Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, August 04, 1855, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

Bfltnrban Rlornmn, Slitgust %, 1855.
Selcrtcb |)oetrn.
[Frosa the Dubliu Nation.]
Under the moon as the twilight breeze,
Ripples the water in pulses of light,
We -tand on the bridge by the sycamore trees,
And lUt to the voices that come thro' the night.
Under the elm row, misty and dark,
Love's sweet laughter rings from the bank—
Sprinkled with a dim red lamp.
Stretching away through the distance damp,
Hark ! 'mid the foliage blossomed with June,
Tinkles a serenade under the moon.
Under the moon in the village street,
ii i-sipiug groups in the shadow meet.
Seated at dusky doorways there,
ltd dipped maidens taste of the air ;
Whispering now of their lovers' eyes,
liiue as the beautiful summer skies ;
Whispering now of their flatteries sweet,
As autumn's fruitage dropped i' the heat,
Until they cadence a trembling tune,
Soft as their pulses, under the moon.
Under the moon by the cool sea-shore
The wind walks over its spacious floor,
Courting the snowy bosomed sails
Daintly dipping through azure vales ;
Over the crisp loam bearing along
The musing mariner's midnight song ;
As, l.v the rising helm with hands
I :t in the compass lamp he stands,
Thinking of those he left at noon.
S.ul on the green shore under the moon.
Under the moon by the dusty road
I'a rwe on 11 the old abode ;
Tiic 1-ting splendor floating falls
Over its sycamor'd roof and walls,
IV- ring into the casement nook
Tiled with many a brown old book ;
Spirit- aie they whose pages teem
With thoughtful ditty and pictured dream,
Spirit-, amid whose silence soon
<),:r " a -hail slumber under the moon.
[For the Bradford Reporter.]
BY L. W. L
The Mae eye is closed, and thou canst not
turn away. Culm, pale, and beautiful, thou
wilt gaze, and thy love grow stronger. The
lije have pressed thine own in batty glee, and
brought the deep, deep joy. Blessings have
i ' trereil there, and though the ruby tint is fled,
still they are thine. But ah, a morning dawns
in sorrow. They bear thy jewel from thee,
am] green sods wave above thy treasured.—
The violet wakes, the fillies bloom, but a sweet,
faded flower, is—thine 110 longer.
She pressed the greensward by thy side—
-he warbled by the streamlet—she twined her
love around thy heart, thy sweet-voiced sister ;
and thy life was beautiful. The step grew
languid, the tones of music ceased, and where
the words of tenderness were murmured, the
chill of death was spread. O! the loneliness
that came to the hearthstone—the agony that
wrung thy spirit, and the dreary woe that lay
ujion thy heart !
Thine no longer. The streamlet wandered,
and the moonlight slept upon her grave.
Proudly beside thee, stood thy chosen. Thou
ha-t cherished, O, how fondly the words whose
ruing utterance sank deep within thy bosom.
T mihast wept for joy, that thou wert loved,
avi thy heart clings with wild eagerness to the
'"m that ever waits thy footsteps. Thine the
treasured storehouse of his love. Thine the
1 ir a-t that oft liath been thy resting-place.—
Line the bright fountains, and the deep, holy
I : r-athiugs of affection.—Thine, only thine.—
ibt thou art stricken in the freshness and ver
' :re of tin* hories. Tears, sighs, darkness and
I-' "Om—what are they ? Thy heart is crushed,
I ' ? spirit broken, and a piercing wail sweeps
Ocr his crave—thine no longer.
I hey blessed thee at the fireside. They pray
f''' br thee. They watched thy slumbers, and
smiled upon thy dreams. They soothed
' y weary pain—they cheered thy drooping
I' . and ever lingered near to guard thee, and
-lit thy pathway. But time moves harsh
otward. Age lays its furrows on the brow
v.! silvers o'er the head. A voiceless, tear
; sorrow fills thy breast, aud grief sweeps o'er
Thou gazest on the stricken forms of
*ho only sought thy joy, and a sorrow
-' tie whispers—thine no longer.
f ; tie—what, what is thine ? Ask the dew
? unci the rose-bud where it nestles. Ask
' J°ys, and sorrows, and the phantoms of thy
ifreat day-dream. Ask the streamlet and
the green leaf and the woodland
I ' -'-ter. Comes there not the same sad voice
,!a: ige and blight ? Then turn thee to the
■'k'plcss azure—the ceaseless lustre of the
•►ht and the stars ! and from the skies a
" fj ' '-inilcas life, and joy, aud praise shall
r ' J *AN*iu, July 1855.
~.yy R" v F. 11. CHAPIN says "theimperial
V "*' r France won his tbroue with dice
' rom the bones of the great Napoleon."
CN ' CH sa ys that the " greatest organ
e „ ' Tf Tld is the organ of speech in woman ;
' 'oo. without a stop !'
[From Household Words for May, 1555.
Yesterday was a great day for the great sea
port where I live—the day of tlie landing of
the convalescent sick and wounded front the
trenches and the battle-fields of the Crimea ;
a long, long line of wan, pale warriors, totter
ing to their resting place, the hospital ; and
those who could not walk, borne after them on
litters. This was not the first sight of this
kind we have witnessed here, and it will not
be the last by many. The deepest feelings of
gratitude and commisseration are weakened not
one whit within us ; but the enthusiasm that
requires novelty to re-awaken it has almost
died out. No shouting crowds now follow
these poor soldiers to the hospital gates ; no
■ Hags wave from the windows ; 110 cannons roar.
We have found out other ways of welcome,
there is a subscription-list lying open at the
Town Hall, whereto, you may add your help
in supplying books and papers to the invalids ;
aud volunteers, who understand the art and
mystery of letter-writing, are plentiful by the
sick beds, to send for their disabled occupants
a word of comfort homewards. To-day a still
more solemn scene took place ; the sick and
wounded who were too ill to be moved yester
day—lloconvalescents,but men well nigh death's
door—were brought back to their fatherland
to die.
The great three-decker lies in the offing that
conveyed them from Scutari, watched by us
three days with dim eyes—a vast death-.-hip
and floating hospital between decks, and gay I
with flags and full of life above.
There has been sad work at these dread
landings of the wounded ; but to-day, at least, '
were all things fitting and in readiness. The ;
Royal Hampshire sent its hundred men or so to
the Dockyard Pier, with litters, almost all its j
officers were in attendance. A score of hardy
seamen, too, were there, contrasting strangely !
with the slight slim figures of the young mill- j
tiamen ; official people with the fear of The
Times before their eyes ; surgeous, and dock-'
yard dignitaries. It is cold enough waiting up- i
011 harbor piers for steam-tugs, with the wind '
and tide against them, and a little leap frog
does not seem out of place among the gallant j
Hampshire men ; but directly the first puff of'
smoke is seen above the Bastion, the order is |
given to "fall in," —all eyes are directed to the :
approaching vessel, nil hearts beat quickly, all
faces lose their smiles.
First, the dark dismal hull, arid the decks j
spread thick with dim white tarpaulins,' whose
shapes, as they draw nearer, are as of sheets
aiove tne oeaa ; ana mere me ajiiig.peiiufp* 1
dead, men are, —tiie worst cases, tlait would
not bear moving underneath, but lie with heaps
of blankets over them, and only a prominence
observable at heads and feet. The vessel is
brought alongside, and four tars descend the
narrow plank to bear the sick men, feet fore-!
most. The litters cannot here be used, so bad
are these cases ; but through the thick canvass ;
of these "cots" great poles are inserted, audi
shouldering these with difficulty, and keeping :
in step for the sufferers' sake, which is hard ;
work also, the sailors land their burthen.—
Sometimes from under the great pile of clothes j
an ashy-white thin face just shows itself, or I
rather is shown by chance, for the eyes are
lustreless, and express no gleam of interest.— '
The heavy moustache and the military cap, still
worn as bed-gear, contrast most painfully with !
the dependent, prostrate condition of their
wearers. What expression yet remains to j
some is of a thoughtful cast. They have seen I
and suffered much these last six months ; and
want and danger are sucli teachers as the most
careless may not disregard. The bearers are !
warned of all impediments ; and tenderly and j
skilfully do they lift their heavy burthen, aud '
the wheelers" start with left foot, and the
"leaders" with the right, and so "slow-march" j
to the hospital. Now, too, must the less dan-:
gerous cases be brought from between decks, j
and transferred from their cots to litters. Each !
man is dressed in his great coat, and his knap- 1
sack lies beside him as though he should pre- !
sent Iy arise and walk ; but it is easy to see 1
there is 110 walking for him these many weeks,
though his eyes are bright with happiness, and !
lie will answer softly if you address his ear ; j
and these, too, are carried to the sick wards to
join their less fortunate brethren.
These wards are warm and comfortable, :
with a fire at each end of them. "We have i
not seen a fire since we left old England," say j
many of the sufferers ; and medicines are in |
plenty and attendance good though medical i
help is still greatly needed ; but things were
not so at first by any means. Ragged and swarm
ing with vermin (as we are credibly informed)
did our poor fellows lie for days ; for there was
signing and counter-signing to be effected, and j
the " proper channel" to lie quite decided up-1
on, before the official tnind could rightly under-.
stand the matter and provide clean linen. Let, ,
however, bygones be bygones. Now, we re
peat, were there a larger medical staff, (espe
cially in the matter of dressing,) all would be
well. I
Accompany us, then, with some of the offi
cers from the Royal Hampshire, and bring pen,
ink,and paper, and a little writing-case ; seat
yourself down on one of the deal stools that
stand beside each bed, and hear a story of the
war, —quite unpictorial, without rose-color,
flamc-color, drum accompaniment, or any such
thing—and let the look of each sad reciter be
before you when men prate of glory for glory's
sake ; and believe him as he gasps upon his
scanty pallet in the bare white-washed room,
without one friend about him, arid (but for
vou) unable to apprise one of his late, vhen
he affirms that this is Eden, Paradise, Hea
ven, to what he has endured these six months.
Be sure this is the reality of the whole mat
ter—war stripped of its pomp and circum
First is a foot-soldier, wonnded by a shell
in the knee, who tbiuks he would like to write
to his firstrcousin. This Cr6t cousiD is his only
relative, and does not know even of bis having
volunteered for foreign service ; be is not sure
about the direction, but knows that it is some
where in the county Clare. In the next bed a
woe-begone, sad creature answers your ques
tion in a hollow, despairing voice : " I have no
friends," he says, and " Let me alone." The
brain of this poor follow is affected, aud we can
be of 110 service to him at present, so pass on.
There is a boy of only seventeen, wounded at
the battle of the Alma. His face is quite
beautiful, round, and healthy-looking. He
seems quite happy and contented, and answers
cheerfully enough, that he would wish to write
to father and mother, and tell them he had lost
. Lis leg : such a letter he dictates as would
shame a whole army of philosophers :—when
he gets used to " those," he says, pointing to the
crutches by his bed's head, he will do well
The next case is one of dysentery. A giant
of an Hussar—the skeleton of one at least
all shaggy hair and eyes, with cough, accom
panied by moaning would like to let his wife
and children know about him ; they have not
heard since he went out live mouths ago ; they
will not see him again in this world, he feels
sure, and truly his state is very sad ; his at
tenuated legs find even the weight of bed
clothes insupportable, he can only fetch his
breath to speak at intervals ; has been deadly
i!l these six weeks, as fur as he could take note
of lagging time ; would have sent home some
money long ago, but that they robbed him in
Scutari hospital of all he had—which they cut
from around his naked neck where he wore it
in a bag ; there was some more due to him if
he had his rights, and they should have all ;
they must have wanted it," he knew, through
this sad winter. Yes, he was in the great horse
charge that was so famous—borne up bv the
men around him through the rain of bullets
borne and back again to the Russian guns,and
back again, he means, without much thought
of danger ; there was no time. He does not
wish that to be set down in the letter : said it
to inform us only. We have written ul! he wish
es ; and so, with a "Thank ye," he sinks back
in his bed and groans.
The fifth place has no tenant : its latest oc
cupant was borne out yesterday to a still nar
rower resting-place.
The sixth is a maimed man ; his right arm
was shot off at Inkermatt; he was in all the
previous battles. This man talks freely of the
war and without pain in utterance, which most
can do (and let it be kept in remembrance by
all those making themselves useful to the sick,
not to allow their compassion to be sacrificed
to curiosity.) The fearfulest thing of a battle
field is the treading upon the bodies of the fal
len. The thunder of the guns and the flashes,
the trembling of the ground under the horses,
seemed as though heaven and earth were con -
nig logewier ; out tne stepping on .1 nouuueu
man—that was the worst : before the fighting,
it was not unpleasant, perhaps; and after, it
was a dreadful time, —but the fighting itself
was enough to flush a man, a great while of
excitement and madness ; often and often used
to think of it, as lie lay in bed and 011 board
The seventh bed is occupied by a living be
ing at present, and that is all we can call the
shadowy form ; the eyes are sunk into the
head, and all the features have the sharpness
of death. He has ceased to disturb the ward
(as he did at first) with coughs and groans,
aud a few hours will rid them of his presence.
We must here mention that the want of a
smaller apartment for the reception of those
who cannot cease from coughing and expres
sions of pain, is much felt in all our hospitals
In striking contrast to this dying man is his
neighbor, the eighth and last patient of the
line ; he has lost three fingers of his left hand
by a cannon ball, and has received a fracture
of the leg, but is getting on capitally, and is in
the highest spirits. He has 110 need to tell us
he is an Irishman, for he has an accent as
broad as from here to Cork ; indeed, it is with
the greatest difficulty we can understand what
he wishes us to write ; it takes us five minutes
to unravel " respects to inquiring friends"—
(always "respects," however near may be the
relationships) from the mass of ris. which lie is
pleased to iusert amongst that sentence. Rus
sia, as far as he knows, is absolutely good for
nothing ; except, indeed, he must sa y, for grapes
and lice. Amidst a heap of extraneous matter
of this sort, he writes to his mother in Tippe
rary. " Don't let our Patrick, mother, go for
a soldier ; not that I mind for myself," he says,
pointing to his shattered hand, "but one's
enough.. 11
ment between man and elephant was so great
that whenever the former went to his dinner he
always left a little ugly black infant under the
care of the latter, who watched the child with
the greatest tenderness, and prevented it crawl
ing out of sight. One day the elephant was
superintending his charge in a spot where some
voung trees tempted him to browse, and while
doing so the swarthy young imp rolled into a
puddle of yellow clay. The elephant heard a
scream, and saw the scrape he had got into by
neglecting his trust; he therefore immediately
took measures not to lie found out by his kind
master. Going down to a stream, he charged
his mouth with clear water, and taking up the
squalling blackey with his trunk on a level with
his eyes, he turned him on one side, and sluiced
his dirty skin all over with a deluge of water.
Then turning the child round, he performed a
similar operation on the other side, cleansing
away with copious showers every speck of mud.
When the parents returned, the elephant had
just placed the infant in the sun to dry, and
looked as grave and attentive over his charge
as if nothing had occurred.
recipe for telling good indigo ?"
" Well, yes ; you take a pailful or a half
pailful of water, I'm not certain which, and
put in it a pound or a half a ponnd of indigo,
I really forget which, and then stir it up with
a stick, and if it is good indigo it will either
sink or swim, and Treally fvget -u-hvh
An Indian Tiger Hunt.
One of the warmest friends I had Calcutta
was Major Heath, of the British Eighteenth.
He was celebrated for the number of tigers he
had killed, and and bore the reputation of
being the boldest hunter on the Peninsula.—
He often expressed his wish to show me a tiger
hunt, but at that time I had 110 expectation of
i witnessing the sport. About six monthsafter
\ wards, however, we met in th Peninsula, and I
; enjoyed the long wished for opportunity of
; witnessing the exciting and dangerous aiuuse
! nient.
It was a bright sunny morning when we set
j toward (he thicket, in which after being driven
from a surrounding jungle, it was said a magrfifi
: cent tiger had taken refuge. Our company
1 consisted ol the Major, u half dozen brother
i officers, and myself, mounted upon elephants,
with a numerous train of natives ou fuot,
whose business it would be to start, the game
from its retreat. We were all armed "\fith
rifles, and were eonfi lent of success.- The
Major however cooly informed us that we must
take our chance of a spring of the animal, who,
when forced to abandon his covert, would
most likely single out some one of us fur his
leap. We laughed gaily in reply, and set
A long ride through the jungle at last
brought us within convenient distance to the
thicket, and obeying the Major's instructions,
we looked at the state of our rifles, and then
gave orders to the native hunters fo begin.—
Hitherto all had been careless gavety 011 our
part, but, as the danger began in good earnest
our laughter was hushed, and we sat silenllv
waiting the proceeding of our allies on foot.—
It was not long that they kept us in suspense.
Fairly approaching the thicket, tliey set up
their wild cries, and, finding this ineffectual,
tiny sent their dogs into the covert, urging
them forward with shouts, and now and then
pricking them wdh their long spears.
A hoarse growl, or rather scream from the
inmost recess of the covert, at this moment,
betrayed the position of the game, and convinc
ed us that the monster was rising from his lair.
We all stood in expectation, waiting for his
deadly spring. But aftera momentary rustling
in the thicket, all was agaiu still us if the animal I
had risen to reconnoitre his foe, and convinced •
of the overpowering number, had sullenly re
treated to the most impenetrable part of his
fortress. Half an hour succeeded in unavailing
attempts to dislodge him, but save a deep
growl at times from the centre of his coveret, j
there was no evidence of the monster's neigh- j
"This will never do," said the Major at j
length. "We must scorch the fellow out.— !
H'll'h i.V'T 1 ' vou vidians! why havu't you 1
uegun it ueloro v> * J
The thicket was of 110 very great extent,
but apparently utterly impregnable. It was
an oversight that the lightiug of fires had not
been attempted before, but perhaps the native
hunters had trusted to their mutual efforts to
dislodge the monster. Now however they set
about it wit It alacrity, and in a short time had
completely surrounded the royal beast.
A scene of intense interest ensued, which
every moment became more exciting. The
shouts of the men, the heavy tread of the ele
phants, the heavy crackling of the ruddy fires,
aud at intervals the deep growl of the enraged
monster, awoke in the mind sensations of
strange delight not unmingled with a consci
ousness of imminent danger. As the fires be
came more fierce, the louder and more frequent
growls of the impatient beast warned us that
he would soon break from his covert, and
forgetting everything but his approaching
appearance, we grasped our rifles, keenly fixed
our eyes 011 the thicket, and breathlessly waited
his desperate spring. The hunters meanwhile
ceased their shouts, the elephants were silently
posted in convenient positions, and nothing for
a few minutes was heard but the crackling of
the fires, and the now quick and angry voice
of the infuriated monster, until suddenly a roar
was heard ; a few short rapid leaps followed
in the covert, and instantly the huge beast was
seen sailing through the air, his tail streaming
out behind, and his very hair bristling upon
him in his rage.
Almost simultaneously the Major shouted,
" Look out there ! Here lie is ! A quick eye
boys, and a steady trigger !"
But before his warning had reached us the
tiger had alighted on our elephant, and was
clinging within a yard of me to the bleeding
side of the beast. For a moment. I confess I
was too startled to do anything ; that instant
of bewilderment had almost cost me my life.
The situation of the monster was such that my
companions were fearful of firing lost they
should hit myself-—while native spearsmen,
dreading the despair of the ferocious animal,
would not approach near enough to succor me.
A second, however, of bewilderment, followed
by another cool, clear, and thinking, and 1
placed my rifle almost at the heart of the
monster and fired. But at the very instant a
frantic movement 011 the part of the elephant,
jerked the tiger so that he partly slipped off,
and I saw with horror that my ball had only j
grazed the upper part of his head, inflaming j
him doubly without in the least injuring him. j
I should have had another rifle, but when I ;
turned to grasp it, I saw that in the frenzied 1
struggle of the elephant to get rid of the !
opponent, it had failen upon the ground- I
had no weapon left but rav hunting knife, and
the huge beast was already collecting himself
for another spring. My very blood seemed to
freeze within me, and a cold icy shiver shot
through my frame. Destitute of firearms,
despairing of succor, without the least spark
of hope, I resolved, notwithstanding, to make
a desperate resistance, selling mv life asdearly
as I could. All this, however, had not occu
pied a minute, for the monster was just re
covering himself for his last spring. But that
minute was sufficient. Already I could feci
his breath upon me—already I beheld the foam
upon his lips. Holding ray weapon firmly be
fore me, in expectation of the last mortal
struggle, I heard the voice of the Major shout
ing, " Lie flat—down—flown !"
Mechanically obeying the instructions, and
casting myself at full length on the cushion, I
j heard tlie next moment the sharp crack of the
: rifle—then another—and a third echoed in the
1 morning air ; the vast monster gave tF quick,
! short movement, struggled so frantically as to
| shake even the gigantic beast on which I rude,
j and almost instantaneously fell back dead upon
! the ground. He was a perfect collassal,
j measured fifteen feet from the tip of his snout
ito the extremity of the tail. Such was my
first " tiger hunt in India."
Mr. Mason was something of a giant in physi
! cal, as well as mental proportions, and in his
' youth must have possessed a powerful frame.
In a sitting position, he did not, however, ap
pear above ordinary stature, not only from
j great length of limb, but front a habit of stoop
. ing which he had acquired. While in the vi-
I got- and strength of early manhood, Mr. Ma
son happened, one very cold day, to be driving
along a road in the country, half-buried up in
warm buffalo robes, and looking rather insig
nificant to the casual observer; at least, so he
appeared to an impudent teamster, who ap
proached him in an opposite direction, occupv
itig so much room with his team that passing
was a difficult matter for another vehicle. As
they liearcd each other, Mr. Mason courteous
ly requested the stranger to turn out and give
hint room 5 but the saucy varlet, with an im
piident look at the apparently small youth, per
emptorily reiused, and told him to turn out
Mr. Mason, who instantly perceived there
was but one course to pursue, quietly stopped
his horse, laid the reins over the dasher, and
slowly began to roll down the robes, at the
same time drawing up his legs and gradually i
rising from his seat. The teamster silently
watched those motions ; but as the legs ob
tained a foundation, and as foot after foot of
Mr. Mason's mammoth proportions came in '
view, a look of astonishment, like a circle in
the water, spread over his hitherto calm face,
and with a deprecating gesture lie preseutlv
exclaimed :
" That 11 do, stranger — -do-n't riscunymore
I'll turn out."
Mr. Mason soon had the track to himself,
and our bewildered teamster drove off' at a
brisk pace. .
" Creation !" said he, as lie touched up the '
oft' leader with his whip, " I wonder how high :
that critter would have gone if 1 hadn't stop
ped him
ART. —The greatest cataract in the world, is
the Falls of Niagara, where the waters accu
mulate from the great upper lakes, formlgr - j
denly contracted and plunged over the rocks, I
in two columns, to the depth of oue hundred
and sixty feet.
The greatest cave in the world is the Mam
moth Cave in Kentucky, where one can make
a voyage 011 the waters of a subterranean river,
and catch fish without eyes.
The greatest river in the world is the Missis- •
sippi, 4,0(10, miles in length. Its name is \
derived from an Indian word, meaning the .
" Father of waters."
The greatest \ alley in the world is the val
ley of the Mississippi. It contains 500.000 !
square miles, and is one of the most prolific re- j
gioits 011 the globe.
The largest lake in the world is the Lake 1
of Superior, four hundred and thirty miles in
The greatest natural bridge in the world is
that over Cedar Creek, in Virginia. It extends
across a chasm eight feet in width, and two i
hundred and fifty feet deep, at the bottom of I
which a creek flows.
The greatest solid mass of iron in the!
world is the mountain of Missouri. It is three i
hundred and fifty feet high, two miles in cir- j
The largest railroad in the world is the Cen
tral Railroad of Illinois, which is seven hundred
and thirty-one miles long—cost fifteen millions
of dollars.
The greatest number of miles of railroad, in
proportion to its surface, of any country in the
world—is in Massachusetts, which has over oue
mile to each square mile of its area.
The greatest number of clocks manufactured
in the world, is turned out by the small State
of Connecticut.
The largest number of whale ships in the
world, are sent out by Nantucket and New
The greatest grain port in the world is Chi
The largest aqueduct in the world is the
Croton aqueduct in New-York. It is forty and
a half miles long, and cot twelve and a half
millions of dollars.— liridgeltsn Chronicle.
ftST* " She has breastworks and knees," :
said Ike, describing the new ship Mcrrimac to
Mrs. Partington, and he looked up at her ro
" What is that, Isaac ?" said the old lady, :
looking up from a profound contemplation of
Dudley Lcavitt's almanac. She had not caught
all the remark.
" She has breastworks and knees," repeated
Ike, smiling.
" Breastworks and knees 1" said Mrs. Part- j
ington impressively, with a fare that had a 1
whole moral code written upon it ; "and how |
do you know that ?"
" I saw'em," returned lie, "and put my hand
011 'em."
" Well," said she, raising her finger like a
guide-post, " you must not let me hear such a
thing from you again. Such shameless conduct
is without a parable in one so young, and I am
almost ready to believe in all they say of the
moral turpentine of youth."
She looked anxiously at Ike, who was sitting
on his legs and rocking too and fro.
" It was the new ship I was talking about,"
said he, grinning at her mistake.
"Oh !" said she, ' was that all ? Well, the
lesson mav be laid away in your mind til! you
need it."
VOL. XVI.- —XO. 8.
BK FIRM. —Let the winds blow, and the
waves ol society beat and frown upon you, if
will, but keep your soul in rectitude, audit will
be as firm as a rock. Plant yourself upon
principle, and bid defiance to misfortune. If
gossip with her poisoned tongue, meddles with
your good name—if her disciples, who infest
every town and hamlet, make your disgrace the
burden of their song, heed them not. It is*
their bread and meat to slander. Treat their
ill words as you would treat the hissing of a
serpent, or the ouzzing of many insects. Car
ry yourself erect ; and by the serenity of your
countenance, and the purity of your life, "give
the lie to all who would berate and belittle you.
Why be afraid of any man ? Why cower Hnd
tremble in the presence of the rich 1 Why
"crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, that
thrift may follow fawning?'' No, friend, fear
them not. Build up your character with holv
principles, and if your path be not strewn with
flowers, let it be beautiful with the light of
divine iife. and you will leave behind you a
noble example, which will be to the world a
perennial flower whose leaves will be a heal
ing to the nations, and its fragrance a panacea
to the soul.
in Louisiana recently took a notion for a bath
in an inviting stream, which flowed through a
field lie was engaged in plowing, and divesting
himself ol his clothes fur the purpose, hung his
unmentionables upon tire limb of a locust tree,
hard by. He had luxuriated for some half an
hour, and swam back to his starting point,
when lie perceived a bevy of young damsels
approaching with their flower baskets. Ho
scampered tip the bank aud into his breeches,
but, ulas ! unhappy fellow, not soon enough.
They were occupied. A small colony of bees
were in possession. He reports that he got
home—but how, he knows not. "Thinks lie
ran'—knows he halloed—and is sure the girls
laughed. His friends found in his pantaloons
a number of dead bees—some angry ones—and
the biggest half of a very sore youth.
A friend from the country ou telling
FOOTE of an extensive funeral of an attorney,
the wit replied
" Do you bury your attorneys?"
" Yes, to be sure we do—how else ?"
'• O ! we never do that in London."
"No !" said the other, much surprised; " how
do you manage ?"
" When the patient happens to die, we lay
him out in a room over night by himself, lock
the doo:, throw open the sash, and iu the morn
ing he is entirely off."
Indeed !" said the other, in amazement.
" Why that we cannot tell ; all we know is
" there's a strong smell of brimstone in the room
the next morning."
morandum of the commencement and conclusion
of certain wars and Indian hostilities tnuy be
found useful :
War of 1812, commenced June 18, 1812,
ended Feb. 17, 1815.
War, Seminole, commenced Nov. 20, 181",
ended Oct. .11, 1818.
War, Black Hawk, commenced April 26,
1832, ended Sept. 21. 1x32.
War, Florida, commenced Dec. 28,1835, end
ed Aug. 14, 1542.
Creek disturbance commenced May 5,1830,
ended Sept. 30, 1837.
Southern (Arkansas) frontier disturban
ces, 1836 ; no actual war, no fighting ; not en
New York (Canada) frontier disturbance,
1838-39 ; no war, no fighting.
Mexican War, commenced April 24, 1840,
ended July 4, 1848.
ENERGY. —See how that fellow works ! No
obstacle too great for him to surmount; no
ocean too wide for him to leap ; no mountain
too high for him to scale. He will make a
star in the world and no mistake. Such are
the men who build our railroads, dig up the
mountains in Califoruia, and enrich the uni
verse. There is nothing gained by idleness and
sloth. This is a world of action ; and to make
money, gain a reputation, aud exert a happy
influence, men must lie active, persevering and
energetic. They must not quail at shadows,
run from lions, or attempt to d< dge the light
tiing. Go forward zealously in whatever you
undertake, and we will risk you anywhere,
and through iife. Men who faint and quail
are laughing-stock to unguis, devils, and truo
EVIL REPORTS.—The longer I livo, (he mora
I feel the importance of adhering to the rule,
which 1 have laid down for myself in such mat
ters ;
1. To hear as little as |>ossible of whatever
is to the prejuddice of others.
2. To believe nothing of the kind till I am
absolutely forced to it.
3. Never to driuk the spirit of one who cir
culates an ill report.
4. Always to moderate, as fur as I can, the
unkindness expressed towards others.
5. Always to believe that if the other side
was heard, a very different account would be
given to the mattir.
LITTLE THORNS. —'The sweetest, and most
clinging affection often shaken by the slighest
breath of unkindness, a? the delicate tendrils
of the vine are agitated by the faintest air that
blows in summer. An unkiud word from one
beloved, often draws the blood from many a
heart which would defy the battle axe of hatred,
or the keenest edge of vindictive satire. Nay,
j the shade, the gloom of the face, familiar and
! dear, awakens grief and pain. These are the
little thorns which, thongh men of rougher
forms make their way through them without
feeling much, extremely incommode persons of
a refined turn, in their journey tbrcmgh life,
and make their traveling irksome and un