Tammal 270
TOWANDA:
o a turbap filatiOng, nig 20. 11354.
stitrltlt V otirg.
----
THE LAST LAST GOOD NIGHT•
Close her eyelids—presii them gently
O'er the dead and leaden eyes,
For the soul that made them lovely
liath returned unto the skies,
Wipe the death drops from her forehead,
Sever one dear golden tress,
Fold her icy hands all meekly,
Smooth the little snowy dress;
Scatter flowers o'er he pillow—
Gentle flowers so pure and white—
Lay the bud upon her bosom :
There—nOw softly say 000 D :MDT.
Though our tears flow fast and faster
Yet we would not call her back,
We are gladdter feet no longer,
Tread life's roggh and thorny track;
We are glad our Heavenly Father
Took her while her heart was pure,
We ate glad he did not leave her
All life's troubles to endure;
We are glad—and yet the tear drop
ralleth; for, alas ! we knout,
That our friends will bejoaelY.
We shall miss our darling so.
While the twilight shadows gather,
We shall waitin vain to feel
Little arms, all white and dimpled, '
Round our necks so softly steal;
Our wet cheeks will miss the pleasure .
• or sweet lips so warm and red,
And our bosoms so.sadly, sadly,.
Kiss that darling little head,
Which was want to rest there sweetly;
And those golden eyes ao bright,
We shall miss their loving glances,
We shall miss their soft 000 D NIGHT
When :he morrow's sun is shining,
They will take the cherished form,
They will take it to the church—yard
And consign it to the worm.
Well—what matter 1 It is only
The clay dress our darling wore ;
God bath robed her as an angel,
She bath need of this tm more ;
Fold her hands and o'er her pillow
Scatter dowers all pare and white.
Kiss that marble brow, and whisper,
once again a last Goon, miorrr.,
'itl•tttt gale.
THE TWO WIDOWS.
DT NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE
The following story, thb simple and domestic in
cidents of which, may be deemed scarcely worth
relating, after sutili a lap-e of time, awakened ade
gtee of interest a hundred years ago, in a principal
seaport in the bay of Massachusetts. The rainy twi
light of an autumn day,a parlor on the second floor
of a house, plainly furnished, as beseemed the mid
dling circumstances of its inhabitants, yet decorated
with little curiosities from beyond the sea, and a
few delicate specimens of Indian. manufacture;
these are the only particulars to be promised in re
gard to *cenes and season. Two young and come
ly women sat together by the fire-side,• nursing
their mutual and peculiar sorrows. They were the
recent brides 14 two brothers, a sailor and lands
man, and two successive days had brought tidings
of the death of each, by the chances of Canadian
warfare and the tempestuous Atlantic. The uni
versal sympathy excited by their bereavement,
drew numerous consoling guests to the babilation
of the widowed sisters. Several, among whom was
the minister, had remained till the verge of the
evening; when, one by one, whispering many
comfortable passages of Scripture, that were an
swered by more abundant tears ; they took their
leave, and departed to their own happier homes.
The mourners though not insensible to the kindness
of their friends, had yearned to be left alone. Uni
ted as they had been by relationship of the living,
and now more closely.so by that of the dead, each
felt as it whatever consolation her grief admitted,
was to be found in the bosom of the other. They
joined their hearts and wept together silently. But
after an hour of such indulgence, one of the sisters,
all of whose emotions were influenced by her mild,
quiet, yet not feeble character, began to recollect
- the precepts of resignation and endurance- which
piety bad taught her, when she did nit think to
heed them. Her misfortunes, besides,i* earliest
known, should earliest cease to interfere with her
regular course of duties; accordingly, haVing placed
the table before the fire, and arranged a frugal meal,
she took the - hand of her cotnpanioni :
"Come, dearest sister, you not eaten a
morsel to-day," she said. " Arise, I,,Pray you, and
le' us ask a blessing on that which iiirovided for
Her sister-in-law was of a lively ind irritable
iemperament, and the• first pangs of hpr sorrow
had been expressed by shrieks and passionate
lamentations. She now shrunk from Mary's words
like a wounded sufferer
.from - a hand that revives
the throb.
" There is no blessing for me, neither will I ask
it," Cried Margaret, with a fresh burst of tears.—
" Would it were His will that I might never taste
food more!"
let she tie in',,ted at these rebellious expressions,
almost as soon as
,they were uttered, and by de..
green Mary succeeded in bringing her sister's mind
nearer to the situation of her own. Time went on,
and their usual hour of repose arrived. The bro.
thers and their brides entered the married state
with no more than the slender metins which then
sanctioned such a step, and confederated them.
selves into one household, with equal' rights to the
parlor, and claiming exclusive 'privilege. in two
sleeping roams contiguous to it. Thither the wi.
doomed ones retired, after heaping gibes upon the
dying embers of the are, and placing alighted lamp
upon the hearth.
The doors of both Chambers were left open, so
that a pan of the interior of each, z an4 the beds
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with their unclosed contains, were reciprocally vial.
ble. Sleep did not fall upon the sisters' at one and
the same time. Mary experienced the,effeet often
consequent upon grief, quietly borne, and soon
sunk into temporary bmgetfutniiis ;' while Marga
ret became more disturbed and feverish, in proper
lion as the night advanced- with its deepest and
stillest hours. She lay listening to the drops of rain
that came down in monotonous succession, un
swayed by a breath of wind, and a nervous impulse
continually causing her to lift her head from the
pillow, and gaze into Mary's chamber and the in
termediate apartment. The cold light of the lamp
threw the shadows of the furniture up against the
wall, stamping them immoveably there, except
when they were shaken by a sudden flicker of the
flame. Two vacant arm chairs were in their old
position on opposite sides of the hearth, where the
brothers were wont to sit in young and laughing
dignity, as heads of families; two humbler seats
were near them, the thrones of that little empire,
where Mary and herself had exercised in love, a
power that love had *on. The cheerful radiince
of the fire bad shone upon the happy circle; and
the dead glimmer of the lamp might-have befitted
their reunion now. While Margaret groaned in
bitterness, she heard a knock at the street door.
" How would my heart have leapt at that sound
but yesterday !" thought she, remembering the an
xiety with which she had long awaited tidings from
her husband. " I care not for it now ; let them be
gone, tot I will not mile."
But even while a sort of childish fretfulness made
her thus resolve, she was breathing hurriedly and
straining her ears to catch a repetition of the sum
mons. It is difficult to be convinced of the death
of one whom we hate deemed another's self. The
knocking was now ienewed in slow and regular
strokes, apparently given with the soft end of a
double fist, and was accompanied by words faintly
heard thro' several thicknesses of the wall. Mar-
germ looked to her sister's chamber, and beheld
her still lying in the depths of sleep. She slightly
arrayed herself, trembling between fear and eager.
ness as she did so.
' "Heaven help me !" sighed she, " I have nothing
left to fear, and methinks I am ten times mote a
coward now than ever."
Seizing the lamp from the hearth, she hastened
to the window that overlooked the.street door. It
was [Venice, turning upon its hinges; and having
thrown it back, she stretched her head a little way
into the moist atmosphere. A lantern was red
dening the front of the house, and melting its light
in the neighboring puddles, while a deluge of
darkness overwhelmed every object. As the win•
dow grated on its hinges, a man in a broad brim
ed hat and blanket coat stepped from under the
shelter of the projecting story, and looked upward
to discover whom his applicaion had aroused
Margaret knew him as a friendly innkeeper of the
town.
"What would you have, good -man Parker'!"
crud the widow.
" Lack a-day is it you, good mistress Margaret I"
replied the innkeeper. "I was afraid it might be .
your sister Mary, for I hate to see a young woman
irotrouble, when I hasn't a word of comfort to whie-
per to her.
" For Heaven's sake, what news do you brine
screamed Margaret.
" Why there has been en express through the
town this half hour," said the good man Parker,
"travelling from the eastern jurisdiction with let
ters from Governor and Council. He tarried at my
house to refresh himself with a drop and morsel,
and I asked him what tidings on the frontiers. He
told me we had the better in the skirmish you wot
of, and that thirteen men reported slain, are well
and sound, and your husband among them. Be
sides, he is appointed one of the escort to bring the
captivated Frenchers and Indians home to the pro
vince jail. I judge you wouldn't mind being broke
of your rest, and so I stepped over to tell you.—
Good night."
&I saying, the honest man clepartedind his lan
tern gleamed along the street, bringing to view in
distinct shapes of things, and the fragment of a
world : like order glimmering through chaos, or
memory roaming over the past. Bat Margaret stay
ed not to watch this picturesque effect. Joy flush.
ed into her heart, and lighted it up at once, and
breathless, and with winged steps she flew to the
bedside of her sister. She paused, however, at the
door of chamber, while a thought of pain broke in
upon her.
‘: Poor Mary !" said she to herself. "Shall I
awaken her to feel her sorrow sharpened by my
happiness I No; I will keep it in my open bosom
till the morrow.
She approached the bed to discover if Mary's
sleep was peaceful. Her face was turned partly
upwards to the pillow, and had been hidden there
to weep ; but a look of motionless contentment was
visible upon it, as if her heart, like a deep lake,
had grown calm becatuie its head had sunk down
so tar within. Happy it is, that the lighter sorrows
are those from which dreams are chiefly fabricated.
Margaret shrank from disturbing her sister.in-law,
and felt as if her own better fortune bad rendered
tier involuntarily unfaithful, and if altered and di
minished affection must be the consequence of the
disclosure she had to make. With a sudden 'step '
she turned away. But joy could not long be repres
sed, even by the circumstances that would have
excited heavy grief at another moment. Her mind
was thronged with delightful thoughts, till sleep
stole on and transformed them to visions, more de
lightful and more wild, like the breath of winter,
(but a cold comparison) working fantastic tracery
on the window.
When the night was far advanced, Mary awoke
with a sudden start. A vivid dream had latterly
involved her m its unreal life, of which, however,
she could only remember that it had been broken
in upon at the most interesting point. For a little
time, slumber hung about her like a morning mist
hindering her from perceiving the distinct outline
of her situation, She listened with imperfect con•
PUBLISHED., EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY B. O'HARA GOODRICH.
" REGARDLESS OP DasooctrtloN Isom ANT Qvainza."
scionsneseto two or three volleys of a rapid and
eager knocking; and first she deemed the noise a
matter of course, like the breath she drew nest, it
appeared ithing in which she bad no concern;
and lastly, became aware that it was a summons
necessary to be Obeyed. At the same moment,
the pang of recollection darted into her mind; the
pall of sleep was thrown back from the face ot
grief; the dim light of the chamber, and the ob
jects therein revealed, bad retained all her suspen
ded ideas, sad restored them as soon as she un•
closed her eyes. Again there was a quick peal
upon the street door. Fearing that her sister
would also be disturbed, Mary wrapped herself in
a cloak and hood, took the lamp from the hearth,
and hastened to the window. By some accident,
it had been unclasped, and yielded easily to the
hand.
" Who's there!" asked Mary, trembling, as she
ooked forth.
The storm was overatd the moon was up ; it
shone upon broken cloudfiabove and below, upon
houses black with moisture, and !Ton little lakes
of the fallen rain, curling with silver beneath the
quick enchantment of a breeze. A young man in
a sailor's dress, wet as if he had come out of the
depth of the sea, stood alone under the'window.—
Mary recegnized him as one whose livelihood was
gained by short voyages along the coast; nor did
she forget that, previous to her marriage, he had
been an ansuccessful wooer of her heart.
What do you seek here, Stephen ?" said ehe
" Cheer op, Mary, for I seek to comfort you ;"
answered the rejected lover. " You must know
that I got home ten minutes ago, and the first that
my mother told me about was your husband. So,
without saying a word to the old woman, I clapped
on my hat and ran out of the house. I couldn't have
slept a wink before speaking to you, Mary, for the
sake of old times."
" Stephen, T thought better of you !" exclaimed
the widow, with gushirg tears, and preparing to
diiie the lattice; for she war no whit inclined to
imitate the first wife of Zadig.
"But atop, and hear my story out," cried the
young sailor. " I tell you we spoke c brig yelster
day afternoon, bound in from old England.
who do you think I saw on deck, well and bear•
ty, only a bit thinner than he was fire months
ago '+:'
Mary leaned from -the window, but could not
speak.
" Why, it was your-hitsband himself,Pcontinued
the generous seaman. " He and three others saved
themselves on a spar, when the vessel turned bot
tom upwards. The brig will beat into the bay by
daylight, with this wind, and you'll see him here
to-morrow. There's the comfort I bring to you,
Mary ; so good night."
He hurried away, while Mary`watched him with
a doubt of waking reality, that seemed stronger or
weaker as he alternately entered the shade of the
housep, or emerged into the broad streaks of moon
light. Gradually, however, a flood of conviction
swelled into her heart, in strength enough to over
whelm her, had its increase been more. Her first
impulse was to arouse her sister-in-law, and com
municate the new-born gladness. She opened the
chamber door, which had been closed in the course
of the night, though not latched, advanced to the
bedside, and was about to lay her hand on the
slumberer's shoulder. But then she remembered
that Margaret would awake to thoughts of death
and woe, rendered not the less bitter by the contrast
of her own felicity. She suffered the rays of the
lamp to fall upon the unconscious form of the be
reaved one.
Margaret lay in unquiet sleep, and the drapery
was displaced around her; her young check was
rosy-tinted, lips half opened in a vivid smile; and
expression of joy debarred its passage by her seal
ed eyelids, struggled forth like incense from the
whole countenance.
" My poor sister, you will awaken too sooh from
that happy dream !" thought Mary.
Before retiring, she sat down the lamp, and en
deavored to arrange . , the bed-clothes 53 that the chill
air might do harm to the feverish slamberer. But
her hand trembled against Margaret's neck ; a tear
also tell upon her ceek, and she suddently awoke.
Their mutual joy was made known, and they wept
in each other's arms:
0& " Morning Relief Train," soliloquised Mrs
Paitington, as she sat in one of the New Jersey.
railroad cars, and gazed upon the ticket which she
had a short time previously purchased at the depot
Morning Relief Train— I s'poae that must be
the train which starts every morning at 7 o'clock,
to pick up the poor creatures on the track, that have
been masticated the night previous. Dear me,
when will railroad folks learn to use circumciss
ion and care !" and the old lady sighed in bitterness
of spirit.
A QUEER ANTIPATHY.—There was, many years
ago, a man in West Springfield, Mass., who
would run at the eight of a hen, as though it were'
a wild beast. On one occasion he got sight of a
basket of eggs, and immediately fainted away, and
it WAS was with difficulty that he was brought to
himselt. upon enquiring into the history of this
man's family, it was found that a short time previous
to his birth, his mother, for some trifling offence,
had been placed in the pillory—and from this cir
cumstance, some philosophers accounted for the
son's aversion to eggs.
TEST or Cil►aacttea.—We may judge of a man's
character by what he loves, as readily as by _his
associates. If a person is wed to low and sordid
objects—if he takes delight in the bacchanalian re
vel, vulgar song and debasing language—we can
at once telt the complexion of his mind. On the
contrary, if he is found in the society of the g00d...
if he loves purity and truth—we are satisfied that
he is an upright man. A mind debased will not
be found in a holy assembly, among the wise and
good. Ile whole albedo= are encircled by good•
nese, seeks not his gratification at the haunts o
vice.
tte Soinetamia Oak.
OLFASIMIOS IRON ITS =DUN AND PSONKHR HISTORY
BY C. P. LYBRY.
* * * * * * * *
At the date of its organization, ( l 791) Tiogs em
braced not only its present limits, but also the
counties of Chemung, Broome and Chenango. Its
boundaries were Otsego county on the East, the
" military tract" and Herkimer county on the north,
Oxman? on the West, oat of which Stephen was
erected In 1796, and the Pennsylvania line on the
Sonth.',. „ Its towns, commencing at its westerly lim
it, were Newtown, Chemong and Owego, none of
whose territory was then, where it now is, but all
of it lay west of the Owego creek, and embraced
what is now Tioga, Candor, Spencer, *Barton, and
Nichols in Tioga county ; and Casoline, Danby,
and iNewfield, in Tompkins county. The town
neat easterly to the Owego creek was Union, which
included then within its limits, what is now known
as Owego, Newark, Berkshire, and Richford in Ti
nge County, also, territory now known as Union,
Vestal, Lisle, etc., in Broome County, and the wes
terly portion of what is now Clienango county.—
The town next easterly was Chenango, and the
one next easterly and northerly was Jericho, which
coveredlerritory then lying in easterly part of what
is now Chenango county.
It is thus seen that the six old towns—Newtown,
Chemung, Owego, Union, Chenango, and Jericho,
then covered territory which the fifty.two towns of
Chemung, Tioga, Broome, and Chenango counties,
and the three towns, Caroline, Danby, and New.
field, in Tompkins, now cover; numbering in the
aggregate, fifty-five.
The first loss of territory which Tioga sustained
in the:mganization of other counties, was in 1798,
when the north-easterly corner of her ancient do
main, and a strip from the westerly part of Herki
mer, were taken to make up the county of Che
nango, which in its turn was found large enough,
in 1806, to admit of the erection of Madison out of
its northern half.
Next in order of time was 1806, was the organ
ization of Broome county, taken from Tioga and so
named in boirbr of the then Lieut. Governor. It
embraced, when first organized, the old towns of
Chenango, etc., and territory now called Owego,
Newark, Berkshire, and Richford in Tioga county.
The next change of the boundaries of Tioga
county, was in 1822, the year subsequent to the
burning of the court house at Spencer village, at
which time the territory now included within the
towns or Owego, Newark, Berkshire, and Richford,
was taken from Broome, and given back to Tioga,
and the towns of Caroline, Danby and Newfield,
before that comprised within the county of Tioga,
were added to Tompkins. By the same Legisla•
tare, (1822,) Tioga was divided into two jury dis
tricts, Owego and Elmira then becoming hall•ehire
towns.
This proved to be but a preliminary step to the
subsequent establishment of Chemung by herself;
resulting in 1836, in a complete severance of the
connection and mutuality of interests, which since
1781 bad bound the territory comprised with the
present limits of the flourishing county, to the an •
cient name and honors of Tinge. After a union of
forty•five years, the final separation took place,
and a new geographical luse since then has inter-
posed between them, an imaginary barrier, as it
has, since 1798, 1806, and 1822, between Tinge,
the mother, and Chenango, Broome, and the three
towns in Tompkins—her children. • * *
Samuel Brown and his fifty nine associates, a
large number of whom resided in Berkshire :coon•
ty, Massachusetts, very soon after their purchase
from that state of the " ten townships," lying be
tween the Chenango river and Owego creek, as
was particularly detailed in a previous number of
this series, soon made provisions for its survey and
allotment among the various patentees. Deeds of
partitions were executed in the year 1789, and the
several owners commenced the work of selling
and settling their respective parcels. It should be
mentioned here that the Owego " river" which
was the westerly boundary of the original gran t
frorti Massachusetts, was identical with what is
now generally termed the West Owego creek ;
that being treated :as the main stream by
surveyors. By the terms of the grant, the easterly
limits was the , " Chenango" river, the westerly
branch of which, taking its rise in the south part of
Onondaga, and for a part of its distance called the
Tioug,hnioga, was then treated, in the establish
ment of boundaries, as the main river. The north
erly limit was identical with the present south line
of Courtland county.
The explorers and surveyors took back to the
people of Berkshire, well accredited accounts of the
superior fertility and value of thin 'body of Ind,
when compared with the soil of the country in
which they lived. The rich alluvial valleys of the
rivers and creeks, were portrayed in colors too
glowing to be resisted by the young and enterpris
ing, while men of middle age, and not a few of the
patentees themselves, partook of the spirit of adven
ture, and bidding adieu to old homes and kindreod
they turned away, firmly but sadly, from New Eng
land, with her " Sabbath chime of bellsrand pen
etrated the wilderness of the Susquehanna and
Chenango—going forth to meet the " shadowy
future," selkelying and steadfast.
It is one of the reawkable facts, illustrative of
the magical growth and advanc.ement of this por
tion of OW state, that some of the pioneers yet sur
vive, who penetrated to various parts of our coun
try, over roads which they cut through the woods,
for miles, with their own hands. One of those who
have survived to witness these wonderful changes,
,is Mr. Elisha Wilson, of the town of Newark, a
native 01, and emigrant from Stockbridge, Berk•
shire county. He has now amvedat his eighty.
seventlOwahand is in the enjoyment of fair health,
and sound mind and memory. His recital of the
events connected with his journey to, and settle-
meat at the plaoe•whare - still reeides,is of mark
ed intense. •
He pun:testa upon • ich he made his first set
dement, and upop whi he lives, of Elisha
who was one (tribe sixty purchasers, and then re
sided at Great Barrington, Berkshire county. For
the purpose of viewing the tract, as well as to aid
in correcting some errors in an original plot of it,
Mr. Wilson made a tour in 1790, with a surveying
party, through an unbroken wilderness, for mach
of the distance, and having penetrated to lot No.
184, and liking its situation and many advantages,
be resolved to become its owner, and make there
a permanent settlement.
He made the purchase the same year, upon his
return to his native town, and upon the 23d day of
February, 1791, in company with Daniel Ball, who
was a son of Joseph 8., one of the pateitees, Isaac
and Abram Brown, who were nephews of Samuel
8., the leading proprietor, and two other young
men, whose names were Dean and Norton, be
left old Stockbridge; all of them were his associ
ates and fellow townsmen, and were seeking uew
homes in this newly opened frontier. Their means
of conveyance were two sleds, drawn by yokes of
oxen. Their route was direct from their homes to
the Hudson at ;Coxsackie, thence through Dur-
ham, across the Cattskil Mountains, through the
old towns of Harpersfield and Franklin, to the
Susquehanna, at the mouth of the Ouleou►. Instead
of crossing at Wattles' ferry, which was situated
very nearly where the Unadilla bridge now stands,
they pursued their journey down the East bank of
the river, to soquaga. Thus far upon their journey,
their course had been for much of the way through
a wilderness, over a road not yet deserving the
name of a highway, and relieved by the sight or
the cheerful log cabin, at intervals varying from
ten to twelve miles.
At Oquaga a quantity of their stores and movea
bles was left, and retaining only such as were in
dispensable for their they continued their
journey, crossing the river at that point, for the
purpose of avoiding the circuitouvoute by the
Great Bend, and taking a course directly across the
hfrgh land• which separate the Susquehanna from
de western branch, the Chenango. For countless
years previous to this, the same route had been
adopted s by the Indians, in their expeditions to and
from Oquaga, which from an early time, was to
them an important military and trading post. That
portion of Gen. Clinton's army, not embarked in
the boats, at the time of his inroad against the Iro•
quois of our valley in 1709, took the same course
from river to river, finding there, then, a wide and
well beaten trail; and in 1785 a portion of James
McMaster's pioneer company from the Mohawk,
crossed from that point over the same ground
which their Indian predecessors, with their intimate
rinowledge of the geographical features oi the
country, had so long before, with intuitive wood.
land sagacity pronounced feasible.
•Except that portion of Barton' west of Capita
creek.
tThen called Goyim.
# Onah.hub-cuan-gen.—Windsor.
Pascocrous Wm—There wassome unconscious
wit, and a deal of childish philosophy in the reply
which a little girl a pretty, bright child, not quite
tour years old—made to her father. She was an
noyed at some old shoes, which she wasLanxions
should be replaced by new orip and was venting
her indignation in ra her a more boisterous manner
than her father thoeght proper.
" What is the matter there, Coral have you got
a fit ?"
n No, papa, they don't fit me at all," said she.—
And then she enumerated all the faults of the shoes
in set terms, and reached the climax thus," Why,
they don't even squeak when I walk out."
A Novrt—Comnssr.D.—Moonlight night ; stn.
dy grove; two lovers; eternal fidelity; young lady
rich ; young man poor; very handsome; very
smart ; sure to make a fortune ; young lady's father
very angry ; won't consent ; mother intercedes; no
go; rich rival: very ugly ; very hard hearted ;
lovers in a bad fix ; won't part ; die first; moon
light again ; garret window opens; rope ladder ;
flight; pursuit; too late; marriage; old man in a
me; won't forgive them ; disowns them; old man
gets sick ; sends for his daughter; all forgiven
them ; all made up ; old man dies; young couple
get all the money; live in the old mansion ; quite
comfortable; have little children; much happiness.
Finis.
IMPRESSION AT FIRST Sicirr.—This subject, at
the supper table was getting " talked over," when
the lady who presided " o'er the cups and tea"
said " she always formed an idea of a person at
first sight ; and that idea she found was generally
a correct one "
" Mamma," said her youngest son, in a shrill
voice, that attracted the attention of all present.
" Well, my dear," said the fond mother, what
do you want,?"
" I want to know," said young, America, u what
you thought when you first saw me ?"
There was no answer to this query but we learn
a general titter prevailed, and that "Charlie" was
taken out into the air immediately by the servant.
Oer A clergyman, who was a bit of a humorist,
once took tea with a lady of his parish, who prided
herself much upon her nice bread, and was also ad.
dieted to the common trick of depreciating her
viands to her guests.
As she passed the nice warm biscuits to the rev.
erend gentleman, she said :
" They are not very good ; I am almost ashamed
to offer them. The minister took one, looked at it
rather dubiously, and replied :
" They are not as good as they might be !"
The plate was instantly withdrawn;" and with
heightened color the lady exclaimed :
They are good enough for you!"
Nothing further was said about the oibc
Mein Mow 81upte Qualims.
Why is rain water soft 'Because It is not impreg
nated with earth and minerals,
Why is it moreeasy to web with soft water than
with hard I Because soft water unites freely with
soap, and desolves it instead of decomposing it, as
hard water.
Why do wood ashes make hard water soft
lat. Because the carbonate acid of wood ashes
combines with the sulphate of lime in the bard
water and.convene it Into chalk.
2d. wood ashes converts some of the soluble ash@
of water into insoluble and throwithem down as a
sediment, by which the water remains more pure.
Why has rain water such an unpleasant smell
when it is collected in. a rain-water tub or tank f
Because it is impregnated with decomposed organic
matter washed from the roofs of trees, or the casks
in which it colected.
Why does water melt salt t Because very mi
nute particles of water insinuate themselves into
the pores of the salt by capillary attraction, and Mire
the crystals apart from each other.
How does blowing hot food make them cool? It
causes the air which has been heateeby the food
to change more rapidly, and give place to fresh
cold air.
Why do ladies fan themselves in hot weather ?
That fresh particles of air may be brought into con
act with their face by the action of the fan, and as
every particle of air absorbs some heat from the
skin the constant change makes them cool.
Does a fancool the aR? No, it makes the air hot
ter, by imparting to it the heat of our face by trans.
(erringits heat to the air.
Why is there always a strong draught through the
key-hole of a,door 2 Because the air in the room
we occupy is Ararmer than the air in the hall there
fore the air in the hall rushes through the key-hole
into the room and causes admit.
Why Is there always a strong draught under the
door and through the crevice on each side i Besause
cold air stisliesntrom the hall to supply the void in
the room caused by the escape of the warm air up
the chimney, &c.
If you open the lower sash of a window there is
more draught than if yon open upper sash. Explain
the reasons of this. If the lower sash be open cold
external air will rush freely into the room and cause
a great draught inward, but if the upper sash be open
the heated air of the room will rush out and of
course there will be less draught inward.
By what means is a room better ventilated—by
opening the ripper or lower sash ; A room is better
ventilated by opening the upper sash ? because the
hot vitiated air, which. always ascends toward the
ceiling, can escape more easily.
By which mean% is a hot room more quickly
cooled?—by opening the lower sash. A hot room
is cooled more quickly by opening the lower sash
because the cold air can enter more freely at the
lower part of the roam than at the upper.
Why does the wind dry damp linen? Because
dry wind, like dry sponge inbibes the particles of
- vapor from the surface of the linen as fast as they
are formed.
Which is the hottest place in a church or cha-
plel—The gallery. •
Why is the gallery of all public places hotter
than the lower parts of the buildings? Because the
heated air of the building ascends and all the cold.
air which can enter through the doors, and win
dows keepkto the floor till it has become heated.
Why do plants grow out of walls and towers?
Ei+het because the wind blew the seed there with
the duet or else because some bird flying over,
dropped reed there, which it had formerly eaten.'
Discontent.
How universal it is. We never knew the man
who would say. " I am contented." Go where
you will, among the rich or the poor, the man of
competence or the man who earns his bread by
the daily sweat of his brow, you bear the sound of
murmuring and the voice ol complaint. The other
day we stood by a cooper, who was playing a merry
tune, with an adze round a cask. " Ah! (sighed
he,) mine is a hard lot—forever trotting round like
a dog, driving at a hoop."
" Heigh° !" sighed a blacksmith, one of the hot
days, as he wiped away the drops of pkrspiration
from his brow, while the red hot iron glowed upon
his anvil, "this is life with 'a vengeance—melting
and frying one's self over the are."
"Oh, that I were a carpenter," ejaculated a
shoemaker, as he bent over his lap•stone. " Here
I am, day alter day, working my soul away in
making soles for others, cooped up in a seven by
nine room."
" I am sick of this out door work, (exclaims
the carpenter,) boiling and sweltering under the sun,
or exposed to the clemency of the weather. If I
was only a tailor !"
"This is to bad, (perpetually cries the tailor) to
be compelled to sit perched up here, plying the
needle all the whiles—would that mine were a more
active life.'
Last day of grace—the banks won't discount
—customers won't pay— what shall I do V' gium
bles the merchant. " I had rather be a truck horse,
a dog—anything."
"Happy fellows," groans the lawyer, as he
scratches his head over some perplexing case, or
pours over some dry record, " happy fellows ! I
had rather hammer stone than cudgel my brain on
this tedious, vexatious question."
And through all the ramifications of society, all
are complaining of their condition—finding fault
with their particular calling. "If I were only this;
or !hat, or the other, I should be content, anything
but what I am"' is the universal cry. So wags
the world, so it has wag ged, and so it will wag.
T H E S L F 07 Corgi'Ot ls N ESS.-- We read in:the Bible
o f perso n• tailing into gross sins, and yet being
but not of the recovery alone
n otated and saved ;
who was guilty of covetousness. Balarn Gebazi,
Judas, and Ananias and Sapphitica ars awful ex.
ampler.
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VIMMEEIL 400