Newspaper Page Text
N 57 X 153 Xl9
[For the Bradford Reporter.]
To Eden, on Ha Eighteenth Bitth-day.
Dear Helen! while the glowing tints are seen
Upon thy cheek, the blossoms of eighteen,
While thy young heartwith joy ecstatic burns,
As to survey new scenes thy bright eye turns ;
Oh ! hear this accent from the word of truth.
Remember thy Creator in thy youth.
From vanity turn oil thy brilliant gaze,
To where the Bible pours its brighter mo—
lts rays celestial! where the Heavenly voice
Bids the free'd captive 'in ita God rejoice.
Behold what dealing honors wait the just,
Those spirits faithful to their sacred trust!
A crown, a kingdom they will soon possess,
For Christ has promis'd and can do no less
Than give possession—firm his word remains,
And truth eternal still his oath sustains.
Oh! be entreated by these humble lays,
Agtin they bid thee turn thy brilliant gaze
Frain scenes of folly—see the glories bright
That shroud the Savior in yon world of light,
And of that glory thou may'st soon partake
If ihou wilt labor; serf for his sake,
let the pulsations of that bosom young,
And the sweet accents of that youthful tongue
To Christ be given—as golden apples glow,
word well spok'n, who its worth can know I
The sweet simplicity of blooming youth,
Be it devoted to the cause of truth,
To virtue, science, science heav'nly fair
Like ble-t religion will reward thy care;
How lovely is the mind on which they shine—
They every ficling. every thought refine—
Above the fogs of sense it shines afar
In worth sublime, a mild resplendent star.
My much lov'd niece! and dost thou not admire
Tho , e stars of beauty ? does thy soul aspire
To follow in their train, tho distant far,
Anil be to earth a bliss diffusing star.
14 , , . 1, I'd
[Written for the Bradford Reporter.]
on st Trrt s and Flowertna Shrubs of Bradford
xv..nd•mn e. spare that tree
Ea tmong the earintis departments
5..,m- few saajerta are inure interesting
'3 , 1:1•••• • :/1:11.1:1. 1 11 ..1 plants. Na
hor :rte o‘rr aq Tier tvorki, has not only
t • of to trlt All ininuent principle by
I. rn di:c.l t.i product. us like; but she h•ts
duparunents of her general kus4.lo.n.
c..st au.,. trhtelt, we should at first sorrel, would tend
termination, go directly to the disseminatiou of
. ! , y the feeds of plant.; that each sporie4 1.071,A,
.vv 10.1; un,l ,Ithough there are seine it+raucr•~ rte
phi it this seems to be produced by citlii•r rnearis—as by
cuttings and laying.; in the willow, vin?, and some or her
e?sr•as; yet for the general distribution and wide-spread
di.e . .rttiation of most members of the vegetable kingdom,
wr Foto.t look to the seed alone
some of the grains, and those vegetable products
nihieh mart uses fur his food or other necessary comforts,
he has in a measure disseminated and protected; 'but
still it is questionable whether this care and assistance to
nature • is equal to the destruction he has caused in those
Windh he considers us.•leas. In mod instances,
tar ,11-per4ion of semi , - is entirely spontaneous add with-
nut 11 , 110.1 n aid. Tae mountain's height, and the ocean'4
birm iiii barrier, and climate and soil 'alone pre-
eta, vs, ry .peens from being the product of iirery rutin-
Illant‘ darer greatly in the number of weal% they pro
der, «bile same seem hardly able to maintain their
taol, sa il•w: a re their seeds and so winch are they cx-
t.i de.trumion, other.: seem to produce them by
mt nat., am! threaten to overrun creation with their own
Front Co. straws of . a single barley seed.
Isom') corn, have been produced at a single growth; a
het I iif.poppv has produced 32000, and a tobacco
pant many tunes that number. Yet these are but units
c..nyarril with many species rthnge seeds are invisible,
um. intrilite to I , e numbered. l'he atmosphere is filled
isah the seeds of the mushrooms without their being
ay.sthle to us, ItOihey await only favorable situations to
e .. rmlnite—live their ephemeral life, shed their seeds and
Sene plints bare their seeds attached to a downy Pail.
whiet they 11. i it along the air and are thereby carried
Otheres are an ennstMetcd all to
throw nut their seed, with a jerk when ripe. Some
reek which are hoarier, have wings attached to them.
L e which they float alma the air to a consi.lerahle
tm.,; and °theta are eloacly sealed up and seem nllO
for a long river ',it, or even an ocean voyage. Othes a,
tws, are :iced with hooks,. by which they attach them
sods, to arty moving thing with wills h they come in
ointart, arid are thus carried far from their parent plant.
Birds, too, though at first thought, they seem flitted only
td prey upon .1..61,6 by devouring their seeds, yet are
an important part in their disseminations. The Dutch
at one time, in order to monopolise the nutmeg trade,
rot down all the tree's in the Spice Islands that they
could not watch. Cut these were in a few yearsi re.
Oenished, by the birds carrying the seed from one island
to another. There are some of the means by which the
wed s of various plants are distributed over different sec
tions of the globe.
But .till there are boundaries beyond which various
P l ant. do not appear—these are fired by climate. Many
Planta may gradually become habituated to higher or
laser temperature than is natural to them ; but there are
bound s am to these changes, which the art of man can
not overcome. Nature here in ton atntng foi him,ws
thrirbabits refuse to yield, and it is only by but house
protectio n that they will thrive at all if carried from a
hot to a cold climate, while if carried front a cold to a
hot are, they droop and die with all his art to save
Ittf Forest trees which are indigenous to our county,
Vehaps no one is so wide-spread as the Pine and others
.r the same genus (Pinus.)
This genus embraces a great number of species, most
of which are evergreens. The must important species in
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
our county is the White Pine (Pintas Slorbus.) The
tall conical trunk of this tree as it stands in our forest,
with its tuft of green leaves at its top, gives it an enliven•
log appearance in winter, and in summer it at proudly
lifts its head to catch "the lightnings and the breeze."—
The leaves of this tree are bound up in little bunches or
fives, on short stems—are slender—four or five inches
long—and thickly crowded on the branches. The seeds
are small black specks, which are found closely folded
up at the foot of each scale of the cone, or pine bud—as
they am sometimes called.
This is one of the tallest trees of the American forest,
it being said often to attain the height of two hundred
feet, and six or seven feet in diameter. The trunk of
the White pine is seldom branched, nor where it grows
in thick forests has it any limbs for two thirds of its
length, and those of its top are short and vaticinate.
The bark of this tree when young. is smooth and
green, and often looks as if polished, but when the tree
becomes old, it splits and becomes ragged, but does not
fall ofi• to scales like that of other pines.
For timber, this is the most important tree in the
forests of our county, and probably in the United States.
More than nine-tenths of all the lumber sawed in this
county, is the white pine, and from it large quantities of
shingles are annually manufactured and sent by our
river to more southern markets. Its defects are, its little
strength—the feeble bold it gives nails, and its liability
to swell in a humid atmosphere. But these are compen
i sated by its being light, soft, and comparatively free from
knots--durable, and little liable to split when exposed to
the sun. The sap-wood of this tree is very thin and
resinous, and the heart-wood only is valuable for lumber.
It is used for all kinds of wood work in house building,
for the frames of Mahogany furniture, for masts, and ■
anety of other purposes.
We have few trees in our forest so well adapted to
ornamental culture as the white pine. When young, in
open situations, its trunk is short and branches thick and
bushy. In winter its deep green contrasts finely with
the naked branches of deciduous trees, and there is ever
a solemn music in the fitful moaning of its branches as
as they are stirred by the breeze. It is easily cultivated,
and were it sot so common in our wilds„would he sought
for as an ornamental tree. But there is a strange pro-
pensity in us to undervalue what ie easily procured, and
we often pass by the truly beautiful without giving it a
passing notice, and give our best exertions to obtain
what would be prized less, were it less rare.
The Pitch Pine (Finns Rigida) is also found plen
tifully in our county. This tree has longer and broader
Irave•s, which. grow in threes—its cones are of a pyramid.
al shape, are longer than those of the white pine, its
bark is thicker, darker and more deeply furrowed,
and much more of the surface of the tree is covered with
branches. which renders the wood extremely knotty.—
The sapwood of this tree is thick and very resinous,
atilt.) compact as to be much heavier than the white
pine. It is from this tree that the pitch and lampblack
of commerce are obtained, and it is superior to all other
kinds of pine as a fuel. For most purposes, however, II
is of less value as a timber than other kinds of pine. ft
grows abundant on light gravelly toils, but in ouch
situations, never attains a large size. It is, however,
sometime found in swamps along with the red ce
dar, to the height of seventy or eighty feet.
The Yellow Pine (P. Mitwt) is a species that some
what resemble the pitch pine in size and shape. Its
leaves, however, grow in pairs, and are hollowed on their
under surface; its cones are oval and armed with long
spines ;—the concentric circles of the wood in a given
space are much more numerous than in the pitch pine;
the sap-wood is thin, and heart-wood is compact and
slightly resinous. Long experience has proved the ex
cellence and durability of this wood, and it is much
sought after for flooring.
There ate a number 4N:other species of this genus in
our county, which the limits of this article do not oillmv
mr tO dcxribc
Towanda, June 12, Iµl6
Fear not, beloved, though clouds may lower,
Whilst rainbow visions melt away,
Faith's holy star has still a power
That may the deepest midnight sway.
Fear not! I take a prophet's tone,
Our lute nen neither wane nor set;
My heart grows strong in trust—Mine Own,
We shall be happy yet!
What! though long anxious years have passed,
Since this true heart was vowed to thine,
There comes, for us, a light at last :
Whavo beam upon our path loth shine.
We who have loved 'midst double and fears,
Yet never with one hour's regret,
There comes a jiiy to gild our tears--
We shall be happy yet!
Ay, by the wandering hinds, that find
A home beyond the mountain wave.
Though many a wave and storm combined
To bow them to an ocean grave— '
By Summer suns that brightly rise
Though erat in mournful tears they ret,
By all Line . S hopeful prophecies,
We shall be happy yet!
THE GOODNESS OF G,OD.—Whatever we en
joy is purely a free gift frrim our Creator ; but
mat we enjoy no more, can never sure he deem
ed an injury, or a just-reason to question his in
finite benevolence. All our happiness is owing
to his goodness ; but that it in no greater. in
owing only to ourselves, that is. to our not hay
ingany inherent right to any happiness, or even
to any Existence at all. This is no more to he
imputed to (cod. than the wants of a beggar to
the peison who has relieved him ; that he hail
something. was owing to his benefactor ; hut
that he had no nrore. only to his own original
(•o Ci.csNst: TILE TEETH AND IMPROVE THE
Bucivrit.—l'u four (tuners of fresh prepared
water add one drachm of Peruvian Bark. and
wash the teeth with this water. in the morning
and evening, before breakfast and after supper.
It will effectually destroy the tarter op the
teeth and remove the offensive smell arising
from those that are decayad.
PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0. & H. P. GOODRICH.
We Mall be Happy Yet.
" RBOARDIXEII OF DENUNCIATION FROX ANT QUARTER."
Extract from the review of a French work in
the American Review, purporting to be a his
tory of the private and public lifts of Marshal
His three distinguishing characteristics were
high chivalric courage, great skill as a general,
and almost unparalleled coolness in the hour of
extreme peril. Added to all this, Nature had
lavished her gifts on the mere physical man.—
His form was tall and finely proportioned—his
tread like that of a king—his face striking and
noble, while his piercing glance few men could
bear. This was Murat od foot. but place him
on horseback, and he was still more imposing.
He never mounted a steed that was not-worthy
of the boldest knight of ancient days, and his in
comparable seat made both horse and rider an
object of universal admiration. The English
invariably condemned the theatrical costume he
always wore, as an evidence of his folly, but we
think it is all in keeping_ with his character.—
He was not a man of deep thought and compact
mind, but he was oiental in his taste and loved
every thing gorgeous and imposing. He usually
wore a rich Polish dress, with the collar orna
mented with gold brocade ; ample pantaloons,
scarlet oi purple, and embroidered with 'gold,
boots of yellow leather, while a straightdiamond
hilted sword, like that worn by the Humans,
completed his dashing exterior. He wore hea
vy black whiskers, long black locks which
streamed over fiery blue eves. On his head he
wore a three cornered chapeau, from which rose
a magnificent white plume that bent under the
prolusion of ostrich feathers, while beside it and
in the same gold band, towered away a splen
did heron plume. Over all this brilliAt cos
tume, he wore in cold weather a pelisse of green
velvet, lined and fringed with the molest sables.
Neither did he forget his horse in his gorgeous
appareling, but had him adorned with the rich
Turkish stirrup and bridle, and almost covered
with azure colored trappings. Had all this fine
ry been piled on a diminntive man, or an indif
ferent rider like Bonaparte, it would have ap
peared ridiculous ; but on the splendid charger,
and still more majestic figure and hearing of Mu
rat, it scented all in place and keeping. The
dazzling exterior always made him a mark for
the enemy's bullets, in battle, and it is a wonder
that so conspicous an object was never shot
down. Perhaps there never was a greater con
trast between two men, than between Murat and
Napoleon. when they rode together along the
lines previous to battle. The square figure,
plain three cornered hat, leather breeches,
brown summit. and careless suit of Napoleon,
were the direct counterpart of the magnificent
display and imposing attitude ofhis chivalric bto
ther-in-la w. To see Murat decked out in his
extravagant costume at a review, might create
a smile, but whoever once saw that gaily capar
isoned steed with its commanding rider, in the
front rank of battle, plunging like a thunderbolt
through the broken ranks ; or watched the Po
gress of that towering white plume, as floating
high over the heads of thousands that struggled
behind it—a constant mark to the cannon halls
that whistled like hailstones around it—never felt
like smiling again at Murat. Especially would
he forget those gilded trappings when he saw
him return from a charge, with his diamond
hiked sword dripping with blond, his gay uni
from riddled with balls and singed and blackened
with powder, while his strong war horse was
streaked with foam and blood, and reeking with
sweat. The white plume was the banner of the
host ho led, and while it continued fluttering
over the field of the slain, hope was never relin
quished. Many a time has Napoleon seen it
glancing like a beam of light to the charge, and
watched its progress like the star of his destiny,
as it struggled for a while in the hottest of the
light, and then smiled in joy as he beheld it burst
through the thick rank of infantry, scattering
them from his path like chair before the wind.
We said, the three great distinguishing traits
of Murat were high chivalric courage. great skill
as a general, and wonderful coolness in the hour
of danger. Napoleon once said, that in battle
he was probably the bravest man in the world.
There was something more than mere success
to him in battle. He invested with a sort of glo
ry in itself—threw ap air of romance about it
all, and fought frequently, we believe, almost in
an imaginary world. The device on his sword,
so like the knights of old—his very costume
copied from those warriors who lived in more
chivalric days. and his heroic manner and bear
ing, as he led his Loops into battle, prove him
to be wholly unlike all other generals of that
time. In his person, at least, he restored the
nays of knighthood. He himself unconsciously
lets out this peculiarity, in speaking of his battle
on Mount Tabor, with the Turks. Ott the top
of this bill. Kleber, with 5000 men, found him
self hemmed in by 30,000 Turks. Fifteen thou
sand cavalry first came thundering down on this
hand of 5000, aranged in the form of a square.
For six hours they maintained that unequal corn
' bat, when Napoleon arrived with succor on a
neighboring hill. As he looked down on Mount
Tabor, lie could see nothing but a countless mul
titude covering the summit of the hill, and sway
ing and teasing amid the smoke that curtained
them in. It was only by , the steady volleys and
simultaneous flashes of musketry, that he could
distinguish where his own bruie soldiers main
tained their ground. The shot of a /Attar,
twelve ponder. which he fired towani tire moun
tain, first anntrunced to his exhausted country.
men that relief was at hand.. Theirranks then.
for the first time, ceased actimg on the defensive.
and extending themselves. charged bayonets.—
It was against. such terrible odds Murat loved
to tight, and in this engagement he outdid him
self. He regarded it the greatest battle he fought.
Once he was nearly alone in the centre of
large body of Turkish cavalry. All around.
nothing was visible but a mass of turbaned heath'
and flashing scimetars, except in the centre,
where was seen a single white plume tossing
like a rent banner over the throng. Fora while
the battle thickened where it stooped and rose,
as Murat's strung war-hinse reared and plunged
amid the sabre strokes that fell like lightning on
every side—and then the multitude surged back,
as a single rider burst through, covered with his
own blond and that of his foes, and his arm red
to the elbow, that grasped Iris dripping sword.
His' steed staggered under him. and seemed
ready to fall, while the blood poured in streams
from its sides. Bet Murat's eye seemed to
burn with fourfold lustre ; and, with a shout
those who surrounded him never forgot to their
latest day, wheeled his exhausted steed on the
foe, and at the head of a body of his own caval
ry, trampled everything down that opposed his
progress. Speaking of this terrible fight, Murat
said that in the !antes' (ail he thought of Christ,
and his transfiguration on the same spot nearly
two thousand years before, and it gave him ten
fold courage and strength. Covered with
wounds, he was promoted in rank, on the spot.
This single fact throws a flood of light on Mu
rat's character, and shows what visions of glory
often rose before him in battle. giving to his
whole movement and aspect, a geatness and dig
nity that could not be assumed.
None could appreciate this chivalrous bearing
of Murat more than the wild Cossacks. In the
memorable Russian campaign. he was called
from his throne at Naples to take command of
the cavalry, and performed prodigies of valor in
that disastrous war. When this steeples and
towers of Moscow at length rose on the sight.
Murat looked on his soiled and battle-worn gar
ments, declared them unbecoming so great an
occasion as the triumphal entrance into the Rus
sian capital, and retired and dressed himself in
his most magnificent costume, and thus appar
elled rode at the head of his squadrons into the
The Cossacks had - never seen a man that
would compare with Murat in the splendor of
his garb, the beauty of his horsemanship. and
more than all, in his incredible daring in battle.
Those wild children of the desert would often
atop, amazed and in silent admiration as they
saw him dash, single-haned, into the thickest of
their ranks, and scatter a score of their most, re
nowned warners from Ins path, as if he weie a
bolt from heaven. His effect upon these chil
dren of nature. and the prodigies he wrought
among them, seem to belong to the age of ro
mance rather than to practical times. They
never saw hint on his magnificent steed, sweep
ing to the charge, his tall white plume stream
ing behind him, without sending up a a shout of
admiration before they closed in conflict.
In approaching Moscow. Murat, with a few
troops. had left Gjatz somewhtt in advance of
the grand army. and finding hiniself constantly
annoyed by the hordes of Cossacks that hover
ed around him, now wheeling away in the dis
tance, and now dashing up to his columns, com
pelling them to .deploy, lost all patience and
obeying one of those chivalric impales that so
often hurled him into the most desperate straits,
put spur to his horse, and galloping all alone
up to the astonished squadrons, halted right in
front of them and cried out ht a tone of command
Clear the way. reptiles." Awed by his man
ner and voice, they immediately dispersed.—
During the armistice while the Russiaos were
evacuating Moscow, these sons of the wilder
ness flocked by thousands around him. As they
saw him reining his high spirited steed towards
them they sent up a shout ofsapplause, and rush•
ed forward to gaze on one they had seen carry
ing such terrors through their ranks. They
called him their .` Hetman"—the highest honor
they could confer on him—and kept up an in
cessant jargon as they examined him and his
richly cAparisoned horse. They wonld now
point to his steed—now to his costume, and
then to his white plume—while they (ably re
coiled before his piercing glance.. Murat was
so much pleased by the homage of those simple
hearted warriors, that he ditiuibuted among them
the money he had, all he could borrow from the
officers about him, and finally his watch, and
then the watches of his friends. He had-made
many presents to them before ; for often, in bat
tle, he would select out the most distinguished
Cossack warrior, and plungin! directly in the
midst of the enemy. engage him single handed,
take him prisoner, and afterwards dismiss him
with a gold chain about his neck or some rich
ornament attached to his person.
FACTS FOR TIIE CORIOUS.—If a tallow can.
dle be' placed in a gun. and shot Pt a door. it
will go through without sustaining any injury;
and if a musket ball be fired into water, it will
not only rebound. but be flattened as if fired
against a solid - substance. A musket ball may
he fired through a pane of glass. making the
hole the size of the ball without cracking the
glass ; if suspended by a thread, it will make
no difference. and the thread will not even
vibrate. Cork, if sunk 200 feet in the ocean,.
will not rise on account of the pressure of the
water. In the arctic regions. when the ther
mometer is below zero, persons ran converse
more than a mile distant, Dr. Jamieson as
lens that he heard every word of a sermon at
the distance of two miles.
A SPITTING YANKEE UAPTAIN.—A captain
recently arrived at Paris. say! a French jotir
nal, repaired to one of our medical celebrities.
After waiting for half an hour in a magnificent
parlor, his turn came, and he was introduced
into the docter's etutly, in no wise inferior to
to the parlor in splendor. Our captain recent•
Iv from the New World, commenced spitting
upon the floor in the American style. The
doctor, amazed, his hands in his pockets. and
eye - fixed, awaited his client's explanation of
•• Monsieur." said the sailor. I am trou
bled with indigestion; what shall I dti to be
rid of it I"
" 'death r' answered the enraged physi
cian. " instead of spitting an my carpet. keep
your saliva to moisten your food.
COXPASSlON.—Cninpassion is an emotion of
which we ought never to be ashamed. Grace
ful, particularly in youth. is the tear of sympa
thy; and the heart that melts at the tale of wit.
%lie should not permit case and indulgence to
contract our siTections, and wrap ins up in Bel
fish enjoyment ; but we should -accustom our
selves to think of the distresses of human Itfe.
of the solitary cottage, the dying parent, and
the weeping orphan..
00111EST1c8.—Chilldren shouldthe required to
treat domestics with propriety. Those whom
the comforts of a family so essentially depend.
are entitled to kindness and sympathy.
Song of the Volunteers.
OW Dan Mace
The Mexicans are on our soil,
In war they wish us to embroil;
They've tried their best and worst to vex us
By murdering our brave men in Texas.
Chorus—We're on our way to Rio Grande.
On our way to Rio Grande,
On our way to Rio Grande,
And with arms they'll foxd us handy
' We are the boys who fear no none,
We'll leave behind us all our joys
To punish those balfsavage scamps,
Who've slain our brethren in their campy.
Chorus—We're on our way to Mammon's,
On our way to Matamoras,
On our way to Mammon',
And we'll drive them all before us.
They've slaughtered Porter, Kain and Crime—
Most deeply we deplore their logo—
Thome bloody deeds we'll make them rue.
.And pay them off for old and new !
We're on our way, to Matamoros.
We'll craw the famous Rio Grande,
Engage the satiate hand to hand,
And punish them for all their sins
By stripping riff their yellow skins.
We're on our way, &e.
Meanwhile our brethren in the west
Will for our nation do their best,
And when they've ended their long journey
Our flag we'll float in California.
We're on oar way,
The world is wide. our views are huge,
We're sailing on in Freedom's barge,
Our God is good and we are brave,
From tyranny the world we'll save.
We're on our way. &r.
We have a mission to fulfil,
And every drop of blood we'll grill,
Unless the tyrants of our race
Come quail before our eagle's face.
We're on our way, dm.
He is thrice armed whose quarrel's just,
And we fight now because we must,
And any force that would us stop,
Down to the earth must swirly drop.
We're on our way, &c.
John Bull may meddle if he please,
But he had better keep at ease,
For we are strong by sea and land—
If he don't mind we'll have old Ireland!
Were on our way, &c.
So every honest volunteer
May now come forth—the coast is dear;
We ask no odd; btit we am bent
On having this whole continent.
We're on our way, &c.
We go for equal rights and laws,
We'll bravely fight in Freedom's cause,
And though the world may take the field,
To tyrants we will never yield.
We're on our way, &c.
The God of War, the mighty Mars, -
Has smiled upon our stripes and stars;
And s p ite of any ugly rumors
We'll vanquish all the Montezumas!
We're on our way to Matamoros!
On our way to Matamoros,
On our way to Matamoros,
And we'll conquer all before us!
I Word to Mechanics.
Should circumstances oblige you to ask for
credit. be careful to whom you apply. as a
creditor who is himself "in the screws." may
seriously injure you.
Never ask credit for small sums in different
places—better owe what you are obliged to at
one place, or as few as possible.
Every man to whom you are indebted five
dollars, will trouble you quite as much as the
one to whom you owe an hundred. There
fore it will be much easier to deal with one
man than with twenty.
Give short credits. and collect promptly.
He dilligent—faithful to your word—te-n
-perate—just governed in all cases by moral
principle—and ' you may defy a portion of com
munity who regard mechanics one or two de
grees below those individuals who have a liv
ing afforded them without labor—but that por
tion is small and weak. No man of sense, no
true gentleman, ever drew this line.
In point of science, moral virtue, and even
practical politeness, the operative mechanics
of the United States are second to no class of
people. The work-shop has produced as
many great men as the College Hell—it has
done as much to develope intellect as hoarded
The individual. therefore. who stands tin in
the face of the world, and judges his fellow
citizens by their ability to subsist without la
bor, must be destitute of one or two very ne
cessary qualifications—Experience and Com
mon Sense. With those on hii side, he would
be enabled to see that intellect makes the man
and the operation of moral cause upon that in.
iellect, the gentleman. Elihu Boffin. by self.
instniction, at the age of thirty, acquired•fifty
different languages, and that, too, whilst he
was laboring over the forge and anvil from six
to twelve hours daily.
Finally, observe two rules—begin and keep
on—will be sufficient to learn or do anything.
PAT ' S RtatitriEss.—Pat called on a lady and
gentleman. in whose employment lie was en.
gaged, fur the purpose of getting some tea and
tobacco. •• I bad a Brame, vet honor, last
night," said he to the gentleman.
What was it, Pat 1"
6. Why. I dreampt that yer honor made me
a present of a ping of tobacco, and her lady
ship there, heaven bless her! gave me some
lay for the nude wife!"
Ah, Pat. but dreams go by contraries, you
Faith. and• they may he that." said Pat
without the least hesitation. - "so it is your
ladyship is to give me the tobacco and his hon
or the tav !"
GEN. TAYLOR. among the spoils fonnil some
very excellent chart. of Mexico—roads,
mnuntains. rivers, defiles. &c.—The very
guide su much wanted.
CAPT. MAY. who took Gen. La Vega, is one
of one of the six sons of Dr. May. of Washing
ton. who all stand six feet font' inches in Thin
The Manufacture of "Yankee Mete."
I know of no article of masufaeture which
so well illustrates the principle of the division
of labor, as the :Manufacture of clocks. & in or
der that you may understand that, I will give
you a little in detail, the manner of Belting up
clocks, as practiced in this city. In the first
place, the case which, as you observe, is
veneered with mahogany. constitutes' an en
tirely separate business by itself. Cases are
made by machinery, propelled by steam.—
The steam is raised mostly by the shavings,
saw dust. and refuse lumber, which would be
useless for any thing but fuel. The pine stuff
is sawed off the right length and wiath by 'steam
saws—it is also planed by the same power.—
The pieces intended far the front of the case,
are sawed long enough, so that one piece is
sufficient for the sides, top and bottom.—
These long pieces are run through a machine
which gives them what is called the 0 G
One machine, with a boy to tend it. forms
enough for fifteen hundred cases a day. .The
thin mahogany veneering, which by the way
is brought of the mahogany dealers, ready
sawed, is then put on with glue, and pressed
down with screw presses till the glue is cold.
It then adheres with as much firmness as
though a part of the same growth. The lone
peices, after being polished. are then ass ed
into four pieces suitable for the side and ends.
and with a level to match each other. The
pieces for the door are sawed in the same way,
and the pieces are then glued and matched to
gether without any more labor in fitting. The
whole case is turned out and delivered, for
The painted glass in the lower part of the
door constitutes an entirely different branCh of
the business, carried on in different premises,
and often in different towns, and is mostly
done by females. and costs from five to eight
cents completed. The upper. or face glass,
costs by the box two cents—making the whole
case with . glass cost on an average, say seventy
eight cents. The malting of the bells or sound
ing wire, is another distinct business, which
is also subdivided into three parts—the draw
ing the wire, the casting the stand, as it is call
ed, upon which the wire is fastened by a screw,
and lastly the tempering and bending the wire.
Each of these branches is an entirely distinct
business, and never done on the same premises,
or in the same town, the steel wire being im
ported from England. The finished bell costs
three and one-half cents. 'fhe making of the
screws is still another business by itself.—
We now come to the dill. This too constitutes
an independent branch of business, and after
getting out the plate of the right size and thick
ness, is painted and figured mostly by females.
The plain dials cost five cents each. The
weights are cast and delivered at ten cents .a
pair, the casting of which is also a business by
itself. We now come to the brass running part.
or movements as it is usually called.- The
brass is made by melting together copper and
zinc, in certain proportions, and casting them
in bars, alter which it is rolled down to proper
thicknesses for the different parts. This is
done by the brass manufacturers, from whom
the clock maker purchases. The back and
front brass frame work of the movement is
struck out in the form you see, by a Machine
which is moved by steam or water power, and
moves with great rapidity. striking out one at
The wheels are !track out in the same way.
The turning the iron shafts on pinions of the
wheels, and the putting together of the parts
when completed, are branches allotted to dif
ferent hands who work constantly on some
particular part, though under the same roof.—
The steel verge which is moved by the teeth
of the crown wheel on the front, of the move
ment, and -to which verge the pendulum -is
attached, constitutes ,a branch of the business
by itself. and is carried on upon other premises.
often miles distant. The making of the poin
ters and of the brass pendulum balls, is each a
distind business. The movements completed.
including the cords, pointers, pendulum, &c.,
are sold to the dealers, who put them in cases
for seventy cents. The cost of putting the
movement into the case and putting the whole
in complete ticking order, is, say three and a
half cents. making th ewhole cost of the clock,
completed, one dollar and seventy cents, , The
docks were formerly sold at twenty-five dol
lars each, and are now usually sold vt about
one dollar and eighty-seven and a half cents,
not boxed, or two dollars boxed, six in 'a box.
It might be argued. that an great improvements
in machinery. and the reduction in the prices
of clocks, would reduce the price of labor to
very low standard. and throw many workmen
out of employ. Such is not the fact. The
reduction in price has increased the sale a,
hundred fold, and eonsenently given employ.
ment to a still greater number of workmen
without reducing their wages. They are now
exported to Norway4weeden. Russia. Eng
land. France, Calcutta. China, the Sandwich
Islands, Canada. and, in fact, to every part of
the earth where there is civilization enough to
tell the time of tlay by a clock. In giving you
this statement. I have left nut of the account
the making of the paint. varnish, &e.. which
constitute still further subdivisions of labor.
I am unable to give you the number of firms
engaged in the clock business in this city, or
the amount of capital employed. Among the
foremost are Sperry & Shaw.Conrtland street,
in this city—two live Yankees, who a few
years since took it into their heads that a tar
nal sight" of clocks might he sold m John
Bull. They freighted a ship and set sail. he
speculation proved profitable. 'and resulted In
a large export trade to England.
Hail two, men come from the moon, the won
der and curiosity excited could not have been
oreatet. Indeed, they were considered luna
tics. and their clocks ditto. Their cargo of
clocks, however, were soon set ticking, end
their well filled pockets obviated all necessity
fur a resort to tick its order to get home again.
I remain your humble and
SAMUEL SUCK, Cot/maker.