Rendrsuan and hie, decay and death, are
order. It lives to die, and dies to hes--
•• ,!.) zee rraw,71..14,it Vre. too. hare our 0[1441 115
our ell.tetwe as de pendent, and our end as eer-
chanze that keeps the lirtng wadi in
si we eat nue have been the tievh
• r-t, , r tt:e nur:lmect of worms; the blush that we
on the cheek of beauty. or the hue of the Lips that
our own, may hare mantled the petal of the
tlto= ed on the serpent's scale or &why tongue.-
7:e n-sr that glistens in the loveliest eye has came from
^ , IS, and whe•her this held in decay;: a drop of poisvm
:- , 0 for:, treally Una, a dew drop from some lovely
or a ...he tray from some An g er, eye man knows
, s--cares 'COL him the bush of maiden's cheek,.
hp, Is briutifut. whatever it once has beta—and
the tear. he feels a kindred sympathy whaterec nay
tu‘e been its remote source.
Bat Iles.rs. Editors, I hare diirressed from the subject
"tie r‘mmuutcstions, and if I hare incurred your
, Lsi'essere 'cy eo d.ing, I will flee for shelter to the
gru‘es of our wo, , dlands, and either" win you to
;11.121ar with • wreath of wad-wood dowers, of chap.
to te etrei of id humor with a description of some
azr fore-A trees. •
We hare &mow; our orihi hills, some trees crhere
•ist9es is the on±y reresentative of its genus in
snJ (mm these, I will se.leet a few fur de.
'0 LL th.,rt:de-
k.S [Sorb:is A ozericcna: is a favorite
Z !tee, it ;moors from ten b) tweets
I , rzortirs and that sumterhat
tte c•al non a.ll of the genus
has a rcseaNallce to the =S.
E: ts inerefvre cia-ssrl in the genus P . 5,-.7 by
.•
1.-ve pots oat is leaven eativ in May and dowers
me: ;ittaag. kale-ales hare a eua:kraoa stack like
"are: of the ciazae or butternut, aenl like them they
Ina wane small !cadets which are attached
pei , le or stmt. The leidiets are pointed
r n.-tched on their edges, sad 1 3= 41 on
fi Ater of the Nloantsia Ash, is white,
'5l `....7trs Trhrch Sun' irt c:tts:ers thrmir.h the wire
' dart mi,o7 potpie_ It Is the (mit of this tree
vau....s it to .t.e ' = MA idalirel. Its dU.tierli ate
beauLfulfv wtth the white =nee
' , KJ= Itt nee easii)- cultiratei five: its berries.
the Net. It groa - s npi3:y• •ad it
imas: any soiL It L-I.7tits to the eleventh
-3-33 oiler of the Linn-ran ststra.
-~ ~.i-Crr r. Cc
Sta::•43:ea
same six eta: grows along ocr streams,
t . as a Li=e'xa'm-: eerie in Mae. Its dowers are a
alsd hang in clue.ers like the wilJ cherry
let leaves-we m area. oval mad I+Oirr•.ed ai
'Th-em , tT. It is a I•itto6,me orna=mtal tree
a: - •`.sc;! it is cot ofett f - oand euhivamd for that
htlaav to the fifth duo and third order of
Lttzean s4mem.
PrAte Ash :instioryZarn — Frcrinettm)
Le: rased the low graied." of oar county, .0.1 is
sae a the men abose mentioned. The
4ti tree is corared with prickles at spine s. the
3 izaeate rne tSe Motranin ash. leeSete °Tal and
h+.l)srn i ; pow in umbels on each
" traaM. The dowers yenta greenish white.
" u `ktlivla is The heirk of this tree is
iscagezt It he:o' no to 'Yemen:ie.:hi dam
0 - ne dthe Lmm.a.a sense=
Ars'aer rnaj tree or 5..h.n35 Swain in the "le:VI
-`enn nr ors esenty, is the Leather Woad
Thu ;mese:. about the be4htuf Int feet.
*la its ',hype.. It Somers in
V.sy.beCo„-e. 'eaves keit The dswm
-: ! aa! 3r..,4 haaches of
tan cr
w.Ln ct the s~= rae fruit of this
.
111 --` 4 e' 4l , rei beery. Every part of taw nee
4 , ' 4 l Unitt,. le ts been ,1 cuda.les. and the
Z,l4' beLags tbrr ithiss ani 6. - st
4 1 4 41% sal is sai s rsAr..., csZei Home wand.
•
•
. • •
. REPORTER„
. ,
~„..
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E
_•
.•
Along the streams of our county, we have, too, the
Watch Hazel Ilamaintlis Virginica.) A singular
characteristic of this shrub, a, that it puts out flowers in
the fall, which perfect their fruit in the spring. Its flow
ers are ye:lowish, and not showy ;—they would scarcely
be noticed, did they not clothe their branches in the depth
of winter, when all other vegetation appears asleep or
dead. The leaves of this shrub are long, notched on
their edges, and covered with fine hairs beneath. It is
called witch hazel, because the divining or mineral rod,
which was once the cause of so much superstitious folly,
was made from its branches. It is not uncommon still
to find people who believe in its powers, and who are
willing to work by torch tight at the suggestion of some
ignorant impostor, who knows as little of the science of
minerals, as he does of the language of the luau in the
Moon. This shrub belongs to the fourth class and third
order of the Linnean system. H.
Towantla.June 5, 1816.
I hare ut in chambers rich and high,
When the haughtiest brow was smoothed in mills.
When kindness warmed proud Beauty's eye,
And Art displayed its softest wiles;
But the fonts* wild was my delight,
At dawning gny and gathering night;
More j.:y had I in my leafy hall.
Than in fretted roof and storied wall.
I have knelt at the incense-shrine of Praise,
When a thousand voices chanted deep,
When the organ pealed, and the torches' blaze
Saw some in uiumph, some to weep;
But higher rites have I partaken,
When Heaven with the tempest's wing was shaken,
When . the forest blazed, and the lightning's dart
Quailed all but the wandering exile's bean.
In climes of softer air I've been,
And sat in bowers when the now was blown,
When the leaf was yet in its freshest green,
And with one to love till then unknown ;
But deeper raptures I have felt,
When by her rocky couch I knelt,
Who crossed for me the stormy main,
Content in one fond heart to reign.
THRILLLIEG NARR4TIVE.
JAMES MORGAN, a native of Maryland, mar
ried at an early age, soon after sealed neat Bry.
an's S:ation in the wilds of Kentucky. Like
most pioneers of the West, he had cut down.the
rave, built a cabin, deadened the timber...en
closed a held with a worm fence, and planted
some cora.
I; was on the 7th of August, 1783. The sun
had descended, a pleasant breeze was playing
tarou. , h the surrounding-wood, the cane bowed
under its influence; and the broad green leaVes
of the 'corn waved in the air. MORGAN bad
seated himself in the doOr of his cabin, with his
infant on his knee. His young and happy wife
had laid aside her spinning wheel, and was busi
ly engaged in preparing the frugal meal. That
afternoon he had acctdentally found a bundle of
letters, which he had finished reading to his wife,
before he had taken his seat at the door. It was
correspondence in which they acknowledged an
early and ardent attachment for each other, and
the perusal left evident traces of joy in the coun
tenances of both ; the little infant, ton, seemed
to pat take of its parent's feelings. by his cheer
ful smi!es.„ p'ayful humor, and infantile caresses.
While thus agreeably employed, the repoit of a
ride was heard . ; another followed in quick sue=
cession. Morgan sprang to his feet, his wife
ran to the door, and they simultaneously ex
e:aimed. Indians."
The door was immediately barred. and the
next moment their fears were realized by a•bold
and spirited enact of a small party of Indians.—
The cabin could not be uccesefully defended,
and time was precious. Morgan. coot, brave
and prompt, soon derided. White he was in the
act of concealing his wife ender the floor. a mo
ther's feelings overcame her—she arose, seized
her infant, but was afraid that its cries would
betray her pace of concealment-=gazed silent
ly upon it—a momentary struggle between life
and affection took p ati. She once more presed
tier child to her agitated bosom, and again
kissed it with impassioned tenderness. The
infant, alarmed at the profusion of tears that fell
upon its cheeks, looked up in its mother's face,
threw his little arms around her neck and wept
aloud. In the name of Heaven, Eliza, re
lease the child, or be lost.", said the husband,
io a'soft, imploring tone, as he forced the infant
(rum his wife ; he hastily took up his gun, knife
and hatchet, ran to the ladder that led to his
eharuber. and drew, it up after him. In a mo
ment the door was burst open and the savages
entered.
By this time. Morgan had secured his child
in a bag, and lashed it to his back ; then throw
tug off sortie clapboards from the cabin's roof.
he resolutely leaped to the ground. He was as
sailed by two Indians. As the first approached.
he knocked ban down with he butt end of his
gun. The other advanced with up lifted loam
hawk ; Morgan let fall his eon and chased in.—
Tlae savage made a blow. missed, but severed
the cord that bound the infant to his back, and
it fell. The coolest over the child now became
warm and fierce, and war carried on with knives
only. The robust and athletic Morgan got the
ascendancy, both were badly cut and bled freely.
but the stabs of the white man were better and
deeper, and the savage soon sunk to the earth in
death. Morgan hastily took up his child and
hurried off.
is sa.atber
The Indians in the house. busily engaged in
drinking and plundering. were not apprised of
the contest in the yard. until the one that had
been knocked down gave signs ofretunaing life,
and called them to the scene of action. Mor
rell was discovered immediately pursued, and a
dog put upon his trail. Operated upon by all
the feelings of a husband and a father. hemored
with all the speed of a hunted sta i r. and soon out
stripped the Indians, but the dog kept in dose
pursuit. Finding it impossible to outrun the,
cunning animal , trained hunts of this kind. he
halted and waited until it came within a few
yards of him. Erred and brought him to the ground.
Iu a short time he reached the hoes to of hi s broth
er, who resided near 1315-ant's station at Lex
ington, where he left the child. and the two
PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0. & H. P. GOODRICH.
The Exile's Song.
asimitzturas OF OENTINCIATION !ROO ANT Qtritua.r
brothers set out for the dwelling. As they ap
proached. light broke upon his view—his step
quickened. aid his fears increased, and the most
agonizing apprehensions crowded upon his
mind. Emerging from the canebrake. he be
held his house in Asides, and almost binned to
the ground. "My wife !" said he, as he pres
sed one hand to Lis foreheah, and grasped the
fence with the other. to support his tottering
frame. He gazed on the. ruin and desolation
before him, advanced a few steps and sunk ex
hausted to the earth.
Morning caine--the luminary of heaven arose,
and found him seated near the almost expiring
embers. In his right hand he Nelda small stick
with which he was tracing the name of Eliza
on the ground, and his left hand lay on hi,s fa
vorite dog, that lay by his aide, looking first on
the ruins, and then on his master, with evident
signs of grief. Morgan arose. The two broth
ers now made search and found some bones
burned to ashes, which they carefully gathered.
and silently consigned to their mother earth, be
neath the wide branches of a venerable oak,
consecrated by the purest and holiest recollec
tions.
Several days after this. Morgan was engaged
in the desperate battle of the Blue Licks. The
Indians came off victors, and the surviving whites
returned stems the Licking. pursued by the ene
my for a distance of six and thirty miles.
- Morgan was amongst the last who crossed
the river, and was in the rear until the hill was
descended. As soon as he saw the Indians re
appear on the ridge, he felt and saw his wrongs,
and recollected the lovely object of his affections.
While in the act of leaping from his saddle, he
received a ball in the thigh and fell. An In
dian sprang upon him. seized him by the hair.
and applied the scalping knife. At this moment
h • cast op his eyes and recognized the handket
chief that bound the head of the savage, and
which he knew to be his wife's. This added
renewed strength to his body, and increased his
activity to fury. He quickly threw his left arm
round the Indian, and with a death-like grasp
hugged him to his bosom, plunged his knife in
to his side, and he expired in his arms. Re
leasing himself from the savage, Morgan crawl
ed tinder a small oak, on an elevated piece' of
ground a short distance from him. The scene
of action shifted, and he remained undiscovered
and unscalped, an anxious spectator of the
battle.
It was now midnight. The savage hand had
after taking all the scalps they could find, left
the battle ground. Morgan was seated on the
' foot of the oak.ita trunk supported his head.—
The rugged and uneven ground that surrounded
him was covered with the slain, the once white
and projecting rocks, bleached with the sun and
ri.in for centuries, were crimsoned with blood
that had warmed the heart and animated the bos
om of the soldier. The pale glimmering of the
moon occasionally threw a faint light upon the
mangled bodies of the dead, then a passing cloud
enveloped all in darkness. and gave additional
honor to the feeble crtes.of a few still lingering
in the last agonies of the protracted death. ren
dered doubly appalling by the hoarse growl of
the bear, the loud howl of the wolf, the shrill
and varied notes of the wild cat and panther,
feeding on the dead and dying.
Morgan beheld the scene with heart rending
sensations and looked forward in the apathy of
despair to his own end.
A large ferocious looking bear, covered all
Over with blood, now approached him ; he
threw himself on the ground, silently commend
ed his soul to heaven, and in breathless anxiety
awaited his fate. The satiated animal passed
without noticing him. Morgan raised his head
—was about to offer thanks for his unexpected
preservation, when the cry of a pack of wolves
opened upon him, and awakened him to a sense
of danger. He placed his bands over his eyes.
fell upon his face, and in silent agony awaited
his fate. He now heard a rustling in the bush
es. steps approached. a cold chill ran over him.
imagination, creative. busy imagination. was
actively employed ; his limbs in all probability
be torn from him and he ' Toured alive. He
felt a much—the vital spark was almost extin
guished—another touch more violent than the
first, and he was turned over. The cold sweat
ran down in torrents—his hands were for-ed
from his face—the moon passed under a cloud
—a faint ray beamed upon him—his eyes invol
untarily opened and be beheld his wile, who.'
in a scarce audible voice exclaimed, •• My bus- •
band ! my husband !" and fell upon his bosom.
. Monran now learned from his wife. that Icier
the Indians enteted the house, they found some
spiri:s and drank frevly ; an sin - re:don soon
took p . ace—nne of them received a mortal stab,
and : his blood ran through the floor on her.
Beier/m i
g t to be the blood of her husband. she
shrieked aloud and betrayed her place of coa
cealment.
She was immediately taken and i bound. The
party. after setting fire to the house, proceeded
to Bryant's station. On the day of the battle
of the Blue Licks. a horse. with 3 saddle :ad
bridle lashed by her, which she knew to be her
husband's. During the action. the prisoners
were left unguarded. made their escape. and lay
cancelled beneath some bushes under the bank
of the river. After the Indians had returned
from the pursuit. and left the battle-ground, she
with some other persons who had escaped with
her. determined to make search for their friends.
and if owthe field andliving. to sere them if pos
sible from the beasts of prey. After searching
for some time. and almost diespairingof success.
she fortunately &covered him.
The party of Colonel Logan Com! Morgan
and his wire, and restored them to their friends.
their infant and their homes.
POPTTNG Tag QUESTION, -4 bashful wooer
not long since. 'wishing to pupil's question.clid
it in the fullest,* singular manner—taking up
the lades eat. be said. pussy. may I have
Tour mistress!"
It was ariawered by the lady, who said,
"say yes, pussy."
, -
A Coe, from the mown-. stopping at rinser
our hotea, being asked br - the waiter whether
he would hare green or kaaek tea. replied... he
didn't care a darn what color it ten, so it had
plenty of einem& in IL"
&collections of !aka.
The My of Mexico—The President's Palace
—The Cathedral—Streets and Buildings
in Mexico.
Mexico was colonized just one hundred
years before Massachusetts. Her first settlers
were the noblest spirits of Spain hiller Augus
tan age, the epoch of Cervantes. Cones, Pizar
ro, Columbus, Gunzalvaed Cordova, Cardin
al, Yinseues, and the great and good Isabella.
Massachusetts was settled by the poor Pilgrams
of Plymouth. who carried with them nothing
but their own hardy virtues and indomitable
energy. Mexico, with a rich soil. and * cli
mate adapted to the production of every thing
which grows out of the earth. ai.d possessing
every metal used by man—Massa ,husetts with
a sterile soil and ungenial cliinats , and no sin
gle article for exportation but ice and rock—
how have these blessings, profusely given by
Providence. been improved on the one hand.
and obstacles overcome on the other! What
is now the respective condition of the two
countries ! In productive industry, wide spread
diffusion of knowledge. public nistituti in of
every kind. general happiness, and continually
increasing prosperity ; in letters, ans, morals.
religon ; in everything which makes a people
great, there is not in the world, and there never
was in the world, such a commonwealth as
Massachusetts. " There she is ! look at her!
and Mexico."
The city of Mexico is said to be the finest
built city on the American continent. lu some
respects it certinly is so. In the principal
streets the.houses are all constructed according
to the strictest architectural rules. The founda
tions of the city were laid. and the first building
was erected by Cones, who did everything
well which he attempted—from building a
house or writing a couplet. or to conquering an
empire. Many of the finest buildings in Melt
e') are still owned by his descendants. The
public square is said to be unsurpassed by any
in the world ; it contains some twelve or fifteen
acres paved with stone. The cathedral covers
one entire side, the palace another ; the western
side is ocui ied by a row of very high and
substantial houses, die second stories of which
project into the street the width of the pave
ment; the lower stories are occupied by the
principal retail merchants of the. city. The
most of these houses are built by Cones, who
with his characteristic sagacity and an avarice
which equally characterized hini in the latter
part of his life, selected the best portion of the
city for him self.
The President's Place. formerly the Palace
of the Victory, is an immense building of three
stories high, about five hundred feet in length.
and three hundred and fifty feet wide ; it
stands on the site of the palace of Montezuma.
It is difficult to conceive of so much stone and
mortar being put together in a less tasteful and
imposing shape ; it has much more the appear
ance of a cotton factory or a penitentiary. than
what it really is ; the windows are small and a
parapet wall runs the whole length of the buil
ding, with nothing to relieve the monotony of
its appearnce except some very indifferent or
namental work in the centre; there are no
doors in the front either of the second or third
' stories—nothing but disproportionately small
windows. and too many of them ; the three
doors, and there are only three in the lower
story. are destitute of all .architectural beauty
or ornament. Only - a very small part of this
palace is appropriated to the residence of the
President ; all the public offices are here. inclu
ding those of the heads of the different depart
ments, ministers of war. foreign - relations,
finance and justice, the public treasury, ite.
ez.c. The halls of the House of Deputies and
of the Senate are also in the same building, and
last andleast the botanic garden. After pass
ing through all sorts of filth and dirt on the
basement story foci come to a dark narrow
passage which conducts you to a massive door.
which when you have succeeded in openin g ,
you enter an apartment enclosed with hig h
on every side but open at the top, and certain
ly not exceeding eighty feet square. and
this is the botanic garden of the palace of Mexi
co ; a few shrubs and plants and the celebrated
manita-tree, are all that it contains. I have
rarely in my life seen a mure gloomy and
desolate looking place. It is much more like
a prison than a garden. A decrepit, palsied
old man. said to be more than a hundred years
old, is the superintendent of the establishment
no tit e could have been selected more in keep
ing with the general dilapidation and dreariness
of this melancholy affair.
But the Cathedral, which occupies the site
of the great idol temple of Moutezume, offers
a striking contract. It is five hundred feet
long by four hundred and twenty wide. It
would be superfluous to add another to the
many descriptions of this famous building
which have already been published. Like all
the other churches in Mexico, tt 111 built in' the
Gothic style. The walls, of several feet thick
ness, are made of upbeat's stone and lime.—
Upon entering it, one if apt to recall the wild
fictions of the Arabian Nights ; it seems as if
the wealth of empires was collected there.—
The clergy in Mexico ao not, for obvious rea
sorts, desire that their wealth should be made
known to its full extent; they are. therefore.
not disposed to give very full information upon
the subject, or to exhibit the gold and silver
vessels, vases, precious stones, and other forms
of wealth quite enough is exhibited to strike
the beholder with wonder. The first object
that presents itself on entering the cathedral is
the altar, near the centre of the building; it is
made of highly-polished silver, and coveted
with a profusion of ornaments of pure gold.—
On each side of this altar runs a balustrade,
enclosing a space about eight fret wide and
eighty or a hundred feet long. The balustrades
are about four feet high. and four inches
thick in the large.t part ; tie har.drail from
six to eight inches wide. Upon the top of
this handrail, at the distance of six or eight
feet apart, are human images. beautifully
wrought. and about two feet high. All of
these, the balustrade, handrail, and images,
are made of af i eompomid of gold. silver:Ld
copper—mom valuable than silre:: I was
told that au offer bad been made, to t this
balustrade. and replace it with aniiiher of ex
actly the same size and- workmanship .1 pure !
silver, and to give half a million of dollars ,
besides. There is much more of the church
I should think. in all of it. not less than three
hundred feet.
As you walk through the building. on either
side there are different appartnients. all tilled,
from the floor to the ceiling, with p.ontings.
statues, vases, huge candlesticks, Waiters, and
a thousand other articles. made of gold or glitter.
This. too, is only the every day cli,play rtf
articles of least value; the more costly are
stored away in chests and flows. What must
it be when all these are brought out, with the
immense quantities of precious stone which
the church is known to pOsvess ! Anil this is
only one of the .churches of the city of Mexico.
where there are between sixty and eight•
others. and some of them po ing little less
wealth than the cathedral ; and it must also be
remembered, that all the other large cities. such
as Puebla, Guadalajara. Guanajunto, Zacatecas,
Durango, San Louts Potosi. have each a pro
portionate nuusber of equally gorgeous estab
lishments. It would be the wildest and most
random conjecture to attempt an estimate of the
amount of the precious metals thus withdrawn
from the usual currency of the world. and
wasted in these barbaric ornaments. as incom
patible with good taste as they are with the
humility which was the most striking feature
in the character of the founder of our religion.
whose chosen instruments were the low and
humble, and who himself regarded as the high
est evidence of his divine initsion. the fact that
•• to the poor the gospel was preached." Ido
not doubt but there is enough of the precious
metals in the different churches in Mexico to
relieve sensibly the pressure upon the curren-
Foley of the world, which has _resulted from
the diminished productions of the mines, and
the increased quantity which has been appro
priated to purposes of luxury, and to pay the
cost of such more tasteful decorations in archi
lure and statury made of mohogany.
But me immense wealth which is thus col
lected in 4he churches, is not by any means all.
even the larger portion, of the wealth of the
Mexican churn and clergy. They own very
mapy of the finest houses in Mexico and other
cities (the rents of which must be enormous.)
besides valuable real estates all over the Re
public. Almost every person leaves a bequest
in his will for masses for his soul. which con
stitutes an incumbrance on the estate, and thus
nearly all the estates of the small proprietors
are mortgaged to the church. The property
held by the church is mortchain isestimated at
fifty millions.
Mexico tr, I believe, the only country where
the church property remains untouched entire
ly. Some small amount has been recently
realized from the sale of the estates of the ban
ished Jesuits ; but with that exception. no
President, however hard pressed, (and there
is no osy in the year that they are not hard
pressed.) has ever dared to encroach upon that
which is regarded is consecrated property.
with the exception of Gomez Parries. who, in
1834. proposed to the Legislative chambers to
confiscate" allthe .church property. and the
measure would, no doubt, have been adopted,
but for a revolution which overthrow the ad
ministration.
The streets of Mexico are uncommonly
wide, much more so than is necessary. con-
Indenng that they are not obstructed. as in our
cities. by drays sad wagons. The side-walks
are uncommonly narrow. The streets are all
paved with round stone; the side walks with
very rough fiat ones. The houses on the prin
cipal streets are all two sod three stories high.
The elevation of the rooms, from the fluor to
the ceiling, eighteen and twenty feet, gives to
a house of two stories a greater height than
we are accustomed to see in houses of three.—
The roofs are all terraced, and have a parapet
walls of three or four feet high. answering all
the purposes of a breast work, a use to com
monly made of them in the frequent revolutions ,
to which that unfortunate country seems to he
forever destined. The walls are built of rough
stones of all shapes and sizes, and large quan
tities of lime mortar. They are' very thick;
and in larger edifices of much greater massive
ness. The foundations oPmost of the largest •
are made with piles. Even these foundations
Pre very insecure, and it is surprising that they
are not more so, with such an immense weight
of stone upon such an unsteady foundation.—
The streets cross each other at right angles, di
viding the whole city into squares. Each one
of these squares is called a street, and his a
separate name; a serious inconvenience to a
stranger in the city. Instead of designating
the street in its whole extent by one naine.ard .
numbering the houses. each side of very
square has a different name, and names which
sound. to Protestanteani. very much like a vio
lauon of the Third Article of the Heealogue
such as the street of Jests, and the street of
the Holy Ghost. A gentleman will tell you
that he lives in the Holy Ghost, or that fie
lives in Jesus; certainly not always true. if
taken in the sense in which our preacher, use
the words. In most of these streets there is a ,
church. which gives name to the street in which
it stands. In many insurova these chutches ,
and convents) that of San Augustine for exam-
pie) covers the whole square. not with separ
ate buildings, but one single edifice. with the;
patio or court, an open space in the centre.
A Tsunsn Siam' lately came or' at
New Orleans, for five hundred dollars a side.
h continued, accordtne to the Advertiser. for ,
thirteen hangs; the 'rivals heing a Frenchman
arid a Kentuckian. Thebv-standers and jolg. '
es were talked to sleep and when they waked
op in the monun,e , they toned the Frenchman
dead, and the Kentuckian whispering in his
ear.
IfirsAN GLoat.—There: armed at MU
England, not - Since. a Dutch vessel. ns►iZatel
by a man. his wife. and four daughters. laden
with hones gathered from the battle fields of
Napoleon, to be sold bre* bushel for ma
inn to grow turnips.
RE
[FtLu' the Qilumbiati
Wilt 'than LOTC bit Still!'
Wilt thou love her ;liU,..whea the sunny curls, •
That over her bosom now, . -
Wid be laced with the silver threads*, age. -;
And her step falls awl snd :bowl : - • "
Wilt thou love her still, when the oarnmer's sautes-,
Oa her lips no longer live I -
'• I will love hes stn. .
With right good still!'
Thou wilt love her still then our cherished one
To thy sheltering in= we give.
Wilt thou love her still, when hirehang;ittr,eyeil,
Haie grown dim with sorrow's rain, •
When the broom that beats against thine own -
Throbs slow with the weight of yon ;
When her silvery laugh rings out no mate,
And vanished her youthful chums?
'• With free good will,
1 shall love her still!"
Thon wilt love ber then ant dean* one
We give to thy loving 111.11 i.
Remember, no grief has she env known, . .
Her spirit is tight and free; '
None either wrlth fannies! step, has pest
Its innermost shades, but thee!
Then, wilt love her slid, when the thoughts of poi*
In their blushing bloom depart
' Through good and ill,
I will love her still r
Thoo wilt love her still ! then our darling take
To the joy of thy noble heart!
Remember, for thee does she Ming Immo
The friends of her early days.
No longer to meet their approving looks,
Nor their fond unfeigned praise.
Forgive her. then, if the seats fall fast,
Ar 4 promise to love her well.
t'l will love her still,
With right good will r
Thou wilt love her still 1 . 1 then with peaceful' stag
We our sobbing sorrow quell.
When her father is dead, wed the emerald sod
Lies soft on her mother's breast;
When her brother's voice is no longer heard,
And her sisters' hushed to rest—
Wilt thou lose her din for to Out she look;
Her star on life's troubled lea!
"I will love her still,
Through good and ill!"
With the marriage sow on her youthful Bp,
Then, we give our child to thee'
111011 LtrING AND MEAN THTNELNO.—How
muck nicer people are in their persons than in
their minds. How anxious are they to .wear
the appzarance of wealth and taste in the things
of outward show, while their intellects are pov
erty and meanness. See one of the apes of
fashion, with his cozeombries and Ostentation of
lnruty. IFIO clothes must be made by the best
tiller, his horse must be of the best blood, hO
wives of the finest flavor, his cookery of the high
est zest ; but his reading is of the poorest frivoli
ties, or as the lowest and most despicable nil
rarity. in the enjoyment of the animal &nee,
he is an epicure, but a pig Lea elean laden e4m
pared with his mind, and pig would ell. good
an 1 bad sweet and foul alike, bropis mind has
no tali except for the most worthless gal sir.
The pig has no discrimmination. and a tr at
apperitr ; the mind which we • describe -bas m t
the apology of voracity : it is satisfied with Inkt
little, but that morale of the worst sect, and eve
ry thing of a better quality is rejected with as-
Pot:
If we could but see men's mind as we see
their bodies. what a spectacle of nakedness. der
titutioq. deformities and disease it would be.—
What hideous dwarfs and cripples, whit dirty
and revolting craving, and all these in connex
ion with the most exquisite care and pampering
of the borlv:: If many a conceited coxcomb
cock! see his own mind he would see the mean
est object the world can present. It is not with
hercary in its most degraded state that it is to be
compaird, for the beggar has wants. is dusatis
sith his state, has wishes for enjoyment
above his lot. but the pauper of intellect is con
tent with his poverty it is his choice to feed
on carrion, he e.g. relish nothing else ;he has
no desire beyond his filthy fare. Yet he flat
ters himself that he is a superior being. he takes
to himself the merit of his tailor. his wine Met
chant, his enarh maker. his upholster and his
cook ; hut if the thing were turned inside out. if
that concealed, nasty corner, his mind, were ex
posed to view. how degrading would be the ii
bibitiun.—Taira Edintimg Magazine.
EARTH!.—The earth's chemical classifiention
of bodies and enbAiances are frequently broken
up and changed. in consegnence of new diseov
cries in the progress of science. Many articles
w hi c h were formerly soppreval to be. simple
substances. and clamed under the heads (earths.
and alkalies, are now known to be metallic oxi
de : and on this acentintsome considerit reason
able m suppose all the different earths. to have
metalic bases, although some of them have nev
er vet been reduced to a pure metallic state.—
The substance which are now generally known
as earths. are Lime. Alurnme, Sdes, Magttesia.
Barites. Strontites„ Ittria. Glueira. and &moo.
Most of the earths possesses some peculiar pro
perties. by which each is completely distinguish
ed from another.
Lurk. it usually found combined with carbon
ic acid. in marble and limestone. By burning.
or heating these, the ratan/ie. acid is driven off;
and the lime is rendered tmre. Pure lime is ca
pable of absorbing one-fourth of its weight of
water. and et• remain perfectly day ; thus be
comina a hydrate of lima.
Aternsy. or pore clay derives it name from
alum. which is a ezdp.hura:e f altun:ne. Co-n
-mon rises consists' of almnine mixed with some
where:a-mils, sni eerier By enntainjt small quanti
ty of iron. which gives it a red color whets
barred. as in bricks and pottery. .
Suss. is pure dint, or rock errstal it
ahomads in white belch sand, and is the primes--
pi! ingredirst m the composition of glass,
1 I resists the action of all acids, except the Ho-
I on:.
Fl
, -
SEM
MMUS tAk