(Hi DOLLAR PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
X>A.:
Gatntbiin fUormttn, D;ccmbcr 8, 1855.
JJoetrjr.
[Kr-iiu the National Era.]
THE rtIOST ICING.
BY ANN St'MXER DRAKE.
TV Winter months have come a^ain,
rue dreary mouth; of the Frost King's reign ;
TV List November day has passed,
And chill Ileecmlicr has couie at l.x-t.
I w.u imd the sun go down last eve.
And he lingered long as if loth to lcavo
The eiiict earth and cloudless sky ;
He lingered long, for a foe wasitigli.
He lingered long, but went at last,
Ami soon there came 011 a northern blast,
V, !i fearful shriek, and rushing wing,
And waving banners, the dark Frost King.
His sceptre touched a passing cloud.
And there fell to earth a snowy slimud :
it iay on the fields and the garden bowers ;
And hid with its folds the autumnal tlowers.
He p.is-'-J through the paths of the forest bare,
Aud bung out the folds of liis banner there ;
lie pa-sed where the sparkling waters gleam,
And iii<s k, si the t'ow of the playful stream.
\-..i ill • tyrant laughed aloud in liis glee,
:■ ..... from his chilling power could flee :
T: -pr.it mi the rock, the (lowers in the field,
v.'e:> ill hv his icy breath congealed.
ji :• ; the forest and frozen plain,
1-.,:. irrrg • his el mdy car again ;
'ih : k hi- way to the crowo-d town,
•! : the v its of brick defied his frown.
1! • k at the door, but knocked in vain ;
II !< to the window, and wrote on the pane ;
■ ;r. Vg away from the rich man's door,
11 - l.t the In use of the humble poor.
i .. tf the poor,'twas an open shed,
V r:. '.-tht p| -ed his entrance there,
: t d.u \ ah'le of want and care.
i. " ati l a motiu r and babe within—
To r .- were pale, and their garments thin :
A ; ...let -trow was their only bed-,
A- ihi; lay .t-irtp in that lowly shed.
ijr H.v.;.- 1' .I to.l had the mother lowed,
iv . lo'ie, "mid the heartless crowd,
T t fur . d the city and passed her door,
•st t r cared Tor the widowed poor.
s ; ~1 hu-hed her moaning babe that night,
V v tl- "g .1 land that is always bright,
Wiicr* the wt try pilgrim will find a home,
■ biirr.- hunger and cold ean never come.
A A' 1 ' a : i| sleep on her eyelids pressed,
*" h •" 1 s Aim 1 tii.it safe in the land of rest,
V i t reiiant baud, with husband anil child,
> 1 vi-'t • length : and the dreamer smiled.
' ui itiie: s;n,leil, and iTuo l;. pressed
1 in;. ;nt that .-lumbered upon her breast;
A • 0 the cruel Fro.-t King passed that way.
H ru—rd the threshold ; die lic;ir<l lilai not,
F " eart'a and its sorrows were all forg t;
He touched her brow with his fingers ihi",
■ b.t the smile on her lips grew brighter still.
fie kissed the babe that lay on her breast,
a And ii sobbed no in..re in umjuict re.-t :
■! : > ves tli it w -re n—d to watch and weep,
A II - .!".! w.th a slnin'oer calm and deep.
fi H•. -ri'-.l away t his t :sk again :
A: . -wict i'.'i\i ie rest by the Frost King given,
jjf at 111 rung's dawn they awoke in heaven.
■ %£r a c (Laic.
Tiie Majesty of the Law.
• '.• r- little. ]rhaps nothing, how Wi
l - i o 11K' to l>e so sadly reduced in her
, v v cii" ; istanccs, as to resolve 0110 fine
;;• iH-grnin-r upon placing her eldest daugh
■'hai ly in service. Such, however, was the
f; ' i 3!1, 1 though it had cost the poor Widow
(I •; a pang-, the more she thought of it, the
1 ' - ' felt convinced that, if she would ward
;' rvjtp.n or the ' Union 7 from her house
i, 1 " *' i-rdi-c io stem necessity was not the
a tlic fact of the family having for■
•u in c:i>v circumstances. The wrecks
a ■ 'h' c might have Been, and still may
■ - a?' r-d about their stricken home.
)w of departed gentility hovered
t. and though some of their less
neighbors declared they were vain
:f• . not be truly said that they
117 !J: n attend to the niceties of dress
■ ■; r.'ity of nianner. They were always
w ■ ' until their most pinching poverty;
frequently clad in what would
of ■ !l dowdy u]x>n many, they contrived
:: - to appear neat and clean.
■ V;l " fot old, barely fourteen, yet she
;fl .. j f !.' ir better days ; she had not
" , n *!c house and beautiful garden;
H "• 'h.-thi, t recollection of her many
*** ■ a ,„] ppetty ribbons; and a
■ of the ancient regime was
os* l H . - ->; on of oncof the junior nicin
huibly. to be looked at, but not
tkH ■ . j' had been early taught to
I I ars past had toiled hard and
110* ■ , 7r b> r young sisters and brothers.
y with her mother, slie retained
,sri I of the past : and though
th * •" r be ju)or, felt she was not of
!; ; 1 '' 7 line, somehow, to tend a prct-
' n - a P 111 of a place, and besides,
, I : ply her needle. "The cn
s ■ f ;a.."'.'.' lnti,l . v declared that the Walshes
oli- ■- "S to dress like fine folk ; but
little Emily's fairy fingers
■ .;•■ _ l ,r nny ribbon at her magic touch
, v "' , 7 he mot costly article from
Jfor ■ humble etlging was made to
BK- "'"lift of Valenciennes. Then
■ \ v ami had a light graceful li
ft. H - , "j'b cay. hafipy way that
" i;^f - the roses in her own gar-
THE BRADFORD REPORTER,
A\ c have said it was autumn. It was ; and
it was'the prospect of a hard and long winter
that determined the widow upon placing her
daughter out in the world. Hut where was
she to go '{ Their village was but a score of
inili a from London, yet they were as much
strangers to it as though a thousand leagues
distant ; in their own neighborhood there ap
peared to be no opening for her, At length,
a friend amongst the neighbors undertook to
write to a friend in the great metropolis ; and
before a week had expired, the said friend in
London found a place for Emily iu a family as
nursery maid. The salary, it was true, was
small enough—-just a shilling a week, to be paid
every seventh day—but it was a beginning.and
who could say what it might lead to. What,
indeed !
The Sharpes, to whom Elmily was now en
gftged, were what is ordinarily termed 'respec
table people that is to say, they kept a jrigl
and Mr. Sharj>e had an ottice, not a shop,
somewhere near the Monument, up a very nar
row, business-like lane. He was in the hard
ware or Birmingham line of business ; and not
only so in profession, but in nature. Had he
been cast and bronzed instead of having been
born, he could scarcely have assumed a harder
texture and disposition. He appeared metal
lie in all his movements ; perhaps it happened
that, having lost his heart when courting Mrs.
Sharpe, he had ordered a bran new one from
a Birmingham foundry.
However, Emily made very good progress,
notwithstanding her cast-iron master. Mrs.
Minrpe was a great invalid, and quite satisfied
to leave the nursery entirely iu her charge. She
could scarcely have done better. It was quite
delightful, or rather it would have been, to
any but the Sharpes, to see what a marvelous
change the widow's daughter wrought amongst
that young family. How she loved them, play
ed with them, watched over them, worked for
them as though they had been her own bro
thers and sisters. 1 can scarcely hope to re
late as it deserves to be told. How they found
a new life with her ; and how much neater
and prettier they all appeared with less actual
cost to their Birmingham parents, who in re
turn doled out the weekly shilling as reluc
tantly as though it l.a I been a c >iu of purest
gold.
Weeks, months passed away, and Christmas
came. There had never been such a holiday
time in the Sharpes' house ever since it had
been a house. W hv, little Emily, pretty, fair
lingered Emily, made as many beautiful things
for the Christmas tree as would have furnish
ed many a small fancy bazaar. People won
dered how she managed to find time for so
much work. Emily was not the least happy
of all that merry throng ; it would have done
you good to have seen how light hearted she
was, and how much prettier slie looked when
from the poverty aud core of her village
home.
W inter passed aw ay • spring game, and with
it the bright sunshine and brighter tlowers.—
But 110 blossom in the broad sunlight wore a
brighter, sweeter look than did Emily amidst
the little children 011 the Her happv
laugh rung amongst the shrubs and fiowers";
her pretty figure might be seen darting along
the gravel walks in pursuit*of some recreant
little Sharpe; and altogether the widow's
daughter scattered so much mirth and happi
ness around, and appeared so essential to the
domestic welfare, that the great difficulty was
to imagine how how they had ever contrived
to live without her.
At h ngth spring waned, and birds and sun
ny cloudless skies gave promise of a joyous
summer. /lust then, Emily was flung into an
ecstacy of delight by the arrival of a cousin
and former schoolmate and companion of voung
er and better days, who, having learned her
new abode, came to renew the old friendship.
Hugh was now an artist, and had passed some
years in Paris, where, besides his professional
education, he had acquired many elegant arts
and accomplishments, which were well calcula
ted to find favor with one so young and impres
sible as Emily. It was not difficult to sec that
they were mutually pleased with the renewal
of their acquaintance ; she with her simple,
happy, winning ways ; he with his gay and
polished manners. They parted, resolved to
meet again, and often.
From that day a new life dawned upon the
widow's daughter. Hugh was in allhertho'ts
and aspirations. She dreamed of him ; slie
thought of him ; she talked about him to the
children. He was so finished in dress and
manner, and had seen so much of what she
had not even heard ; and when Emily con
trasted her own simple scant dress with his
ample and fashionable garments, a blush of
Vexation stole across her face, aud dimmed her
blue eyes.
Hugh had asked her to accompany him to
see some flower-gardens in the neighborhood
and enjoy a stroll through the parks ; and as
her mistress had given her jiennission, Emily
prepared for that delightful evening. She look
ed through her scanty wardrobe, to see what
she could wear. Had she been less regardful
of appearance, had she loved and admired Hugh
less, or had her own person been less attrac
tive, she might have felt contented with the
humble dress and a few simple adornments she
possessed. Unhappily, it occurred to her as
she looked over her little store of wearing ap
parel, that a now ribbon on her bonnet would
greatly improve her appearance ; that, in fact,
she could scarcely walk out with her cousin, so
gaily, and herself wearing such a poor, faded,
weather-beaten ribbon as was then on her bon
net.
15ut the difficulty lay in obtaining this new
ribbon. Her last month's salary, save a few
pence kept back for the children, had been sent
to her mother, and she should have no further
means until the following week. Pondering
this in her mind, it occurred to her how easy
it would be to obtain what she required at the
shop whore her master dealt, in the next street,
if asked for in his name : she could pay for
tlio ribbon next week, and no one would !>e the
wiser. Without allowing herself time to weigh
the dishonesty of the act, she put her plan in
execution. She was known at the haberdash
er's and had no difficulty in obtaining the rib
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
" RESARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
bon : so easy did the process seem, that she j
Was tempted into taking a new pair of gloves
and a handkerchief for the neck to match the
ribbon, all of which were charged to the ac-.
count of Mr. Sharpe ; whilst Emily left the I
shop,thinking only of the happy morrow even
ing, fiud the walk with her cousin.
That evening came, with a gorgeous sunset
and a mellow summer air. They strolled thro'
the parks, and passed the most magnificent
gardens ; but Emily had beard and seen noth
ing but her cousin, who had entertained her
with such delightful stories of so many charm
ing places and people, that she jwas perfectly
amazed and disappointed whetAshe found her
self back at the Sharpcs' door, shaking hands,
and bidding adieu—her last—to Hugh. He
was to set out on the following day for Ger
many ; and with many protestations of regard
and remembrance, they parted—he 011 his tra
vels, aud she on a journey she had but little
anticipated.
What could Mr. Sharpc want with her in
his library next morning early ! Alone, seat
ed at his desk, with a more than usual Bir
mingham face, he bade her close the door, with
a hard metallic echo in his voice that made it
sound like a human gong. Flinging on the
table the fatal purchases of the day previous—
ribbon, gloves and handkerchief—the metal
voice inquired when he had given her authori
ty to use his name at the haberdasher's and
how many more swindling transactions of a
like character she had been concerned in. The
wrong she had committed, the ofTenec against
the law, worked out by her in that thoughtless
evil hour, came full, and vividly, and painfully
before her, magnified even beyond its proper
proportion by her ignorance. Confusion gave
place to terror, vague and oppressive ; and sink
ing into a chair, she buried her face iu her
hands, and gave full vent to her passion iu a
flood of tears.
Mr. Sharpe, being a very virtuous and re
markably upright and good man—in his way—
delivered himself of a long oration upon the
depravity of human nature as existing iu the
lower orders, and upon the great necessity
which existed for nipping in the bud every germ
of vice and crime amongst the said orders.—
He laid some emphasis upon the duty which
men at the head of families and of eleVated
stations—like himself, for instance—owed to
society in general, and to themselves and chil
dren in particular ; and although Emily, amidst
her tears and terrors, could understand but lit
tle of all this harangue, she caught the sound
of the words ' felon,' and 'jail,' and 'majestv
of the law.'
Some people would have been weak enough
and silly enough to have seut the weeping girl
to her room, with an injunction as to her fu
ture conduct, under the impression that justice
would gladly have connived at such an arrange
ment. But, then, how could the ' majesty of
the law ' have been upheld ? How was "out
raged society to have been vindicated ? True,
we bad forgotten that. The Birmingham mas
ter did not, however. His memory, like his
wares, was of an enduring kind ; and he did
not in this instance forget to stand up for the
outraged grades of society against the criminal
enormity before him.
The children cried a good deal ; Mrs. Sharpc
did not know what she should do ; and the ser
vants declared it was monstrous, when they
learned that poor pretty little Emily had gone
off in a cab to a terrible prison, it so hap
pened that just at that identical time the ses
sions were on, and Mr. Serjeant Kain was in
the thick of his very flourishing business, busiiv
engaged in upholding the majesty of the law.
The widow was not long in making her wav to
her poor child's side ; and a sad scene was that
of their meeting, even for jailers and such sto
ny people to witness.
The terrible, dreaded day of trial came.—
Euiily was led into court in a state of hysteri
cal terror, which Mr. Serjeant Kain, in the
fulness of his judicial wisdom, pronounced the
very essence of hypocrisy. Her mother remain
ed as near to her as she dared, whispering in
her ear comfort that she herself scarcely dared
to feel. The process of hearing the case was
not by any means a tedious one, and might
have been quickly despatched, had the bare
facts only been gone into. But the learned
Serjeant having been just previously defrauded
of two noted piek|ockets, whom he had inward
ly reckoned on as his particular property, de
termined to wreak his disappointed 'majesty'
upou the next comer, which, unfortunately,
happened to be Eiuilv.
There were no witnesses beyond the trades
man and the master, and their story was soon
told. The prisoner did not deny the aet of
obtaining the goods under false pretences—
which was the charge—and would have said
more, but was too terrified. The foreman of
the jury—a mild looking man, no doubt the
father of a family—began to observe that the
case was scarcely such a one as should have
been brought on ; but was cut short and frown
ed down by the Serjeant, who, trembling for
the safety of justice and the legal majesty
aforesaid, proceeded to sum up the evidence—
not a very abstruse affair one would suppose.
But Mr. Serjeant Kain worked it up so artis
tically, judicially, and threw in such a heap of
horrors and monstrosities, that the gentlemen
of the jury scarcely recognized the case. A
Surrey dramatist, or a Whitecliapel tragedian
might have 1 arncd a few things from that
charge. When people listened to the learned
Serjeant's denunciation of serpents, and vipers,
ami pests of society, and at the same time cast
their eyes upon the youthful form and sorrow
ful face of the prisoner at the bar, they must
have thought it one of the least-venomous spe
cimens of the seqxMit tribe they had ever read
or heard of, or seen in picture-books.
But Serjeant Kain was not the man to be
humbugged by crime, simply because it cried
when detected. He knew what the world was
made of; and he maintained that it was per
fectly shoe-king to see young women of her age,
seventeen years or more—the widow shrieked
ont, 'scarcely fifteen but Serjeant Kain
fr wned her down very indignantly, as though
he did not know the prisoner's age much better
than her mother, and repeated with emphasis,
' seventeen'—to sec such voung women so liar
dened in the practices of vice ; .but the jury
would of course do their duty—in fact, they
had no choice in the matter, for the creature
had confessed her guilt.
Amidst the most profound and painful si
lence in the court, the futal word 'guilty !' was
I pronounced ; but jieople breathed more freely
as*the foremau of the jury, with trembling lips
t aud moistened eyes, added, ' with a strong re-
I commendation to mercy !' Again the court
I was hushed, and only the hysterical sobbing of
. the prisoner was heard, whilst the Serjeant pro
| coeded to pass sentence : " Si.Vmonths impris
i oument, with hard labor !" The foreman of
the jury groaned and wept like a child ; and
there was scarcely a dry eye beyond those of
the Birmingham prosecutor and the Birming
ham judge, as the prisoner—the convict, was
carried fainting from the court.
The same evening, the foreman sought the
prison in which poor Emily was confined. The
governor of the place had fortunately a better
heart than the judge, und had seen the nature
of the case at a glance. Risking all consequen
ces, he had conveyed the young prisoner to his
own room ; and when the juryman arrived, he
found her surrounded by kind friends and
watchful nurses.
Early on the following day, the kind jury
man posted in a cab to Whitehall, and obtain
ed an iustaut interview with the Secretary of
State. His lordship had no sooner heard an
outline of the case, than he decided what
course to adopt. There was no doubt in his
mind ; and a " free pardon" was mentioned as
a matter of certainty, greatly to the joy of the
kind-hearted foreman.
He posted back, radiant with genuine de
light, and reaching the governor's house, had
the pleasure of kissing the poor weeping Emily.
He tried to rouse her from her lethargic stu
por by whispering the words: "pardon from
the Queen !" but, alas ! it came too late. The
majesty of the law had been too quick and po
tent for the majesty of mercy ; and though the
broken-hearted girl rallied for a few minutes,
opened her eyes, and pronounced the words :
" Mother !—Hugh !" the struggle between life
and death was soon over.
She was buried in the quiet village church
yard : every villager far and near followed the
sad procession to the grave, headed by the fore
man and others of the jury.
Reader, this is no idle fiction, no tale of fan
cy. Emily's green resting-place may be seen
any day in that country burial-ground. Roses
blossom upon her early grave, while the Ser
jeant still upholds the stern " Majestv of the
Law !"
WHY THF.RE is NO RAIN* IS PERU.— In Peru.
South America, rain is unknown. The coast
of Peru is within the region of perpetual
southeast trade winds. Though the Peruvian
shores are on the verge of the great South
Sea boiler, yet it never rains there. The rea
son is plain. The southeast trade winds in the
Atlantic ocean first strike the water on the
coast of Africa. Travelling to the northwest
they blow obliquely across the ocean until
they reach the coast of Brazil. By this time
they are heavily laden with vapor, which they
continue to bear along across tiic continent,
depositing it as they go, and supplying with it
the sources of the Rio de la Plata and the
southern tributaries of the Amazon. Finally
they reach the snow capped Andes, ami here
is wrung from them the very last particle of
moisture that the very low temperature can
extract. Reaching the summit they now tum
ble down as cool and dry winds on the pacific
slopes beyond. Meeting with no evaporating
surface, and with no temperature colder than
that to which they were subjected on the
mountain tops, they reach the ocean before
they become charged with fresh vapor, and
before, therefore, they have any which the
Peruvian climate can extract. Thus we see
how the top of the Andes becomes the reser
voir from which are supplied the rivers of
Chili and Peru.— Maury's Geography of the
Sea.
ANECDOTE OF NAPOLEON.—A characteristic
story is told of Napoleon at Eulaw. In one of
the charges thousands were wounded ; at last
the serried lines of the French gave way, and
retreated by a series of manoeuvres, in one of
which, amongst dead and dying, a'surgeon was
seen, suddenly called to a General terribly
wounded. A large artery was open ; cold and
harrasscd, the surgeon kneeled by his patient ;
shouts were raised on all sides for him to save
himself ; the battalions of the enemv literally
rode over him ; the bullets of the opposing ar
my whistled in hundreds by his ears ; still he
pressed on the artery, aud ultimately saved the
life of the young officer. A bitter cold night
followed a more frightful day ; the surgeon
cronehed the snow in his hand, and applied *t
to the wound. Napoleon seeing him next day,
took from his breast a diamond star, and plac
ed it on that of the young medical officer.
A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION. —Two preachers
were recently in the same pulpit in Georgia.
While one was preaching he happened to say,
"When Abraham built the ark." The one
behind him strove to correct his blunder by
saying out loud, " Abraham irarn't thar " But
the speaker pushed on, heedless of the inter
ruption, and only took occasion shortly to re
peat, still more decidedly, " I say, when Abra
ham built the ark" " And I say," cried out the
other," Abraham icarn't thar." The preacher
was too hard to be beaten down in this way, and
addressing the people, exclaimed, with great
indignation, " 1 say Abraham was thar or thar
ABOUTS 1"
teg"* A veritable entry made by the IL S.
of a Division of the Sous of Temperance.reads
thus :
" After gwinc through the yewzel fawms,
there was a collcekshin taked up, but not bin'
was taked in "
te*y~ A false friend is like a shadow upon a
dial—it appears in clear weather, but vani
shes a- -oou as a cloud appears.
Oar Country —The Past and the Future.
An Estimate for 1940.
The truly extraordinary progress of this
country in power, population and resources, is
calculated to excite wild and sometimes vision
ary speculations as to the future. Our na
tional existence is a thing of yesterday, com
pared with some of the older nations. ' And
yet State after State has grown up, million
upon million has been added to our population,
and not a year goes by that additional thous
ands and tens of thousands are poured in upon
us from the Old World. The discovery of
steam, and its application to the purposes of
navigation and railroad travelling, have given
a new impulse to our progress. We are now,
by the agency of Atlantic steamers, within
the distance of a fortnight, if we measure dis
tance by time, of several of the crowded cities
of Europe. The emigrant, moreover, may
land at one of our Atlantic ports, and by the
agency of railroads, pass westward through
half a dozen of our States in the course of a
few days. Thus the adventurer on the other
side of the Atlantic may, before setting out,
calculate within a short time, the exact sum
that it will be necessary .to expend, and the
precise amount of time that will be consumed
in transferring his little family to Wisconsin,
lowa, Texas, or some other flourishing point
of the far West or South. The dangers and
the difficulties of the enterprise, which years
ago were considered to be almost insurmount
able, have in u great measure disappeared.—
A vast multitude have already passed the
trackless ocean, and written back to their
friends in a cheerful and encouraging spirit.
Thus it is that one emigrant makes another,
and that the tide continues to swell. Who
then under these circumstances will venture to
read the future't Who will venture to give
a picture of this Republic with its teeming
millions as it shall appear a hundred years
hence ? A hundred years ! What changes
may take place within such a period ! How
many new States may be carved out of the
wilderness and redeemed to civilization ! We
some days since saw a paragraph in one of the
public journals, announcing that fifteen or
twenty years ago, six young men left the
neighborhood of Lexington, Ky., to seek their
fortunes further west—aud that the whole six
would meet together at Washington during
the next session of Congress, as representatives
of the new States of the Republic. What a
commentary upon our progress, our people and
our institutions ! Wiiat an inducement to
others in like circumstances—the young, the
ardent, the energetic and the enthusiastic, to
imitate the example, and also to become pio-1
neers, patriots, aud legislators. True, all do
not succeed. Many perish by the wavside.
Many, unable to wrestle against difficulties
incident to new settlements, or to resist the
effects of a new climate, sicken and die. But
the complexion of the now House of Repre
sentatives, if closely analyzed, would, perhaps,
form the most eloquent commentary upon tiiis
subject that could be given. We are indeed
advancing with rapid strides. We are emi
nently favored by Providence. But while in
the enjoyment of so many national blessings,
while ba-kiug in the light of prosj crity, ami
dwelling happily in a land that teems with
abundance, we should not forget our duties.—
Truth, honor, and honesty should form our
characteristics. As we* increase in jiower and
prosperity, so also should we increase in justice i
virtue, and magnanimity. We are working i
out the mighty experiment of a people gov-!
eruing themselves. We are testing on a grand
scale the beauty of republicanism. This world j
is looking on. Despotism watches with fear
aud trembling, the lovers of liberty with aux-,
ions solicitude. When we commit an error,
the tyrauts of the earth, who would keep the
masses in a state of dependence and serfdom,
exult aud point their fingers with scorn.—
When we prove false to our mission, the friends
of libertv and humanity weep tears of blood, j
M ucli has been accomplished, and yet we are i
by no means perfect. Liberty ;ometimcs de
generates into licentiousness, and a violation
of law is sometimes mistaken for freedom.—
But we must live and learn. Our sages, pa
triots and philosophers must exercise a sleep
less vigilance. There are here, as in all other
parts of the earth, demagogues, ambitious,
vicious and dangerous men, —men who for
self, would thrall and trample upon the masses,
would sacrifice a world. Let these be watch
ed and guarded against, Let us at least strive
to improve, not only morally and intellectually
but politically. Then and then only will our
future be glorious. Then and then only will ;
we prove true to the mighty mission that has j
been confided to us. But, when we commenced
this article, we merely intended to invite atten
tion to the Following extract from a late num
ber of Hunt's Merchants' Magazine. It furn
ishes a startling estimate of the future popu
lation of the American Union.
" In 1840, the United States had a popu
lation of 17.008,966. Allowing its future in
crease to be at the rate of 33 1-3 per cent,
for each succeeding 10 years, we shall number
in 1040, 302.101.041. Past experience war
rants us to expect this increase. In 1700 onr ;
number was 3,037,827. Supposing it to have 1
increased each decade in the ratio of 13 1-2 !
per cent, it would in 1840 have amounted to j
16,000,250, being more than half a million '
less than our actual number as shown bv the
census. With 500.000,000 we should have
less than 120 to the square mile for onr whole
territory, and but *220 to the square mile for
our organized States and Territories. Eng
land his 300 to the square raiie. It does not
then seem probable that our progressive in
crease will be materially checked within the
one hundred years under consideration. At
the end of that period, Canada will probably
number at least 20,000,000. If we suppose
the period of our country east and west of the
Appalachian and the Rocky n ointains, and
between the Gulf of Mexico and Canada, and
for the country west of the Rocky mountains.
Allowing the o:cgon Territory 10,000,000,
there xv ill be left 250,000.000 for that portion
the Ameiicnn Ftitcs lying in the basins of
the M'.bil\ Mbsi Cppi an I .8t Lawrence.—
VOL. XVI. —XO. £6.
f to these we add 20,U00,U00 for Canada,
we have 270.000,000, as the probable number
ihnt will inhabit the North American valley
at \he end of one hundred years, commencing
in 1840. If we suppose one third, or 00,-
000,000 of this number to reside in the coun
try as cultivators and artisans, there will be
180,000,000 1 f. for t lie towns, cuough to
people 3GO each . containing' half a million.
This does not seem as incredible as that the
valley of the Nile, Scarcely twelve mil*
broad, should have once, as historians tell us,
contained 20,000 cities."— Jiicknrll.
MRS. PARTINGTON AT THE CATTLE SHOW.—
" This is a very beautiful sight for a per.sou
with a refined beastly taste," said Mrs. Par
ting at the agricultural show, looking at the
big sheep, addressing a tall young man bv her
side, lie responded " yes'm." "Is that'a hy
draulic ram ?" she asked, with great simpl.ci
ty, provoking a smile on the young man's face,
and a loud laugh from outsiders, who were at
tracted by the black bonnet. The voungmaa
informed her that it was a long wooleu sheep,
from which very long yarn was spun. "Ah !"'
said she ; "you are very kind; but can you ted
me if the pope has sent any of his bulls over
here to this show !" " No," said he, smiling
tremendously, " but among the swine is a de
scendant of the great Boanerges." Neither
Mrs. Partington nor any one near knew what
he meant, but he laughed loudly, and those
outside laughed louder than he, much to his
satisfaction. They laughed even louder when
he found swinging from his button behind, a
tag bearing the inscription : " Vermont Boy,"
with age and weight given, but he didn't. And
Ike was looking so innocently all the while,
trying to make the ram sneeze by tickling his
nose with a straw ! — Boston Post.
ENEMIES.—A man who has no enemies L
seldom good for anything. He is made of that
kind of material, of which is so easiiv worked
that every one tries a hand at it. A sterling
character—one who speaks for himself and
speaks what he thinks—is always sure to have
enemies. They are as necessarv to him as fresh
air. They keep him alive and active. A cele
brated person, who was surrounded by enemies,
used to say : " They are sparks, which, if yoa
do do not blow them, go out of themselves."
Let this be your feeling while endeavoring to
live down the scandal of those who are bitter
against you. If you stop to dispute, vou do
but as they desire, and open the way for mom
abuse. Let the poor fellows talk. There will
be a re-action, if you do but perform vourduty,
and hundreds who were once alienated from
you will fioek to you and acknowledge their
error.
(toon.—Paddy M'Shane was annoyed ex
ceedingly by a strange dog. On a cold win
ter night, the wind cutting like a knife, after
the dog had been turned out of doors no less
than three times, Pat was awakened by a ra
ther expensive fracture of the glass. The dog
was in the house again. Paddy waited upon
him out, and both wore absent some fifteen mi
nutes, so that his old woman becoming alarm
ed at such prolonged absence, rose and went
to the window.
" What are yecs doing out there, Paddy
acushla ?" said she.
There was such a clattering of teeth that
the answer was for some time somewhat unin
telligible, at last it came :
" I am trying to fraze the divilish baste to
death."
feaT It has been observed with much sig
nificance, that every morning we enter upon a
new day, carrying still an unknown future in
its bosom. How pregnant and stirring the
reflection 1 Thoughts may he born to day
which may never die 1 Feelings may be awa
kened to-day which may never be extinguish
ed ! Hope-may be excited to-day which may
never expire ! Acts may be performed to-day
the consequences of which may not be realized
until eternity ! These are sublime and solemn
thoughts worthy of being deeply impressed on
every mind.
PRICES OF WHEAT SPROUTING IN THE WEST.
—We met, on Wednesday, a very industrious,
worthy, ami usually entirely sober man, who
by some strange chance was at that time con
siderably the worse for liquor. lie addressed
ns, and explained his situation. "Last har
vest," said he, "I thought my wheat was—hie
spoiled, d'ye sec, because 'twas sp-proutcd, but
come to seil it, I find that the p-price has
sprouted too—a d sight more than tho
wheat—see here"—and he held out some
£l2OO which he had just received for his crop.
Pet roil Advertiser, At, v. 10.
A PHRENOLOGIST POSED. — An itinerant phre
nologist stopped at a rustic farm house, the
proprietor of which was busily engaged in
threshing. " Sir. I am a phrenologist. Would
you like to have me examine the heads of
your children ? I will do it cheap." " Wall,"
said the farmer, pausing between two strokes.
' I rayther guess they don't need it. 'Theold
woman combs in irith a fine tooth comb once a
tree.': /"
True knowledge eniarges the dominion
of truth and happiness. ]> ings without
knowledge are as men walking in the dark.
How many of the follies of mankind appear to
ns ludicrous and grotesque, only because know
ledge has shed around about us a light, alto
gether unknown to the actors of the farce.
J6FEr Were prosperity always to shine on in,
what a wandering star would man become !
It is sometimes good for us to be afflicted.
No man, perhaps, can bear with humility a
continual course of prosperity.
WANTED. —A good, strong, adhesive plaster,
to make 1 usy-bodies stick to their own business.
Anger may continue with you for an
1 our, but it ought not to repose with you for a
u rht.