C
VOLMEIii Zo
TOWANDA
tton t sbap morning, %ngiust 8, 1841
(For the Bradford Rerorter.)
fragments from a Paltfalio.—Na,
YOUTH.
• Ab, happy day s'
Who would not wish again to be a boy —Ett-aosr
As the loveliest time in the course of the year is
when gentle spring is verging into-balmy summer,
so the happiest period in life is when qilhood and
manhood are blended together in joyous youth.—
The mind, then, rising above the frivolousness of
infancy, begins to think for itself, and act from the
impulse of its own reason ; and the heart, yet re
taming much of the purity and innocence of chili
hood, feels expanding within itself those energies
and capacites`which belong to maturer years; but
is as yet, unacquainted with cares that ine% itably
await them, The dawning of the intellect, and
those manly virtues which are to give a hue to to.
lure life, sheds a cheering influence around like the
first light of morning; and the artless expression
which yet lends its fascination to the cou,ntenance,
is like - the star that lingers in the western heavens
after the breaking of day.
How swiftly the bright hours fly away at this joy
ous period of life! MI nature seems to wear a look
of gladness, chiming with the happy feelings of the
heart; and pleasures are ever presenting themselves
to view.
But this season is not lasting. Ripening man
hood brings with it anxieties which serve to
_trepress
the flow of gladness, and to break the sweet spell
which youths bright dreams have woven. But when
the summer time of life has passed, and the autumn
of age comes nn, with what gratification Jo we
look back upon those felicities of our early years.—
This is one of the few pleasures of which the dark
est hours of misfortune and soriow cannot deprive
us, and which the tide of time only serves to bright
en. When wearied with the world's-never ceasing
tumult, and sickened with its anxieties and troub
les. the thoughts to seek relief, turn and banquet,
unsated, upon the pleasures of youth, and the rec
ollections of by-gone years. In fancy, we again
press the hand and lips of companions long since
a their quiet graves. Again we listen to the sweet
tones of a sister, or the tender words of a once-luv.
ed.mother.
Is there any one who has not at some time, in
sunlight, or in sleep, returned to scenes of youthful
jo,s; and who does not love to indulge in those
dear recollections—though they may start the em=
passioned tear? There can be no one. The ann
oy spots which have been passed through often
claim a retrospective glance ;—and happy are those .
whose youthful hours were da.kened by no hang
ing cloud :''to such, the retrospect will make each
cord in their bosom—however nearly unstrung by
v.
sorrow—vibrate most tenderly. Who, then, could
wantonly check a happy smile, or glad, bursting
laugh, as it comes fresh from the, fount of youthful
feeling ? One that could must indeed be an enemy
to nature.
I wish that the scathing influences of the world
might leave to me some of the confiding hopes of
youth, and its ignorance how virtue_ and vice, joy
and sorrow are ever linked together in the chain
that binds mortals to earth. 7 would that, like
youth, I might ever believe bright thingn what they
seem ; for I had rather live in a dream of beauty,
joy and affection, than awake to truth and sadness.
No wonder that so many long and weary searches
have been made for the tabled fountain - of youth ll .
one could be always young and joyous,:this earth
would be paradise enough, and mortals would not
sigh so otten for some more happy state.
Herrick, July 25 1849. Ross zo.
- .
A YANKEE BARGAIN.-Okl Squire Hopkins WB6
the perfect picture of meekness, and his stuttering
seemed the effect of bashfulness rather than inher-
Stant ibysical defeat. One day a neighbor came to
bay a yoke 'of oxen of him. The pace was nam
ed and the animals made a very satisfactory Appear-
ance. •
".Are they breachy?" asked the buyer.
"N•n-n-never tr-tr-t-trouble me," - was•the reply.
The other paid the price and took the yoke, in a
day or two he came bock in a towering passion.
•` Confound these critters, Squire—there ain't no
fence will keep 'em. They'd break through a stun
wall, or jump over the moon. What the dickens
made you tell me they wasn't breachy ?"
'• 1.1 dia'nt say n-n-no such thing."
"Yes you did. You said they never troubled
3•0u..'
"Oh, tc-well neighbor," said the Squire, "1
d-d-don't let s-such th-ings as-as that ere trouble
me."
The buyer eloped
EARLY-SOWN Ave may be fed with sheep orcal
res during the month of 'November, with Great ben
fiet to the stock, and, if the growth
is large with de
etded ,benefit to the crop, as a large quantity of
herbage, lying on the ground in the winter, renders
the crop liable to be " smothered," as it is called,
especially if it is covered long with snow. No in
jury results from feeding rye with sheep or light
rattle, any time in winter, except when the ground
in so soft. that tt would be "poached, and the roots
of the rye be - broken; and there is no food better
fa such animals. We have often seen a young
calf or lamb so improved by grating on rye, late
at the tall and early in winter, that they not only
held their own when returned with the rest, but
took the lead in thrill and growth. Rye is frequent.
iy for the propose of being fed by stock in tie
southern part of Ohio and in Kentucky. It is also
the best crop for early soiling. Ti s. .and
1312 Y be cut several times before ankle is far
enough advanced for the pu
NEE NORT.—Memory would play a very traitor's
➢an, if she should' treasure up the ills we meet
w nh upon one day of life ; to cloud all others with
a dark• remembrance:
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.
Yon may see some of the beet society in New
York on the top of the Distributing Reservoir any ,
of these fine November morning*. There were
two or three carriages in waiting, and half a dozen
senatorial-looking mothers with young children, pa
cing the parapet, as we basked there the other day
in the sunshine—now watching the pickerel that
glided along the lucid edges of the black pool with-
in, and now looking off upon the scene of rich and
wonderous variety that spreads alone the two rivers
on either side.
" They may talk of Alpheus and Arethurei," mur
mured an idling sophomore, who had found his
way thither during-recitation hours, "but the Cro
ton in passing over an arm of the sea at Spay ten
duyvil, and busting to sight again in this truncated
pyramid, beats it all hollow. By George, too, the
bay yonder looks as blue as ever the d'Egean Sea
to Byron's eye, gazing ftom the Acropolis !—But
the painted foliage on those crags!—the Greeks
must have dreamed of such a vegetable phenome
non in the midst of their grayish olive groves, or
they never would have supplied the want of it in
their landscape by embroidering their marble tem
ples with gay colors. Did you see that pike break,
Sir ?"
" I did not."
Zounds ! his silver fin flashed npoii the black
Acheron, like a restless soul that hoped yet to mount
from the pool."
"The place 'seems suggestive of fancies to your ,
we observe, in reply to the rattle-pate.
" It is, indeed, for I have done up a good deal of
anxious thinking within a circle of a few yards,
where that fib broke just now."
"A singular place for meditation: the middle of
the reservoir !"
You look incredulous, sir, but it's a fact. A fel
low can never te.l until he has tried in what situa
tion his most earnest meditations may be concen
trated. iam boring yon, though 7" .
'• Not at all. But you seem so familiar with Ihe
spot, T wish yon could tell me why that ladder lea
ding down to the water is lashed against the stone
work in yonder corner ?"
“„That ladder,” saki the young man, brightening
at the questiorit why the position, perhaps the
very existence of that ladder, resulted from my
meditations in the reservoir, at which you smiled
just now. Shall I tell you all about them'"
" Pray do."
" Well, you have seen the notice forbidding any
one to fish in the reservoir. Now, when I read that
warning, the spirit of the thing struck me at once,
as interring nothing more than that one should not
sully the temperance potations of Jur citizens by
steeping bait in it, of any kind ; but you probably
know the, common way of taking pike with a a slip
noose of delicate wire. I was determined to hare
a touch at the fellows with this kind of tackle. I
chose a moonlight night; and an hour before the
edifice was closed to visiters, I secreted myself
within the walls, determined to pass the night on
the top. All went as I could wiatr it. The night
proved cloudy, but it was only a variable drift of
broken clouds which obscured the moon. I had a
walking cane-roil with me which would reach to
the margie of the water, and several feet beyond,
if necessary. To this was attached the wire, about
fifteen inches in length.
I prowled along the parapet for a considerable
time, but not a single fish could I see. The clouds
made a flickering light and shade that wholly foil
ed my steadfast gaze. I was convinced .that should
they grow thicker, my whole night's adventure
would be thrown away. Why should I not des
cend the sloping wall and- get nearer on a level
with the fish, for thus aldue can I hope to see one?
The question had hardly shaped itself in my mind
before I had one leg over the iron railing: If you
look\around you will see now that there are some
half dozen weeds growing here and there amid the
fissures of the solid masonry!. In one of the fiss
ures whence these spring I planted a foot and be
gan my descent. The reservoir was fuller than it
is now, and'a few strides would have carried me
to the margin of the water. Holding on to the cleft
above, I felt round with one foot for a place to
plant it below. me. In that moment the flap of a
pound pike made me look round, and the roots of
the weed upon which I partially depended gave
way, as I was in the act of turning. Sir, one'ssen
sirs are sbapcned in deadly peril; as I live now, I
distinctly heard the bells of Trinity chiming mid
night as I rose to the surface the next instant, im
mersed in the stone cauldron, where I must swim
for my life. Heaven only could tell how long! I
am a capital swimmer; and this, naturally, gave
me a degree of self-possess / ion. Falling as I bad,
I of course had pitched out some distance from the
sloping parapet. • A few strokes brought me to the
edge. really was not certain but that I could
clamber ap the face of the wall anywhere. I hop
ed that I could. I felt certain at least. there was
some spot where I might get hold with my hands,
even if I did not ultimately ascend it. I tried the
nearest spot. The inclination of the wall was so
vertical, thatit did not even rest me to lean against
it. I felt with my hands and my feet. Surely, I
thought, there must be some leisure like those- in
- which that ill-omened weed had found a place for
its root !—There was none. My fingers became
sore in busying themselves with the harsh and in
hospitable atones. My feet slipped from the smeoth
and slimy masonry benea h the water; and several
times my face came in rude contact with the wall,
when my foothold gave way .4 the instant that
seemed to have found some ditainutive rockycleet
upon which I could stay 4r y self Sir, did you ever
see a rat drowned in a , ' f.filled hogshead! how
he swims round and • 4; and after vainly trying
the sides again an in with hia pawa, fixes his
eyes upon the u rim, as if he would look him
self out ery prison. I thought of the mis
erable vier I %Might Or him - as I bora= watch.
POLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, AT TOWANDA,,BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH'.
From the-Literary World
The in is lie Reservoir.
IF CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN
ed thus his dying agonies, when a cruel urchin of
eight cr ten. Boys are horribly cruel, sir; boys,
women and, savages. All childlike things are cm.
el : cruel front want of thought, and from perverse
ingenuity, although by instinct each of these is so
tender. You may not haie observed it, but a sav
age bas tender to its own young as a boy is to a
favorite puppy-- the same boy that will torture a
kitten out of existence. I thought then, I say, of
the rat drowning in a half filled cask of vrater,lual
lifting his gaze out of the vessel as he grew more
and more desperate, and I flung myself on my
back, and floating thus, my eyes Upon the face of
the moon.
" The moon is well enough in her way, how
ever you may look at her; bat her appearance is,
to say the least of it, peculiar to a trian fr ing on
Lis back in the centre of stone tank, wk dead
wall of some fifteen or twenty feet tieing quarely
on every side of him. (The young man smiled
bitterly as ho said this, and shuddereclonce or twice
before be went on, musingly !) The hue time I had
noted the planet with any emotion she was on the
wane. Mary was with me : I had brought her out
here one momingio look at the top of the Reser
voir. She said little of the scene, but as we talked
of our old axd childish loves, I saw that its fresh
features were incorporating themselves with ten
der memories of the past, and I wascontent. There
was a rich golden haze upon the landscape, and as
my own spirits rose amid the voluptuous atmos
phere, she pointed to the waning planet, discerni
ble like a faint gash in the welkin, and wondered
how long it would be before the leaves would fall I
Strange girl! did she mean to "rebuke my joyous
mood, as if we had no right to be happy while Na
ture, withering in her pomp, and-the sickly moon
wasting in the blaze of noontide, were there to re
mind us of the gone-forever! " They will all re
new themselves, dear Mary," said 1, encouraging
ly ; and there is one that will ever keep tryste alike
with thee and Nature through all. seasons, if tbou
wilt but be true to one of us, and sremain as now a
child of Nature ! A tear sprang to her eye, and then
searching her pocket for her card-case, she remem
bered an engagem ) ent to be present at Miss Law
son's opening of Fall bonnets, at two o'clock And
yet, dear wild, wayward Mary, I Thought of her
now ! You have probably• outlived this sort of
thing, sir; but 1, looking at the moon, as I floated
upturned to her yellow light, thought of the loved
being whose tears I knew would flow when she
heard of my singular late, at once so grotesque, yet
melancholy to awfulness. And how often we have
talked, too, of that Carian shepherd who spent his
damp nights upon the bills, gazing, as I do, en the
lustrous planet ! Who will revel with her amid those
ota superstitions? Who from our own unlegended
woods will envoke their yet undetected, haunting
spirits! Who peer with her in prying scrutiny into
Nature's laws, and challenge the whispers of Poe
try from the voiceless throat of Matter I Who
laugh merrily over the eupid guesswork of pedants,
that never mingle,with the infinitude of Nature,
though love exhaustless and all-embracing, as we
have! Poor girl, she will be cornpanionless ! Alas!
companionlese forever—we in the exciting stages
of some brisk filtration. She will live hereafter by
feeding other harts with love's lore she has learned
from me; and then, Pygmalion-like, grow fond of
the images she has herself endowed with semblance
of divinity, until they seem to breathe back the
mystery the soul can truly catch from only one.
"How anxious she will be lest the - Coroner shall
have discovered any of her notes in my pocket!
".1 telt chilly as the last reflection crossed my
mind, partly at the thought of the Coroner, partly at
the idea of Mary being unwillingly compelled to
wear mourning for me, in case of such a disclosure
of our engagement. It is a provoking,thing for a
girl of nineteen to have to go into mobming for a
deceafed lover at the beginning of her second Win
ter in the Metropolis
"The water, though, with my motionless posi
tion, must have had something to do with my chil
liness. I see, sir, you think that I tell my. story
with great levity ; but indeed, indeed, I should grow
delirious did I venture to bold steadily to the aw
fulness of my feelings the greater part of night. I
think indeed I must have been most of the time
hysterical with horror, for the vibrating emotions I
have recapitulated did pas§ through my brain even
as I have detailed them. But as 1 now became
calm in thought, I summoned up again some reso
lution of action. ,I will begin at that' corner (said
I,) and swim roubd the whole enclosure. I will
swim slowly, and again feel the sides of the tank
with my feet. 'idle I must, let me perish at least
from well-directed though exhausting efiort, not
sink from more boodess weariness in sustaining
myself till the morning shall bring relieL The sides
of the place seemed to grow higher as I now kept
my watery comae between them. It was not alto
gether a dead pull. I had somevariely of emotion
in making my circuit. When I swam in the shad
ow, it -locked to me more cheerful beyond in the
moonlight.
When I swam in the moonlat, I had the hope
of making some discovery when I should again
reach the shadow. I turned several times on my
back to red just where those wavy lines would
meet. The stars looked viciously bright to me
from the bottom of that wall; there was such a
company of them ; they were_so glad in. their las-
Woos revelry; and had such space to move in. I
was alone, sad to despair, in a strange element,
prisoned, and a solitary gazer upon their mocking
chorus. And yet there was noting else with
which I could communion ! I tuni si ed upon my
breast and struck out almost frantically, once more
The stars were forgotten, the moos, the very world
of,which I as yet formed a pert—my poor Mary
herself was forgotten. I thought only of the strong
man there perishing; of ma in my_lesty Manhood,
in the sharp vigor of my dawning pesos, with fac
ulties illimitable, with senses all steel, berms there
with physical obstacles Which men lkus wool' had
through together ki iftr ;rotdoing. 'Trio lroedtlltl
'could never have wined di/ thing. I could nailed
ItICIAIRDirsx or orsiniCIATION mom ANT CWASzNa.. "
I would not perish thus; and I grew strong in inso.
lance of self-trust. I laughed aloud as I dashed the
sluggish water from side to aide. Then came an
emotion of pity for myself—wild, wild regret ; of
sorrow, oh, infinite, for n fate 'so desolate; a doom
so' dreary, so bean-sickening. You may laugh at
the contradiction if you will, sir, but I felt that I
could sacrifice my own life on the ir.suint to redeem
another fellow creature from such a place of horror,
from an end . so - piteous. My KT' and my vital
spirit seemed in that desperate moment to be sep
arating; while one, in parting, grieved over the
deplorable fate of the other.
" And then I prayed I"
" I prayed--why or wherefore Ino not. ft was
not from tear—it could not have been in hope.—
The days of miracle are passed, and there was no
,natural law by whose Providential interposition I.
could be saved. I did not pray : it prayed of itself,
-my soul within me.
4 4 Was the calmness that I now felt torpidity!—
the torpidity that precedes dissolution to the strong
swimmer, who, sinking from exhaustion, must add
a bubble to the wave as he suffocates beneath the
element which now denied his mastery! If it
were:so; how fortunate was it that my floating rod
at that moment attracted my attention, as it dashed .
through the water 13) me. I saw on the instant that
a fish had entangled himself in the wire ntrose.-
The rod qnivered, plunged, and came to the sur
face, and rippled the water as it shot in arrowy
flight from aide to side of the tank. Atlara, driven
toward the south-east corner of the reservoir, the
small end seemed to have. got foul somewhere.—
The brazen butt,which, every time the fish sound.
ed, was thrown up to the moon, now sank by its
own, weight, showing that the other end must be
fast. Bat the cornered fish, evidently anchored
somewhere by that short wire, floundered several
times to the surface before I thought of striking out
to the spot.
"The water is low and tolerably clear. Toni
may see the very ledge there, sir, in yonder corner,l
on which the small end of my rod rested when II
secured that pike with my hands. I did not take'
him from the slip-noose, however; but standing
upon the ledge, handled the rod in a workman-like
manner, as I flung that pound pickerel over the iron
railing upon the top of the parapet. The rod, as I
have told you, barely reached from the railing to
the water. It was a heavy, strong brass rod which
I had borrowed in the Spirit of the Times office ;
and when I discovered that the fish at the end of
the wire made a strong enough knot to prevent me
from drawing my tackle away from this railing
around which it twined itself as 1 threw, why, as
you can at once see, I had but little difficulty in
making my waPtip the face of the wall with such
assistance. The ladder which attracted your no
tice is, as you see lashod to the iron railing in the
indeutical spot where I thus made my escape ; and
for fear of similar accidents, they have placed an
other one in the corresponding corner of the other
compartment of the tank ever since my remarka.
ble night's adventure in the reservoir."
We give the above iirrdar relation verbatim as
heard from the lips of our chance acquaintance; and
though strongly tempted to " work it up" atter
the fantastic style of a famous German namesake,
prefer that the reader should have it in its Ameri
can simplicity.
Taotrr Ftsnren.—We have a friend who is a
somewhat noted practical joker, residing in a pleas
ant country• residence near the ocean. Some time
since he had a visit from Professor—, of poetic
memory. The Professor is a keen trout fisherman,
and seeing a large pond at some distance from IL's
residence, he inquired—
" Can you fish for trout, in that pond !"
"Oh, yes," said B, "as well as not."
Possible !—where's yonr rod !"
" I have none ; I'm no fisherman. But if you
want to try, we'll go over to S—, and get tackle,
and yqi may try your hand at it to-morrow "
it was thereupon agreed to so, and the day was
passed by the worthy Professor in preparatiousfor
angling.
The next morning early, R. drove him over to
the pond, and he whipped it all round to windward
and leeward, and finally walked in up to hie waist,
and threw his flies most skilfully, but never raised
a fin. At length, as the sun grew intolerably hot
he turned to R., who lay under a tree solacing him
self with a book and cigar, and exclaimed—
" I don't believe there is a trout in your pond."
" I don't know that there is," replied R., imper
tnrbably.
" Why, yoq told me there was."
" Oh, no," said R., leisure' ly turning and lighting
another cigar, " you asked me if you could fish for
trout here, and I said you could as well as not. I've
sees folks do it olien, but 1 never knew of one be.
ing caught hem."
The result might be anticipated, R. walked home,
and the Professor drove the horses; nor did 11. ven
ture within reach of the Protemor's rod until after
dinner.--Jourard of Commerce.
"Napoleon Alexis Dobbs, come up here, and
say your lesson. What makes boys grow ?"
It is the pin, air."
"Why do not men grow !"
" Because they carry an umbrella, which keeps
oil the; rain."
What makes a young man and woman fall in
love 7"
" Because one of them has a heart of steel, and
'lather ha* a heart of Sint, and when they comes
togldher, they strike fire and that is love."
To klsre Yeasre—ito two middlingsized boiled
peens, add s pint o 1 boring weer and two table
spoonfuls of Wawa saga. One pint of bet water
should 6s. appttad:en veer? half plot of the weer
Pound. Hot water is better in warm weather. This
ids; being made without flour, will keep l o ser,
'and is said to iirimie:h tett& than any ' pre ibuily
in use.
=ME
•
ThewWs N Labor. -
Who can estimate the value of labor"! Go, ye
wine-bibbers, gluttons, idlers, ye Any men and
women of this world; go to the humble conagriof
the laboring class and witness their contentment
and cheerfulness, their good health and virtuous
tile, and learn a lesson if you will. Go, too, ye
city idlers, ye men who are too proud to be seen
even with gloves on, sawing a stick of wood ; ye
women, lovers of fineries and fashions, who tray
long prayers in the morning, and yet are too proud
tomake a loaf of bread; go, we say, lxd learn wis
dom of the humble country people who obey daily
the injunction, Man must work.
We are proud and thankful that we have parents
who taught us early the importarteer of labor; a
father, who labors annually as many weeks and
days as there are in the year; and who rises early,
lives frugally, and attends personally to his own
shins, and who is as indust.ious and honest a man
as can elsewhere be found; a mother, too, we
have, who loves her children too well to trust them
to hirelings, who cannot have that sympathy for
them that a parent should have—an interest which
none but a mother feels. Even in the matter of
preparing food, can we reasonably expect a hired
person will feel a proper interest in making it of
the best'poesible quality for husband and children!
No; mine but a wife or a mother , can feel that in
terest. She must at least oversee the matter her
self. So it bas \ been with our mother from the day
of her marriage' up ; and she has given birth to,
and raised eleven children, six sons and five
daughters, all enjoying good health. Did she ever
dance Polkas and Waltz? Not one whit; she
was married almost too young for that; and if she,
had not been,. her parents were too sensible to en
courage or allow such foolish practices. Is she
thought anything the less of fur not knowing how
to dance! Find if you can a mother of eleven
children, who has read the Bible more, who under
stands
it better, or one who is more kind and at
tentive to the poor and the sick, or who has a bet
ter, or one who is More kind and attentive to the
poor and the sick, or who has a better name among
all who know her—we should be glad to see such
a one, if such can be found.
But to get back to our subject. Every person
who is able, of whatever age or sex, 'should en
gage habitually and uaily in some kind of work.—
lf, possible, every man, woman and child should
actually till the ground—enough at least to raise
their own bread out of it. Oh; ye idlers with dys
pepsia, gout and rheumatism, ye know not the
blessings, the pleasure of this ! No one who has
health and can possibly get at the face of the earth,
should lose the opportunity of digging it, and rais
ing corn and wheat, flowers and fruit.
Tt would seem that nothing short of work eould
make him contented with life. A bird cannot be
happy if he is
. not allowed to fly and sing, nor can
a man or woman be really contented and happy
without an opportunity of tilling our mother earth.
" But it is unfashionable to work," says one. P
is fashionable, very fashionable, we know, to be
lazy—above work. It is fashionable to make labor
half-starved and naked often, and everywhere
greatly overlooked. Let then, all the fashionable
people go on as they best can without work; they
are welcome to the,ir reward, which' is sure to
come.
Observe, too the dignity of labor !• is it not
to improve and beautify our mother earth, in
whose bosom all must at last repose ! Who would
not "deck her universal face in pleasant green?"
Labor, too, in arts and mechanics is noble, honora
ble useful and often beautiful but followed ex.
elusively, it is neither so sa•isfying or healthful as
labor oo the sod. -Every mechanic and artisan
should, if possible, practice it a great pad of the
lime. And this kind of labor is also more certain
to pay. The mechanic must trust more to men;
the farmer to God.
There is one very unpleasant thing about labor
as practiced at the present day. It is almost every
where overlooked. Very generally it is the case
that labor does the work, and wealth gets the pay.
Irishmen do the hard di.ming; rich railroad corn.
panies get the money.
If every man and woman would work a little,
I
moderately, and just enough . for health, work
enough would be done and no one would have to
work much, nor could ickness hardly find a plaCe
among workers. Work is one of the greatest
things in the world to cure people with. Little more
would be needed with the great majority of pa-
tients than to get them into a regular system of
labor.. To be sure there are hard cases enough
that cannot be cured, but not without work. How
hydra-headed dyspepsia is driven off if we can
get a man long enough to hew and split wood, and
dig the ground. If he be weak; he Must not go
fast; if he feels i little worse at . first, let him go
on and persevere. Then he-Will come out right
in the end. What an appetite, too, will he have;
and how sound will be his sleep at night. If with
other good habits, he labors, he will not long be
troubled with dreams and nightmares, and:he will
understand to a demonstration, that "hunger is the
best sauce."
Bizzicas birmarzs.—One of the curioushies of
Mexico, is the manner of selling milk, hum* of
the neat white wooden vessel, of the spouted tin
can, with the different measures hung upon it, and
the rattling bell cart, or an old home-spun negro,
packing it about on his crowned head, we have the
animals themselves driven. from door to door of the
different regular cuAomers where they'antt Rifled
at a regalet . stand where transient patrons are sup
plied by milking it in:rithe vessels in which they
take. it home. Besides a drove of eows, with
the cakes all muzzled, tanning ane bleating atier
them than is also a peg of goatssesi asses driven
aloft so that people may suit themeless - asp cud.
icy itad price If' ilea, their illotoot lag*, for which
there is no aecsaati4
Thicriejilehli one ativotltage ; tire•riiillt that in
thus sold is milk.
KNOWLEDOE.-4 en have made.sw ,and pan.;
" — tools
none to destroy each other, because . thef,..beeti
imagined that brute force is the strong's! to'
prevent aggression, dud erithe. 'They have,
fought with their hands and shed eatholbeestieect
because they have not been' acqriainted wiith their`
moral contributions, and the potent, ialnenco me :
which ideas and kindness have ih stibAtlft Mir
goferaing each other. ignorant of the lime
their nature, and superioray of mental Over physi;
cal power In the government of the pitialites r an4
the subjugation's of . the will, - they have talon
other's lives instead of making each other happy. -
Let ignorance be removed by knowledge; lit the'
understanding be enlightened, and the strpeitli al;
tributes of the soul unfolded, and the berhsuois
practice of trying to establish justice by =aid
power, and enforcing obedience at the pries* lig'
will cease to eAist. Ignorance is thS Meth., df /SE
Let the mother be-renewed and the child iiilitheit
follow. Ignonnice is the scourg that frame the'
world; it paralyzes everything in man, his heart'
and his intellect; it closes Op the *ey of Virtue bj
concealing it from his views; by leaving hika in:
acquainted with his duties and with his means of
happiness. knowledge, on the other - hand, isithe
greatest blessing 'which can be 'bestowed on socie
ty, and will raise society to a position becoining its
dignity and help to realize its appointed destroy -=
The only royal road to happiness is knowledge—
which enables a man to know who and what ..he
is physicallY, and bowjtis physical nature should
be regulated to realize health and longevity, and
how it should be subordinated to the higher purpo
ses of his spiritual being : that knowledge whielf
opens springs of pleasure from every portion of the
eternal world—from the insect, the rude iliffh, the
flower, the star, from man, and all the chain of or
ganized crewures—that knowledge which-enableif
him to look outward on the vast universe, its at;
tractions, revolutions, and mysteries; or inwardly
into the immeasurable depths of his own conscious.
ness, its capacities of hoping, doubting, aspiring;
and imagining.
SPLITTINc TUt DirrratEacr.—A nice young gen.:
tleman, not a tlifiusand miles from after ofin*
and assidous courtship, found himself, one bright
evening, the betrothed of a pretty gill, the 'err
pink of modesty. One night he was about to takif
his departure, and aiier lingerifig about the door for
some time in a fidget of anxiety declared and pen , '
tested to Miss Nancy, that he could not Ind woad
not leave, untilfste kissed him. Of coarse, Miss
Nancy blushed's: beautifully red, and protested in
turn that she could not and.stonld trot do that. Shat
never AO done such a thing, and nen& iiould Un
til she was married—au rim he had it. The at
tercation and debate becarne deep mid eieittng,
until the betrothed buffed mitrigia, and deelared if
he couldn't kiss her he couldn't have her—and Asa
marching off.. She watched him to the gate, and
saw " the fat Jras in the fire," unless something was
done, " come back, then," sidd she coaxingly, " fit
split the difference with you—you may squeeze my
hand!"
Peovcavv.—They speak of po sy as a gift from
divine hand. Oh! no! It is bet the drapery with
which an impassioned heart alive to beauty anti
exalted sentiment, decks its thoughts:
The appreciation of the soul, of beauty,*goodnesa
and the thousand * Harmonies - of nature, is in troth
the fountain-head of all poetic inspiration. When
sorrow care, distrust or any evil passion has thrown '
a cloud upon the sours awn brightness, song
hushed ; or if it 'tia heard it cOmea mingled with'
with the wail of mourning—it speaks not the hem- -
venly strains of joy, echoes of the universal andieifit
of nature, but tones of disappointment, of wrillcils- -
edness and woe.
RcALrry.—The very rainbow hues of fancy dial
have so aft delighted many hours of revery,, will
'concentrate themselves upon a phantom, ' till sd'
life• like it becomes,' it can deceive even cleattial
reason. But, as in nature, it needs no hurricane td'
dissipate the clouds howeter densely gathered
So with the gathered mists of fancy—it needs on'
storm of paision, butime, alone is n 0611411 td'
dispel illusions, and show their foundatiiiri'iti notirt
ingress. Then all those hopes so brightly beauti- -
ful, that rested on ithisioe let a bahiN•mtlttt wither'.
How many such joyless lessons the heati`niest be .
taught are it will learn to value everything bb the'
just measures of reality.
Wm.—Thou hest entered life, and cannot be as:
empt from difficulties, many and preifol,:perMicut..
Pleasures and pain go hand in' band throtigh
Since then, we may not avoid, it were hitter to
nerve the mind to meet the ills of life, ehcf
open aqua embrace all pleasures as their
To quote a beautiful a Trials in liGi aretsi'
the mind as rocks in the bosom of the Wetenc"-:- -
Brigbterand purer doeifthe stream fall which pais":
es over a rocky bed, Mhart when on clayey bolloite
it quietly gide" alone witholit ftenreitess enougOtik i
to cane a ripple.
TB lar..ti..—;ts It Mk to wake tilitiaaditesitedi
in reveries? Will converse with the Weal sated
unfit the mind to enter upon life's sterner dedllley
No! Such oftentimes, - on the contrary, give me ! ,
menta of great happiness. The pleisurea which
waking dreams - shed upon the bead,' so, tar freak
rendering the real in hid mere tome', fiSit:
tentment, by making us readily pass - oter, atid.
gard'ai petty aimoyanceig, the diecoritterlisaf
experiecce ; while iina ‘ gination, ever asieliiig ttkw
solid basis of truth to rest tijakii mageifise our
every pleasuF o and so with many an WO:
tional charm the joys that faltto our lot,
Soueunr..--ICho easmot be happy alone--the
dream of retirement from social life is at best, but
a pleisinifaricY Which reritfOicoveir Op the real
ity of gloom and lesoienni: are the.legitisnifif
ofts.pring of an bolated (distend.:
Knock down argurnente are aNntlimen prediN
live of evil, as they become ee jfsOcel.
slackike fistv