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 ?