0 DOLLAR PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
XOWANDA I
gatntiws fltornino, Styril 5, 1856.
gfltririr
A CALL TO SPRING.
Come! Oh, come! Thou hast tarried long!
with the glory of light>nd mng!
F/irlh pines for thee on a thousand shores
U>re the billow breaks and the wild wind roars ;
There's a voice of wail 'mid the ancient trees
f m a nd tost by the wintery breeze.
Ohiom bath shrouded our pleasant bowers,
Death hath bligbted>r vines and flowers,
And everv hour on its fleeting wing
Bear, away a prayer for thee, Oh Spring!
Pome! oh. come! we pine for thee,
U pines the wanderer for home, at sea 1
A ° t i, c captive pines in his lonely cell
Per the dashing waters and the breezy dell 1
We sigh for the influence that life renews,
F r the spell of soft sunshine and balmy dews,
For the genial airs and the pleasant rain.
To 'waken our blossoms and streams again.
„ j fomc , I come; lam coming back 1"
Thus answered a voice from the Sun's bright track—
[ will clothe the heavens' fair face with smiles,
1 will call the birds from a thousand isle 9,
The dreams shall laugh where the violets blow,
The trees exult and the laurels glow,
There's not a beauty, nor bloom, nor hue,
That the charm of my presence shall not renew."
S,t so, oh Spring 1 no power thou hast
O'er much of beauty that's from us past;
Ere- that looked love into our's arc dim,
V i.-es are bushed from our vesper hymn,
Bright young faces have passed away,
Places are vacant at full of day ;
Tb-vj can'st hang the leaves on a thousand trees,
IThoa can'st bring the flowers, the birds and bees.
Thou can'st 100.-en the streams and the silvery founts,
And breathe a glory o'er vales and mount 3 ;
Bat thou can'st not restore to our yearning arms
The vanquished past with its lovely forms.
Tet 1 speak to the heart in my radiant bloom
Of a spring that opens beyond the tomb.
Where the lost and loved of the earth are found.
Where the severed wreaths are forever bound,
Where r mics no dimness o'er eyes of light
And the cheek of beauty ne'er kuows a blight.
There's not a beauty, nor bloom, nor hue
Tint the charm of my presence shall not renew."
litter front f{re ©lest.
Minnesota— The Country.
[ rrcsponilencc of the Bradford Reporter.]
Dixox, 111.. March, ISoG.
Mr EDITOR : Report sayeth that many parts
/ Pennsylvania are the cherished abodes of
,v i Foiryi-iu,—that the spirit of progress hath
helling place among you—that the west
;minting beams of the rising sun kindle
H enthuiasm in your breasts, —that yon rise
: and cat, and drink, and lie down, and sleep,
ai believe that your own State and county
in town is the second Paradise which others
ate so long been and are still looking for.
I can't believe this, though it may be all
":t If it he all right, still I must believe
.'.there are somewhere among you—a few
"•raiuly of your readers, who like the balance
xt world, are looking for, and dreaming of,
D-jT.trng for some better land—who still
' re that they shall one day find some more
fed country wherein to live and die aud be
sied.
* this class of persons, ** and to all others
Strtsied," I wish to say a few words, partly
-!y of information, and partly byway of
This class of persons will be believers
'he old, prophetic words, "westward the
*of empire takes its way ;" and so I shall
B J> few words for a part of the country gcu
'V known as " out west."
-And not for the State wherein I dwell,
I' many persons having inspected her
I out the length and breadth of her bor- j
• rybodv is supposed to know that I Hi- j
of God's best creations.
1 *iil say a word for the country which ;
ms to be a part of another world, but j
shall all soon learn is no useless por- !
our own—that country which we shall
iflie to regard as speaking one more ear
ce for " Liberty and Uuion—now and
-one and inseparable"—Minnesota.
'? people sav that Illinois is
-'—that our prairies are too long and
j H(I that our sun in all his daily jour-
nought but one great ocean-level
1 'red by very few gushing springs or
52 '"rooks of pure water, or dark, ghost
f forests, or beautiful fairy-spirit dwell
''•s 1 shall not attempt to refute these
s . hut simply say that they cannot be
- against Minnesota.
' n P of country, say fifteen miles in
"tiering upon the Mississippi, (I speak
* - particularly of the southern half of
ffl) is known as " the Bluffs," and
v "ien, there being many deep ravines,
geographers say, " sudden rises of
" Bluff' country is very beautiful,
believe. In traveling through
such scenes of rare and varied
i , any country would be proud to
j" tier borders. Coming to the top
( ? bluffs you may look down and
h with a stream of as pure wa-
' r tr °ut sported in, meandering raerri-
|T as though it were loth to go out
'- b! ;ff- And in truth it may be,
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
for the suq shines not in many fairer t alleys.
I cannot tell how many home-seekers bare lov
ed these valleys, hot the villages growing ap
in so many of them, say that the number is not
insignificant.
Leaving this bluff country, the next region,
say sixty or seventy miles in width, is as beau
tiful aud lovely as man need desire to live in.
Farther back still are the prairies, as long and
broad and floor-like as any one can wish.—
Queerly indeed must that soul be made which
could not love this second division of country.
In it are no very high bluffs—no very deep ra
vines, and no very large prairies. True, prai
ries may be found, but they are small—just
large enough for small farms or large meadows
or pastures, and the country would not on this
account be objectionable to the most inveterate
prairie-hater.
The soil is very much like that of this State,
or better than that of any part of Bradford
county, except perhaps the Susquehanna bot
toms. It is perhaps a trifle more sandy than
your river bottoms, but generally as strong and
productive.
Farming is yet in its infancy, and so it ie
not fully known what grains are best suited for
the country. The priucipal crops raised last
season—wheat, corn and potatoes—were very
good.
The climate is very much like that of Nor- :
them Pennsylvania ; —a little colder in the
winter perhaps, but equally as pleasant and
agreeable the balance of the year. Occasion
ally in the " meDow autumn time," the rising !
sun opens the doors of Heaven and lets ont
such a delicious, soul-satisfying morning as
comes to no other couutry wherein I have been.
Like all supremely good things, however, theso i
mornings are rare, and it is well that they are.
Many Eastern people coming to our State, |
complain of a scarcity of lumber, as if that
were " the one thing needful but give our j
citizens plenty of good water and we will man- i
age to get along very well with a small J
ty of lumber. And herein is Minnesota more
than abuadantlv blessed.
In nearly every place where you could have
wished, and in all manner of cozy, out-of-the
way places where you would hardly have tho't
of looking, are to be found springs—not little,
puny, insignificant springs, which at the first
sign of a warm day commence the child's play
of " hide and seek," by hiding or stealing away
somewhere, or disappearing very mysteriously
and leaving you to seek for and yearn for them.
Not such springs as these—forever away when
you most want them ; but springs true and
constant, from whose depths you may see the
clear, sparkling water come bubbling up very
merrily as though it were glad to get into this
world of ours. And this same water leaves
" the place of its birth " without any " sighs of
of regret," and starts out on its mission with a
merry yet gentle song ; and just there is a lit
tle creek— very small may be, but still a creek,
for all that ; and when yon see it again, only
a few miles away, yon will sec a gravelly-bot
tomed stream of the purest, best water, and it
will be enlivened by the sports of trout—plump
and sleek fellows, which you know, and every
body knows are capital eating. This abun
dauce of clear, sparkling spring water i not
confined to any one particular place ; —there is
everywhere the same plenty, at least in this
second division of the country.
Combined with this abundaucc of water,
there is a great plenty of timber. Not such
very large, moss-covered, aged-looking timber
as you might expect to sec in a country hereto
fore inhabited by Indians, bnt still very fair
sized timber and of a good quality.
The game is such as is generally found in a
new country ; —hundreds of the finest kind of
Deer arc feeding upon the little bits ot prairie
and iu the groves ; —a few wolves are to be
found, but they are mostly of the small or
prairie kind ; occasionally a bear is seen ; but
in this section they arc very rare. Fifty miles
farther back are to be found plenty of the no
ble Elk ; and seventy miles still farther on are
the Buffaloes.
It may be well cuough to mention, in pass
ing, that the Indians are rarely ever seen with
in seventy or eighty miles of the river, as large
bodies of land have been set off by Govern
ment for their exclusive occupancy at a distance
therefrom of about ouc hundred and twenty
miles.
In reply to the question, concerning the fa
cilities for traveling, which will probably be
asked, I will say that there are good wagon
roads all through this part of the territory ;
teams can be hired at nearly all of the villages
to drive almost anywhere within a hundred
miles—for their own price, however. There
is a daily line of stage running between Du
buque (Iowa) and St. Paul, the Capitol of the
Territory. The Railroad between these places
is certain thing, as the track is already graded
part of the way ; that there will be branches
from this to the river, at various points, no
one pretends to doubt.
In regard to schools—those training fields
for the young of which we are all so jnstly
proud, I can say that they are supported in
all the larger villages and at many plaec3 "iu
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
" R.ESAE.DLE9S OF DENUNCIATION PROM ANT QUARTER."
the country," as it is called, where the village
schools are not convenient.
Nor have the higher Institutions of learning
been forgotten. Already the Legislature have
established the University of Minnesota, at St.
Paul, I believe, and also an Institution at Ro
chester, the comity seat of Olmstead connty,
which it is intended shall be of a high grade.
The General Government of the United
States has given to each township, of six miles
square, twelve hundred and eighty acres of
land which must be used exclusively to help
support the commou schools therein j it can
not be used for any other purpose.
—That this is a highly favored country, I
know, and think I have shown herein, and that
to persons of small means it offers peculiar ad
vantages, is equally certain. There is still a
large quantity of Government land which can
be bought for one dollar and twenty-five cents
per acre ; and, at the present price of Laud
Warrants, at about one dollar and ten cents.
Many choice locations, combining the advan
tages of good soil, timber aud water, can yet
be made.
There is also a capital chance for mechanics
of nearly every class. Heretofore most of the
buildings have been made of logs, because saw
ed lumber could not be obtained ; but during
the past season saw-mills have been erected in
various parts of the Territory ; and hereafter
the houses will be built like other houses—of
sawed lumber, mostly. Carpenters and joiners
will see what a chance there is for them.
I may here mention that there are also plen
ty of good stone for building purposes, and that
several banks of clay suitable for brick have
been found.
There are but a very few mechanics as yet
in the Territory ; they are very much needed.
To capitalists this country presents chances
rarely equalled. There are many of the finest
possible " water powers"—the inhabitants ge
nerally are in moderate circumstances—and to
those who step in and use their funds in a pro
per manner, by improving the natural resources
of the country, a golden harvest is sure.
Therefore, I say, to all those who are crying
" Westward, ho !"—to all those whose dreams
are of the lands away toward the setting-sun,
think of Minnesota !
A word in regard to the cost of getting
there. Twenty dollars will pay all expenses
from Towanda to Chicago. At Chicago take
the Galena and Chicago Railroad to Dunleith
Fare about $5. At Dunleith take one of the
Mississippi boats to any place on the river you
please. From Dunleith to Winona, 280 miles
above, the fare on the Boat will be about $5 ;
to Wabashaw, 350 miles above Dunleith, fare
will be about $6. Winona is about 55 miles
and Wabashaw about 35 or 40 miles from
Rochester, before mentioned. At either of
these places, teams can be hired to take you
into the back country ; though if you can, it
is exceedingly pleasant to make the trip ou
foot.
Forty-fire dollars will pay the expenses of
a trip from Towanda to Rochester, and give a
person first class passage all the way. Second
class passage, part of the way, will reduce that
sum a few dollars.
In conclusion, let me say, that id thus di
recting attention to this country, I am actuated
by no selfish motives. I have no land there
for sale, and own no village lots in any of the
many growing, flourishing villages which are
scattered about the Territoy.
I made the trip in company with three friends,
through the south-eastern part of the Territory,
mostly on foot, purposely to see aud judge for
myself—and the foregoing is the result. lam
so well pleased with the country, that I intend
to spend the coming season up there, making
it head quarters at Rochester.
Should any of your readers desire any far
ther information in regard to this matter, let
ters of inquiry may be directed to me at this
place, and after the middle of April at Roch
ester, which I will ckeerfully answer as far as
I am able. S. NOBLE.
In England the hour of dining indicates
precisely the rank. The Queen dines at eight
o'clock, p. m. ; the higher nobility at seven and
half-past ; the ordinary country gentleman at
six ; the professional people and richer classes
of merchants and manufacturers at four or five;
the shop-keepers at two or three ; clerks at
one ; working men at twelve. As a man rises
in social importance his dinner hour advances.
Some men of humble origin and great luck
have eaten their way from plebian twelve all
down the hours of the afternoon, and ended a
glorious career by solemnly dining with royal
ty at eight. Splendid reward for the labor of
a lifetime.
How MANY MILES A PRINTER'S HAND TRA
VELS.—Although a printer may be setting all
day, yet in his own way he may be a great
traveler (or, at least his hand is,) as we shall
prove. A good printer will set abont 8,000
ems a day, or about 24,000 letters. The dis
tance travelled over by his hajid will average
about one foot per letter, going to the boxes
in which they are contained, and of course re
turning, making two feet every letter he sets.
This would make a distance, each day of 48,-
000 feet, or a little more than nine miles ; and,
in the course of the year, leaving out Sunday*,
the member travels about 3,000 miles.
Down among the Coal.
From the Philadelphia Saturday Evening Post.
None but those who have visited the coal
lands of our State can form any idea of the
immensity of the mining operations. They
are stupendous, They swallow up every busi
ness thought. Coal is the great staple ; it is
hardly paradoxical to style it the bread of
life. During the last year the profits accru
ing to the State from the mines were upwards
of nineteen millions of dollars-; in coming time,
when the number of capitalists is increased,
and the facilities for operations become great
er, who can calculate the wealth that will pour
from these Golcoudas of coal 1 Schuylkill
county is the preseut great theater of action.
I visited the place a short time since to wit
uess the operations.
Pottsville, the principal town of the coun
ty, was at oue time the scene of very extensive
works ; they are now worn ont, and opera
tions are proceeding further into the interior.
The city is snid to be completely undermined.
As the veins are followed, small settlements
become formed along the route ; as they give
out, the villages die away, and new settlements
are formed at the next scene of operations.—
For this reason the great coal works are found
at short distances from the city ; in time they
will be moved further into the State, and in
time, again, perhaps, (though should the world
exist forever, it can hardly be,) they will die
away altogethor. I visited one of these set
tlements, called St. Clair, for the purpose of
being initiated into the underground myste
ries of smoke and flame, aud to see the men
that work in it all the time. There are nine
or ten mines in extensive operation here ; the j
entire population of the place consists of the j
miners and their families.
Having obtained the advice of an experienc
ed person, as to the most safe and interesting
of the works, I prepared with a friend a cou
ple of guides, to make the descent.
I was deterred for a time by the remem
brance of fearful accidents, which occur al
most daily in the mines—by the thought of
the terrible fire damp, which may burst from
the mountain of coal at any moment; but fin
ally curiosity prevailed over every other feel
ing, and my fears being somewhat lessened by
the assurauces of the guides, I jumped with
more boldness than might be expected into
the little car. There are several ways of mak
ing the descent—the method we chose was by
means of the inclined plane. With all my de
sires and all my boasted assurance, I felt de
cidedly uncomfortable. The yawning chasm
iuto which we were to pass looked gloomv
enough. I paid particular attention to the
iron cable (as thick as my arm) attached to
the car, and felt perfectly satisfied in my own
mind that it was not sufficiently strong ; and
my foreboding feelings were iu no wise lessen
ed by seeing the guides jump into the car, with
a number of little lamps, one for each of us.
This hinted fitfully of what was to come.
I shall never forget the awful thump that
my heart gave, when our guide shouted to the
engineer, " Now then !" And we began to
roll slowly into the gaping abyss. The speed
was increased by degrees, until we were be
ing whirled along with the utmost velocity.—
The sensation experienced on leaving the sur
face, and all bright things, thus to be dashed,
as it were, into the very bowels of the earth,
is overwhelming and cannot be described. I
felt as if a tremendous weight was placed on
my chest, causing my respiration to become
labored and heavy ; this weight became light
er, but was never entirely removed during ray
stay in tiie mine.
Down 1 Down ! Down ! I thought the old
car would never stop. " Should the chain
break ?" 1 scarce dared whisper to myself.—
At last, after what must have been a little
time, but which, seemed to me a great while,
the speed slackened, and the car stopped as
we rode on to a level ; here the party step
ped out ou the ground. I could now see clear
ly the path we had traveled. The slope was
about four hundred yards long, and sunk at
an angle of forty-five degrees—looking up from
the bottom the entrance seemed a little patch
of light, so far off and so small, that I felt as
if I were in the middle of the earth.
Where the car had stopped was an open
space, some twenty feet square. In the cen
tre of it, opposite the opening, stood a blaz
ing four sided grate, holding five or six bash
els of coal. I was informed that this fire was
kept burning to produce a greater draft in the
mine. Branching off from this central position
were various galleries or passages pointing in
every direetiou. These follows the courses of
various veins. Railways are laid through the
entire length of each, which all connect at this
mine proper. The coal is forwarded thither
from the distant working grounds, and from
thence to the surface. The whole of the ar
rangements are very beautiful. The loaded
cars arrive with the utmost regularity from
the various gangways, are shipped to the sur
face with the rapidity almost of thought, and
again und again return, ever insatiate. We
were taken into one of these passages called
the " great chestnut" vein, and explored it to
its utmost limits. This vein proceeded over a
quarter of a mile—other veins were of a con
siderable length. The entire passage ways iu
the mine extended between four and five miles
Think of this in the heart of the earth, where
every piece must be knocked away by the blow
of a pick.
There seems to be a regular system of streets,
that is to say, an irregular system, for they
cross and re-cross each other at every imagi
nable curve, "and angle, aDd through them
troops of mules with loaded and empty cars,
are seen passing continually. When once a
mule goes into the mines he stays there for
life. He had best take a long look behind
him when he is put into the fatal car, for it is
the last time he'll see the sun. Stables are
prepared for them, (which they don't occupy
much, however,) aud they eat and work—
sleep and work—work and die, down there
among the coal. Many a man, however, does
the same thing above ground.
As wc were proceeding along an avenue
one of the guides remarked that the walking
was remarkably good for this season of the
year. This I understood to be facetious, see
ing that the water had been nearly up to my
ankles all the way, and endeavored to smile
as in duty bound. I discovered, however,
that our friend was not only perfectly serious,
but very true in his retnark* as it was by noj
means unusual for the mud and water to be
knee deep iu the galleries. The water oozes
out of the rocks and coal—sometimes and iu
some places in drops, at others in perfect
streams—continually. It sounds like rain al
ways falling. The further you go down, of
course, the greater the annoyance becomes ;
and in very deep mines, powerful pumps have
to be kept iu constant operation, in order to
prevent the water from accumulating too rap
idly.
Not the least interesting feature of this un
derground city was the tniuers at work. The
lights are so feeble that we come continually
and unexpectedly upon little squads of work
kers The lamps, indeed, shine sometimes so
dimly that you can scarcely distinguish the
burrowing moving mass from the other black
stuff around it. Sometimes, however, larger
lamps are hung up around, and you are ena
bled to inspect more closely their operations.
There is, however, not a great deal to witness
iu the mechanical execution. Knocking the
coal from the rocks with his pick, and piling
it in the cars which are to convey it to the
sun, constitute the miner's employment. To
come across a body of these men thus engag
ed, you would thiuk indeed that it was a very
Hades, and that the miners were fiends incar
nate. The peculiar smut from the coal gives
a mo3t demoniacal expression to the counte
nance, and the effect of the light and shadow
on a group is startling in the extreme.
I walked on musingly. Pick ! pick !
pick ! and the fall of the coal, varied by the
calling of the mule boy to his animals and the
rolling off of the car.
Their occupation is suggestive, too, thought
I, burrowing in the fire stuff forever.
The guide who accompauied me seemed
quite an intelligent person, aud I learned a
number of interesting facts from his conver
sation. He spoke of the operations of the ar
rangement of signals ; of the manuer and reg
ulations of the miners, and of many other things.
After telling ine of the dull routine of a mi
ner's life, I threw up my hands—
" What, are there men whose souls cannot
point tliein to something better than this ?"
" Sir," said my friend, " you are mistaken.
The miner is as happy iu his occupation, and
as proud of it, as yoa are of yours. These
things must be done ; you should rather thank
God that there are men to be found ready and
willing to do them."
Hardly rebuked by this, " it did not answer
my doubt." I said " I did not see how any
one could choose such a life."
" That," said the guide, "is a mystery—
very probably because their fathers and grand
fathers were miners before them, and they have
never seen or heard of anything better. It is,
however, certain that they arc contented and
in their way happy. I know many an old mi
ner. those who have been in eminent peril of
their lives scores of times, who would rather
now work down these mines—iu the midst of
the fire-damp—than labor on the surface for
treble a miner's wages. It is a thing we can
not explain, but it is so."
My guide went on in his garrulous, though
interesting strain. He spoke of the terrible
fire damp—the most deadly enemy of the ope
rator. Scarcely a day passes but some are
burned with it, often fatally. It is harmless
of itself, but 0:1 contact with fire explodes with
a terrible force —burning every one within its
reach. It occurs most generally in mines where
there is want of ventilatiou, but uo mine is en
tirely free from it—any blow from a pick may
let a flood of the poisouous vapor out upon the
operator. The fact of the damp being fired in
any part of the mine becomes immediately
known to those in the other galleries by a pe
culiar sensation in the head. It feels as if
powerfully compressed on either side about the
temples, together with a smarting and tingling
in the eyes. When the miner becomes aware
of this (and he knows but too well what it por
tends) the best thing lie can do is to drop
like a dead man aud grovel in the mud and wa
ter—drop instantly aud thrust his head, feet
and hands into the mire as far as strength will
serve. Should he accomplish this in time the
gas may pass over him without harm ; but
should he neglect the warning or even be too
tardy to take advantage of it, he must suffer
most horribly. Instances have been known
where men, though half buried iti the mud,
have had the flesh burned from their backs as
the destroyer passed over them. After a la
bored recital of the terrors, the guide turned
to me coolly and asked me if I should like to
sec some of the fire damp ?
" See some of it I" I almost shrieked.
" Yes," said he, "with the Davy's safety
lamp, I can show it to you with perfect im
punity."
I thanked him hurriedly, but declined the
offer.
Numerous other perils assail the operator
every day. The fire damp is not the only
deadly agent from which he suffers. There is
another vapor sometimes exhaled, called the
black damp, which suffocates the victim.—
There is no escape from this—death is inevi
table. Many a man, too, has met his end by
the failing of huge masses of coal, and the
crushing in of embankments. The guide rela
ted several instances of this kind within his
memory, and said that men had been known
to disappear suddenly, and that nothing had
been heard of them for a long time afterward,
when their remains were found by their fellow
workmen in digging after coal.
We had now gone over the entire grounds,
and were returned to the place of embarka
tion. The beat that my heart gave in going
down, was nothing to the throb I felt in eve
ry vein, on beholding again the sun. I felt
as if a heavy weight was taken r rom my breast
suddenly, and had left roe as light as a fairy.
Still I phall never regret ray visit to the coal
mine.
VOL. XVI. —NO. 43.
THE WANTS OF THE AGES. —It is a man's
destiny stiil to be longing for something 1 , and
the gratification of one set of wishes but pre
pares the unsatisfied soul for the eonceptiou
of another. The child of a year old wants
little but food and sleep ; and no sooner is he
supplied with a sufficient allowance of either
of those very excellent things, than he begins
whimpering, and yellig it may be, for "the
other. At three, the young urchin becomes
I enamored of sugar plums, apple pie, and con
fectionary. At six, his imagination runs to
kites, marbles, and tops, and abundance of
play time. At ten, the boy wants to leare
school, and have nothing to do but go bird
nesting and blackberry hunting. At fifteen,
he wants a beard and mustaches, a watcb, and
a pair of Wellington boots. At twenty, he
wishes to cut a figure and ride horses ; some
times his thirst for display breaks out in dan
dyism, and sometimes in poetry ; he wants sad
ly to be in love, and takes it for granted that
all the ladies are dying for him. The young
man of twenty-five wauts a wife ; and at thir
ty he longs to be single again. From thirty
to forty he wants to be rich, and thinks more
of making money than spending it. About
this time, also be dabbles in politics and wauts
office. At fifty he wants excellent dinners
and wine, and considers a nap in the afternoon
indispensable. The respectable old gentleman
of sixty wants to retire from business with a
snug iudependeuce of three or four hundred
thousands, to marry his daughters, and set up
his sons, and live in the country ; and then
for the rest of his life he wants to be young
again.
DICKENS' PICTURE OF WOMAN*.— Tie true
woman, for whose ambition a husband's lovo
and her children's adoration are sufficient, who
applies her military institute to the discipline
of her household, and whose legislatives exer
cise themselves in making laws for her nurse ;
whose intellect has field euough for her in com
munion with her husband, and whose heart
asks no other honors than his love and admi
ration ; a womau who does not think it a weak
ness to attend to her toilet, and who does not
disdain to be beautiful : who believes iu the
virtue of glossy hair and well fitting gowns,
aud who eschews rents and raveled edges, slip
shod shoes and audacious inake-iips ; a woman
who speaks low and does not speak much ;
who is patient and gentle, and intellectual and
industrious ; who loves more than she reason?,
aud yet does not love blindly ; who never
scolds and never argues, but adjusts with a
smile ; such a wornau is the wife we have all
dreamed of once in our live?, and is the mother
we still worship in the backward distance of
the past.
ftar At Pekin, China, there i 3 a phalans
tery called the " House of Hen Feathers,"
where the poor are lodged for one fifth of a
farthing per night. It is simply a vast hall,
thickly strewn with feathers. Men, women,
and children all lie dowu together in the beau
ty of communism ; an immense covering is then
let down over the party, with holes through
which the sleepers put their heads, so as not
to be suffocated. At daylight the phalauste
rian canopy is hoisted up, after a signal on the
tarn tarn to invite holders to draw back their
heads or swing.
A CONTRIVANCE FOR REMEDYING SMOKY CHIM
NEYS.—The following method for remedying
smoky chimneys is recommended in the London
Critic : A revolving fan is placed vertically in
the opening of a small, compact, moving cowl,
fixed on the chimney-top. The gentlest cur
rent of uir sets this fan in motion, creating an
upward draught in the chimney, preventing
the return of smoke, gaseous vapors, Ac., into
the apartment, and also the falling of soot and
rain.
CLASSIFICATION OF THE ALPHABET. —Which
are the most industrious letters f—The Bees.
Which are the most extensive letters ?—Tho
Seas. Which are the most fond of comfort ?
The Ease. Which are the most egotistical let
ters ?—Tho Is. Which are the longest let
ters ?—The Ells. Which are the noisy let
ters ?—The Oil's. Which are the eatable let
ters ?—The Peas. Which are the greatest
bores ?—The Teas. Which are the sensible
letters ?—The Wise.
There was a fellow in the State of New
York asked a young lady out to ride ; the la
dy rgrce l ; he drove around to the hou.-e at
the appointed time ; she made her appearance
dressed in the prevailing fashion ; having got
herself and hoops into the cutter, the young
man saw there was no chance for him, where
upon he mounted the horse's back and drove
off iu triumph.
8k&~ " Vat yon makes dare ?" inquired ft
Dutchman of his daughter, who was being kiss
ed by her sweetheart, very clamorously:—"Oh,
uot much, only eourting, dat's all !" "Oh !
dat's all, eh ? I taught you vas righting !"
John Randolph once said to man who
refused to fight a duel on the plea that lie be
longed to the church, though no one suspected
him of being a Christian : " I revere a trim
and consistent Christianity ; but I do not like
a man who turns Christian merely to hide
himself under a communiou table."
" You look as though yon were beside
yourself." as the wag said to a fop who hap
pened to be standing beside a donkey.
* INT" A colored clergyman in Philadelphia
Ttcmitlv pave notice as follows, from the pul
pßi%There will he four days meeting every
ovenlug this week, except \\ edncsday after
noon.
VGg- Reform those things in yourself that
you blame in others.
Btjf Which tree bearr. jHd and silver fruit ?
Industrv.