ILITZEIE 42130
U6W.LIM.k.e
WEDNESDAY, JULY 22, 1846
i Victory
The joy -belle Real a merry tune
Along the evening air;
The cracking boo-fires tarn the sky
All crimson with their glare ;
Hold music fills the startled streets
With mirth•inepiring sound;
The gaping cannon's reddening breath
Wakes thunder-shouts around;
And thousand joyful voices cry,
Huzza! Hums! a Victory!"
A little girl stood at the door,
And with her kitten play'd ;
Less wild and forlicsome than she,
That rosy prattling maid.
Sudden her cheeks turn ghostly white;
Her eye with , fear is filled,
And rushing in-of-doors, she screams—
" My brother Willie's kill'd !"
And thousand joyful voices cry,
*Huzza! Huzza! a Victory'!"
A mother sat in thoughtful ease,
A knitting by the fire,
Plying the needle's thrifty task'
With hands that never tire.
She tore her few gray hairs and ahrield,
"My joys on earth are done!
Oh! who will lay me in my gravel
. Oh God' my son! my son !"
And thousand joyous voices cry,
"Huzza! Huzza! a Victory !"
A youthful wife, the threshold cross'd
With matron's treasure bless'd ;
A smiling infant lay nestling lay
In slumber lather breast.
She spoke njp word, she heaved no sigh,
The widow:s tale to tell ;
But like a corpse all white and stiff,
Upon the earth-floor fell.
A thousand joyous voices cry,
Hotta ! Hum ! a Victory!"
An old weak man, with head of snow,
And years threeszore and ten,
Looked in upon his cabin home,
And anguish seized him then.
He spoke no word to wife or babe;
Matron or little maid,
One scalding tear, one choking sob—
He knelt him down, and prsy'd.
And thousand joyful voices cry,
" Huzza! Huzza! a Victory !"
[From a British Magazine.]
Memoir of the Hutchinson ,Tamil-,
I=
'At the moment when ill-wind and discord
'seined about to be fomented between the Old
anal few World, four young Americans have
route before us like heralds of peace and good
ielloo ship. They have been cordially wel
comed in England. as all advocates of human
advancement ought ever to be ; and it is not
saying too much when we assert that they
have done their part towards strengthening in
the public mind a spirit of forbearance and
peace. The Hutchinson Family are exactly
h it A mericans—thechildren of a young. bold
republic—ought to be ; full of fresh, original
character; free from conventionalities, whether
of society or opinion; vigorous in intellect,
ardent in spirit; and combining, with all the
, implicity and tenderness of the child, the wis
dom and expansive views of the man. Their
singing is a perfect illustration of their own na
ture and character, deriving its great power and
rs greatest charm from the absence of all art.
It owes nothing to trick or artifice of any kind ;
every word is 'distinctly enunciated, and the
tine natural expression is given to every senti
ment; and the listener feels, that while the
most exquisite and pure taste and skill are em
ployed, that which really charms him most, is
4 revelation of the singer's own lofty and un
spoiled nature, and that it is great and effective,
because it is the expression of truth.
The character of their music is peculiar and
originhl, not exactly resembling either the part
ially' of the Germans or our English glees,
'which are much more artistically constructed.
There is a charming nationality about it, and
a spirit of psalmody which is -easily explained
Whe n the peculiarities of their life `and training.
are understood. Many of the pieces they sing
art not songs, ip the ordinary serise of the
words, but poems of a high order; as, for in
stance. Longfellow's Excelsior, Hood's Bridge
rf Sighs, the Pauper's Funeral. Tehnyson s
Slay Queen, &c. Their voices, which are
saprano, rounter-tenor, tenor and bass, are ex
tremely fine and well trained, and besides the
effect of long practice in singing together. have
that beautiful affinity which belongs to family
voices, and_which render the whole so exqui
sitely harmonious.
These interesting young people belong pe
culiarly to the present age, and their songs bear
upon the questions agitated at this time, whe
ther in the old or new world—peace, temper
ance, the abolition of slavery. the cause of the
poor and the oppressed—which are all advo. ,
rated by eloquent strains of music, appealing
To the inmost heart. Some people think that
in this working -day world of ours, music has
littl e to do with topics so grave as these, and
that itsprincipal business is to enliven our
urine, and dispel our cares. and for such as
" ' s 'e the Hutchinsons have an infinite variety
) 1 mimic and national songs, full of fun and
ha:110T, and as fresh as life in the Far-West.
Hudson, John, Asa, and Abby, are the four
yomagest of the twelve now living, out of six
en children of the Hutchinson family. Their
maternal grandfather. by name Leavett, lived
la t. Vernon, in New Hampshire,
and was
builder by trade. He built many houses in
B oston, but he most prided himself upon be
ing bailder of many churches and meeting
lousea ill divert town and villages in the
't2te.
d 3 a stout republican,-xealous'in
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the cause of his native land. and one of the
firmest.supporters of her liberty against the
aggressions of the mother-country. In charac
ter he was deeply religious., and being posses
sed of great natural musical talerit, was: ez
ti•emely fond of psalmody and church-music.
His two youngest daughters, Sarah and Mary,
inherited from him this gift in a still more re
markable manner. and their singing in churches
and meeting houses waseelebrated far and wide.
Nothing could be more simple and primitive
than the life they lead
,; they spun and wove
their own and the family clothes ; practiced
their songs over the wheel and the loom, and
on Sundays or meeting-days sung in the church
or the meeting-house.
Mary, when she was singing one day in
village choir, stole the heart of a young man
from Amherst, in the same State. This was
Jesse Hutchinson, the son of a farmer, a very
religious man, and a deacon of the Presbyterian
church. This youth, also, like her, had been
from his boy -hood. remarkable for his musical
talent. He had a brother, also, gifted like
himself, and they, too, were celebrated through
the whole country for their musical powers.—
But, though their was a rigid Presbyterian, and
a deacon of the church, his sons were famed
for their fun and merriment, which they brought
every where with them. They went with
their violins from village to village, and wher
ever they went they were welcome not only
.because of the gay and merry songs which
they sung, but because their violins were a
summons to a general dance, which always
lasted till day-break. From some cause or
other, however, a great change came over his
nond ; he considered this life of gaiety to be
sinful, and regarding his violin as an incentive
to it, cut the offending merry hit of wood "
in two, and made it up into tobacco boxes, and
from that time permitted himself only to prac
tice sacred music. It was soon after this
change and about four and forty years ago,
when in his best homespun suit, and his hair
tied in a queue behind, with a block ribbon,
and a broad beaver on his head, he presented
himself . to the beautiful young singer in the
character of a lover. She was then sixteen ;
too young to be married, she said, and was
hard to persuade ; her father, who thought very
highly of the young man, who had borne a
most excellent character, and who was come
of so excellent stock. pleaded for hint ; but she
would not consent, and leaving him in the par
lor. site went to bed. He sat up alone all night
in the room, and the next morning when she
went in, there site found him : but she was
still resolute, and he set off to Salem, thinking
that time and absence might operate in his fa
vor; and he was right. On his return, she
was g ad to see him, and though still young,
contented to be married. These were the pa
rents of the Hutchinson Family. the •• good
old-fashioned singers," as the family song says.
"• who still can make the air resound "
On his son's marriage, old Deacon Hutchin
son gave up his house and farm to the young
couple. and retired to a small house near them ;
and Sarah, whose voice and character were
like those of an angel, went with her sister to
her new home. A word or two must be per
mitted here on this most heavenly-minded
young woman, who, being one that the gods
loved, died young; and that principally be
cause, though her life Was so short, her spirit
seemed always to be present in the family, ex
ercising, as it were, a purifying and ennobling
influence on all.
Jesse Hutchinson and hid young wife were
the first Baptists in 311llord, and were the in
troducers of their peculiar religious opinions in
the neighborhood : they frequently opened a
large barn as a:meeting-house, and endured no
little persecution. In those days carriages
were not used, excepting by the wealthy ; and
these excellent people, who had fourteen miles
to go to their meeting-house, rode on horse
back, in the old-fashioned way of saddle and
pillion: she often with a young child on her
lap. The country round their home was hilly
and woody, and of a peaceful, pleasant charac
ter; and their hfe.within doors was singularly
happy and united. It was a home of affection,
comfort and prosperity ; and here fourteen
children (thirteen of whom were sons,) were
born. Sorrow, however, will enter, even in
the most blessed of, earthly homes, The an
gelic mit.ded Sarah died, and so did the eldest
child, when only six years old. The child,
like all the rest of the family, had it wonderful
fine voice, and was remarkably beautiful. He
was always up first in the morning. and was
hi/1-d throngh the house singing like.a lark.—
His death was very . affecting. His father and
uncle were.at the satv-mill at some distance,
where he was sent each day with their dinners.
While they sat and ate, the little fellow amused
himself by playing among the sawn boards
which were reared up to dry : one day a "sud
den wind rose and blew down the boards upon
him, which caused his death.
Years went on ; the elder children grew up
to man's estate, and the pace was too straight
fur them ; the parent and younger children,
therefore, removed to one the valleys below,
on the bank of the Souhegan river, to a place
called Burnham Farm ; and thenceforth, the
former family residence took the pleasant name
of Old Home Farm. At this new home the
two younger children, Asa and Abby were
born. •
The father of the Hutchinsons has all his
life been in principle a non-resistant, and has
cared out his opinions so far into practice as
never never to sue a man for debt. He is an
abolitionist, and a decided liberal in politics.;
and has. as might be expected, suffered greatly
for the maintenance of his opinions. He is
described by those who know him, as a man
of noble and independent character, full of
kindness, and remarkable for hospitality, even
in a country where hospitality is not so rare a
virtue as with us. But the guests-that he most
warmly welcomes are the poor and friendless;
these he entertains bountifully, arid then speeds
on their way. From their mother, who like
wise is a person of much boldness and decision
of character, combined ,with great tenderness
and affection, they learned einginglas children :
she had tine taste, as well as natural power:
PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0. it H. P. "GOODRICH.
FROM 411.71( .. QUARTEI."
and afterwards' the younger branches of the
family were,trained by two of the elder bro
thers. who devoted part of. their time to this
purpose. . .
It was with great reluctance that their father.
notwithstanding hie own musical talent, would
consent to his children singing in public ; ac
cordingly, some years ago. barnacle a deed of
gift to his sons of the Old Home Farm, on con
dition that they should all stay at home, culti
vate it. and devote themselves to a quiet coun
try life. Recollecting his own youth, and
with all the old Presbyterian horror of fiddling
and profane music, he would not consent to
money being spent on such vanities. The
first violin in the family was Judson's ; that
very one on which he now accompanies him
self so charmingly, io that sweetest and saddest
of all pathetic songs, " The Emigrant's La
ment," or which supplies such comic meaning
to many a comic song, as "Down Ent,"
Calomel." Ace. To purchase this violin,
Judson worked hard on the Old Home Farm,
cultivating garden vegetables on his own ac
count, until he had sufficient for his purpose.
After this, of course, another difficulty occur
red, and this was to reconcile the father to it.
Before the violin was purchased, they some
times, when at work in the corn fields, sup
plied the want by a simple rustic instrument
formed from the corn -stalk, called In their
country the . corn-stalk fiddle; and Asa, who
was al was fond of the violoncello, used to keep
time in the village choir on Sundays by rub
bing his forehead against the back of the old
wooden pew, by which he could produce some
what ;he effect of that instrument. It may not
be amiss to mention here that their vocal prac
tice was mostly in the fields— , o the happiest
place on earth." as one of them has said, " to
sing in," excepting when in an evening they
returned from the fields, and all joined in one
chorus—father, mother. sisters, and brothers
—in singing• some gond old-fashioned tunes,
which they had heard from infancy, which are
ever new, and never to be forgotten." But to
return to the violin, which Judson worked for
so hard.
He practiced on his violin secretly, and in
the meantime John also possessed himself of
one. Whether the one emboldened the other
or not we cannot say. but it so happened that
one day the two brothers played " Wasning
ton's March" within their father's hearing,
thougn at that time unknown to them. To
their great astonishment, but to their infinite
relief. he made no objections to the violins,
which now came forth into open day-light, and
his consent was soon after ottained to their de.
voting themselves to their art. They now or
ganised their little community into bands ; four
of whom were always to remain at home to
work on the farm, whilst the others were out
on Their musical tours. They commenced
singing in public in I'B4l. At this very time,
besides the four in England, another quartett—
Joshua, Caleb, Zephaniah aud Rhoda, are
traveling in America. It has been beautifully
and appropriately said of this interesting fami
ly, that they have one quartett in heaven, one
in the Old World', and one in the New. and .
one remaining to work on the Old Home Farm.
The necessity. hoWever, that there seemed to
be for a fifth brother to accompany the quar
tett to England, to take the management of the
business department, has left, at this moment,
but three on the farm ; and in speaking of those
in England, we must not omit to mention this
fifth brother, Jesse, of whom the public know
nothing. He is considered by the quartett
themselves_as superior to them in talent, and
is also the author of several songs which they
have made familiar to the public ; for instance,
" Get °Witte Track," "The Slave's Appeal."
•' The Old Granute State." &c. Like all the
rest of the family, he has his own individual
calling at home, and is by trade a printer. The
whole family are extremely attached to this
brother, and it has been beautifully said by
some of them, when speaking of him—." When
Jesse comes into the house, it is as if he brought
fresh breezes from the hills with him." This
is delightful also, and gives a charming idea of
the fainily•spirit; As soon as he was seen,
while yet but a printer's apprentice, coming
towards his home on a Saturday night, by the
little footpath that crosses the hills, all would
set up a shout of joy,—even the very dog bark
ed for joy of his coming ; or when his voice
was heard, singing as he came near, the sound
thrilled to every heart !" 'flier° is, it is said,
an extraordinary enthusiasm about him which
carries all hearts along with him ; and at Tem
perance and Anti-Slavery meetings in his ne
ttle country, his eloquence and force of charac
ter are irresistible.
Our readers are acquainted with the beauti
ful and pious custom uf the Thanksgiving day,
which originating from the Puritans, in cele
bration of the arrival of the Pilgrim Fathers in
a land of liberty and,peace, is now become as
much a social as a national festival. The
American farmer holds his Thanksgiving day
•at the close of the harvest, when he has enrich
ed himself with the bounty of the year, and
Iris heart naturally overliows with gratitude to
the Giver of all'good. HAppy• families cele
brate it, perhaps on some especial day of do
mestic blessing, when all their members meet
to rejoice together. In the Hutchinson Fami
ly this festival is held in December, on the
birth day 'of the old grandfather, Leavett, now
turned ninety, when four generations assem
bled round him, to the number, on the last oc
casion, of forty-four persona: The last general
meeting of the family was, however, - one of
deep sorrow, and removing one beloved bro
ther from earth, completed the qnartett in hea
ven.
The lour younger members of the family re
turned home from a sour of five hundred miles,
to celebrate the annual day of rejoicing. and
found their brother . Benjamin, a young. man
nobly gifted like themselves slightly unwell.
Serious symptoms succeeded, and the greatest
alarm spread through the family ; it was typhus
fever, and from the first he foretold his death.
Before many days the sister's husband sicken
ed of the same complaint, and terror and dis
may tell on the whole house. One day Ben
jamin heard the dinner•bell ring, and said, "Let
ma nse and make myself ready, for that bell is
for:. the Thanksgiving dinner. Are they all
come I" " When you are better." replied one
of his brothers, we will have our Thanksgiv
ing dinner.; we will all assemble then together,
and be very joyful !"
The usual day of Thanksgiving came, and
the two young men lay on the bed of death.—
The whole family were assembled, and Benja.
min called them one by one to his bedside, and
shaking hands with them, and blissing them,
took his leave of thim all.
Such are the circumstances under which
have been formed the characters of the Hutch
inson Family. Once knowing these, we are
no longer surprised at finding the like persons
who pursue a profession which is apt to west
away the marks of original nature and simpli
city, and to leave instead traces of art and con
ventionalism. But in them the qualities Which
grew op on the Old Home Farm," in the,
Gld Granite State," are too firmly and here
ditarily grounded to be obliterated by any after
circumstances. They have the durability of
the granite with the cordial spirit of home.—
You feel at once, coming in contact with them,
that they are true spirits. There is a freshness,
a reality, a domestic truth about them that come
upon you like the freedom of the forest, the.
greenness of the field, the elastic breath of the
country. In the midst of the throng of the city,
and while administering to the pleasures of the
fashionable, the , spirit of the old, religious, af
fectionate home, never departs from them.. r
They make a conscience into their hearers the
sentiments which animate themselves—those of
noble independence, manly simplicity, the kind
est sympathieg. with suffering humanity, and ar
dor for liberty, peace and progress. Let Ameri
ca send us over such specimens of her chillren,
and she will fulfill all our hopes and our earliest
conceptions of her. They are wortt•y of the
country of Washington, Franklin and Claiming.
When once seen the heart warms to them, be
cause they are simply incarnations of the spirit
of love and luxury of elevated sentiments, and
these are the qualities which; without any sea
soning or striving, will draw the two countries
into that bond of brotherhood which, however
manners and institutions may differ, will make
them always one great nation.
THE DYING CHILD.—And no one feels the
death of a child as a mother feels it. Even the
father cannot realize it thus. There is a vacan
cy in his home, and a heaviness in his heart:—
There is a chain of association that at set times
comes round with its 'broken link ; there ate
memories of endearmt nt, a keen sense of loss, a
weeping over crushed hopes, and a -pain of
wounded affection. But the mother feels that
one has been taken aG a v who was still closer to
her heart. Her's nay been the office ofecnstant
ministration. Every glaciation of features was
developed before her eyes. She has detected
every new gleam of intelligence. -She heard the
first utterance of every new word. She has
been the refuge of his fears ; the supply of his
wants. And every task of affection has woven
a nesv.link, and made dear to her its subject.—
And when he dies, a portion of her own life, a's
it were; dies. -How can sbe give hint up with
all these memories, these' associations ? The
-timid hands that have so often taken her's in
trust & Itive,how can she fold them on his breast,
and give them up to the cold clasp of death ?
The feet whose wanderings she has watched so
narrowly. how can she see them straightened to
go down into the dark valley ! The head that
she has pressed to her lips and her bosom, that
she has watched in burning sickness and in
peaceful slumber, a hair of which she could not.
see harmed. U ! how can she consign it to the
chamber of the grave ? The form that not for
one night has been beyond her vision nr her
knowledge, how can she put it away for the
long night of the sepulchre, to see it here no
more ! Man has cares and toils that draw away
his thoughts and employ them ; she sits in lone
liness, and all these memories, all thesesuggest
ions, crowd upon her. How can see bear all
this ? She could not, were it not that her faith
is as her affection ; and if the one is more deep
and tender than in man, the other is more sim
ple and spontaneous, and takes confidently hold
to the hand of God.—Rev. E. H. Chapin.
The Cholera.
By accounts, froni the European papers it
seems that the dreadful scourge, the Cholera,
is again on its devastating march over the Ras
tern Continent, and report says it has made its
appearance in Canada. It first appeared recent
ly in some of the provinces of Persia, carrying
death into the principal towns. It has spread
from Bokhara to Herat end Wallin, and has
now taken the-direction from the Caspain Sea
to Teheran and Ispahan. Late accounts from
Odessa state that it had crossed the Russian
territory, and appeared suddenly at Tiflis,
taking a northerly direction between the Cas
pian and the Black Seas. On the other aide
the cholera broke out unexpectedly at Oren
bourg, in the mines of the Ural mountains;
it crossed the Volga. and set its foot in Europe.
at Casan. only 2.000 kilometers from St.
Petersburge. It ,has advanced from west to
north, and does seem, to have followed the
banks of the river, as in 1828 and 1833. The
cholera which devastated France in 1831 and
'32. had been raging in Persia for seven years.
1823 to 1830. It first, appeared in 1823 at
Orenbourg, and shed death around that lown
for Eve years. It re-appeard at Orenbourg in
1820, and one-tenth of the population fell a
victim. It broke out at St. Petersburg in July,
1831, and in France in October of the same
year. It afterwards extended i's ravages to
the Western Continent. Its first appearance
here baffled the skill of medical men, but a
better acquaintance with formidable pestilence
enabled them tn strip it of its terroraand arrest
its progress. It first attacked the hard drinker.
Those whose constitutional stamina hail been
broken down by self, abuse and dissipation fell
almost invariably victims. while thorns, who
preserved a temperate ano sober life.- who
avoided excess of every kind, and kept their
minds in a tranquil condition, escaped
heideoets of a Voyage ! —The Dead Whale.
In the summer of 1830, I was in command of
• the whaling . ship Cremona. of New Bedford.
and while cruising on the coast of Peru, in the
latitude of three degrees South, I fell in with two
whaling ships belonging to the same port. Be
ing old acquaintances, we were happy to see
eachfother—compared notes, talked of old times,
and whales being in eight around us. although
rather shy, we agreed to keep company through
the following night, hoping for good luck on the
morrow.
At" arly dawn, the mastheads were manned.
God the horizon carefully scanned in every direc
tion ; and the survey increased in interest and
care as the hour ofounnee drew nigh. But great
was our disappointment. when we were at last
compelled to acknowledge that there were no
whales in sight.
The wind was light and we packed on all
sail, steering to .the northward, in company. with
•the ships which we fell in with the day berme
—the Onon being about five miles distant,
broad off on our weather bow, and the Lupin
about three miles off. Being in the alsiorth-east
trade winds, and standing along the Northward,
we all, of course, had our atarboard tacks on
board.
On board the Cremona, we had our mast
heads double manned ; and at the main-top-gal
lam-mast-head, was stationed, Weboquish, a
smart ; active, Gay !lead Indian, n ho was a faith
ful sentinel on such occasions, with a restless
eye andla keenness of vision seldom surpass
ed by any of his race. All hands were on deck,
and expectation was exhibited in the grave de
meanor, and semi-smiling countenances of the ,
crew.
It was ahont nine o'clock in the forenoon, that
Weboquish, the Indian, who had been looking
steadily in one direction for some minutes, called
out that he saw some object afloat, away wind
ward ! It was bobbing up and down, and.look
ed something like a boat—but he could not tell
what' it was.
This excited the curiosity of every man on
board. and as is usual in such cases, all made a
spring into the rigging, with a view to run aloft
and get a squint at the mysterious object, report
ed by Weboquish. But I ordered them to re-.
main on deck, and sent up my first mate—a
man of good judgment and sharp eyes—with a
spy-glass, to thelfore-top-mast-head. He soon
gut sight of the object, and immediately report
ed that it was a large dead sperm aceti whale.
This was an event, the announcement of which
created quite a sensation on-board the Cremona
—and the question asked of each other. was,
whether we could secure it for ourselves. In
order to do this, it was necessary not only to
see it first, but to get fast to it first ! From the
favorable position of the Orion, being to wind
ward, it was clear that the whale would inevita
bly fall a prize to her, if it . should be seen by the
look-out before it could be reached by our boats.
It was a matter which required a little manage
ment.
I directed my mate, Mr. Hopkins, to come
down to leeward, and keep the mast between
him anti the Orion, that he might not be seen
frvm that ship, which might , excite stiaßicions
that something was in the wind. And in the
same manner, I Went myself aloft to take a look
at' the object to windward—an object of much
interest to us, as it was probably of great value.
The other ships'quietly kept on their course.
The Lupin beihg to leeward, could not possible
see the whale ; and on board the Orion, the look
out aloft seemed to be taking anap,for no indica
tions were given that the whale was seen from
that ship. This gave us hopes that we might
secure the prize, and all was animated on board
the Cremona. The mate's boat, being the fast
est, was got in readiness, and a good coat of tal
low was applied to her oottotn—a set of the best
oars was selected—and all due preparations made
for a race.
For nearly an hour we kept our course, oc
casionally going a little to windward, but not in
a manner to excite observation. By this time
the dead whale was abaft the weather beam.—
And now without heaving to, or altering the
ship's course, the boat was lowered to leeward.
Mr. Hopkins and his stalwart crew, stepped in
to it, seized their oars—the word was given—
and hurrah, whiz ! away they darted towards
the whale, with the swiftness of an atruw.
We watched the boat with much interest, and
no little anxiety. For even now, if the prize
should be discovered from the Orion, that ship
would be filled away, and running d9wn before
the wind would be able to reach it before Mr.
Hopkins could get fast to it with his harpoon.
And this reflection seemed to add vigor to the
arms of the boat's crew for they pulled away
heartily -- with a right good will—and forced
the boat merrily through the water. But their
fears were groundless. For nearly half an
hour they pulled with a degree of strength and
skill seldom equalled, and were close on board
the whale, and still neither the whale nor the
boatwas seen by the sleepy look-out im
_board •
the Orion !
Under these circumstances, I consider that
maiiceuvering was no longer necessary, and
gave the orders to tack ship, which enabled us
to steer almost directly for the whale ! This
opened the eyes of the Orions, for our yards
were hardly trimmed, before that ship squared
her yards, and'catne running down direOtly ac
ross our track: And in a few minutes this Lu
pin hauled•her wind and came creeping up to
windward.,
Hut it was of noose. The Orion was just in
time to see Mr. Hopkins strike his harpoon into
the whale, and take possession of he prize in
the name of the good ship Cremona. of New
Bedford! And it Was not lung before we had
the whale along side, and forth with commenc
ed:. cutting in" upon this noble specimen of
the class Mammalia, which proved to be all
eighty barrel whale and was. worth to us $2.
400.
It may be inquired how it happens that dead
whalei are found afloat. Doubtlesu in the ma
jority of sneh cases, as in the present instance,
the whale having been harpooned and depnved
of,life. has stink:and remains below thesurface.
until its specific gravity has diminished. by the
generation of gasses within lbF animal tissue*,
to such a degree that it this from .the indefinite
depths below.
Multitudes of the right wAale sink immedi
ately after capture, an entire losti ; tiornetiniev,
through more seldom, is this true also of the
sperm whelk. The reason of this evident dif
ference in specific gravity of individuals of the
species is not ascertained with perfect accuracy.
Old age, or any other cause,diminishing the am
/aunt of a dipose matter would, of course. con
tribute to increase the specific gravity of the ani
mal. It would seem that a very few whales
which have once sunk, ever make their appear
ance again upon the surface, as a dead whale is
very rarely met with.
But to return from this digression. By the
time we had made fast to our prize. the Orion
was within speaking- distance. Evidently cha
grined at the success of our manmuvre, shelav
ished no compliments upon our enterprize, and
soon resumed her former course. In about an
hour or so, the Lnpin came up to enquire the
news. but soon made sail after the Orion ; and
before night both were out of sight to leeward.
and our oil was mostly boiled out, and cooling.
to stow away below.
MILTON AND Eu.wooD.—Thomas Ellwood
was an intelligent and learned Quaker. who was
honored by the intimate friendship of Milton.—
He used to read to Milton various authors in the
learned languages and thus contribute as Well to
his own improvement, as to solace the dark
hours of the poet when he had lost his right by
an affection of the optic nerves called a gntlas
elella.
•• The curious ear of John Milton," said Ell
wood in his own life, " could discover by the
tont of my voice. 1 did not clearly understand
what I read ; arid on such occasions he would
stop to examine me, and open the difficult pas
sages."
Milton lent Ellwood the manuscript of Para
dise Lost to read. When he returned it, Mil
ton asked him how he liked it. " I liked it
much," said the judicious Quaker ; thou halt
written well and said much of Paradise Lost—
but what Last thou to say of Paradise. Found ?"
Milton made no answer, butsat musing for some
time. When business afterwards drew Ellwood
to London he called on Milton, who showed
him the poem of Paradise Regained and l in a
pleasing tone said tn'his friend, •• This is owing
to you ; for you put it into my head by question
you asked me St Charifont which before I had
not thought of."
CUTTING AND 'KEEPING Gitarrs.—Many
experienced orchardists suppose the ben time
for cutting grafts to be immediately on the fall
of the leaf in autumn. That time, however,
is long past, and such as have not already se
cured such scions of fine fruit as they may
wish should do it immediately.
Grafts should be cut in mild weather, when
the wood is entirely free from frost. Select
the outside limbs and the last year's growth of
wood. '!'hose who take grafts this year should
be especially careful in examining the condi
tion of the wood ; for the late warm weath
er, has damaged the fruit trees, at least in this
region very much.
Too much care cannot be observed in keeping
the varieties separate. Tie up in bundles and
mark the names of each kidd as soon as cut.—
A moment's carefulness may save years of
vexation.—lndiana Amer.
Comm Dows.—" One of the b'hoye," on
the day of the late celebration of the glorious
Fourth, descanting upon the final settlement of
the Gregor question. seriously took the treaty
a■ a concession on the part of Great Britain
unparalleled in her history. " How do you
make that out.?" said his companion, with a
Bowery shake of the head. " Make it out !
May I never kill for Keysen, sing Hail Co
!amble. or give three hundred and irizty-five
cheers for the star-spangled banner, if yon 'stint
a thick-headed customer. Didn't we offer the
bloody British as far up as 54 40. didn't they
come dorms to 49 ? They didn't do nothing
else." iSe left—N. Y. Globe.
Foot..—The wool trade of the West is in.
creasing rapidly, and the amount brought for
sale to St. Louis. Mo., is much enlarged every
year.—The Era says:—The wool growers
frequently mistake their true interest by neg.
lecting to wash their wool before they' bring it
to market. If they would wash and Clean
their wool well before they sentl it to market
it would be much more saleable, and would
command several cents more in the pound.—
The wool grower should always make his
wool clean before he attempts to sell it. The
Western prairies are capable of sustaining an.
unlimited number of sheep.
WESTPHALIA PLAN OF SMOKING 11•N5......
A room in the garret; fire in the cellar: smoke
gathered in a tunnel and led to the smoke
rooms by a small pipe; by the time it gets
there all the heaviest part of the pyroligneous
acid has condensed, and the smoke has become
cool. Nothing touches the hams but a pure
light, cool smoke, which is allowed to pass
off by a number of small apertures, about as
fast as it is supplied.
ORCIIARDS.—As ellnll as your apples are
gathered. prepare the following mixture, and
give your trees a painting:
'rake in proportion of two gallons of soft
snap. one pouind of sulphur. and one pound of
Seale) snuff; mix. apply to the body end roots
olArees shove !mind. This will not onfir
destroy the eggs of insects. hut prevent injury
from mice and rabbits. —.lmerican Farmer.
RATHER Yorso.—At the Church of St gar.
tin e ktiakapas, Louiliana, on the nU. Sin*
riaze was solemnized between a youth of 01,
and maiden of 101 years old. They had been
betrothed forsixty-five years !
Gone FARM NO.—To teed land before it is
hungry—tn give it rest before it is weary, ard
to weed it before it becomes fool, art, raid to
be evidences of rod fat•Ttn;.
~~rt, !, k !'~ t+' .