Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, July 28, 1855, Image 1
ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOW-AJSDA. : GuinriJan fflominn, 3nln 28. 1855. RELI G I O N-W HAT IS IT? BV BISHOP HEBKR. Is it to go to church to-day, To look devout atidseem to pray, And ere to-morrow's sun goes down lie dealing slander through the town ? Docs every sanctimonious face Denote the certain reign of grace ? Does not a phiz that scowls at sin Oft veil hypocrisy within ? Is it to make our daily walk And of our own good deeds to talk, Yet often practice secret crime, Aud thus mis-spend our precious time ? Is it for sect or creed to fight, To call our zeal the rule of right. When what we wish is at the best, To see our church excel the rest ? Is it to wear the Christian's dress, And love to all mankind profess, And treat with scorn the humble poor, Aud bar against them every door ? Oh, no ! religion means not this, It-< fruit more sweet and fairer is— Its precepts this : to others do As you would have them do to you. It grieves to hear an ill report, And scorns with human woes to sport— Of others' deeds it speaks no ill, But tells of good or keeps it still. And does religion this impart ? Then may its influence till my heart; Oh' hi-te that blissful, joyful day, When all the earth may own its sway. Judge Wilmot's Address. IMirmd at the Sabbath School celebration in Totcanda, July 4!/i, 1555. To WANDA. July 4. 1855. 11..S- D. W II.MOT.— Dear Sir The Executive C'ommit t. e ..11 the > i.i'kiv School celebration held this day, would be very happy if you would furnish them with a copy of your address to the children and friends for publication, as we think it would 4 tend to advance the cause we have so much at heart. Verv truly, vours, Ac., 11. S. ItUSSELL, ) A. EDWARDS, - Committee E. M. FAKRAR. \ TOWAXDA, July 5, 1855. FIUNTI.KMKS : I very cheerfully comply with your re que-t, and place the manuscript of my address at your disposal. ' D. WII.MOT. To li. S. RCSSELL, A. EDWARDS, E. M. FAKRAR, Com mittee. Cmi.lMF.N*:—Yonr parents and teachers have eome here to spen tiiis holiday with you, ami out of their love have provided abundantly, every good thing for your healthful and inno cent enjoyment. They wish you to be very happy—indeed, they are never more liappv themselves, than when they hear the merry voices of your light hearts, and sec the faces of their dear children bright with joy and glad ness. They desire also, iu the celebration of this great festival of our country, that you should receive improvement and instruction ; and have requested me to talk to you a little while, in the hope thereby, that your minds tuay gain some additional knowledge, and your young hearts made warm with increased grati tude and love for your kind friends here on ' earth, and for your great Friend aud Father 1 in Heaven. Have you ever thought, children, of the deep love your parents have for you ? ami of its countless value ? You are too young to un derstand all its wonderful strength, or to esti mate its priceless worth. You would be very unhappy indeed, if you were takeu to some , strange and wilderness country, where the sun never shines, and there left alone amidst the >torms and darkness of a cold and unending winter. Oh, how helpless and forsaken you would he ! Soon, very soon, you would die with hunger and cold, and a terrible fear. Yet "'"'li would be your life now—thus dark, and cold, and fearful, were it not for the love of parents and friends. It is their love that sus ■ 'i v and nourishes you, giving to your life all it Leuuty ami happiness. Without this love you would perislf; or if the body lived, the heart would wither; the sweet fountains of happiness would be dried up, and your •narts would give forth only tears of bittersor r ' Non have seen a beautiful flower brok en 'rom the stem on which it grew, and noticed how >OOll its sweetness and beauty were gone. 'l'ildren, would it be with your young hearts, if you weVe cut off from the love of Jour kind earthly friends. Tbey would no more he light and merry, but sorrowful and As the parent stem gave to the flower sweetness and beauty, so does the love ''' parents and friends give to the heart of the all its joy, ami lightness, and merry glee. "I off from this love, your young hearts #, uiM cease to dance with bright hopes—dark j "rrows would overshadow them likcthegloom a coid and stormy winter's night. This love 1 paints for their children is most wouderful; '' w ' s h you to think more about it, and to more about it, because it teaches '■ a.| a great lesson of the wisdom and good • " t'f Bod. You know that you are too fi • in body and mind, to provide for fcveu ' or your simplest wants, food nothing -, and much less are you able to '' l!( ' for your greater wants, instruction iu w Hlgc and virtue. Y t you see with what V( 1,1 5,1 "4 goodnes> God Las provided for all 1 4'iiits, i.y gi-.iLg u you parents and • yon so tomhrlv. You. who vj auci hsipicaa ure made strong through for y , ! 'T lh ' UVe ' at ' Jer h HVe wealth, <t ;^' u f ' I'° urs out like water ;if he have *'4<i i „i' r * ° ll s l' eru l s strength in days w^;v!"V' 8 01 wear y toil ; for you the mother iirr ' T Y ol *th and health iu auxious watch- I v our .!i A " ° ur infa,,c y a od by the bed-side of -, ■ < Kuees. Is no t this love most wonder-! * J<v fet exrh child cik tin? or herrel?! THE BRADFORD REPORTER. this question : Why is it that my father and mother love me so deeply, that they are willing to work for me, and if necessary, to die forme? From whence does this wonderful love come ? The answer is, from God. He it is. who put into our hearts this strong and wonderful love for our children. Thus you learn with what wisdom and goodness God has provided for your infancy and childhood. If he had not put this love into the parent's heart, the child would have beeu left to perish in its helpless infancy. It is to God, therefore, that your warmest gratitude is due for all the love and care shown to you by earthly friends. Every child before he sleeps and when he wakes, should thank God with all his heart for this great blessing—a parent's love. Next to God you owe a lasting debt of gratitude to your pa rents, and to those kind earthly friends who nurture you in youth, and who instruct you in useful knowledge and in the ways of happiness and virtue. I said a few minutes ago that you had great er wants to be provided for, than those of the body—food and clothing. The mind is to be clothed with knowledge, and the heart instruc ted into a true and real life—a life of feeling, of love and gratitude and tender sympathy for the sufferings and misfortunes of others. If you will give me your attention, I will try to make you understand this inner life—this life of the heart—the only life worth living for, and without which, our stay here 011 earth is but a terrible death. You know that we have a very different life from that of the horse and ox ; yet they have bodies much stronger and more powerful thau our own ; they breathe, eat, drink and sleep, and enjoy these pleasures as much as we do. This is the life of the brute, or of the body alone, and you under stand that it is no true true life for us. Our real life is not in the growth and strength of the body—in the pleasures of eating and drink ing, nor yet in the number of years we live ; but in what we know, and feel, and do. Here within us is the true life of man. Is the mind stored with the riches of knowledge ? .Is the heart filled with love and gratitude to God, and with love and sympathy for our fellow men ? Are we just and honest in all our deal ings and intercourse with others ? Do we pi ty the unfortunate, and help the pooraud needy with a liberal hand ? If so, then we shall live a true, and beautiful, and happy life. If 011 the other hand, the mind is dark with ignor ance—if the heart be debased by wicked pas ssions—if we are selfish, cruel and unjust—if we are filled with pride, and envy, and hatred of our fellow-men—if we oppress the weak,and turn a deaf ear to the cries of the poor and friendless, then shall our life be like a dark prison, into which light, and hope, and joy ne ver enter. How miserable would life be in the company of loathsome serpents ! If go where we would, snakes and scorpions attend ed our every step ! If when we walked, or ate, or slept, they were coiling around us their slimy bodies, hissing in our ears and stinging us with their poisonous fangs ! Such a life would be horrible indeed, worse than a thou sand deaths. Yet like to this, and even more terrible, is the life of the wicked and unjust man. His heart is filled with cruelty, revenge, pride, envy, hatred, malice, and a thousaud evil passions and desires ; —these are the fiery scor pions that torment him day and night. They sting him with remorse and fear. He would be glad to die, if thereby he could escape them; hut he cannot—they are himself—his own wicked thoughts and passions. His heart has become like a nest in which ugly serpents grow, and they will be with him ever, in this world, and in the world to come. But for the good there is a happy life—a life of pure and gentle thoughts and feelings. Would it not be beau tiful to live in the company of lovely birds, that should be always around us with their sweet songs, bringing us messages of love from an gels, and bright flowers from paradise ! Oh, would not such a life be full of joy and happi ness ! And such a life is yours, dear children, if you cherish within your hearts kind and gen tle feelings—truth, mercy, charity and love— these are the beautiful birds that shall bring you messages of love, and bright flowers from paradise: and they will le always with you here, and in the life beyond the grave ; —they are your own good thoughts and pure affec tions. God has so ordered—it is one of His great and unchanging laws, that the wicked shall be miserable even in this life, and that to be happy we must he good. So certain as the sun rises and sets, giving day and night to the world, thus certain is it that the wicked pas sions of the heart, if allowed to grow there, will become like fiery scorpions to torment us ; but if we cherish good affections, these wiil fill the heart, driving out the evil passions and making our lives beautiful arid full of peace and joy. Knowledge is light to the mind; ignorance is darkness. Virtue brings happi nesss —wickedness brings woe. You see, chil dren, how necessary it is that your hearts and minds should be instructed in the ways of vir tue and in the paths of kuowledge. Upon the progress you make, depends your character and well-being as men and women. Be kind and obedient, loving and grateful to those who so patiently work for your instruction. A faith ful teacher, next to God, is your best friend often a much better friend than a fond and too indulgent parent. Be vigilant and attentive in your studies, kind and gentle toward each other,and to your teachers loving and obedient. Strive To learn. Let yonr minds hunger and thirst after knowledge ; it is of more value than gold or silver. Cherish in your hearts every good thought and kindly affection ; thus shall you lay up for yourselves the true riches of life—riches that you can carry with you beyond the grave, aud that will never flee aw a v. All tru> knowledge toadies us of God and of our duty to Hi in and to' our fellow-men.— We are required to love Ilim supremely, aud our neighbor as onrself. How can wc give to God that love and adoration He requires, and which is our bounden duty, unless we learn His character aud study His infinite perfec tions ? Or how can we esteem our neighbor as we ought, unless we know his worth ? And thJr we lesrn wits ve c'ztfr.".fb.te Go::'" :z PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TO WAN DA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. " REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." finite love for all mankind. How ought we to love and help each other, when God so loved us all that He gave His only Sou to die for us ? Thus you see, as we learn of God and His goodness, we are taught lessons of love and duty toward our fellow men. To know God fully, would be to have all knowledge of things in Heaven and upon the earth. This can never be, because there is 110 limit to Ilis power and wisdom—llo bounds to His goodness and mercy. The angels cannot understand all His works. They know much more of Him than we do, and therefore are much wiser thau we. Wisdom is the knowledge of God. As we know Him we are wise—as we know Him not, we are without true know ledge. All that we learn from the cradle to the grave—from the primary school to the highest college in the land, is chiefly valuable as it teaches us more and more of God—as it enables us better to understand Ilis character, to comprehend His works, and to observe His dealings with men. The study of science is but a study into the works of God. Astrono my teaches of His works in the Heavens—of the countless worlds He lias created, aud which shine forth as stars in the firmament of night. The other sciences teach of His works hereon earth. His most wonderful work on earth,and that which we should study more than all oth ers, is ourselves ; not our bodies, but our hearts and minds. History is the record or story of what has been done by those who lived before us ; and in the study of this, we learn of God's dealings with men and nations ; —how He hum hies the proud, aud raises up the lowlv—how lie overturns the strength of mighty nations, and gives the victory to the weak—how He breaks asunder the chains of sir very, and sets the bondman free. All these things are clear ly seen in the history of Joseph and his breth ren, in the destruction of the hosts of Phareo and the delivereiice of the people of Israel from the cruel bondage of the Egyptians. So the finger of God is plain to be seeu in all history, and especially in the history of our own na tion. I wish you clearly to understand how it is that we learn of God through His works and ways. I hope it may fill veur hearts with a strong desire to learn about everything you see around you. Suppose you were traveling, and should see a splendid mausion, surrounded with beautiful gardens filled with rare flowers and delicious fruits ; and the owner should invite you to walk through these gardens, breathe the perfume of its flowers aud eat of its fruits.— Suppose when you went in, you found many others there, strangers like yourselves, and learned that the owner extended to every one who passed, the same invitation he had given you. Now suppose once more, that this man sion and these beautiful gardens were the work of the owner's own hands. Do you not under stand that you would learn much of that, man's character by seeing his works ? and knowing the kind uianuer in which he entertained all who passed that way ? By making all things beautiful around him, you would know that he had a heart to love beautiful tilings • by invit ing all to enjoy them, you would know that he was generous and good. His beautiful home and kind hospitality, would, as it were, speak of him and tell of his tasteful aud gcncfous na ture. Thus it is, that we learn of God by Ilis works and ways. The universe is God's noble mansion ; this earth, with its lakes and rivers, and mighty oceans, its hills and valleys and mountains, its trees aud plants and flowers, to gether with every living thing, is God's gar den in which we are permitted to live. He made it all—it is His handi-work, and in it we can learn every day new and beautiful and wonderous knowledge ; and all we learn shall teach us of the great Creator. The humblest plant that grows is God's work. He made the meanest insect, and if we study them aright, both shall tell us something of Him who made them. If we but seek knowledge wisely, every living thing, every tree and plant and flower, the dust we tread upon, the air we breathe, the rocks and nioifiitaius and rivers, light and darkness, cold and heat—all things shall speak to us of God, and teil us more and more of His wisdom, power and goodness. But most of all shall we learn of Him in His holy word. Here God has spoken of himself—here He has dis closed His exalted character and infinite per fections ; and told us of His most wonderous love for man. Here, too, we learn of ourselves, our creation, disobedience and siu—our weak ness and dependence, and of the great redemp tion God has provided in His Son, our Savior, through whom we eau be restored to holiness and bliss. The Bible is the book of books— more to be studied than all others, for in it aioue is wisdom and truth. Al| that is good and lovely iu this life, whatever of justice, truth, mercy and goodness there is among men, come from the Bible. 5 In it we learn our dntv, and the way of our happiness. Children, bo dili gent in the study of God's word. To learu of Him is knowledge. " The fear of the Lord is the bcgiiiuing of wisdom." Sunday schools are established expressly for the purpose of instructing you in God's holy word. These schools are among Ihe most beau tiful aud blessed of the institutions'of a chris tian laud. The good and pious men who cross ed the ocean more than two hundred years ago to settle iu this then wilderness and savage country, brought with them as their greatest treasure, the Bible ; and they early established Sunday schools fur the instruction of the youth iu its sacred truths. Ever since that time, christian men aud women have preserved these schools among us, devoting their time aud ef forts to the work of instructing children in God's holy word. You should be very loving and thankful to your teachers, and attentive to all their instructions. With them it is a labor 0 f love —to you it is the riches of kuowledge, more to be than gold, and more n'cccu* sary to your wauts than food aud clothing.— Better that you should die young, than grow to man and womauhood in ignorance and vice, ignofant Of God, and of' your otvn hearts—of His requirements antl your duties—ignoraut of the ways of virtue, aud of the road to Heaveu. Now, children, I will say a few words to rcj the day we celeb.£te, tr.d release you to the enjoyment of a feast for which, I doubt not, you are impatient ; and which, I suspect, is better suited to your tastes and un derstandings than the one I have endeavored to spread before you, I told you that more than two hundred years ago, some pious men and women crossed the ocean to make for themselves and their chil dren, homes iu this country, then a wilderness, and inhabited only by savage Indians. Tliey had suffered moch in their own country,' be cause they worshipped God in a manner they thought right and proper. The king and lords and gentry of England, wished every one to believe in the same religious doctrines, and to worship God after the same manner as them selves ; and those who would not do so, were thrown into prisons, and otherwise bitterly per secuted. But they were earnest, courageous men, who feared God more than they feared the king ; and who believed that His law was to be obeyed, even if in doing so, they set at naught the unjust and cruel laws of men. They endured much suffering, and had many bloody conflicts with the ludians ; but God watched over and preserved them ; and in after years, their descendants became a numerous people. From the first, the King of England claimed the country as his own, und the right to go vern by his laws and officers those who settled in it. This right, thus claimed by England's kings, was not seriously disputed by the peo ple for about one hundred and fifty years. Du ring this long period of time, the English kings and Parliament virtuully made the laws which governed the inhabitants of this country ; and the King appointed all the Governors, Judges and other officers to administer them. At length the people grew dissatisfied with this rule of England orer them. The King be came tyrannical, ana attempted to enforce up on our fathers unjust and oppressive laws.— He sent his armies here to compel obedience. This aroused among the people a strong spirit of resistance. A great council, composed of many of the ablest, and best men of the land, met the city of Philadelphia to consider of the wrongs the country suffered, and of the best mode to redress them. This council, or con vention, on the 4th day of July, seventy-nine years ago, published to the world the solemn Declaration yoa have just heard read. By it, they declared this country free and indepen dent of the English crown—that they would no longer be subject the laws and authority of the English King ; but that the people should make their owu laws, and choose their own ru lers. The King of England was not williug to give up his cluiin of right to govern this coun try. He called our fathers rebels, and sent out numerous mid powerful armies to compel them to obedience. Our fathers met these ar mies of the king in many bloody battles. For seven long years did this war last—a handfui of people, as it were, fighting for their liber ties against the armies of one of the most pow ful kings on earth. The battle is not always to the strong. God disposes of the victory.— The armies of the king were defeatedhis pride and power were humbled. Such of his soldiers as escaped the sword, he called home, and agreed henceforth to give up all authority and claim of right to rule over this country. We date our Independence as a Nation, from the 4th day of July, 1776—the day on which the great council of the people, in the city of Philadelphia, proclaimed to the world the Declaration you have heard read ; aud therefore on each succeeding year, we celebrate this day as our Nation's birth-day—the great day of our freedom and iudependeuce. When you shall be older, children, you must study attentively the history of your country. It is one of the most interesting and instruc tive on the pages of the world's history.— Throughout its eveutful progress, the finger of God is plainly visible. Whenever God in His providence, purposes a great work in the re volution and change of kingdoms aud empires, He raises up men qualified by their wisdom ami virtues, to guide and direct the people.— So it was when he brought the children of Is rael from the house of their bondage to the promised land, under the direction of Aloses, Aaron, and Joshua. So it was also, when He brought our fathers through the perils of the Revolution, under the guidance and leadership of Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Hancock, Franklin, and a host of other worthies, whose names will ever shine in history, as among the noblest of their race. God has some great and wise purpose, not vet fully revealed, in raising up this free and powerful nation, with institu tions so different from those that characterize the other governments of the world. In conclusion, children, I desire to impress upon your minds, the scope and sense of this address—that the groat business of life is, to learn more and more of God ; and that to he happy, you must be virtuous and good. .LOANING NEWSPAPERS. —The following para graph emanates from the Post Office Depart ment " Subscribers to newspapers make complaint of the non-arrival of tiieir papers, and iu some instances intimate that the loss is occasioned by the fact of the postmasters loaning to his neighbors the papers of others for perusal. The papers fail to be returned to theirproper .place, and hcuce the dissatisfaction. Postmasters are strictly forbidden to loan newspapers that are in their offices for delivery. TELEGRAPHIC ANECDOTE. —The North Alabn mian relates the following story :—One of the men engaged in buildiug the telegraph line through the " infected region," when it was first put up, eight years ago, tells an anecdote of an old lady who is now prominent among the believers in the new theory. When they were puttiug up the wire opposite the dwelliug of the old lady referred to, she came out and insisted that they should put it further from the house, for says she, " supposin' thar should he a war, and they should be sendin' cannons and bombs along the telegraft, aud they should bust right here and tear everything all to pieces, I should like to know who's a gwine to pay for it? Take it away off thar, fo: I dos't like the reeky thlag no how ;' Adventure with a Serpent on the River Amazon. At an early dawn our travellers, who had passed the night in the cabin of balza (boat) prepared to move on their journey. Guapo untied the cable and drew the end 011 board. The balza began to move, slowly, at first, for the current under the bushes was very slight. All at once the attention of the voyagers was called to the strauge conduct of the pet monkey. That little creature was running to and fro, first upon the roof of the taldo, then down again, all the while utteriug the most piercing shrieks, as if something was biting off its tail. It was observed to look up ward to the branch of the zamang, as if the object of dread was in that quarter. The eyes of all were bent in the same direction.— What was their horror on beholding, stretched aloug the branch, the hideous body of an enormous sepent 1 Only a part of it could be seen ; the hinder half and the tail were hidden among the bromelias and the vines that in masses clustered around the trunk of the zamang, and the head was among the leaflets of the mimoso ; but what they saw was enough to convince them that it was a snake of the largest size—the great " water boa"—the terrible anaconda ! The part of the body in sight was full as thick as a man's thigh, and covered with black spots,or botches, upon a ground of dingy yellow. It was seen to glisten as the animal moved ; for the latter was in motion, crawling along the branch outward ! The next moment its head appeared from the pendulous leaves, and its long forking tongue, protruding several inches from its mouth seemed to feel the air in front of it. His tougue kept playing backward and forward, and its viscid covering glittered under the sunbeam, adding to the hideous appearance of the snake. To escape from passing within its reach would be impossible. The balza was glidiug directly under it. It could launch itself abroad at will ; it could seize upon any one of the party without coming from the branch ; it could coil its body around them with the con tracting power of its muscles. It could do all this ; for it had crushed before now the tapir, the roebuck, and even the jagnarhimself. All on board the boat knew its dangerous power well ; and of course terror was visible in every counteuance. Don I'albo seized the axe, and Guapo laid hold of his MACHETE (large bowie knife.) — Dona Isidor, Leon and little Leoua were stand ing (fortunately they were) by the door of the taldo ; and, in obedince to the cries and hurried gestures of Don Pablo and the Indian, they rushed in and flung themselves down.— They had scarcely disappeared inside, when the forward part of the balza, upon which stood Don Pablo and Guapo, came close to the branch, and the head of the serpent was on a level with their own. Both aimed their blows almost at the same instant, but their footiug was uusteady, and the boa drew back at the moment and both missed their aim. The next moment and the current had carried them out of reach, and they had 110 opportunity to strike a second blow. The moment they had passed, the hideous head again dropped down und hung directly over, as if waiting. It was a moment of in tense anxiety to Don Pablo, llis wife and children ! Would it select one victim and leave the others, or He had but little time for reflection. Already the head of the suake was withiu three feet of the taldo door. His eyes were glaring ;it was about to dart down. "Oh God! have mercy ! exclaimed Don Pablo, falling on his knees. "Oh God !" At that moment a loud scream was heard. It came from the taldo, and at the same instant the monkey was seen leaping out from the door. Along with the rest it had taken shelter within ; but just as the head of the snake came in sight, a fresh panic seemed to seize upon it. and, as if under the influence of fascination, it leaped screaming in the direction of the terrible object. It was met half way. The wide jaws closed upou it, its shrieks were stifled, and the next moment its silken body, along with the head of the anaconda, dis appeared among the leaves of the mimosa.- Another moment passed, the balza swept clear off the branch, and floated triumphantly into the open water. Don Pablo sprang to his feet, ran into the taldo, and after embracing his wife and children, knelt down and offered thanks to God for their most miraculous deliverance. IPT.EVKSS—Irs DANCERS. — There is an old proverb that tells us, " Idleness is the devil's pillow," and well may it be so esteemed, for no head ever rested long upou it, but the lips of the evil spirit were at its ear, breathing false hood and temptation. The industrious man is seldom found guilty of a crime ; for lie has no time to listen to the euticingsof the wicked ones and he is content with the enjoyments honest efforts afford. It is the vicious idler, vexed to see the fortunes of his industrious neighbor growing while he is lounging and murmuring, who robs and murders that he may get unlawful gaiu. It is the merry, thoughtless idler who, to relieve, the nothingness of his days, seeks the excitement of the wine cup and the gambling table, it is the sensual idler, whose licentious ear is oj>en to the voice of the tempter as often as his track crosses the path way of youth aud lunoccnce. WHAT RELIGION IS. — Whatever definitions men have given of religion, I eau find none so accurately descriptive of it as this—that it is such a belief of the Bible as maintains a living influence upon the heart. Men may speculate, criticise, admire, dispute about, doubt, or be lieve the Bible ; but the religious man is such because he so believes it, as to carry a practi cal 6ense of its truths On his mind. COWLES, in his excellent " History of Rlauts," notices the virtue of hemp thus laconi cally .-—" By virtue of this cordage. Ships arc guided, bells are rung, aad rogues kept in awe.:' "VOL. XVI. —NO. 7. REAL ACE J.ND REAL YOUTH.—Lastingjhou or permanent, eminence, and abiding virtue, have ever been won by those who were uerer really defeated, because every check they received was turned to account—conveying instruction and fortifying against future error. It men but would remember that their life on earth is but a schooliug for eternity if they would discard that abominable heresy that induces them to reject all fresh instruction that is presented to them, after a certain period of life, if men would only do this, they would still be growing in-wisdom and grace. But, alas 1 ere they have mastered the rudiments of real knowledge, they form, or attach themselves to, some undigested system of science, politics, or religion, and hug it, fight for it, and die for it. We hear talk of the heroes of a hundred fights, yet he who turns the sword of truth against his own breast, to divide the fulscfrom the true, and the good from the evil, is a champion trauscendently more glorious than the conquerors of kingdoms. He assumes no glory, no merit, it is true, for he knows it is all ot mercy and not of himself. But thin very humility elevates his nature iuto celestial purity and divine association. A STUBBORN JURY. —The Portland Tran script tells a good story of a Col. M -, liv ing in Washington county, Maiue, who had a great aptitude for serving as a juror. When thus serving, he had a very great anxiety that his opinion should be largely consulted in mak ing up a verdict. Some years ago, while up on a case, after many hours' trial to agree, but failing, he marshalled the delinquent jury from the room to their seats in the court, where the iinpatieut crowd awaited the result of the triul. " Have you agreed upon a verdict ?" inquir ed the clerk. Col. M arose, turned a withering glance upon his brother jurors, and exclaimed : " May it please the court, we have not ; I have done the best I could do, but here are eleven of the most contrary devils I ever had any dealings with." SWEARING. —The absurdity und utter folly of swearing is admirably set forth in the follow ing anecdote of Belzebub and his imps. Tha latter one went one evening each to command his set of men—oue the murderers, another the liars, aud another the swearers. At even ing they stopt at the mouth of a cave. The question arose among them which commanded the meanest set of men. The subject was debated at length, but without coming to a a decision. Finally his Satanic Majesty was called upon to decide the matter iu dispute. Whereupon he said : " The murderer got something for killing, the thief for stealing, and the liar for lying, but the swearer was the meanest of all, for he served without pay." The California I'ionetr tells a story of a faithful old member of a church iu Massa chusetts who was fond of exhorting. He always commenced by saying that lie was quite unwell, and did not feel at all like speaking iu meeting, but would say a word aud give way to his brother D., and then lie would go on, roaring loudly and swinging his arms, for at least an hour. At the conclusion of one these harangues, " Brother D." slowly rose, aud in a most solemn voice said —" I should be amazingly interested to hear our friend once wheu he was in full health." SPEAKING GKAMATICALLY. —'" Sal," exclaimed Ebenezer to his dearly beloved, when he arrived in Gotham with his bride, on a wedding tour, " Sal. get on yer Sundav-go-to-meetin' dressings and things,and let's take a perpendicular prom enade round the prejunets of the principality." " Well, Zeb, replied the fair one, "I'll do it and nothing shorter. But can't you say your say without talking grammar aud college edifi cation ? If you want me to take a slather round, and take a trot with you, why in salted Jerewsalcui don't you say so ?" TFCFF A GOOD STORY is told of a broad-hacked Keutuckian who went to New Orleans for the first time,—Wbiskev, brandy and plain drinks, lie knew, but as to compound and flavored liquors he was a Know Nothing. Reposing 011 the seats of the Court of the St.. Charles, he observed a score of fashionables drinking mint juleps. " Boy," said he " bring me a glass of that, beverage." When he had consumed the cooling draught he called the boy. " Boy. what was my last remark ?" " Why. you ordered a julep !" " That's right, don't forget it— krt.p bringing 'cm." " How do you get along with your arithmetic ?" a<ked a father of his littlo boy. " I've ciphered through addition, partition, substruction, distraction, abomination, justifi cation, hallucination, darnation, amputation, creation and adoption.*' He'd do for au engineer on a " Short Line Railroad." friT" " Julius, spose dero is six chickens in a coop, und dc man sells tree, how many is dere lef ?" " What time of day was it?" " Why, what has that to do wid it ?" " A good deal, homy. If it was arter dark dere would be none lef, dat is if yott happened to come along ilat way." " A QUIVER FULL OF DAUGHTERS." —Happy is he who—according to Lord Granville's uev version—has a quiver full of daughters, aud happier still, if all that are iu the quiver nwet with the proper bow. Miss Murray, sister of the Scotch Puke, wbo ia traveling in this country, is not a maid of honor to Queen Victoria. Miss M. is sixty years or age, aud was Maid of kouor to Quecu Adelaide. * ' The cradle is a wouiau'o ballot-box.'— Lory Stone. Some of them put in two vote:; it once, which is illegal, it ?