ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOWANDA :
Sfltnrban flloritinn, (October 20, 1855.
glutei
BONNIE KITTIE.
BY W. W. FOSDICK.
Winn the sunlight kissed the mountain,
Bonnie Kittie came to bring
Silver water from the fountain.
Where the water-cresses spring.
Shrinking from my love's caresses.
1/K>se her raven ringlets drooped.
And the streamlet caught her tresses.
As she Mushed but smiling stooped—
•• Kittie!" cried !. " hear thy lover!"
But the laughing maiden tied
To the cottage, through the clover
With its nodding blossoms red—
•• Wanton Willie, cease to tarry,"
Said she. as her black eyes smiled,
•• Bonnie Kiltie may not marry.
Mother needs her darling child."
Kittie's eyes are drowned in sorrow,
From her cheek the rose has tied ;
For that mother on the morrow,
In the valley found a bed'.
R.mud her green couch friends are weeping,
Oh. 't W.L- sad to see them part:
Through the hand that 1 am keeping
I can feel her beating heart!
Like the night that leaves the mountain.
When the gloom is turned to gold,
Once airain beside the fountain,
Ronnie Kittie I enfold ;
There 1 spoke my love's beguiling.
But -he answered not my strain ;
But upon my breast wept, smiling
Like the roses after rain!
.sfltc 11b (Talc.
1)11 lb IN AND DESTINY
Among those who aspired to the hand of
Linra Woodville, was a young man named
Percival. whose father, a poor day-laborer, had,
by sHf-denial through many years, succeeded
in giving him an education beyond what was
asnally acquired at that time by those in the
lower walk- of life. When sixteen years of
£_-!•. an attorney of some eminence, who per
ceived in the lad more than ordinary ability,
look him into his office, and raised him to the
profession of the law. At the time of which
ve write. Percival, who was twenty-five years
old, had already gained some reputation at the
bar. having conducted to a successful issue se
veral very important cases.
Mr Woodville. to the hand of whose daugh
ter. a- ha- l>een said, l'ercival aspired,was
a merchant in rather reduced circumstances,
but connected with certain families more dis
tinguished for aristocratic pride than virtue.—
Th:- connection was the more valued in con
sequence of the loss of wealth through disas
ters in trade, and the inability to keep up those
external appearances which dazzle the multi
tude and extort a homage that is grateful to
weak minds.
Laura, a beautiful and highly accomplished
girl, was a favorite in ali circles, and there
were many among the wealthy and fashionable,
who. for her p< r-o:.al attractions alone, were
ready to approach aud ffer tiie homage of
affection. Among these was a voung
■an named Allison, whose family had, in the
ryes of Mr N\ oodvilie, everything to render a
I marriage connexion desirable. But Laura ne-
Ixer eneourag't] hi< advances in the least ; for
s-V Lit for him a strong internal repulsion.—
He was wealthy, accomplished, attractive in
prsoti, and connected, both on his father's and
atber- side, with some of the oldest, and so-
Yled " best families in the State." These.
! wrier, were not. in her eyes, attractionssuf
' :ectly strong to induce her to overlook quali
ty of the lie art. Already in her contact with
tic wnrld had she been made to feel it* hollow
ly* aud selfish cruelty. For something more
"an mere fashionaltic blandishments had her
Vart '••vgui to yearn. She felt that a true
1 t-. virtuous frieud was a treasure beyond all
I jrire.
I HT. Ie this state of mind was in progress,
S L&ura met H-nry I'errival A mutual regard
I s-m developed, which increased until it
I a ,hvp aud sincere affection. In the
;:| - wtime Allison, confident from his position,
"iu.e Udder in his advances, and as a pre-
I i 3 S *T- -ave Woodville an intimation of
A cThe old merchant heard him ghul-
M yi*'!d>sl a full prosectition of his suit.—
n pweu.ug what was in the mind of the
II man - I-aura shrunk from him, and met
■ : * advances with a chilling reserve that
I '*>"•>r an instant to be misunderstood.—
j| t -Se ujt-.Lutiuie. Formal daily gained new
? 1 " - her eyes, and was at length embolden
c~" •keiare what was iu his heart. With
f "vabni pleasure Laura referred the young
8 W. 4 " duller X s to the i.-sne of the rt
f| ' g* v had weil-grouuded fears.
| f 'Ly that followed this declaration was
: ■ T-"* a:,x ' ous suspense to Laura. She was
,it<e in the afternoon, wheu her father
|9 . n '" the room where she was sitting. She
J] ' "''•"tly w hat was iu his mind ; there was
Hv . ," n h;s acc - an d she knew that he had
j ll .. dhe Erravely. as he sat down by
II '*/"'• 1 was exeeediuglv surprised and
■ \ T to receive from a young upstart
H • whose family no cue has ever bearil.
■ t .. * r •'* jour hand, made, as was affirmed,
■wV :-t- Surc-lv this affirmatiou was
flnshM the face of Laura.
I -1 0 x he tloor, aud she exhibited signs
■ *!*** button. 8
- - iay u ,, t aware,™ continued Mr.
C: 'J*' -^ r Albion has been to me
B ' M- ara l
fl ■ Laura were raised quickly from
I U T Uvr tanner exhibited therepug
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
"I can never look upon Mr. Allison as more
than a friend," she said calmly.
" Laura has it indeed come this ?" said Mr.
Woodville, really disturbed. "Will you dis
grace yourself and family by a union with a
vulgar upstart from the lower ranks, when an
alliance so distinguished as this is offered f
Who is Percival ? Where is he from ? What
is his origin ?"
" I regard rather his destiny than his ori
gin," replied the daughter, " for that concerns
me far more dearly than the other. I shall
have to tread the way my husband goes, and
not the way he has come. The past is
past. In the future lies my happiness or
misery."
" Are you beside yourself?" exclaimed he,
rather losing his self-command before the ra
tional calmness of his child.
" No, father," replied Laura, " not beside
myself. In the principles that govern Mr.
Allison, I have no confidence, and it is a man's
principle that determines the path he is to
tread in life. On the other hand, I have the
fullest confidence in those of Mr. l'ercival, and
know where they will lead him. This is a
matter in which I cannot look back to see
from whence the jterson has come ; everything
depends on a knowledge LAS to where he is go
ing."
"Do you know," said Mr. Woodville, not
giving the words of his child the smallest con
sideration, "that the father of this fellow, l'er
cival. was a day-laborer in one of Mr. Allison's
I manufacturing establishments ! A mere day
laborer ?"
1 have heard as much. Was he not an
honest and honorable man ?"
" Madness, girl !" ejaculated Mr. Woodville
at this question, still further losing his self-con
trol. "Do you think that lam going to see
my child, who has the blood of the 1* 's,
and R 's, and W 's in her veins, min
gle it with the vile blood of a common labor
er? You have been much in error, if, for a
moment you have iudulged in the idle dream—
I positively forbid all intercourse with this
man Percival. Do not not disobey ine, or the
consequence to yourself will be of the saddest
kind."'
As her father cased speaking, Laura rose
weeping and left the room.
A deep calm succeeded to this sudden storm
that had fallen from a summer sky. Rut it was
judicative of a heavy and more devastating
storuL Laura communicated to Percival the
fact of her painful interview with her father,
aud at the same time gave him to understand
that no change in his views was tobe expected,
aud that to seek to effect a change would only :
be to place himself in the way of repulse aud
iusult. Roth of these the young man had al
reiuly received.
A tew months later, ami fully avowing lier
pur]>ose. Laura left the house of her parents
and became the wife of Pereival. A step like
this is never taken without suffering. Some
times it is wisely, but oftener unwisely taken,
but never vvitliout jmiiu In this ea.-e the pain
on both sides was severe. Mr Woodville lov
ed his daughter tenderly, aud she felt for her
father a more than conunou attachment. Bat
he was a proud and selfish man. The mar
riage of Laura not only disappointed and mor
tified, but made him angry beyond all reason
and self-control. In the bitterness of bis feel
ings he vowed never to look upon her nor for
give her. It was all in vain, therefore that his
daughter somrht a reconciliation, she met only
a stern repulse.
Years went by, and it remained the same.
Many times during that long period did latura
approach her old home, but only to be repuls
ed. At last she was startled and afflicted with
the sad news of her mother's death. In the
sudden anguish of her feeling she hurried to
her father's house. As siie stood with others
who had gathered around, gazing uj>on the life
less form >l her dead parent, she became aware
that the living one had entered the room, and
to all &p|tearance. unconscious of her presence,
was standing by her side. A tremor went
through her frame. She felt faint and ready
to drop to the floor. In this season of deep
affliction might he not forgive the past .' Hope
sprunc up within her. In the presence of the
dead he nuild not throw her off. She laid her
hand gently on his. lie turned. Her tear
ful eyes were lifted in his face. A moment
of thrilling suspense ! Pride ami anger con
quered agaiu. Without a sign of recognition,
he turned away and left the chamber of
death.
Bracing herself up with an intense struggle,
Laura pressed her lips to the cold brow of her
mother, and then silently retired.
During the time that intervened from his
marriage tip to thi period. Mr. Pereival had
been gradually rising in the confidence, respect
and esteem of this community, and was acquir
ing wealth tiiromrh means of a large practice
at the bar. As a husband be had }rovcd most
kiud aud affet tiouatc. As a man he was the
very soul of honor. All who kucw him held
him in the highest regard.
After the death of his wife. Mr. Weodville
fell iuto a gloomy state of mind. His business,
which had been declining for years, was be
coming less aud less protitable, and to increase
his trouble, he found himself progressing rapid
ly toward embarrassment if not bankruptcy.—
The man whom of all others he had wished to
see the husband of his daughter, married a
beautiful heiress, and was living in a style of
great elegance. He met the briiiiant bride
occasionally and always with an unpleasant
fcelimr.
One day while walking with a gentleman,
they passed Allison, when his conqauiuu re
marked :
" If that man does not break his wife's heart
within five years. I shall thiuk she has tew of
woman's best and honest feelings."
•• Why do you say that ?" asked \\ oodvdle,
eviuciug much surprise.
" lu the first place," replied the friend, " a
man with had principles is not the one to make
a right-minded woman happy. And, iuthese
coud place, a man who regards neither virtue
or decency in his conduct, is the one to make
life wretched."
" But is Allison such a man ?"
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
" lie is, to my certain knowledge I knew
him when a boy. We were school-mates. He
then gave me evidence of more than ordinary
natural depravity ; and from the training he
has received, that depravity has been encour
aged to grow. Since he became a man I have
had many op{M>rtuuities for observing him
closely, and I speak deliberately when 1 say
that I hold hirn in exceedingly low estimation.
I am personally cognizant of acts that stamp
him as possessing neither honor nor, as I said
before, decency, and a very long time will not.
probably, elapse, before he will betray all this
to the world. Men like him indulge in evil
passions and selfish desires, until they lose even
common prudence."
" You astonish me," said Woodville, " I can
not credit-your words. He belongs to one of
the best families."
" So called, but judged by a true standard,
11 should say one of our worst families."
" Why do you say that ?" asked Mr. Wood
ville, eviueing still more surprise.
" The virtues of an individual makes his
standard <>f worth. The same is true of fami
l lies. Decayed wood, covered with shininggold,
is not so valuable as sound and polished oak.
• Nor is a family, raised by wealth, or anv ex
ternal gilding, into n high social position, if not
| possessed of virtue, half so worthy of confidence
i and esteem as one of less pretensions, but en
dowed with honorable principles. The father
i of Mr. .Allison, it is well known, was a gentle
man only in the Chesterfieldian sense. A more
hollow-hearted man never existed. And the son
is like the father only more depraved."
Mr. Woodville was profoundly astonished.
All this he might have known from personal
observation, had not his eyes been so dazzled
I with the external brilliancy of the JHTSOII con
demned, as to disqualify them for looking deep
er. and perceiving the real character of what
was beneath the brilliant gilding. He was as
tonished. though not entirely convinced. It did
not seem possible that any one in the elevated
position of Mr. Ailisou, could be so base as
was affirmed.
A few months later and Mr. Woodville was
surprised at the announcement that the wife
( of Air. Allison had separated herself from him,
aud returned to her father's home. Various
i causes were assigned for this act, the most
prominent of which was, infidelity. Soon af
ter an application for divorce was" laid before
the Legislature, with such proofs of ill-treat
ment and shocking depravity of conduct, as
procured an instant release from the marriage
contract.
By this time, the proud, angry father, was
beginuing to see that he had probablv commit
ted an error. An emotion of thankfulness that
his child was not the wife of Allison arose sj>on
taneously in his breast, but he did not permit
it to coiue into his deliberate thoughts, nor
take the form of an uttered sentiment. Steadi
ly the change in his outward circumstances pro-!
grossed.
lie was growing old, and losing the ability*
to do business on an equalitv with the voung
er and more eager merchants around him. who
were gradually drawing off his oldest and best j
customers. Disappointed, lonely, anxious, and j
depressed in spirits, the conviction that he had
committed a great mistake was daily forcing
itself more and more UJKMI the mind of Mr
\\ oodvilie. When evening came, and he re
turned to his silent, his almost deserted dwell
ing. his loneliness would deepen into sadness,
and then like an unbidden, but not entirely un
welcome guest, the image of Laura would come
before his imagination, and her low and tender
voice would sound in his ears. But pride and
resentmeut was still in his heart, and after gaz
ing ou the jK'Usive. loving child for a time he
would seek to expel the vision. She had de
graded herself In marriage. Who or what was
her husband ? A low vulgar follow, raised a
little above the common herd ! Such and on!v
such did he esteem him : and whenever he tho't
of him. Ills resentment toward Laura came back
in full force.
Thus it went on, until twelve years from the
time of Laura's marriage had pa--<daway. and
in that long j>eriod the father had seen her face
but once, and then it was in the presence of
the dead. Frequently, iu the lir-t year of that
time bad she sought a reconciliation ; but re
pulsed on each oecason, she had ceased to make
approaches. As to her husband, so entirely
did Mr. Woodville reject him that he cast out
of his raiud his very likeness, and not meeting
him. ceased actually to remender his features,
so that if he had encountered him in the street
he would not have known him. lie could.and
had said, therefore, when asked al>out Perci
val. that he " didn't know him." Of hi- rising
reputation and social stauding he knew but
little : for bis very name being an offence, he
rejected it on the first utterance, and pushed
aside rather than looked at any information re
garding him.
At iast the external affairs of Mr. Woodville
became desperate. Hi- business actually died !
out. so that the exjense of conducting it being
more than the proceeds, he closed up his mer
cantile history, and retired ou a meagre pro
perty. scarcely sufficient to meet his wants.—
Rut scarcely bad this change taken place,when
a claim on the only piece of rial estate, which
he held, was made on the allegation of a de
fective title. On consulting a lawyer he was
alarmed to find that the claim had a plausible
basis, and that the chances were against him.
When the case was brought up. Mr. Wood
ville appeared in court, aud with trembling
auxiety watched the progress of the triai. The
claim was apparently a fair one, and yet not
really just. On the side of the prosecution was
a subtle, ingenious and eloquent lawyer in
whose hands his counsel was little more thau
a child. And he saw with despair that all
chances were against him. Tae loss of thi
rcmuant of property would leave him utterly
destitute. After a vigorous argument on the
: one side, and a feeble rejoinder on the other,
the case was about being submitted, when a
new advocate appeared ou the side of the de
fence, He was unknown to Mr. NY oodvilie.
On rising iu court there was a profound si
lence.
He hcjran by >arimr that he had something
to sav ia the case vre it c!u-?cvl, and as he had
" RESARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
studied it carefully and weighed with dne de
liberation all the evidence which had appeared,
he was satisfied that he could show why the
prosecution should not obtain a favorable de
cision.
In surprise Mr. Woodville bent forward to
listeu. The lawyer was tall in jierson ; digni
fied in manner, and spoke with a peculiar mu
sical intonation and eloquent flow of language
that marked him as possessing, both talents
and education of a high order. In a few mi
nutes he was perfectly absorbed in his argu
ment. It was clear and strong in every part,
and tore into very tatters the subtle chain of
reasoning presented by the opposing counsel.
For an hour he occupied the attention of the
court. On closing his speech he immediately
retired. The decision was iu Mr. Woodville's
favor.
" Who is that ?" he asked, turning to a gen- (
tleman who sat l>eside him, as the strange ad
vocate left the floor.
The inau looked at him in surprise.
44 Not know him ?" said he.
Mr. Woodville shook his head.
44 His name is Pereival."
Mr. Woodville turned his face partly away
to conceal the sadden flush that went over it.
After the decision in his favor had been given,
and he had returned home wondering at what
had just occurred, lie sat musing alone, when
there came a light tapping as if from the hand
of a child at the door. Opening it, he found
a boy there not over five or six years of age,
with golden hair falling over his shoulders,and
bright blue eyes raised to his own.
44 Grandpa," >aid the child, looking earnest- 1
ly into his face.
For a momout the old man stood and trem
bled. Then stooping down, he took the child
in his arms, and hugged it with a sudden emo
tion to his heart, while the long sealed f<un
taiu of his feelings gushed forth again, and
tears came from the lids that were tightly shot!
to repress them.
'• Father !" The eyes were quickly unclosed, :
there was now another preseut.
4 " My child !" came tremblingly from his lips, !
and Laura flung herself upou his bosom.
How changed to the eyes of Mr. Woodville
was all, after this. When he mot Mr. Perei
val he was oven more surprised than in the ;
court room at his manly dignity of character. ■
his refinement and enlarged intelligence. And !
when he went abroad, and jierceived what he !
never before allowed himself to see, the high
estimation in which he was held by oil the
community, he was still further affected with
wonder.
In less than a year after this reconciliation,
Mr. Pereival was chosen to a high office in
the State : and within that time Mr Allison
was detected in a criminal conspiracy to de
fraud, and left the commonwealth to escape
punishment.
much for origin and destiny. Laura was
right : it concerns a maiden far more to know
whither her lover is going than whence he
came : for -he has to journey with him in the
form- r and not the latter way.
How They Catch Codfish.
Codfish are caught with large hooks, and
are taken from the bottom. Each fisherman
has a strong line of from sixty to seventy fath
oms iu length, to which is attached a lead of
a cylindrical shape, weighiugabout five j>ouiids.
This, of course, is the sinker. From this pro
ceeds the '• pennant," which is a cord al>out
twice the size, and i- about three feet in length.
To the lower end of the pennaut, and attached
to it by a small eopper swivel, is the ' craft,'' 1
which is a small stout cord about two-and-a
half feet in length, having three stripes of
whalebone laid ar<>uiul it at the middle, where
it i- attached to the -wivel of the pennant.—
The whole is serried or wound with tarred
twine. On each end of the craft is a smaller
swivel, into which the gauging of the hooks is
attached. The whalebone serves to keep the
hooks about a foot apart, so there is little dan
ger of their becoming entangled with each
other.
The men arrange themselves on the leeward
side of the deck, throw over their leads, and
unreel their lilies till the lead rests on the bot
tom. Tim Hue is then drawn up so that the
hook will be on the l<ottoin with the down pitch
of the vessel, and with nippers drawn on their
fingers to keep the line from cutting them,
they lean over the bulwark*, patiently awaiting ;
a bite, which is known by a slight jerk.
They then give a sudden pull, in order to
hook him. stand back and haul in the long line,
hand over hand, until the fish is hauled up to
the surface, when he is taken on deck, unbook
ed, and thrown into a square box. which each
man has fastened by his side, called a 44 kid."
The hooks are then baited and thrown over
again, and the fisherman, while the line is run
ning. picks up the fish caught and cuts out his
tongue.
Towards night the fi-h are counted out from
the kids, each one separately, and thrown into
a large kid near the main hatch, called the i
'• dressing kid." They are counted aloud as
thev are thrown along, and each man is requir
ed to keep his own ae >;mt. and report to the
-kipper at night, who keeps a separate account
for each mau on '.he log-book. The dre-sing
gang, consisting of a " throater." a " header."
a " splitter." and a 44 salter," now commence
dressing down. Aft r jmssing through the
hands of the first three they assume somewhat
the shape seen in the market. They are then
passed down bet wee u decks to the salter. who
puis them up iu kenche.- or layers, laying the
first tier on the bottom of the hold and build
ing up with alternate layers of salt and fish
till the kenches reaches the desired height.—
The decks are then washed down, sails taken
iu. aui the vessel anchored for the night.
A witty gentleman of this city, speak
ing of a friend who was pro-Irated by illness,
remarked that "he could hardly recover, since
ids constitution was ail gone."
"If his constitution i- all gone." said a by
- lander, "I do not see how he live.- a: aii."
"Oh," responded the wag, "he lives oa the
by-laws."— Erp.
Freemasons in Turkey.
Although freemasonry has for more than
thirty years been generally supposed to exist
among the Mahommedans, and traces of it
were found in Turkey by the Russian officers
after the campaign of 182b, yet they were too
slight to prove the fact; and it is only within
the last few years that it was sufficiently demon
strated by a German freemason chancing to
pass through Belgrade where he discovered a
masonic lodge, to which he was invited, and
where he received a hospitable reception.—
It appears now to prove beyond all doubt that
the Turkish brothers who exercise their masonic
duties under the name of dervishes, are to all
intents and purposes the same as our free
masons, with but very little difference in their
customs and ceremonies, and make use of ex
actly the same signs, words, and grips to recog
nize each other. The Turkish freemasons aje
pear to be in a more elevated state of civiliza
tion than is usual amongst the Orientals gener
ally ; and their views of religion are far high
er than those imposed bv Islawi.-m. They re
ject j>olygamy, contenting themselves with one
single wife, and at the masonic banquets the
women appear unveiled—a striking proof of
the mutual confidence the masonic brothers
place in each other.
The Belgrade Lodge, called Alikotseh is
composed of about TO members. The Master
of the Lodge, whose name is Djani Ismael
Zsholak Mohammed Saede, is at this time.
Grand Master of all the lodges in European
Turkey, and is directly connected with all those
of the whole of the Ottoman Empire, Arabia
and Persia, in which latter the freemasons
amount to more than 50,000 members. In
Constantinople there are no less than nine lodg
es, the most numerous and important of which
is that of dancing dervishes, called Sirkedshi
Teckar. The Turkish freemasons wear, as a
symbol of brotherhood, besides a small brown
shawl, embroidered with mystical figures, a flat,
polished, twelve-cornered piece of white mar
ble with reddish browu spots, about two inches
in diameter, suspended by a white silken cord
round the neck. These spots represent spots
of blood, and are symbolic of the death of
Ali, the founder of the order in Turkey, who
was barbarously put to death by the then Sul
tau. for refusing to reveal the secrets. The
above mentioned Djani Ismael, Grand Master
of the Lodge of Belgrade, a venerable Turk
of the old school, is honorary member of the
lodge of "Baldwin under the Lime-tree." at
Lcipsie, several members of which lodge have
received diplomas from the Alikotseh at Bel
grade.
Greatest Depths of Mines.
Wheal Abraham attained, (rather more
than 20 years ago, ) a depth of about 242
fathoms, or 1,452 feet, (a fathom being six
feet) ; Doleoath Mine had reached 235 fath
oms : Tresavean copper mine is gradually be
coming extraordinarily deep, and it is last re
ported as being 2.112 feet uuder the surface,
and about 1.700 feet above the level of the
sea. The Consolidated Mines are 300 fathoms
1.000 feet deep, and the United Mines 280
fathoms below the adit level. Let the reader
realize these depths by immaginary pilings of
the highest buildings, as St. Paul's and the
Monument, on themselves a sufficient number
of times to attaiu the respective amounts 1—
Speaking of Mines generally, the Eselschact
Mines at Kutteidierg. in Bohemia, now inac
cessible. was deeper than any other mine, be
ing no less than 3,078 feet below the surface.
Its depth is only 150 feet less than the heights
of Vesuvius, and it is eight times greater than |
the height of the pyramid of Cheops, or of
the cathedral at Strasburg. The bore of t!e
salt works of Minden, in Prussia, is 2.234
feet deep, and 1.993 feet below the level of
tue sea. Mines on high ground may be very
deep without extending to the sea level.—
That of Valenciana. near Guanaxuato, in
Mexico, is 1,686 feet deep ; yet it is is 5.900
feet above the level of the sea, and the mines
of the Andes must be much more. For the
same reason, the rich mine of Joachiiasthall.
in Bohemia, though 2,120 feet deep, had not
yet reached the sea level. The fire-sfrings at
Tsen-heu-tsing, in China, are 3.197 feet deep,
but their relative depth to the sea level is un
known.
llow insignificant are the work- of man com
pared with nature ! A line 27.000 feet long
did not reach the bottom of the Atlantic
Ocean.— London Mining Journal.
Retaixixg a Dead Body fur Df.rt.—Quite
a eurrious case came before the Police Court
yesterday morning. The story, as told to us.
is as follows : Some weeks since a gentleman
of this city died. A metallic coffin was order
ed for the corpse, and in the absence of his
friends, the coffin containing the body was
placed in one of the vaults at the cemetery
belonging to a gentleman residing in the city.
The body had remained some thirty days, we
are told, when the undertaker who furnished
the coffin and placed the body there, was or
dered to remove it. He took it away and bur
ied it. The friends of the deceased came on
shortly afterward and demanded the body,
which the undertaker refused to give np unless
the expenses amounting to $140.) which he
had incurred, were paid. He refused to toil
them where the coffin and Udy were buried un
less bis just dues were paid, or he was secured
fr< m loss—which we think was a just and law
ful demand. The friends of the deceased how
ever. did not pay the debt, anil arrested the
undertaker for unlawfully detaining the dead
body, and he was confined during Friday night.
Yesterday morning the parties appeared before
•lastice Drill lard, ami the complaint was made.
The naikrtaker was held to answer be-fore the
| next Court of Oyer and Terminer in this city
and give bail to appear. The parties are all
' most respectable, and considerable feeling was
manifested. M'e have the above from officers
connected with the affair. The arrest was
made by Officer.lames Cowen. Since then the
undertaker has obtained a warrant against the
friends of the deceased for false imprisonment.
—lyffh Republic.
VOL. XVJ. NO. 19.
The Gulf Stream.
It is Wlicvcd by many tlmt the waters of
the Gulf Stream arc nothing 1 more or Jess than
the waters of the river Amazon. The great
father of waters is lidded more than l,00(t
miles immediately under the equator, aud all
its tributary streams, for many thousand miles,
are constantly pouring their hot water into
this great reservoir of water. As tlio.se waters
are gathered under the burning sun of the
equator, they are extremely warm ; far more
! than the waters of the Atlantic under the equa
tor. The great body of heated water shoots
out into the Atlantic more than a hundred
miles, in the face of the eternal trade winds.
The Amazon is sixty miles wide ; after Ic
ing bedded in its irresistible course, it curves off
to the left, and scuds off before the strong
trade winds till out of their reach. Driven
along with great force, it takes its coarse round
the great bay formed by the two continents of
North and South America. Dashing along
the northern coast of South America, and pass
ing to the leeward of the West India Islands
it leaves the shore of Cuba and proceeds along
the shores of Florida, the capes of Virginia,
and the South coast of North America, and
passing along the shores of Newfoundland,
ends its mission among the icebergs which float
out of the northern ocean. Cut off the Gulf
Stream, and it would not be many years before
the North Atlantic would be filled with ice
bergs, and the port of New York would cease
to he the ceutre of American commerce.
Before the course of the Gulf Stream was
known, ships from Europe to New York, in
wiuter, used to sail first to Charleston, Sb C ,
then coast it down to the Hudson. The voy
age used to occupy them from six to eight
mouths. The Nantucket fishermen were the
first to discover the course of the Gulf Stream,
and while English captains were taking six
months to reach New York, they used to make
the run sometimes in one month. Vessels run
ning north of this stream in winter get their
sails and rigging frozen so that it is scarcely
possible to make any headway. By runaiag
into the stream tlicy thaw out, for the water
is always warm, and is known by this, anu its
intense deep blue color. It is provided as a
reservoir of heat by the Great Governor of
Worlds, to accomplish his grand purposes. It
is the influence of this stream which renders
the climate of Britain so genial. Were it di
verted to break upon the coasts of Spain only,
the island of Britain would soon become a
bleak, cold and inhospitable region, with a cli
mate as cold and a wiuter as long as Labrador ;
and Eriu would cease to be named the Emer
ald 1.-le, for her fields would lie covered with
snow during eight months in the year, instead
of green herbage. It appears from the geo
logical evideuces, that the Gulf Stream, atone
l>eriod. did not break uj>on the diores of Brit
aiu, and it was then as cold as Iceland. Up
on such harmonies of nature's operations, di
rected by an All-Wise Creator, do men and
nations depend.— Scientific Amrican.
Long John and the* Landlady—An Epigram.
BT QCIES SABS.
John—tall, ami a wag—was sipping I.! - irt,
When his landlady. ritLi-r uncivilly free,
Ac wtcd hiin thus—• Sir, a man of your metre
Must be. 1 should think, a very larce eater!'*
'• Xay. nay." quoth the wag, " 'tis nut as you say,
Fur a iittle. with me. zo** a very lent; vray
BF.AITY or SARAH. —The sacred historian
clearly intimates that the sex were still en
dowed. as before the Flood, with a wonderful
power of retaining their beauty, and Sarah's
personal charms were unimpaired at what we
should now consider a very advanced age.—
Even on the plain of Canaan, where under
the shadow of the oak Ogy_-es. Abraham hod
pitched his tent, "the fame of his wife's beau
ty," says Joseph us, "was greatly talked of,"
and she was in her ninetieth year when, on
the occasion of Abraham's second visit to
Egypt, she made so dangerous an impression
ion Kinu- Abimelech. This incident serves to
' illu-trate how little security was then enjoyed
|by the highest rank. An Arabian emir, or
prince, traveling with a powerful retinue, is
afraid to acknowledge himself the ha-band of
a beautiful wo:uan, lest on some speeions pre
text, he should lie put to death, and his wife
siezed by the reigning despot. His apprehen
sions were in part realized, and Sarah, u- soon
as she'had set foot in Egypt, was carried off
from the midst of her family, in defian >? alike
of the r.asres of hospitality and the common
laws of society. Such was the boasted virtue
of patriarchal times !— History of Worn.;*,
lv S. W. Full m.
trisr* An Irishman on arriving in America
took a fancy to the Yankee girls, and wrote
to his wife as follow- : "Dear Norab, these
melancholic lines are to inform yon that I died
died yesterday, and I hope you are enjoying
the -ame bh-ssiug. I recommend you to mar
ry Jemmy O'Boukc. and take gv *1 care of the
children. .From your affectionate husband till
death."
fc-tr" A friend may be often found and l->st,
but an old friend cau never be found, and na
ture has provided that he cannot easily be lost.
Anybody who supp< ses that locking a
girl in a back room, will prevent her fr m know
ing w hat love means, might as well undertake
to keep strawberries from blushing in June, by
whispering in their ears about that suow we
had last winter.
Sow Goor> —" Whatever a man sowethtfcat
shall he also rca; ~ says the Scripture. If you
wish cockle. chess, wees, and poor wheat,
then sow >ueb. and yon have the promise of
God, that you shall also reap such.
GALLS ON HORSES.—A strong solution of
alum with some whiskey mixed i i It. : s said to
, le a most excellent remedy for the galled shoul
\ ders of horses. Apply it three tises a day an-
I til the wound is healed.