ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TO WANDA:
Satnrbao fllorninn. Xootmbtt 17. 1855.
Stltcteb IJoetrj.
THE CRISIS .
BY JOHN G. WDITTIER.
Now. )">' ami thanks forevermore!
Tin* dreary night,has well nigh passed ;
The slumbers <f the North are o'er,
She giant -tauds erect at last!
JJI.IT than we hoj ed in that dork time,
When, taint with watching, few and worn,
We saw no welcome day-star climb
The cold, gray pathway of the morn.
Oh. weary hours ! oh. night of years !
What storms our darkling pathway swept,
Where, beating hack our thronging fears,
By faith alone our march we kept.
llow jeered the scoffing crowd behind,
How mocked before the tyrant train,
As, ouc by one, the true aud kind
Fell fainting in our path of pain.
Thev died—their brave hearts breaking slow,
Bet. -el'-forgetful to the last.
In words of cheer and bugle blow.
Their breath upon the darkness passed.
A mighty host on either hand
Stood waiting for the dawn of day,
To crush like reeds our feeble band :
The morn has come—and where are they ?
Troop after troop its line forsakes,
With peace-white banners waving free.
And from our own the glad shout breaks,
Of" Freedom and Fraternity 1"
Like mist before the growing light.
The hostile cohorts melt away.
Hurrah .'—our foenicn of the night
Are brothers at the dawn of day!
As, unto these repentant ones,
We open wide our toil-worn ranks,
Along our line a murnvir runs
Of song and praise and grateful thanks.
S'.nr.d for the onset! blast on blast!
Til! Slavery's minions cower and quail!
One < barge of fire shall drive them fast,
Like chut!"before our Northern gale!
Oh. prisoners in your house of pain—
Dumb, toiling millions, bound and sold !
I.O"k, -tret, hid in Southern vale and plain,
The Lord's delivering hand behold !
Above the traitor's pride of power,
His iron gates aud guarded wall,
The bolts which shattered Shinah's tower
Hang, smoking, for a fiercer fall!
Awake! awake! my Father-land,
It is thy Northern light that shines!
Tlii- stirring march of Freedom's band,
The storm-song of thy mountain pines!
Wake, dwellers where the day expires !
Your winds that stir the mighty lake,
And fan your prairie's roaring fires- -
They're Freedom's signals ! —wake !—awake !
DJistcllautous.
Scenes of the Pestilence.
The following eloquent und touching inci
dents are taken from a speech delivered bv
Rev. W. IT MIM.BURN, at a meeting held in
New-\ ork, Oct. 0, to express sympathy for
the orphans of those who have fallen victims
to the yellow fever at Norfolk and Ports- 1
mouth :
It has been my lot in the course of years of |
a professional career, to live much iu those ci- ■
'.cs of the plague, and it may not be uuinter
otinir to present a few details respecting the
character and course of the scourge as I have ;
personally gathered them.
During the prevalence of that frightful epi- j
dtraic—the yellow fever—the weather usually
h beautiful, the nights especially are of unri-j
railed loveliness, and the heavens lit up with j
a" their starry splendor. The pure ether gem- i
ped with its constellations arid ribbed with the
; r -ht channels of the milky way, invites the
iucautious or inexperienced habitant of the re- j
rran where the epidemic lurks, to its content- '
[nation and ••njoyinent. The cool air inviting- i
) . the fevered check and temps the inmate j
t if close room where he has been shut up |
*il day lrom the rays of the suu, to go abroad
Ei, breatlie in deep draughts of it and let it
piay about his temples ; but far better would
•i tie for lain to brave tlie meridian sun in its
vet power than to step forth in all the beau
such a night, and it is strange that such
such loveliness, should lead the pa
■itat forth only to make his step more certain
■'> the grave. These night-winds—so mild,
prfuined—are hut the heavy breath of the
'"A and the sheen of the itarlighl but the
••lie of death.
y. .1! tiie fever, if taken in hand a' onee, up
- hr?t attack, may be easily coiujm red, but
irately, it throws its victim off his guard.
at its approach, yon enjoy an unwon
-'-larity and elasticity of spirits—a lightness
• a buoyaucy so delicious that you feel as
( . V(JU could soar on eagles's wings. Then
in the next stage, a slight tremor of
■ nerves, a shiver over the whole frame,then
. -• > Hi the back and then a burning heat,as
tab r' 001 " V, '" IS ra " re a "d your flesh were
. '■ tu an oven. The remedies now are the
- "Hate attendance of an experienced pliysi
•r(|'i Uu " t " r( ' baths, a mild cathartic, then go
1 c and keep your nerves qniet ; a favora
iirf Ul "' er biir circumstances w ill sjtee-
IHIQ" ° ~W ' a "d you will escape, But so insi
*•7* advances of the foe that few can
•onri'i',• l ' lls ' s '"deed Yellow Jack, whose
*1 to h|■ sO . dread. Most people are indue*
*f U ' l ' le '" at altac k merely a slight touch
nl b'ver, and no physician is sent
.. 4lf] ' right, they imagine, without
Vj trdi ' Ut a ' a *' '*' s K l 'p >* there and he will
t 'juickly fellows the throb
t;il,le ' tbe l ' !f '' , - e " t 'd head, the increased
I'r..^ i* lu through your whole system;
Mildly rolling eves, the saffron hue,
.flsiiia a?*ui rajjaj # > T~ . , •; ~, : :
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
the deepening sallow tint overspreadiug tin
whole frame—then comes a lull, the fever
abates, a delicious calm ensues and the patient
feels quite well. Perhaps he sits down at his
desk and writes a short note to come dear
friend, thanking God that he is saved, that all
is over ! He rises from his chair, his head reels,
one terrible jet from his lips, he endeavors to
reach his bed—staggers—falls—all is indeed
over—he is dead !
Two years ago, during the prevalence of 4 be
yellow fever in New Orleans, a distUg ed
vocalist, a man of herculean frame, wasl' ek
ed, and after the regular course of the svnii)-
toms I have detailed, suddeuly rose from bis
sick bed imagining that he was already con
valescent, and steppiug across the apartment,
sang with intense pathos and power the address
of Edgardo in the graveyard to the mistress of
his heart; as the last uotes rang through the
rooiu, he fell to the lloor a corpse.
The same year, and in the same city, while
desolation hung over every home, a gay party
of ladies and gentlemen determined if possible
to shake off the spell and drive awav the gloom
of death by the charms of social enjoyment.—
As the carriages that bore them swiftly over
the Shell Road to the Lake rattled along,
uaught was heard but the merry song and jo
cund laugh, aud the hospital iuu ouce reached
there was a luxurious supper provided, aud
pleasure ruled the hour. Foremost among the
happy guests was a radiant bride, in
year ; she was a Ncw-\ orker, and dazziinglv,
superbly beautiful, while the brightness of her
lovely eyes was rivaled only by the brilliance j
of her wit. Sprightly, accomplished, lovely as !
she was, there could be no gloom, no sadness
iu her presence ; her very coming made " a
sunshine in the shady place." So passed the
pleasant evening ; midnight caiue and the com
pany betook themselves again to their carriages
and started for home ; and as thev passed
along the road on their return in that charming
night, there on the right of them, waved the
dark cypress boughs of the cemetery, with
gronjis of gloomy figures gathered inside and
at the entrance waiting for the dead, and the
ribald jest aud oath of the grave diggers pro- |
failing the sanctity of the scene as they plied
their work, relatives and frieuds waiting 'till
the trench should be hollowed out for those j
they had brought there to bury. At last, they '
reached the city and saw the town illuminated
as it for some great festival, the red glare blaz
ing from every window and lighting up the sky. i
Any stranger coming iu would have thought
that some high jubilee was being held there, 1
some rejoicing for national triumph, but the |
lights were only those that beamed from the 1
windows of the sick chambers. Next morning !
the husband, who had been absent from the j
city oil some brief call of business, returned, J
and hurrying to his home was surprised to fiud
it hushed and gloomy. Meeting a servant as
he was hastening up stairs, he asked, " Where
is your mistress ?" " She is ill of the fever, !
Sir. In a moment he was in her room where i
she lay stricken by the pestilence on her bed. |
The Doctor, who stood by, answered his first
frantic look and exclamation with such words
las these : " Late hours, Sir ! Rich suppers
and gay company—a quite sufficient prepara
tion for the yellow fever, Sir !" " And how,
how has this been ?" was the agonized and j
even angry rejoinder of the husband. But as i
he spoke lie turned toward bis wife. There
she lay, her eyes glittering with delirium. Her
once fresh lips scaled and parched, her cheeks
that glowed like roses but last night, sunken
and sallow, and her whole frame writhing in
the tortures of the frightful malady. Well, iu
what anguish may be imagined, he watched be
[ side her ail that dreadful morning. Afternoon
came and her fever had abated ; she was bet- j
ter ; with rapture he thought she was saved ; !
restored to cheerfulness he left his house for a j
tew moments and went to a friend, to whom he
was relating what a terrible fright he had mi-!
dergone and the happiness he now felt at his !
wife's deliverance. While he stood there speak
ing, a little boy came running up and said—
-44 Are you not Mr. ?" 44 Yes, that is my
name." " Well, please Sir, your wife's dead."
He fell senseless to the pavement, but was lift
ed up and after due attendance which rc-torcd
him to consciousness, was conveyed bv his friend
to the house of the d < eased. There lav the
last remains of his young bride. A coffin was
procured and the body placed within. Ere
night came on he and his friend accompanied
that coffin over tlie same road, and to the same
Cypress Grove which she had passed in joyous- j
ness and beauty, the night before. At the
entrance of the Cemetery, a gentleman asked,
44 Who is there ?" The name of the dead lady I
was pronounced. 44 What," he exclaimed, with I
a great oath, 44 the same who rode along with j
us hut tweuty-four hours ago I" Yes, it was j
she, and the person who spoke was one of the j
same company. That was her her escort and j
her burial service.
No scenes can so develope the character of
inau as those which are witnessed during the
ravages of the pestilence ; it brings out all the
levity, sensuality, coarseness, and brutality of
his nature. It brings out all the selfishness of
his character. The conventional restraints of
conunou life are riven as the earthquake rives
and sunders iron bolts. Then the sole princi
ple is every man for himself, God for us all,
and the Devil take the hindmost. But, thank
God, it has been reserved for our own chosen
land, for onr civilization and our humanity un
der the Divine auspices of our holy religion to
bring out also the good that is in man, and to
show him, rich and poor, working, helping,and
miuistering side by side on the streets and in
the hovels where disease and poverty struggle
together. Need I here allude to that profes
sion which claims such undivided homage from
us all—the medical profession. [Great ap
plause. J Aye, there are other heroes than
those of the Crimea, other fame untarnished
by tears, and laurels not dipped in blood ; there
have been noble heroes, there, in our smitten
cities of the South, whose gallant deeds, whose
glorious achievements overwhelm and darken
all the tinsel of the battle-field. In the twen
ty-six members of the modical profession who
have fallen martyrs to the pestilcuce in Nor
folk and Portsmouth, sacrificing themselves lor
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
t the eternal love of man, we have names of
r which our conutry should be proud—which she
t should emblazon in bright letters on the lofti
s est monuments she rears to self-sacrifice and
r worth.
II
I ( CURIOUS FACTS CONCERNING DYSPEIISIA.—
0 The effect of mental disquietude in producing
-] this prevalent complaint, is far greater than is
supposed. It is well known that persons in
e good health, of sound digestive organs, who
j take plenty of exercise, and are free from anx
. iotv, may eat almost anything, and in quanti-
K ties which would kill those in different crcum
s stances. In reference to this point, Dr. Brig
. ham, an English medical writer, observes :
"We do not fiud dyspepsia prevalent in coun
s tries where the people do eat most enormously,
f Travellers in Siberia say that the people there
often eat forty pounds of food in one day. Ad
miral Seripchoff saw a Siberian eat, directly
; after breakfast, twenty-five pouuds of iioilcu
j rice, with three pounds of butter. But dyspep
; sia is not a common disease in Siberia We do
, not learn from Captain Perry or Captain Lyon,
. the Arctic travellers, that their frieuds, the
. Esquimaux, are very nervous and dyspeptic,
though they individually eat ten or twelve
[ pounds of food per day, washing it down with
1I a gallon or so of train oil. Captain Lyon was
I : to be sure, a little concerned for a delicate
. young lady Esquimaux, who ate her candles,
• wicks and all, yet he does not allude to her in
ability to digest them."
! "BY AND BY." —There's music enough in
i those three words for the burden of a song.—
i There is hope wrap ed up in them, an articu
late beat of the human heart.
By and by !
\\ e heard it as long ago as we can remem
: : ber, w hen we made brief but perilous journeys
1 from chair to table, and from table to chair
• again.
We heard it the other day, when two part
ed that had been " loving in their lives," one
to California, and the other to her lonely
■ home.
• | Everybody says it—some time or other.—
The little boy whispers it when he dreams of
exchanging the little stubbed boots like a
i man
The man murmurs it—when in life's middle
watch, he sees his plans half finished, and his
hopes, yet in the bud, waving iu the cold late
; spring.
The old man says it—when he thinks of put
-1 ting off the mortal for the immortal, to-day for
i to-morrow.
The weary watch for the morning whiles
away the dark with 44 by and by."
Sometimes it sounds like a song ; sometimes
there is a sigh or a sob in it. What wouldn't
the world give to find it in almanacs—set down
somewhere, no matter if in the dead of De*
: ceinbor—to know that it would surely come.
J But fairy-like as it is, flittiug like a star-beam
over the dewy shadows of years, nobody can
! spare it, and we look upon the many times
these words have beguiled us ; the memory of
the silver "by and by" is like the sun-rise of
Ossian, "pleasant, but mournful to the soul."
A DISINTERESTED CONVERT. —Many years
J ago there resided on the St. Johns River, in
Florida, a planter uainod Hendricks.—He had
ino family ; lived alone with his wife and
servants, aud when every thing went on aright
was a very good fellow ; but a little deviation
from the usual course sufficed to throw him in
to a violent passion. He was well advanced
in years at the time the Territory was admit
ted as a State, and being a man of violent
prejudices and possessed of no education, it
I was loug before he become reconciled to the
J change of dynasty, and many were his threats
I to leave the United States of Florida, and re
turn to Georgia. During a revival under the
ministrations of a Methodist minister, Mr. 11.
joined the churches as one of the converts.—
For some months after, affairs happened to jog
on very smoothly, until eventually there occur
red one of those violent hail storms and torna
does so common during the summer months in
tropical latitudes. These carry destruction
before them: fruit trees, vegetables, live stock—
all falling under the blast of the destroyer.
After watching the storm for some time from
an out-house, and witnessing the ruin of his
crops, lie rushed wildly into the house, calling
out at the top of his voice, " Wife 1 wife !
bring mc my t'other coat, I'm going to Jack
sonville." At a loss to account for this sudden
determination, instead of complying witli the re
quest she stopped to question him. "Why,
what now ?" "Get me my coat," thundered
lie, " 1 don't see that God Almighty favors
rue more than others ; and I'll lie (using
an expletive that savored strongly of unright
eousness) if I don't go straight over to Jack
sonville and have my name taken off the
church books. You needn't say one word,
wife," cutting short her expostulations, " I'm
going to do it." Aud lie did it.
LAWYERS AT A DISCOUNT. —Judge W ,
who had been for many years a worthy occu
pant of the Federal bench in Michigan, fell
into a conversation, a few days since, in a bar
ber's shop, with a plain, substantial-looking,
and rather aged stranger, from the neighbor
hood of Tecuinseh. The Judge being former
ly well acquainted in that vicinity, took occa
sion to ask after certain of its citizens.
" You know Mr. B , do VQU ?" said
the Judge.
" Very well !" was the reply.
" He is well, is he ?"
"Quite well !" was the answer.
Judge W then remarked :
44 Mr. B is a very fine man 1"
"Y-e-s !" said the old man, rather cautious
ly " a fine man for a lawyer— you know we
don't expect a great deal of them !"
SERMONS. —Sydney Smith, in reference to
1 certain parsons who, by handling the most
sublime truths in the dullest language and the
driest manner, so often set their hearers to
sleep, nsed to ask whether sin was to be taken
! froin man as Eve was from Adam, by casting
' him into a deep slumber V
" REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
A Lion in the Path.
From a record of sporting adventure in S >♦'
Africa, recently published in an Euglish maga
zine, we make the following extract. It is as
thrillingly graphic as anything we have met
with for some time.
Whilst breakfast was preparing, I proceed
ed to take a saunter down to the pool, not with
out some faint hopes of a bath, though I fear
ed our horses, to say nothing of the other ani
mals who had visited it during the night might
have mudded it too much for that. However,
I resolved to try, and throwing my Miuie into
the hollow of my arm, and cocking my wide
awake over my eyes, lounged down a path
among the bushes, now well beaten by the feet
of men and horses. The latter I found up to
their bellies in the pool, enjoying themselves
as completely as the Hies would let them ; but
as the water looked uncommonly turbid, I
thought 1 would skirt along a little to the left
and look for a cleaner spot ; and so, climbing
a short steep, covered with long grass aud un
derwood. I pushed aside some branches that
intervened between ine and a small clearspaee
of shorter turf, and—to iny very intense aston
ishment, though I must say not at that mo
ment to my dismay, I was so used to the sight
of them—found myself within a few yards of
one of the finest mule lious I ever saw, and who
was engaged with a look of grave patriarchal
interest in watching the movements of the horses i
below—doubtless selecting one for his break- j
last. Have vou not seen Landseer's etching !
of the lion in the old Tower Meuagerie ? In
exactly the same attitude, still and uninoviug, )
like a noble statue, stood this neighbor of inine; '
and for a few seconds I remained really lostiu
admiration of the grand beauty of the 4 tableau'
lie presented.
It was, however, necessary to decide on some
line of action immediately. I could not help
hitting: him if I choose to fire, but if I did not
kill him outright with one shot, he was soclo.se
to ine that I could hardly hope to escape with
out an ugly brush. Surely this was a case iu
which discretion would be the better part of
valor ; and as he was so absorbed in the con
templation of the horses below that he he had
not yet noticed me, I 44 concluded," (as Jona
than would say )to steal off as I came. Ah !
that dry twig that would place itself in the
way of my very first retrograde footstep !
The sharp crackle affected what the more sub
dued noise of previous movements had not
done, and with a short startled growl, the beast
swung himself round, and in a second was star
ing at me with a look which said, 44 llullo !
who arc you ?" as plainly as look could speak.
Instinctively I threw my rille forward, cocking
it at the same moment, and some seconds of
perfect immovableness on each side ensued, du
ring which I was trying to make out whether
he would charge or not. The study of physi
ognomy is doubtless pleasant enough on the
whole ; but when your subject is a big male
lion, and the question depending on the study
whether you shall be summarily 44 smashed" or
let alone, why, I confess it becomes (as Mr. |
Weller says) too exciting to be pleasant.
How I studied every feature, trying to de
tect a change of some sort which might give
me a elue ! It came at last ; he gradually
lowered his head, and by the 44 wiggling" mo
tion of his hind quarters, which 1 could just
spy over his shoulder, I saw he was gathering
his hind legs under him—a sure indication.—
What odd things come into people's minds in
moments of peril ! That movement, brought
to my recollection most vividly a bitterly paral
lel scene in my aunt's garden at Harrow,where
1 watched her cat gathering herself up in an
exactly similar way to pounce on a wretched
sparrow.
The next moment he dashed at ine with a
hoarse snarl, which sounded as though a giant
had drawn the bow suddenly across the strings
of a stupendous violoncello. I tired as he rush
ed in, aiming as well as I could at the middle
of his forehead. As I did so, I was swept
down with the force of nn express train, and
for a few seconds lost all consciousness.
The first thing I was sensible of, as soon as
I began to get my senses together, was the
clear strong voice of X , calling to me in
the most placid, though earnest manner :
44 Lie perfectly still, Walter ; its your only
chance."
llow my heart leuped at the voice ! Help
was at hand, but the very words that announc
ed it at the same time pointed out my extreme
danger : it needed only the most moderate ex
ercise of my returning faculties to understand
why.
1 was lying on my face among the long grass
at the top of the little steep I have mentioned.
I could see nothing, but I could feci the lion
close to me. I could hear his deep, short, an
gry breath, like staccato purrs of an enormous
cat--could detect a smacking noise, which I
afterwards found arose from his licking at a
stream of blood which flowed down the side of i
his nose, from a deep sore on his forehead giv
en him by my ball—nay, I could feel his huge
tail, as he rolled it angrily across from side to
side, rest for a moment ou my back now and
then.
The bitter anguish of those few years of mo
ments—well,you can guess all that. Present
ly I heard the rrnek of a rifle on my left a
sharp whistle close to my head, and a 44 thud"
on my right, as the shot told among the fur,
succeeded by another short, sharp snarl louder
than the first —another track, a sensation like
a red hot wire across my neck, (being at the
bottom of the slope they could but just sight
the lion over my head, and N had fired
a quarter of an inch too low,) another furious
snarl, and then a roar—such a roar—within a
yard of my tympanum. I never heard such a i
sound out of anything, living or dead : then !
three more shots close together, and a bustle
at my side, which sounded like my neighbor
settling down among the grass and bushes.
_ " Now roll ! roll for your life !" shouted
trouble—-the dying brute in his convulsions,
giviug me a kick with a hind leg which sent mc '
Hying down the steep out of the reach of fur-'
thcr danger. '
A Girl to do Housework.-
Early one morning, Mr. Jones was seen in
his buggy, driving a spirited horse, in pursuit
of a girl to do housework. This was the fonrth
day of the campaign, and proved as unsuccess
ful as the former ones, yet he drove on, hopin
against all past experience, till meeting a neigh
bor, he reined in his horse. 44 Good morning
Mr. Mason ; can yon tell me where I can fim
a girl to do housework ? My wife is sick, am
I wish to get oue for a few weeks. lam wil
ling to pay any price I"
Indeed, Mr. Jones, that's a hard question:
there's girls enough to be sure, but they won't
do housework. Neighbor Hardpan, down ii
the hollow there, has a half dozen, but I don't
suppose that you could get one for love or mo
ney. I've tried them time and again, but they
wou't go out."
Thank you," said Mr. Jones ; 44 there's no
thing like trying." So saying, he stopped at the
door of Mr. Hardpan.
" Good morning, Mrs. Hardpan : I called to
see if I could get one of your daughters to do
housework for me a few days ?"
" Oh ! dear man ; why, massy on us, oh Mr.
Jones, you've no idea how feeble my darters
are, they wouldn't be tough enough any way ;
they couldn't stund it to do housework a week.
Anna Maria has got a desperate lame side,and
I don't purtend to put her to doing anything,
| she's so feeble; and Susan Sophia has a dread
lul weak stomach ; she can't eat anything un
less it is cooked just so—she don't even make
I her own bed ; and as for Amelia Angeline.she
is troubled with a terrible palpitation of the
heart ; she can't lift a pail of water. Why
don't you get an Irish girl 1"
Here Mrs. Hardpan paused for breath, and
Mr. Jones bade her good morning, and renew
ed his journey ; and just at night succeeded in
getting a married woman who brought her ba
by with her, to come and do a little baking
and stay a day or two, till he should make a
farther trial.
This, reader, is no fancy sketch. And now
let us for a moment look at the feebleness of
Mrs. Hardpaus daughters. Anna Maria is
tough enough to live in a dress which compres
ses her ribs tour to six inches, and leaves for
both luugs about as much room as one ought
to occupy ! Of course she could not do house
work. Susan Sophia can stand it to dance till
midnight, then read novels till daylight, sleep
till eleven o'clock in the luoruiug, cat hot cakes,
and drink strong coffee for breakfast ; beef
soup, butter gravies, mince pics, and fruit pud
dings for dinner, poundcake, lemon tarts, ami
a half dozen cups of green tea for supper : with
cloves, chalk, charcoal, and slate pencils for a
dessert. Poor, weak stomach ! Amelia An
geline is a pale, slim, delicate creature, vet she
44 can stand" it with her breast-bone pressed
upon her heart by a tight dress, so that it can
scarcely beat ! No wonder it is at times oblig
ed to make a 44 terrible" effort to free itself of
surplus blood. Amelia Angeline, too, is strong
enough to carry six or eight pounds of cotton
batting, and a small 44 cut. of cloth" about her
hips, wear thin shoes ; and go 44 bare-armed"
in winter. What a wonder that she should
have palpitation of the heart!
Now, is it any wonder that young ladies,
managed in this way, are not able and willing
to do houfework ? Their dress, manner of liv
ing, habits of thinking, all have a direct ten
dency to engender and confirm disease. Hence,
spinal complaint, dyspepsia, heart-disease, con
sumption, etc., are the legitimate results. If
we would have our daughters healthy let us
see that these and kindred evils are corrected.
Let them lay aside the straight-jacket and
adopt a dress which allows the free motion of
every joint and muscle, and the full expansion
of the chest ; exchange their novels for histo
ries, biography, poetry, etc. ; take at least half
an hour's exercise in the open air daily during
pleasant weather; retire and rise early ; ex
change the hot cakes and coffee for cool bread
and water; eat no rich dinners or late suppers,
open the blinds, and let the light shine in up
on them, if you would not have them look like
plants which grew in the cellar ; take them
into the kitchen, and instruct them in the va
rious branches of housewifery ; do not be afraid
of soiling their hands —they are much more
easily cleansed than than their hetrts. And
knowing how to perform the duties of the
household only helps to make a ladv, nor will
it lower them in the estimation of any man,
whose resj>eet is worth securing. Washing,
baking and sweeping need not prevent your
daughters from becoming smart musicians, fin
ished painters, profound mathematicians, or
good wives.
NEW ENGI.ANH MKETIVU HOISES. —After ti C
year 17< X) the meeting-houses in New England
were plain wooden structures, in most cases
without steeples. The windows were trlazed
with a diamond-shaped glass, the walls nii
plastered, and the interior without any means
of heating. Through the storms of winter the
congregation shivered with the cold during the
public worship. About one hundred and fifty
years ago, in the interior of one of these rude
edifices, upon the Sabbath, could I c en the
families of New England.
The men were dressed in the fashion of the
age. They wore broad-brimmed hats, turned
up in three corners, with loops at the side ; long
coats, with large pocket folds and cuffs, and
without collars ; the buttons either plated or of
pure silver, and of the size of a half dollar ;
shirts with bosom and ruffles, and with gold
and silver buckles at the wrist, united by a
link ; the neckcloth or scarfs, of very fine linen,
or figured stuff, embroidered, with the ends
hanging loosely. Small clothes were in fashion,
and only reached to the knee, where they
were ornamented witn silver buckles of liberal
size ; the legs were covered with long grey
tassels, though shoes were some worn, orna
mented with straps and silver buckles.
Tbc womeu had black silk or satin bonnets,
gowns extremely long waisted, with tight
sleeves, or else with very short sleeves, with an
immense frill at the elhow. Females at this
time wore high heeled shoes. The ministers
wore large gowns andpowdercd wigs.
VOL. XVI. —XO. 23.
Mrs. Strongatham's Churn.
Speaking of churns, a cotemporary says lie
has never seen any other labor-saving coatri
vance in that department, that for practical
con venience and utility could compare with that,
of Mrs Strongatham, a notable English house
wife, whose acquaintance he had the pleasure
of making in one of the rural districts of New
\ ork some years since. Having occasion to
call upon licr one summer morning, he fouud
her occupying her huge chintz covered rocking
chair, rocking and knitting as though the sal
vation of the family depeuded upon the assidu
ity with which she applied herself to these oc
cupations. Not that she was uncivil or unso
ciable by any means, for the moment he had
taken the proffered chair she set in with a
steady stream of talk that was as instructive
as it was entertaining, for besides her admira
ble qualities as a housewife, the lady possessed
rare conversational powers.
During the call she directed one of ber
daughters to some duty in a distant part of the
house, adding, " I would attend to it myself,
but I must fetch this butter." Now, he* had
known something of the process of " fetching
butter" in his early days, and the idea of a
snow-white churn and au irksome expenditure
of elbow grease was as naturally associated
with it in our iniud, as was tlie compensatory
slice of new bread and butter after the achieve
ment of the victory. We therefore cast our
eyes about us involuntarily for these indica
tions, but we looked in vain. Of either chnru
or churning there was no more appearance than
might have been seen in Queen Victoria's draw
ing room any day in the week. Our curiosity
was excited, and we resolved to keep our eyes
open, satisfied that if we did "we should see
what we should see." And we did. During a
momentary pause in the conversation the lady
rose from the chair, removed the cushion, raid
ed a sort of trap door underneath, and looked
iuto the apparent vacuum with an earnestly
inquiring eye. The secret was out. Under
the seat in her rocking chair was a box in
which she deposited the jar of cream, and the
agitation produced by the vibratory motion of
the chair converted the liquid into "butter.
By this arrangement the lady was enabled
to kill, not two only, but four birds with the
same stone. She could churn, knit, take her
ease in the rocking chair, and entertain her
morning guests at the same time. And such
butter as she made ? T ellow as gold, sweet,
as the meat of the cocoa nut, and as hard,too;
it always brought the highest price in the rural
market. You may brag of your patent churns
if you will, but for novelty, ecouomv, conveni
ence, and immaculate butter we defy them,one.
and all, when brought into competition with
Mrs. Strongatham's incomparable contrivance.
Ot her butter we shall retain a lively and grate
ful remembrance to our dying day ; her churn
we shall never forget either.
A TURKISH LADY BATHIVG.— Her attire is
first removed. An attendant takes a glove—
every day it is a new glove—of undressed silk.
\\ itli the disengaged hand she pours over her
mistress basin after basin of warm water.
I hen, by neans of gentle friction with the
glove, she slowly removes the salts and impuri
ties which are deposited on the skin. This
finished the attendant covers the lady from
head to foot, by means of a mop of downy
sdk, with a lather made of a particular emol
lient soap, peculiar, I believe, to Turkey.
I pon this soap depends much of that peach
like softness, and snowy whitness of the skin
tor which Eastern women always are so re
markable. It lias the reputation of removing
stains, spots, and freckles that are not deeply
inurktd in the cuticle. This part of the matter
having been carefully performed the lady is again
deluged with water, heated to 110 or* 120 de
grees, and poured from a taus (basin) of sil
ver. Large towels—we might call them
sheets—of the finest white muslin, riclilv em
broidered with flowers and gold are wrapjied
around her. And she is led into a saloon,
where, reclining upon a heap of cushions, she
sinks into a soft, dreamlike languor, that might,
become faintuess, were it not for the assiduty
with which a slave fans her. As soon as she
is sufficiently recovered to bear it, another
slave combs, perfumes, and disposes her hair
in ornamental braids. The hour after the
bath is one of sleepy loveliness.
WORTH KKOWIXO. —One pound of green cop
peras (cost seven ce its) dissolved in one quart
of water and poured down a privy, will effec
tually concentrate and destroy the foulest
smells. For water closets on hoard ships and
steamboats, about hotels and other places,
there is nothing so nice to cleanse and purify
those places, as simple green copperas, dis
solved ; and for sirk rooms, it may be placed
under the bed in anything which will hold
water, and thus render a hospital or other
places of the sick, free from unpleasant smells.
For butchers' stalls, fish markets, slaughter
houses, sinks, and wherever there are putrid
and offensive gases, dissolve copperas and
sprinkle it about, and in a few days the bad
smell will pass away. If a cat, rat, or mouse
die, about the house, it is sure to drive away
the offensive smell.
AITE.ARAXCES.—A man of steady integrity
carries his.conscience in his countenance; a
man <>f profligate character conceals his vices,
but his countenance betrays the secret work
ings of his heart. The one presents his cre
dentials of worth in his looks and manners,
and they are cordially received ; the creden
tials of the other, however confidently present
ed, are viewed with suspicion, and a shade of
mistrust hangs over his character.
W IIK\ Raphael was engaged in painting
his celebrated frescoes, lie was visited by two
cardinals who began to criticise his work and
to find fault without understanding it.
"Theapostlo Paul has too red a face,''
; said one.
"He blushes to sec into whose hands the
! church has fallen," replied the indignant ar
tist.