T.:17. 1 1113 220 IP= TOW AND A: Oautrban illoutinD, November it), 1850. THE RAILWAY. The`•silent glen, the'sunless stream , To wandering boyhovd dear. And treasured hill m many a dream, Tht-y are no longer here; A huge red mound of earth is thrown Across the so urild and lone, 'Phe stream se. cola and clear ; And lightning steed and' thundering sound, Pass hourly o'er the unsightly mound. X& this alorie for many a mile Along that iron Way,' No verdant banks or hedgerows smile ! In ,stimmer's glory gay ; Thro' chasms that yawn as though the earth Were rent in some strange mountain birth, Whose depths excludes the day; We're borne away at headlong-pace, To win ,from time the weary race! The waysideTnn, the homelike air, Ne teener tt-mpts the guest.' 'To o taste its unpretending fare Or seek its welcome rest. Tue piancing team—the merry born— The cool fresh road at early morn— The coachman's ready jest; Al', 'A ' to di.tatit dream-land gone, shrieking crakos are hurrying on._ Yet greet we them with thankful hearts, . eves ;h;.t own no tear, nothing nor, the space which parts The distant fr'm the dear, Thr Wele that to her ch•risnrd nest mr the trrd's exult.ng breast, Hi f‘sond its rival here, like her's e•too tan haste, 'f Ire bl:ss of incetlng hearts to taste. For r^a I car." the line 1 approaching train, A deem it still. 'mixt me and mine, A r'o to but aelcome I us in a 11'01 Id , Wrl.llse Uri ! , ..ur to Fever inexr Uri h. re may try in vain : r,32: us twor'e man . )• an art to keep apart. THE CHIA - Ars FAITH tv Ist: Isic et - rt 1:& coat s:h. I : , etc bov, a li:tle clulil, of; th, , e‘e Ight creatures whose c.st ,isems mete of heavea than of earth— • , 2:mtpse stirring our hears. ail.' • 1!le-Y1 cri pirer and linker thought. Bc • ••• !• rra:.cte was more of a t cherub than :... e Ilicm—with hip glaibtithe -tatmess, his c foster ing.guk.l • 1.- :40i+. Snrh he rralr, at heavy '114141- on him : • 1 ••••• :tt•cr Jane al burn i:ig. r - a r -nn;- , vi ea() tilt? /111:1.!11.111,1 11:(V.Ionlef.s ~.farcely vt hi er •' •. • .;;,‘ LcJ. lite 1..,r, tgi'.l ' A ;2,11 iii,j,114:.(1A . , am! the pale face t•Il • ler of It.'.urtil:l; onc.s arottit./ it'; then intlec,l a et tort would flit acimas it. or I,ltceilni the . • es—A 10.3 k such as tve assign to angels m y lien some find faucy - eems to bring ar u 4, ure;+lll-4 for mortal ;fiefs beyond 1: , .; rerrr. -ickners for anti so yoong--tbe o; l } p! fever with a babyfrume; but life h (+to aiw-ti the victory ; and qnirker even •h c rit.,l venture to expect ; the pulse rani- grew round and rw..y. and the little ft:ied up nazi]. Health was restored h. t•ut not strength ; we thought thi, for a EMI c, ,1.,1 not won,ler that the vceaLevekl tht sr office, an 2 atilt he waited on in y 4, and even weeks, passed by ; then s - as t•• 011,1 tivw the complaint had kit ita bitter !elle Francle could not welk a step, ; or Kl. :6 and tether's and painful were the rernetlies 'e: "e ::o; yet the brace time bean bore sioaq e :hat wondertuliortoode, almom herourn, all who have ri -- "artrbeti 'by seflertng liken the :raelabte hevAll 10 i 3 early niu.4 at e.nme tune or other hire remark•- • Fraticte's htrt,:u.te mt ht have atloideti an ex. , 7 .- s!e to many : bolt a dealer Iron was given in t,opeful arti altitih :he little, fellow him :toted the elect of each tlawesi‘ing remedy, raattinz each stage of progress. and showing off r itager gladnes.s every s:ep attained, from the ireeping on the hand, and knees, to' the tiptoe around the room, bo , clmg, oci by chaits and ta:...(1. then to the clinging to -snore loving, band; 114,- -] then at last ties graceful balancing of his light ✓sir. until be stood quite erect alone, and so mov e..'.aatyon. I; was in anturen this illness seized on the little fest when the leases were turnine,?:rul the or ,l f . . , uits. becoming ri,}e. His nu:se attributeikt a ..o h s satioi on a paak•l bank at playonec4 u...cettain autumn ilayS ; but he, in his child way. zlvrays mann:tined " It was Francie him= red.herrtes in the holly bower.' How. re: this may hay e, Leen, the season and the time at,:eittiy impre-.std n;son his mind. !nail Lts long ocnutinetnent In the house, his trionqies eons :.itiany turned to outward otteets, to tLe estemal tare of nature and the season's ehanee, and erer. more his. tette Aror,l of Lo?e was this, 11Len the simmer carae3!" He kept it up throu;horn the Ion; crimes and the we a k e,ohJ livr.. l z A fair; 11: - .tecanrage had been profried for hit*in whk:h. we:l s wrapped op for •le to 1 , and resirog oa &oft eu_shanta, he arcs iv drawn alter; by a serraot. to 6 ; 15 own ;rest ,te.• and the sin:La:ran of msoy a young beholder. 1:•-• when soy tme—axemptuq to reconcile hint :he bet:et to his position---expatiated on the beauty cornfor, of his new acquisition, ener look w.. 1.1 word would show how fat he.went beyond it, as quickly mterruptuig, he wool l exclaim, " Wait tai the rummer comes—then Frantie will walk lip in 7 Dwin,; the Trativ !Isere iris a laufal awns ; it THE • r.BRADFORD ._.__REPORTER shook the windows, moaned in the old trees, and howled down the chimneys with a most menacing voice. Older hearts than Francie's quailed that night, and he, unable to sleep, lay listing to it all --quiet, but asking many a qUtalion, his excited nine), Wormed similitudes to the sounds. One time it was poor fade children cruelly turned out, and wailing ; then something trilling, with its last hoarse cry then wolves and bears, from lar.oß other lands. But all the while Francis knew he was snug and safe - himself : no tears disturbed him, whatever the noise may have done. Throughout the whole of it lie carried his one steadfast hope, and in the morn irg, telling ot it all, with all his inenordlous thoughts, he finished his relation, with the never•failing word of corniest, "Alt ! there shall be no loud wind, no wakirr? ni.'hts when once the summer comes'." ' The summer came with its glad binls and. flow era, its balmy air; and who can paint the exquisite delight of the sneering child that had waited for it so long! Living almost continually in the open air, he. seemed to expect fresh health and strength horn each reviving breath he drew, and every day would deem himself capable of some ;greater aeon, es it to prove that his expectation had not been in vain. One lovely day he and his little playfellows were in a group amusing themselves in part of the gar. den when some friends Passel through. Francie, longihg to show how much he could do, intreated hard to be taken with them " along the walk juatto the holly bower."' His request was granted, and on he did walk ; quick at first, then slowly slower ; but stil upheld by his strong faith in the summer's genial influence, he would not rest in of the otlerca arms, though the fitful color went and came, and the pauses grew htful color went and came, and the pauses grew more and more frequent. No; 'with a heavy sigh he admitted, " 'Tis a very. long walk, now : but Francie must riot be tired ; sure the summer is come " And so, determined not to ad ' mit . fairgue in the face of the season's bright proofs around him, he succeeded in accompli3lung, hie lit- I tie task at last. . • • Thus the summer passed away, and again came the changing autumn, acting on poor little Fiancie to degree he had never reckoned on, and with i . s cliid; damp airs nearly throwing him back again With a greater effect even than before ; he had again tried the watt to the hr fly bower, the scene of his , 1 self accusing misderneanor,:as the causet ,' rest: above his ea d. his suf ferings. 'He sat down to t!, gs the autumnal breeze swept through them, the pol ished leaves and bermes red did rustling play;" and as little Francie looked uptranls tee suds them, a memory of the former year, and of all-the time that had passed since then, seemed for the first time moumfi:llj to steal over t:is heart He nestled in closer to , his mot! er's side; and slit! looking up, with nitre thoutilitful eyes, lie said. • • 31 ant ma , is the summer guile gone!" •• Yes, my Jailing. Don't you see' the scarlet terries. the toed of:winter for the title birds!" , "Quite gone, mammal and Francie nog quite well!" Ha mother rooked array; she could not beat her cht!tf to eiee , the telltale tears his mournful brie words called np, or; know the sad echo returned by her own de.-pondurg thoughts. There n-as a mo me.nt's silence , only broken by the blackbird's song ; and then she telt a soh, a centle kiss, upon her hand, add looking doit-rt, she saw bet darling's Glee —yes, surely now it was as an angel's—gazing up ward to her, brightly beaming, brighter than ever ; and his riaNy bps just parted with their own sweet smile again as he excla'nieil, in joyous tones.— '- kltunina, the summer will come again r Precious was that heaven-bom•word of childish faith to the care-worn mother, to cheer her then, and, with its memory of hope, still w sustain her throughmany an after experiment and an=ions • watch, until at tam she reaped her rich reward in the complete realization of her bright one's hope. Precious to more than her such words may be, it Olgarely stemming our present trouble, whatsors'er it be—bravely enitnring, persevering, encouraging others and ooritelves, " even as that little child"— we : hold the thclught, that as the revolving year brikts mond its different seasons, as day sr:ix-mils to night—end even as surely as we look for this, and know n--so to the trustitt heart there comes a stns--,t May be soon or late, it may be now, or it may be that'—when Ibis grief or grievance will have passed away—.and so 'twill all seem nothut—whim the summer comes. Tat Cow Tate.—On the parched &Wolof a rock on the mountains of Venezuela grows a m te with dry and leathery foli.ne, its large woody smuce ly penetrating into the rowel For several months in the year rts leaves are not 1120islinied by a show er, its branches s took as it they were dead and with ered; but when the trunk is bored, a bland and nourish.ir milk flows from it. It is at sunrise that tt e vegetable fountain flows most freely. At that IMO, the blacks and natives are teen eordir4 from all pans., provided with large bowls to. receive the rni!k, which grows yellow and thickens al its sur face. Some empty their vessels on the 'pet, while others carry them to their saildren. One imagines be sees the family of a shepherd who is distributing the milk of his flock. It is named the pato de coca or cow tree. Goon Avvicsz—Never attempt to suite the grill ; ty, where_ by a misdirected, °moo hasty blow, the innocent, :be lattant, and the good may suffer Sorer anernpt to expose a villain, if your efforts lit Jump so are laxly ro injure those who have been the unsuspecting dupes *lbis artifice- Serer wa ger a Larger sum than you carry in your pocket.-- Never shake hart& with a man if you arenas glad to`ktenim. Sever forr,e t when you reed e. , to te cone' Jour friend and be even more careful so oiler your salutation tb thane thwarts pwin Never quarrel without a sufficient cause, bat, if it be nee mary to take op a quarrel, then see that quarrel firmly pot to an end. Never betray confidence of any kind, bat more particularly that Of a woman- PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PL, BY E. 0 :t of dr~ioic~attoa VW . . 3 ' l IJI “ QUA*TZL" htradere is a MIL A gentleman in New York, formerly of this sec lion, related the following incident while we were enjoying the luxury of a tool sea tweets on a hot simirner's night. The subject of convetsatinn was, the narrow escapes from death that are often ex perienced by mankind in the ups and downs of life. When my father, said he, emigrated to Jefferson cocnty, in the days of its first settlement, he loca ted with his family in one of the southern towns, Among other improvements on hos premises, there had. been erected, one of the first essentials to a c new settlement—a saw mill. it was one of those old fashioned concerns, common in those days, ti=ed with the huge undershot water -wheel, long heavy pitman, and cumbrous saw-trame. Those cow ieldly wheels are now quite forgotten in the improvements that have been made in these agents WI I shall never forget the OSA attached to my fa ther's mill. I was engaged in getting out lumber when an aceideut happened to the water-works, azul I went alone the next day to repair the damage. Care lessly kneeling upon one of the float•boards of the wheel, withozit observing the position of the Crank, I proceeded to survey the nature of the derange ment. While thus occupied, I did not observe the alight motion towards • revolution which haileom meneed by the wheel, capsed by my weight, and my attention was first called to the nature of my situation by r slow heavy pressure above my knee. At a glance I comprehended the Igieril that I was in and Made an effort to extricate myself. but I was too late : I was fast wedged between the floats of the wheel and the dill of the flume. With considerable alarm I now observed that the crank of the wheel was turned up, and that my weight had slightly moved it from the perpendieu lar. A moment's reflection increased my alarm, as I fully comprehended that the heavy pitman and the saw frame above that, were pressing with their combined weight upon the crank. To complete the horror of my situation, I per ceived that the crank was moving almost imper ceptibly, and I knew that without instant relict I should inevitably be crushed to death between the wheel and the flume. I gazed around and called kindly for help; but no human being was near . ; aml no answer was git en to my cries. My eyes fell again upon the crank ; itiwas still moving and drawing me into the awful death. .1 now looked around for acme object to interpose between the wheel and the flume, and saw an axe that I had brought with me lying at one end of the wheel; but the joy that was lit up within me by the sight ' or this object was 4ispelled in a moment, on find• iag that I could not reach it. In my desperaiion I then tried to wrench something from the Wheel, butt ceryth.ng resisted my ntmost strength. My last hope was that somebody might pass upon the road which ran along the opposite bank at the stream ; this hope died within me when I reflect ed how seldom it was that nacelle= came that way. The crank had now reached an inclination of, about thirty degrees, and I knew that its motion would soon become fearfully accelerated. My I limbs had ,giadually benumbed, as the circulation ' of the blood was interrupted ; and in a sort of Tut. less despair I laid back upon the wheel, and then, in obedience to maternal instructior, I called op heaven for help. While thus I lay, half supplies. tin; and half complaining, my thoughts turned with sort of impious alacrity, from the Almighty to a noite on a bridge that crowed the stream below the in at, and I fairly screamed with delight as I re. cognimii the sound to be that of a horse's tread.— After crossing the bridge the horse commenced a slow trot, end t knew there most be a rider upon him althotagh the bushes on the roadside prevent ed me horn seeing Lim. When the sound came opposite the mill, I halloed, as I supposed, loud enough to be heard forty times the distance to the road; but owing to exhaustion my voice could not have reached far, for the horse did not stop. Snit the sound moved on, and as I fell back, in utter despair apart the wheel, it seemed to me that the horse and its rider, in 'that steady tramp—tramp— were barbarously treading upon my beast. This disappointment was so great that, for a while , I settled into a partial onaincionsnes.s. A scceak of the pitutpu OS the crank, however, recalled the I again lathe horrors of my simation. My limbs had beet gradually dawn down so that the wheel would moo commence crushing my body; the et ink would, in a menus or two, wain a horizon tal position, after which the wheel would revolve with tearful rapidity,, mei I wds handy without hope. Then my heart went up to Heaven in an earnest heanfelt prayer, and 1 reproached Er yieli fur the selfish manner, in wtichl had looked up to the Goan Throes bat a moment before. The metes of my past life flitted palpably hetore my vision, and with great humiliation ; I besoncht tor-1 girEnesr for the error of my ways. This comma- won gradually reconciled me to my fate; and `feel- ' rug oo pain, in my reverie, it seemed that I was floating in &dace, atmosphere up to the realms of bine. These dief4htfpl amenities were interrupted by a sound orsometAing near me, and gradually open mg my 'eyes, I discovered the fture of s man standing on the beam by the flume. He seemed to be an angel from Heaven. Again Inspired by hope, I gave a taint cry of joy. The man. named round, a.nii as he saw` me in an Laciest he Decoded to the crank, and endeavored to raise it with his shoulder, but could not. He then seized a plank, and placing it under the crank, secured it from lo wering any flintier down. The= I beard him ad justing, a lever, and is a 'bort time, the inexpressi ble tenacity of begin myself radea/ly elevated loom my terrible simatiori, by the slow taming tack of the wheel, tamed me to faint entirely away. Merl I again' arcked my ries, 1 was lying ep os the green grass, and my preserver, by dean my limbs, bad partially restored sesrlibly to my halt dead body. With both hands 1 feebly pav ane of his, not endeavoring tU *peat ; and the plea. sant but anxious smile that lit up his =utterance, told me that he appreciated my acknowledgamMits of gratitude. My deliverer happened to be amen with whom I was well acquainted, and he was also the man that passed the mill when I was i 0 my perilous si tuation. He heard a faint noise as he rode by, but being engaged in thought he was not attracted by it. While going up a hill shortly afterward, the train of hut reflections was broken, and then it oc curred to him that possibly the noise might have been a cry of distress. To be perfectly sure, be turned his horse and came back, and thus seas I most providentially rescued.— Iraterlown Journal. A traveller from journeying In e,oontries far away, Repassed the threshold at the close Of este calm Sabbath . day ; A voice of love, a comely face, A kiss of chaste delight, Were the first things o welcome him On that blessed Sabbath night. He stretched his limbs - upon the hearth, Before its friendly blaze. And conjured up mixed memories Of gay and gloomy days; And felt that none of gentle seal, However far he main. Can e'er &Ivo, eau e'er forget. The quiet joya of home. Bring me my children r cried the sire, With eager earnest tone; I long to press them and to mart How lovely they hare grown ; Twelve weary months have passed away Hine* I went o'er the sea, To feel bow sad and lone I was Without my babes and thee." 'Refiesh thee, as 'tis needful," said The fair and faithful wife, The while her pensive features paled And stirred with inward wife ; • Refresh thee.hushand of my heart, I ask it as a boon Our children are reposing. lore: Thou shalt behold them soon." She spread the meal, she filled the cap, She pressed him to partake: lie sat down blithely at the board, And all for her sweet sake ; Bat when the frugal feast wa• done. The thankful prayer preferred. Again affection's fountain flowed; Again is rcice was heard. "Bring me my children, darling wife, I'm in an ardent mood ; My soul lacks purer aliment. I long for other food: Bring forth my children to my gaze, Or ere I rage or weep, I yearn to kiss their happy •yes Before the hour asleep." I have a question yet to ask; Be patient. husband dear. A arranger one suspicions morn, Lid scud some. jewels here ; Until L , take them from my care. But yesterday he came. And I restomfAhern with a sigh :,-... Doth thou approve or blamer I marvel math, sweet wife, that thou sboaldst breathe such words to me; Restore in man. resign to God, Whateer is lent to thee ; Restore it with a willing heat, U. grateful for thy trust I Whate'er may tempt or try as, wife, Let as ba ever just.," She took him by the passive hand, And op the moonlit stair. She led him to their bridal bed, With mute and mournful air; !She turned the cover down and there fa grave-like garments dressed. Lay the twin children of their love, In death's serenest rest. These were the jewels lent to me. Which God has &sped to own; The premons caskets still remain, But. sh. the O&M, are Aorta But thoo didst teach me to resivi What God alone can clam Be gi•eth and be takes easy, Blest be His holy name r The father gazed upon his babes, The mother drooped apart, Waite all the woman's I.oflol. gushed From her o'er burdened heart : And with the striving of her Which srrunc the tears she shed. Were mingled low and loging word; . r co the utmonscioes desk„ When the sad sirt has looked his fill, 11. veiled each breathless lace, And down in self abasement bowed. For nomkort and for grace; Wkh the deep elogeace of erne, !mined forth has sestet met. Nose 4. and stood erect and calm, In spirts aged and whole. • les:rats thy tears, poor wife," to said - I ream this leesan stilt God rm. and God l ean rake away. Blest be Ms holy will! Blest &Wilted:Wrists (or tLey tors • From sio and sorrow freer Lad am I not joyless, love. WI& faith. hope, lore, and thee." Q;:- The .1/bury Defame says with more troth than poetry, that the only people that hope, are the poor. The rah live in fear. Redoes a man m one par of breeches, and his view of futurity is as buoyant as a ecnt. Make a millionane of hint, and he will worry from pear end to year era Eve ry gale of wind not only snits his vessels, but his spirits, and the same continua:ion that only breaks op the nap of the loafer, fills the mind of the rich man with fear,and trembling for the stock he owns in some intiarance company. wasissoasay trisaaph, of whirl' the won dies as owe, sod is saneeeded by re =me ; milereas bigiTesees, which is the nobles of all mirages, wails a perpetual pleasure. Somebody says : albs devil a.v troubled a busy ma 4 " This we know to be take. Stew use busier man t ou the edit:, and yet be is few teams if be Me no mom than ow n devß r' to no 4 tie him, especially whom " copy " is atom MEM 'GOODRICH; The following remarkable story has all the inter est of a romance; yet it istnre t and the parties are still living It was in the memorable year of lAI4, when the allied armies were concent about Paris. A young lieutenant. of not rt-as engage& with three Hungarians, • r having received several smartstrokes from his sabre managed to send a ball into his shoulder, to pierce his cheer with a thrust from a lance, and to leave him for dead on the bank of the river. • pn the opposite side of the streem, boatman and his daughter had lateen watching this unequal fight with tears of desperation. But what could an old unarmed man do, or a pet-chilli of sixteen However the old soldier—fur such the boatman was --had no sooner seen the of f icer fall from his horse, than lie and his daughter rowed most vigorously to wards the other side. EWELL Then when they had deposited the wounded man in their boat, these worthy people crossed the river with the faint hope of reaching the military hospital In time. " You have been badly trrateJ my boy," said the old guardsman to him; "but here am I, who have gone further on, and come home." The sitenceand fixed attitude of Lieut. S. show. ed the extreme agony of his pains, and the hardy boatman anon discovered that the blood which was gathering about the wound on the left side, would shonly terminate his existence. He named to his youthful daughter. ' "'.Lary," he said, " you hare heard me fell of my brother; he died of anothersoch wound as this here. Well, now, had'there only been somebody by to sock the hurt, his Zile would hare been sa red." The boatman then landed, and went to look for t two or three soldier to help him early the officer, leaving his little daughter in charge of Min. The girl looked at the shfieterfor a minute or two,— What was her emotion when she heard him sigh so deeply, no , that be vras resigniniT life in the first • Rower of his age, but that he should die without a mother': kiss. ' My mother ! my dear, dear mother 1 ." eatB he, I dm weiroce—'l woman's heart ioldber witat he would hare Het bosom , heaved with sympathy, aliJ her . eyes ran over. Then she rernembeted what her father had said she thought how her uncle's lite might hare been saved. In an instant, quicker than thought, she tore open the other's coat, and the generous 'girl reealleil him to life with her Amitkt this holy operation ; the Petinil of fcitstt , ps was heattlantl the Noshing heroine Heil to the other ensrof the boat. Judge of her father's surpri.-e, I as be came up with two soldiers when be saw Lieut... S—, whom he exceed to find dead ; open hip eyes, and act for'his deliverer. The boatman looted at his child, and saw it all. The poor girl came to himi with her heed bent down. She was about to excuse herself, when the lather. embracing her with mihnsizsm, raised op her spirits, and the officer thanked her 13 these pro phet:v words: You have saved my — life—it belongs to yon;' After this she tended him,•and became his nurse ; nothing would he take unless d came from her hand. Isles wonder that with vetch a nurse he at length recovered. Mary was as pretty as she was good. The Boa Waits Daughter. Meanwhile master tapi.l, who is eery busy in such c:wes, gime him another — wound, and there was a