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WEDNESDAY , NOVEMBER 11, 1846
[From the; Knickerbocker for February.]
The Antiquity of Freedom.
s WILLILX. CrI.LEN lIRTANT
N
Nee re old trees, tall oaks and gnarled pines
'lst scream with gray-green mosses; here the ground
sever trenched by spade, and flowers spring up
Irsorn and lie ungathered. It is sweet
To linger here, among the flitting birds
And leaping squirrels, wandering brooks, and winds
That shake the leaves, and scatter as they pass
\ fragrance from the cedar thickly set
With pale blue berries. In these peaceful shades—
`,acrtui, unpruned. immeasurable old—
Thoughts go up the long dim path of years,
Bek to the earliest days of liberty.
Ate FrL6EI IO,I ! thou art not, an poets dream,.
.1 fair young girl. with light and delicate limbs,
And wavy tresses gushing from the cap -
With *hit* the Roman Master crowned his slave,
When be took off the gyres: A bearded man,
Anani to the teeth, art thou; one mailed hand 2 .
13:asts the broad shield, and one the sword; thy brew,
too- intaanty though it be. if scarred
u n h 'stens of old wars ; thy massive limbs
Are won; with struggling. Power at thee has launched
His +.l!Lai and with his lightings smitten thee :
- r,. e y could not quench the life thou • hut from heaven.
tlereile , s Power has dungeons deep,
Aid his swan armorers, by a thousand fires,
Hare forged thy chain ; yet while he deems thee bound,
The links arc shivered, and the prison walls
outward: terribly thou springest forth,
%. gm:lgs the dame above a burning pile, .
Ana shoutest to the nations, who return
Thy shoutings, while the pale oppressor flies.
Thy birth-right was not given by human hands :
Thou wen twin-hom with man. In pleasant fields,
hile yet our rare waslew, thou saist with him,
kr.d the quit dad: and watch the stars,
ka•l..each the reed to utter simple airs.
7trer his ride amid the tangled wood
oar upon the panther and the wolf,
"Lae.. only foes; and thou with hint didat draw
‘r ?antes: furrows on the mountein side,
a,th tie Deluge. Tyranny himself,
'Metre:av, although of reverend hiok. ww.
ii.nry- with many years, and far obeyed,
Iccr horn than thou; and as he meets
Ta , c•Aae defiance of thine elder eye,
u> .;per trembles m his 'dasincsse_is.
sr.la't wax strarr.ger ssith the lapse of years,
t. the shia: lade i•to a iteblerage :
Fe4+!er, yei subtle; he shall weave his snares,
Ar.l:prn:tirm on thy cs:rle. steps," and clap
F. • ooh, rd hands, and from their ambush call
ilst7i, : rer. to tall upon thee. He shall send
rra.l.ers, f wms of fair and gallant mien,
C 22. 14 and uttering gneeful words
,carm thy !At • while his sly imps, by stealth,
rocrAl thee threads of steel, light thread on thread,
7.,aterow to fetters; or bind down thy arms
coneealed in chaplet's. Ohl not yet
thou unbrace thy corslet, or lay by
rd; nor yet, 0 Freedom! closvthy lids
throe enemy never sleeps.
• ' ta , u must watch and combat till the day
Lew earth and heaven. But woultr.t thou rent
:ualu:t and from trelehrry •
•t• - t. cw • old and fnendly solitudes invite
vi , e. They, white yet the 'forest trees
Ware young upon the unciolated earth, .
A‘: rent mass-scams on the rocs were new,
clonous childhood. and rejoiced. I •
3;Scß~~~titt4~tS.
Th: Tyrant's last flour.
IMMIEI3I3
Nero 19 beaintong to reap the bit•
a U. Ills palace is a lonesome
- ; ti:s hare turned against Ellin
; • ~n e are now waiting to do-'him homage.
vi ;lit a mind unaccustomed to serious thought
low sees that the management of his affairs
the utmost wisdom. Seneca once ex
., riled him from an embarraising and danger
." bat Seneca was long since mur
"td• Yet he was resolved to make a desper
, < efort to contrive the means of sawing him
- Su'itle and dastard as the Roman Sen..
Sate been. Nero has. at length' been told
z.]: ;hey are acamst hint. A grand thought
•-z$ entered ills mind—he will gather the whole
ne and all the men of rank in Rome. - and
e 4tid beasts of the amphitheatre loose
them- The populace still love him, and
sni:i then be safe. Haring called his coon
together, he has informed them of this
it.nritlle device. While they are clis
•liti,ott this plan, loud shouts are. heard from
penle. They are rejoicing at the arrival
'hip. freighted, as many supposed. with
° r Nero is aware of their mistake. yet he
etids in tins evidence of their affection and
believes himself the vlarling.of the people.
Tesards midnight execrations are heard. The
s -ip, it whose arrival they rejoiced, has been
to be tilled with fine sand brought from
t. , reeee to be spread upon the arena for the
to fight upon.. Nero hears the popu
late, eats e his name , and leaves his thorny pd
'Jr walks thr - ou.h the vacant rooms which
"eve oace crowded a nd joyous. As the dim
`Lep throw s its shadow against the well, he
ririders, The ghosts of his murdered family
fore him. The mild and uncomplain
elnavia again beseeches him to spare her.
n•-aleas, who, during his life uttered no re
now warns him that his end , is near
vt_l::?eine. vile and unjust to all others. was
t.,1 4 "7 1 13 1 to him alone. the son' who planned in
11 4011. he: munier. She rises and points
; 15 the dagger entering her heart. while
•L`q: "lf awn hut come to murder me ,
c~41.1 n ot new cp y son, for he is not a pato
: aer ghost - has haunted Nero in his
TRE . .. - :: --- BRADFORD::.. - :REP,...IRTER
happiest hours, now it warns him that death is
at hand:
It is almost morning and the Emperor walks
in the gray dawn, for his palace is too horrible
an abode. It is a solemn hour, the very air
sere peopled-with the spirits of the dead.—
His superb bargens, decked with the spoils of
Rome. looks at this dim hour like a vast forest.
Caicades are falling into marble basins, spuri
ous as lakes, but the water seems itself awe
struck,- and drops with fear into the reservoir
below. Thtrees . too breathe a warning as
the breeze maven them, and say : "Nero_ fly,
while yet thou moral."
He returns, and a the door meets a sentinel
who would ace have issed the earth he step.
ped on. He draws nes he rhan,humblybeg
ging Win to hasten to Ostia nd prepsre a ship
to bear him far away to Egyp The sentinel
looks on him, and as he thinks oNero's thou
sands of victories, asks him " 181 then, SO
hard a thing to die r His faithless ounsel
lors. whOonee ministered to his vices,to --hum
he confided his plan of letting loose the t'
beast,•have betraed him to the Senate, wh.
are, at this early - hour, consulting how to Serve
themselves by the destruction of their remorse
less enemy. While they consult, a man, once
high in Nero's favour, visits hint, and hypo
critically pretends that he is still his friend.—
He seems to sympathize with the fallen tyrant,
and bemourns his fate, but tells him all is lost
—he must fly. But whither can he go. The
earth, on which he treads, cries out for ven
geance for the blood he has made her drink:—
Again in agony and fear he roams the palace,
and as the ghosts of murdered friends stalk
past him, he exclaims ; My wife, my moth
er, and my brother doom me dead." Again
he begs the sentinels on duty to assist him
fight, but they drop the lip in scorn and point
to the grave. He has driven thousands of
Rome's best citizens to suicide—let him gain
relief from that, now his hour is come." Thus
they whisper to each other, but they lay no
hands upon him ; for they know that life, with
its horrors, is -a punishment far more severe
than any that man could Millet. In despair he
cries, I have no friends and cannot find an
enemy :" rushes to the innermost apartment
of tis. palace and throws himself upon the gol
den bed, on Which, in former times, sycophants
have fanned his sleep. Ile soon receives a
visa front one he knows not, who tells him,
and with truth, that all is lost. Even Nero is
an object of compassion. He has shown nu
mercy, hut man cannot withstand its influence.
Guilty as he is, his punishment is so awful that
the heart relents. He has no fortitude with
which to bear his day of trial. Calamity has
come to one who has no strength to" meet it.—
lle ones from room to room, loudly bemourn
ing his wretched lot. Theme are three of all
tits crowd of worshippers and servants who
now feel for him. Nymplinhos, the base-born
slave raised by the tyrant fool to share "his
counsels and his throne, is far too busy now to
look upon his master ; he is plotting -his tiene
laetor's ruin. A poor secretary. named Epa
phroditus, who never shared his favour. hut
was suffered to remain within the palace be
cause lie was too mean for Nero's notice, has
come furvraid with an offer of his services.—
Phaon, a freed-man, ton, feelehis heart inched
by the sorrows of the Roman-Emperor. lie
never had a gift from Nero ; those millions or
treasures were lavished on men whose tongues
w •re smro h. who knew the art of flattery.—
The freedman has laid up his earnings, and
with the money bought a country-seat. On it
he has lavished all, his care, to make it a com
fortable house for his old ag e. It is a mean
abode to the eves' of all butPhann. lie loy• s
the place. and as he toiled oh its poor sandy
garden, has blessed the God of heaven for hav
ing so la.ishlv bestowed the riches of the world
upon him—for he has long since listened to the
chained apostle, and learned to worship anoth
er God than Jupiter. To this spot he has now
• invited Nero. He 'may there hid himself un
til a ship can be prepared ; or he may there
find leisure to consult upon some other means
of safety. In simple kindness the freedman
makes his offer. He does not recall to Nero*.
memory that but three days before he begged
the emperor to spare the aged Paul, and with a
holy boldness told him that the Christian's
Gud would fearfully avenge the death of his
own faithful servant. No, these things are
pait—the bloody deed is done, and the power
ful was has come forth to punish it. But ven
geance is His. Man has no right. all-sinful
as he is, to point his finger at his,erring guilty
brother.
The emperor went forth in all his wretched
ness ; he had no plan, no purpose but to !ewe
the place in which he had endured the misery
of the damned. He had no shoes upon his
feet, no covering on his head, nor thought he
of securing treasure for his journey. An old
cloak, which had long hung in the hall through
which they passed, Epaphroditus seized and
threw around him. A slave brought hint a
horse. and seated the emperor upon it, for fear
had benumbed his fact:dues. • ,
Thus they hastened forward. Phaon going
before and Epaphroditus and the slave follow
ing him. It was a distance of some miles and
when they came in sight of the cottage. Nero
was advised to lie down beneath a sand bank
until a passage could be scooped.for him under
the garden walls, lest he should be overtaken
by parsurers. foi a man had already accosted
him with the inquiry, •• Where has the em
peter fled ?" Through* hole he crept upon
his hands and knees. , and worn nut with un
wonted exertion, he begged a drink. Scirne
muddy water in a gourd was all that could be
procured for him. who had, until then, been
served from vessels'of gold and silver.. In a
voice of woe he asked. '• Is this the drind. of
Nero !" Phaon led him to a ehamber. and he
sunk exhausted upon a 'peen bed. `A. tattered
coverlet was thrown over him. for he shivered
with cold and fear. Soini he called his three
connesPors, the freedman; the secretary, and
the slave. to ask what should be done. Epa
phroditus told him that his day was over; that
he must die by his own hand. and let his last
end be worthy of the Cmrars. The unhappy
man, his powers of thought ruined by lung
MI
PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0
" REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANI QUARTER."
. .
habits of trifling, incapable of appreciating the
solemn Keelities, which were pressing around—
remembering the thousands of crowns which
bad so lately been awarded him, and the adu
lation which been no freely showered
.up
on that most valued of his accomplishments,
his attainments in vocal music—replied mourn
fully, •• What a voice the world will lose it
Nero The sound of trampling hoofs
now interrupted their consultation. A. , horse
man was galloping along the road. He came
directly to the house, for he had traced
,every
step which they had taken. lie entered th e
chamber, seated himself by the side of the fal
len tyrant, and listened to the words, which he
spoke. They told him that his cause has been
avenged..
.He informed the emperor that a
horseman was on his way bearing the decree
.of the Senate.; that lie had been condemned to
die, according to ancient usage—a tyrant's
death.
" What is ancient usage 1" asked Nero.—
" What is a.tyrant's death ?"
" According to ancient usage," replied the
stranger, " the tyrant is fastened, with his
`lead down, between two posts and scourged
death,
1:1 \
to t__ _
T wretched man shuddered, and called
\
fur a da, -er. The stranger offered him his
own. He nuked at its edge, shuddered again.
and hesitate . •‘ Bring wood for my funeral
pile." said he. • ant! get marble for a dacent
covering for my g ve." Then starting up,he
exclaimed, " here—tou lingerest in shame
and ignominy." ~- Tr ," said the stringer t
.• the senate messanger is n his way !" The
emperor trembled with agon •, and asked one
of his friends to kill ~ himself, to how him how
to die. Head fur'days kept in .possession I
a phial of the most swift poison, b he -had
not the power to swallow it. Loud minds
were now beard, and a company of so iers
were seen coming towards the house. .. ' e '
messenger of.the senate is upon thee !" salt '
the stranger. Nero seized the dagger and gave '
himself a slight wound. The stranger took it
from him, and plunged it into his heart. .. Die
by my hand, miscreant I" said Polk', in al
loud voice. He had returned from banish-'
ment, determined, at all hazards,to take Neio's
life, and thus avenge Servilia. The inessen- '
ger from the senate found him on the floor. '
weltering in his bland. Ile seized him—Ne
ro was not yet dead, and even looking for de
liverance,•believed they had come to serve him.
He gazed upon the men. and exclaiming. Is
this your fidelity." the next moment expired.
A. funeral pile had been reared by the slave and
secretary. - The faithful freeman placed his bo
dy upon it, and, in a few. hours. ii was hurried
to ashes. These were placed in an urn, and
born by the enfranchised slice, Acte, the ob
ject of Nero's first love, to the tomb of Domini
clan fanolv.
•• Thus.'• saith the historian. •• perished Ne
ro. the last and worst of the Catsaus."
The Last Bell
AN OLD STORY RErIVED
It was a beautiful morning in the month of
may 1825, I: was sitting by the side of Helen
Harris, the only girl that ► ever loved. and I
b •lirve the poly girl that ever loved me—any
how. she was the only one that ever told me
so. We were sitting in the piazza of her fa
ther's house. about a quarter id a mile from
the•landing place. waiting for the bell of the
sfrainlioat to warn me of the moment that was
t . part "my love and me." It came to pass
is the course of toy history. that in order to
accumulate a little of the world's gear that I
might be better prepared to enconnter the de
mands of matrimony. I was destined to cross
:the blue Chesapeake. arid seek in the metropo
litan city the wherewithal so much desired.—
How many swains have been compelled, like
me at home and the girl they loved. in search
of gold ! and. goon gracious how many have
been disappointed r But to the piazza.
Well, we were sitting in the piazza talking
of love and separation. etc. We were wasting
fir the unwelcome sound of the steamboat bell,
and you may rely upon it. we talked fast• and
abbreviated our words into such ragged sen
tences that nobody but ourselves could under
stand them. The first bell rang. and I sprang
to my feet.and trembled like an aspen. ••011.
George. wait till the last bell rings." said
Helen. as the big tears came over her blue eyes.
•• Do no such thing." answered the hoarse
voice of Mr. Harris. as he arose like a spectre
from the cellar.
.where he had been packing
away his cider. •• George, never wait for the
last bell." I.was offlike a deer, and I arrived
at the steamboat merely in time to go no hoard
before she was pushed off from the whatf.
My career in search of pelt, has in a degree
been successful : but I believe had not the old
farmer told me never wait for the last he 1."
that I now should have been as poor as 1 was
the •uaornino that .farewell shivered from my
lips upon the heart of my lovely Helen. Any
person who has lived at a hotel even for aday.
knows the danger of waiting for the last bell—
!. did it once, and lost my dinner. The first
stroke of the !boner bell always foetid me at
tlie table. Fot six months I was clerk, and
my waiting for -l i the last bell secured for me the
affections of my employer, who offered me a
partnership, wide!) I accepted. and in ever in
stance when the bell rung. I was ready.
I was almost forgetting to tell you that He
len Harris is me wife, and she will never re
pent the morning I took her father at his word.
and ran over the field to get to the ho Ain time.
When 1 arrived at Baltimore. I called upon
some.gentlemen to whom I hail iotroductory
letters, and they recommended me for a situa
tion; one was offered which had been refused
by four yourig men who were waiting for the
last 641, and which I accepted—it was the
making of me. Haste for the first bell. accept
the first offer. and keep it till yon geta better.
Life is short and he who puts off until the last
bell, will, as father Harris predicts." come out
at the little end of the horn."
Young ladies. I hare a word for you. In
the street where I live there is a lady. who has
been seven years in choosing a partner life.—
She has had ieveral 'respectable offers. but she
has been waiting- for the •• last bell.!' and she
is now likely to remain to the last a belle, for
she is turned of thirty. and it is More than pro•
bable that she mast bole single blessedness for
ever: I beseech - all of you who may read this
sketch, whenever you may feel a disposition
to pospone anything which should be done
now, remember the words . of Farmer Harris,
"Never wait for the last bell."
how to Manage Neighbors
I once had a neighbor, who, though a clever
man. came to me one day.andsaid said, •• Esq.
White. I want you to come and get your geese
away."
• Why," said I. " what are my geese do
ing !"
• They pick my pigs' ears when they are
eating, and drive them away, and I will nt t
have it." •
What can I do r . said
" You must yoke them."
" That I have no time to do now," said I
" I do not see but that they must run."'
• If you do not take care of them. I shall."
said the clever shoemaker in anger, ••What do
yon say, Esquire White ?"
.* I cannot tale care of them now, but I will
pay you for all damages."
• Well." said tie, you will find that a hard
thing. I vilest)."
So off he went. and I heard a terrible equal
ling.among the geese. • The nest news from
geese was that-three of them were missing,. My
children went and found them terribly mangled
and dead and thrown into the bushes.
Now." said I. • all keep still and let me
puni,h him:: In a few days, the shoemaker's
hogs broke into my corn. I saw the.. there.
but let them remain al long time. At last I
drove them all out• and picked up the corn
which they had trod down, and fed them with
it in the road. By this time the shoemaker
ame in great haste after them.
N. Have you seen any thing of my hogs ?"
. i
, .
said e.
•• Ye.
- .. \
ing some
field."
I
•• In your ti* 4 . !"
•• Yes. sir." es'a , i
know—they were n it.
•• How much motel) t
“ 0. not much." said
Well ante went to look.
t.\\
damage to be equal to a bush .
corn.
•• 0, no," said I. •• it can't be."
••IYes," said the shoemaker; •• a .
pay von every cent 01 riamage."
•• Yo," replied I. •• you shall pay me e.
My geese have been a peat trouble t
I
fount
great, th ~
i grasp the s' e.
place whereik e.
ed, but the Yan -..
jtipip ;he had to I.
i\
, a descent three time .
, had come , a sudden c '.,
with a violent force.' out ....
lb \
`Yankee iticluded, into the h
' •• Murder! get me out ! sto 1
shouted.our hero, as he felt hi it
down the hopper to the cylinder. •
stop the consarn—l'll be killed ! Bu
live power of •• the consult" was water, 1,
, had no sympathy with those who purs,
knowledge under difficulties, and those whik
saw were too distant and too much convulsed I
with laughter to yield assistance. Into the
screen he slid, landing on the top, and as he
felt himself revolving with the coal. he grasp
ed the wires in desperition, to prevent bums. If
from being rolled to the bottom—around the
! wheel he went, and our friend's sens.iliiiiv
were touched up by' 3 plentiful shower of tine
- coal dust riddled through from all the chambers.
He managed to get one eve open, and saw
with delight that the cylin d er was only about
fifteen feet in length. and be he forced his *iv
forward to the opening with desperation. Int 1
it.was not altogether successful; another re-
volution of the wheel had yet to be borne. and I
the next time he reached the bottom he was i
shot out of the scupper into the boat beneath.
To the screams of lieghter with which his.
advent was hailed, our hero said not a wort',,
but. getting out an old handkerchief, rubbed
the dust out of his eyes and surveying his torn
apparel and bruised, battered. scratched and
cut limbs. he •• raised his vein." to know as
what quality of anthracite ha had been de
livered—when. smashing his remnant of a 13 .t
over his eyes. he stomped off. muttering •• bro. I
ken and screened. by thunder."
sir. you will fnd them yonder. eat
lurn which they tore'down in my
I; t• linos love corn you
ide to eat it "
have they done ?"
thine.
you."
The shoemaker blushed and went home.—
The next winter, when we came to settle, the
shoemaker determined to pay me for me corn.
" No." said I. " I shall take nothing."
After sommalk t e parted ; but in a day or
two I met him on the road, and fell into con
versation in the most friendly manner. But
when I started on he seemed loth to move...and
Ppaused. For a moment both of us were si
lent. At last he said, " I have sontething la
borinsz on my mind."
.• %Veil what is it ?"
Those gee.e. I killed thre4 or four of
your geese, and shalt never rest till you know
how I feel. lam sorry." And tears came in
to his eves.
"Oh. well." said I, " never mind ; I sup
pose my geese were provoking.
I never took anything of him for it; hut
whenever my cattle broke into his field, after
this, he seemed glad. because he could show
how patient he could be.
" Now." said the narrator. " conquer your
self, and yon can conquer in kindness where
you can conquer in no other way." '
Tut: MOON Nov Ixttaurreti.—HtlMan curi
osity has often raised the question. Is the moon
inhabited ! Do intelligent beings, such as we,
dwell there, and look out from their lunar
homes on surrounding worlds and admire the
Creator's works ? But hitherto no voice has
responded to the question. and till lately no
telescopic-eye.has been fir-reaching enough to
penetrate the moonlit regions, and discover the
habitations of beings either sinful or holy. But
it would seem that Lord Rosse's monster tel
escope has the power to descry its condition
and solitudes. Dr. Scoresby.in a late astrono
mical lecture says :
With respect to the moon, ever y object on
is surface of the height of one h undred feet
was distinctly to be seen : and, no doubt. that
under very favorable circumstances it would
be so with objects sixty feet in height. On its
surface were craters of extinct volcanoes. rocks.
and masses of stones almost innumerable. He
hail no doubt whatever that if such a building
as he was then is were upon the surface of the
moon, it would be rendered distinctly visible
by these instruments. But there were no sign's
of habitations such as ours—no vestiges of ar
chitectural remains to show that the moon is
or ever was inhabited by a race of mortals
sient
lar to ourselves. It presented no appearance
which could lead to the supposition that it con
tained anything like the green fields and lovely
verdure of this beautiful world of ours.--There
was no water visible—not a sea. or a, river, or
even the measure 'of a reservoir for supplying
town or factory ; all seemed desolate. Hence
wniild arise the reflection in the mind of the
Christain philosopher—why had this devasta-.
'inn been ? It might he further inquired--
%% as it a lost world .? Had it suffered fur its
transgression ? Analogy . might. suggest the
question—Had it met the fate which Scrip
ture told as was reserved for our world 1 It
was obvious that all this was mysterious con
jecture.
KEEP Torn %•:n't you lake my
word eir. when I tell rou I will call and liqui
date your demand on Saturday momin nest r'
said a delinquent debtor to a ;funning creditor:
with whom he had had sharp words.
" No. sir." replied the other, "I had rather.
you would keep your word." •
El
k 11. P. GOODRICH.
In order to load the coal boats on the Lehigh
canal, a short but steep inclined plane of about ;
l si), feet in length, is made at the chute which .
Tuns cram a station house on, the stile olthe
mountain, to a large circular revolving screen.
To the loaded car is att,,ched a rope which
drawii ep an empty car. and, arrived at the
screen the lower end of the car is suddenly un
bolted, and the coal is, shot with great velocity
into a hopper; this conveys it directly into the
screen, which has three large chambers,through
which coal of as many sizes is riddled nut, and
shot by scuppers, into just as many boats, wait
ing for descriptions of the article.
A few months stnce,.a Yankee of the genuine
breed, quite inquitutivi, but more verdant titan
a Yankee should be,- gained the station house,
and gaz d with wonder at the contrivances.—
Ile peculiarly admired the swiftness with
which the loaded car descended and emptied
its load and the velocity with which it returned
to give place to another.
Shortly his-attention was attracted by seeing
a laborer mount one of the full cars about to
make the descent.
• Going to slide?" inquired he.
•• Yes. going to chute; won't you go ?'•
• oval, I guess I'll stop -a bit, and see you
du ii."
The car swiftly descended, and, ere h reach
ed the hopper, the passenger jumped off
safely.
•t Do you do that often ?" inquired he °lone
of thelahorers in the l tatinn house.
, Oh, yes, continually." was the waggish
answer, •• you know most all the boatmen are
single men, and as they often have orders for
lama!' coal•" we always eend down a aim
riell man with every car of that kind to let
'eat know.".
•• Wal now, du tell," uttered the eastern
man.
The more the Yankee looked at the appa
ratus, the more did he become convinced that
it would be a great thing to go down the
steep in that way—something that lie could tell
" to hum."
Plucking upcourage, he cpproached the su
perintendent.
That heats sledden doiwn hill, don't it !"
• " I 'spose it does."
" You could n't let a feller down hill, could
you !"
44 Why, do you think you can jump, off in
time ?"
Oh. yes, l'm reckoned considerable of a
juniper—jun:on does me good; I once jump
ed off a hay mow thirty feet high, and it made
me so style that l'in give in to be the beit dan
cer in the hull township."
Well, get on. and take care of yourself."
ititienly the car moved off. and our friend
`the speed so fearful, and the declivity so
* he was forced to stoop down and
les of his vehicle for support. The
he laborer had leapt off was reach
' • 4 t. , e was not in the position to
-old on, and. running down
is steep as that•whicb he
- ‘ 1: shot the bolt, and,
\went the contents.
iper.
the consarn
t(self eliding
Murder !
the mo
hick
and estimated the
and a half of
ECM
FARMERI-JEFFERSON'S Those
who labor in the earth, are the chosen people
of God. If ever he had a chosen people. whose
breasts he has made his peculiar deposites, for
substantial and genuine virtue.
It is the focus which keeps alive tga;sarred
fire which might otherwise escape from the
surface of the earth.
Corruption of murals in the mass of cultira
tors. is a phenomenon of which no nation fur
nishes an example. It is the mark set on those
who not looking' op to Heaven, not it.. their
own toil and industry, depend on the caprices
and casualties of customers.
Dependence begets subservience. and getter- i
ally suffocates the germ of virtue and prepares t
fit tools for the designs of ambition. Thus the!
natural progress and consequence of the arts.
has sometimes perhaps b-en retarded by acci
dental circumstances, but generally sprxkine
the purportion which the aggregate,of other
citizen; bear in the state, to that of the hos-
benifinan. is the proportion of its unsound to
its healthy - parts, and is enough barometer
whereby to measure its degree of corruption."
LEARNING IS the temperance- of youth. the
'comfort of old age, and the only sure guide to
honor and preferment.
Down—something kneaded. There are '..
many besides bakers, that knead the dough. i
MIKE=
FI
A Yankee in a Coal Nemo
RV JOE SIILLER. JR
a
11l
. .
.
in 'spinning cotton, Haines informs us that
one man ran produce as. much yarn as two bun
(keit and fitty could haye done, under the old.
systems.: - This machine spun yarn. says Ure.
plesesses a more uttiforut twist: and is in e 7
ry respect 'superior to hand spun yarn. As. i
Spinning . so In wearing. Our water wheel or
ebgine will set one 'lumen:id Innins to work.—
On of these boons will make as nmekeluth as
fib! looms worked by Imitd. One female so- '.
perintendslnotris merely to supply hill bobbins.
and mends thread that happens to break in the
process of WeavinF.
Nails. says Dr. Ure. are - mannfartiired with
little or no aid from the human hand. The
making of nails is no longer a handicraft opera
tion-bot belongs to a 'dictionary of Arts.
Not long;ago bread stuffs were ground in a
hand mill. Two men might he able with great '
Libor to grind a bushel of corn iq a day. Now
one water mill turns out one thousand bushels
in Nerdy-lour-hours. -
In boil-binding. lire informs us that a ma
chine has been recently invented by an English
man named Hancock,, which entirely dispenses
with the operation of shelling. sewing. sawing and hammering the back,or the use of'paste — ur
glue.
Calico printing was formerly a long and tedi
otis handicraft operation. jlt is now performed
by cylindrical- machine revolving with the rapi
dity of light.
In manufacturing steam-boilers, much of the
labor is now performed by machinery. Thus
we see the iron monster has the facility of re
produei ng
The employment which our lakes and rivers
promised to afford to a numerous population'
will be almost wholly suspended by the steam
engines afloat.
in i the craft of boot and shoe-making. ma
chinery is beginning to show itself. and we
may not estimate the progress it will make in
this department, even in mar day. Certainly
skill in this handicraft will afford a very inse
cure dependence for our children. -
• Machinery. says Dr. Ore, is *fatly to ac
complish everything in the nratufactore of
bats; but he adds that it is kept down for the
present by what he calls a lawless combina
tion of journeymen. This is in Britain. and
the Dtwtor predicts that this combination
will 50011 be broken dna n by the genius of ma
ct:inerv.
. In rope making, the machinery has taken
almost entire possession. The recent im
provements enable four or five hands to do the
work of ten times that number of regular hands.
Such is the distress and desperation that the;
change has crested among" the %corking, men
that several machine houses have recently been
destroyed in the neighborhood of London,
by incendiary fires. They were, however,
immediately rebuilt, and are now in fall opera
tion.
Even the hakers•are not safe—a powerful
treading machine is coming into use in En
gland.
Two-thirds of our carpenter work is per
formed by machinery. To this also it is com
ing with our ship builders. "1 he letter press
pn.•ter belongs almost to a past order of things: -
inachint ry is even trying its hand at type-sit
ting. In riming leather they use a machine
whichinakes one into two. Heavy cloth gar
ments of an eleoant style are now made in-En
gland by Vie batting process. itictely dispens
ing with the thott'de and shears. Steam
coach{ s now navigate the streets of London. to
the grca: dismay of the cabmen : our very
scavengers are jostled out of thei way by the
same power: and while the Yankee Paddy
moves the bills n !diall the ease of a Titan. the
same power is hard at work in anothe...cinarier.
cut.ing out the precise machinery of Yankee
clocks.
liked; we find that science has alreaely en
tered the field of agrteulliire. Alreatly ale
steam-plmighs in profitable employment in the
British islands where manual labor C3ll be teal
for almost nothing. Already is a machine at
work, on our southern plantations. that can. i-n
cultivating sugar, perform the 'work of forty.
negruest. Already do we observe that several
patstits hare been taken out at Washington-for
tnachines to be used in the cutting down and
githerntg in of field crops.
PreserTe that Thaoght•
It may hav2, come into' your mind. while
reading. meditating, or conversirg Or while
riding alone the road. or threading your , way.
tl gli aer iw'deJ street. No matter. It is
a good thoughti write it down. It flashes and
sparkles in your mind as the forerunner of a
host of others. Seize it ; fasten it upon paper
at once ; - it - may fly away as an angel towarit
Heaven. and carry the whole train alone with
it. One good tProeght secured. may he as a
fountain of sweet water in a desert ; refreshine
even' thought that comes to its martin: and
sending.streams, of pure and healthful hullo
rote. through eeery ramification of thought and
_ •
thought may never come again. Its
coruscations: that thrill - e - Pwhile they enlighten
ed you. may perish from your meMory.—
Presently you may wish to recall tt in vain.—
it will have pasosl away. and: left no clue by
which to trace it. 'reli;Ml. Good thoughts ar-i
like flowers—heatitifid. hot -perishing. - Yet
the fragranie of flowers may' he preserved.—
.So Incay good thoughts. that come like angel:
upon a dying Christian's vision. he chained
and cherished in fie mind. ant they are on
ly secure on piper. Make a portfolio of your
hat, keep sit ever-pointed pencil about you.
and keep it . pointed by . nse ; and seize the
thoug'it when it comes and preserve it. One
thought saved a day will make three hundred
and sixty-fire a rear.' Thus' yon may grow
rich in good Annette. as men 'crow rirh in
gold—by savin g . Write &um that thought.
ADVICE --Go to stranzers for charity: to se
quaintanees for advice. and to relatives -for
nothing, - --3nd you trill alsveys have a sup-
;.
_. i
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XT:423.1 - Z.2.3. - ' 4,9 J
Illathineq.