OJE OJLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOWANDA : £l)ttrshrtt] fttoroint), ©ctobcr 15, 1857. Stktltb Ipottrn. (From Frazer's Magazine.) HARVEST-HOME. BY FREDERICK TENNYSON*. Come, let us mount the breezy down. And hearken to the tumult blown Up from the campaign and the town. Lovely lights, smoothly shadows sweet, Swiftly o'er croft and valley lleet, And Hood the hamlet at our feet ; groves, its halLs, its grange that stood When Be.-* was Queen, its steeple rude ; Its mill ami patters in the wood ; And follow where the brooklet curls, Seaward, or in cool shadow whirls, Or silvery o'er its cresses purls. The harvest days are come again. The vales are surging with the grain ; The merry work goes en amain ; Pale streaks of clouds scarce veil the blue, Against the golden harvest hue, 'Che Autumn trees look fresh and new ; Wrinkled brow- relax with glee, AIM aged eyes they laugh to see The sickles follow o'er the lea ; See the little kerchiefd nvaid With dimpling cheek, arid boddiee staid, 'Mid the stout striplings half afraid ; Her red Up and her soft, blue eye Mate the poppy's crimson dye. And the corn-Rowers waving by ; I see the sire with bronzed chest ; Mad babes amid the blithe unrest Seem leaping from the mother's breast; The mighty V'outh, the supple child (lo forth,the yellow sheaves are piled, The toil is mirth, the mirth is wild! Old head, and sunny forehead, peers O'er the warm sea, or disappears, Drowned amid the waving ears ; Barefoot urchins run, and hide In hollows 'twist the corn, or glide Toward the tall sheafs suuuy side ; Lusty pleasures, hob-nailed fun Throng into the noonday snn, And 'mid the inerry reapers run. Draw the clear October out; Another, and another bout. Then back to labor with a shout! The banded sheaves stand orderly Against the purple Autumn sky, Like armies of Prosperity. Hark ! through the middle of the town From the sunny slopes run down Brawling boys and reapers brown ; Laughter flies from door to door To see fat Plenty with his store Led a captive by the poor ; Fettered in a golden chain. Rolling in a burly wain, Over valley, mouut, and plain ; Bight through the middle of the town, With a great sheaf for a crown. Onward he reels a happy clown. Faintly cheers the tailor thin, And the smith with sooty chin Lends hi- hammer to the din ; And the master blithe and boon Pours forth his boys that afternoon, And locks his desk an hour too soon. Yet, when the shadows eastward seen O'er the smooth-shorn fallows lean, Aud Silence sits where they have been. Amid the gleaners I will stay, While the shout and roundelay Faint oil', and daylight dies away ; Dies away and leaves me alone With dim ghosts of years agone. Summers parted, glories flown ; Till day beneath the west is rolled. Till gray spire and tufted wold I'urple in the evening gold ; Memories, when 01.l age is come. And stray years that fleck the gloom, And echoes of the Harvest-home. PrriEs OK PARKVTS TO Scriooi.s.—l. Pa- Tents should send their children to schools constantly and seasonably. - They should see that they arc decently clothed, and cleanly in their persons. 0 They should encourage them to respect and obey the rules and requirements of the school. 4 They should encourage them to be or derly in tlieir deportment, and studiously to ( "gard right. They should encourage them to he studi ous by manifesting an enterest in their lessons. r '- They should have regard for the charac '®r (, f the hooks their children read, and see that they read understanding^. s I'ltey should cultivate in their children habits of true politeness and courtesy, , s Resides visiting the school and co-operat "c.'and sympathising with the teacher, they a ' ! do much for its improvement and success, v Manifesting at all proper times and in all proper places, an interest in its welfare, and j 1 deep solicitude for its reputation ; by speak •ng well of the teacher and of all its judicious k wis ; by palliating or excusing its faults or Jiiings, (of which every teacher nitty be ex- Pcctetl to have some,) and by inducing their '"'■giibors to visit the school and take an in fr but for the life of me, I can never It h pietty maid without envying the good ' 'be man who i- to marry her." THE BRADFORD REPORTER. A BACKWOODS HEROINE. During the celebrated Black Dawk War, the Indians attacked a small white settlement, at midnight, massacred the men and most of the women and children, aud tool* five women captive into the wilderness. The names of these unfortunate creatures were Mrs Jenks, Mrs. Jacobs, Miss Martin and Miss Rose.— Mrs. Jenks was a large woman of great strength and with a conrage of a lion. Miss Rose was only seventeen, fragile, and in poor health. The other three captives were of or dinary make, make both in body and mind. When the party struck into the woods, by the light of the blazing cabins, the captive women were heavily laden with the spoils of their own homes, which they were obliged to bear away for the benefit of their captors.— All but Miss Rose managed to keep pace with the savages, but that poor girl's strength nt- I terly failed her after the first haif-hour, and with a weary inoan she sank upon the ground. A ferocious savage at once approached her with uplifted tomahawk. Perceiving her peril, she made a frantic effort to regain her feet, which despite her burden, she succeeded in do ing. But it was the last struggle of exhaust ed nature. After staggering a few rods, she fell, helplessly, to the ground. Again the savage sprang forward and raised his toma hawk in the air. Uttering a wild cry, the poor girl tried to shield her head with her thin hands. But the gleaming tomahawk cut through them as though tlicy had been paper, I and sunk deep into the brain. The other wo- I men, frantic with terror, pressed hurriedly 011 ; and their fear was still more increased when a fow moments after, the inhuman savage rush ed past them, waving in triumph the reeking I scalp of their murdered sister. It would be too sickening a tale were we to i narrate all the particulars of the sufferings and death of these poor women who, one after an other, sinking under their burdens, were toma hawked and scalped by the same brutal sav age, left lying in the forest. At the close of the eighth day, Mrs. Jenks was the onlv sur vivor of them all ; the savages, admiring her strength aud courage, complimented her, in a coarse way, upon her superiority to the other " pale fijeed squaws," and treated her with less severity. She was permitted to eat a trood supper, and a couple of bear skins were given her foV a couch. -£he awoke in the morning much refreshed, and after eating a hearty breakfast, was about to resume her heavy pack, when the leader of the party told her she need not carry it farther. She exhibited no sign of pleasure at this unexpected good fortune, as she knew that savages greatly admire a stoical indifference alike to good and ill ; and she wished them to think as well of her as possible, for she had determination to seize the first opportunity to avenge the murder of her com panions. On the morning of the tenth day, the party of savages separated ; four going on with her, and the rest (with a large and ferocious dog belonging to the chief) striking off in another direction. Her spirits rose. At Inst the hour Was coming ! That night, after making a fire and cooking their supper in which Mrs. Jenks assisted them with apparent cheerfulness, the savages lay down to rest without setting ;a sentinel, but not without taking the precaution to bind their captive's hands and feet with a stout cord. As soon as all was still, the he roic; woman began to work her hands, in hopes that she could release them. Joy ! joy ! the cord relaxes. One hand, though with intense pain, is torn from the fastening, and she is free ! Cantion-.lv peering round, she discovers the four Indians lying asleep, with their heads to the fire, and all Dear together Stealthily as a leopardess, she crawls toward them. She crouches by the side of one nearest her, and gently draws his tomahawk from his belt, it is the same savage which had killed. Miss Ross, and four of her poor helpless sisters ; and from his girdle now hangs their scalps. Pois ing the keen edged tomahawk with her muscti lar arm, she measures the position of the sav ages with her eye, takes a station which brings them all within her reach,and then dealt three rapid blows, and three of her foes are beyond the power of harming her more. Bat ere she can strike the fourth, he awakes and springs npon his feet. She deals him a staggering blow, however; before he can draw his weapon, and foilows up her advantage so rapidly, that he, too, soon lies dead at her feet. As soon as she felt that she was victorious, the heroic woman's strength forsook her, and she sank powerless to the ground. But she soon rallied, and taking the scalps of her dead companions from their murderer's girdle, and securing a tomahawk and knife, and as much provision as she could carry without burdening herself, she set out on her return to the borders of civilization. Nothing occurred to retard her progress or to incommode her, until the af ternoon of the seventh day. She was just about entering a small brook to wade across it, when she was startled by a fierce growl, and on looking about, she saw at a little distance on the opposite side of the brook the ferocious dog of the chief who commanded the party that had taken her and her now murdered neighbors prisoners. At sight of this well known brute, our brave heroine's heart sunk within her. She knew that the chief, and perhaps his party, must be near at hand, and that she should in all probability be retaken, and her killing of the four Indians discovered. And she knew enough of the Indian character to be aware that the slaughter of their com rades would be terribly avenged upon herself. She she stood in the water of the brook as these thonghts flashed throngh her mind, watch ing the behavior of the dog, by which she ex pected soon to be attacked. In a few mo ments he uttered a fierce growl, and rushed to wards her. She raised the tomahawk and stood on the defensive; bnt a deliverer she little dreamed of what was at hand. When the dog had come within a couple of rods of the brook, a huge panther suddenly springing from the overhanging branches of a tree alight ed on his back, and a desperate struggle at I once began PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. " RESARDLE3S OF IXENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." MPs. Jenks, knowing that the cries of the brutes would soon bring the savages to the spot, did not stop to see which would be the victor, bot stepping into the middle of the brook, she ran down stream as fast as she could go, until she came to a spot where the branch of a gigantic tree stretched across the stream at a height which she could reach by springing with all her energy. She summoned all her strength, making a desperate leap, suc ceeded in clutching the stout branch. After an exhausting struggle she managed to draw herself op to and climb upon the limb, with out leaving any trace of her footsteps to guide a pursuer. This accomplished, she soon reach ed the trunk of the tree, ascending among its obscure foliage, and selecting a strong branch for a seat, sat down to wait the issue of events —first thanking Providence for sending the dog to be the panther's victim, which would else have certainly sprung upon her, as she should have passed [directly under the tree in which he was hidden In a few minutes she heard the report of a rifle, then another, nud then a third. She knew by this that the Indians had arrived within sight of the dog and panther, and had shot the latter. Now, if they should pass the brook at the spot where she entered it, and bc-hold the track of her footsteps, her detec tion woidd be almost certain, lor who could successfully elude those sons of the forest, who so well understood the stratagems of savage warfare ? Parting the branches, and cutting off the twigs with her scalping knife, nntil she could peer out, she gazed in the direction of the Indians, and soon saw them, twelve in num ber, cross the brook at tlia fatal spot. They had scarcely reached the opposite bank before she saw, by their actions, they had discovered her foot prints. Tney traced them back from the brook a short distance, and then returned and gazed about in all directions. After a short consultation, they divided into four par ties of three each, two parties tracking down stream on both sides, and the other two track ing up-stream. And now the poor woman felt an assured conviction that she should soon be recaptured and tortured to death ? What should she do ? Should she engage in a desperate strug gle, and thus court an instant death ? Or should she quietly submit, and take her chance for second escape. Before she could deter mine what course to pursue, she heard the savages under the tree in which she was hid den. She peered down, and saw that the}* were scrutinizing the liiub by which' she had clambered from the brook. Their keen eyes soon detected the broken twigs and other signs of a heavy body having passed along the limb ; and in a few moment*, Mrs. Jenks saw three of them climbing the tree. As soon as they discovered her, they gave aprolonged yell, which was repeated by the savages be neath, and soon answered by the parties that had gone up stream. The foremost Indian of those who had ascend ed the tree, sternly bid the poor woman to come down, and, knowing it wonld be useless to resist, she at once began to descend—the savages, either from polite or prudential mo tives, giving her the precedence. In a few minutes after they had all reached the ground in safety, the up-stream party, including the chief, arrived on the spot ; and great was their surprise 011 beholding who it was that they iiad captured. They eagerly demanded how she had escaped, and she told them she had taken the scalps of her dead friends, and the tomahawk and scalping-bnife, while her captors were asleep, (which was a fact,) and had fled —omitting to say that before fleeing she had killed the whole party. The aborigines seem ed puzzled at the fact that their four brethren had not captured before this time, but still it did not seem to their minds that she had killed them. The idea that a " pale faced squaw " should kill four Indian braves, was probably one which nothing but ocular material proof would have made them entertain. They all returned in silence to the spot where Mrs. Jeriks entered the brook. At this place, the undergrowth was slight, and the forest stretched away like an endless grove, through which one conld see at some distance ; while on the opposite side of the stream, (where the dog and panther fought,) and about ten rods from it was a thick clump of bushes, which intercepted the view in that direction. As the savages were preparing their supper over a fire they had kindled, Mrs. Jenks sat gazing at the clump of bushes, and it occurred to her that, perhaps, if she could get into that, she might hide from her captors so effectually that they could not find her. It was a stupid thought, bnt not altogether unnatural under the circumstances. She made up her mind to try and escape thus, even if she should be kill ed for it. Full of this idea, she gradually stole towards the brook, and on reaching its bank, briskly waded across it, and ran for the clump of bushes. Her attempt was instantly perceived ; and with a wild yell, several of the savages started in pursuit. The flying woman ran for liberty—for life. With her utmost strength and swiftness she fled, but her pursuers were swifter on foot than she. She had reached within a few feet of the clump, when the formost savage grasped her by the shoulder. Quick as lightning came a flash from the bushes, followed by the sharp crack of rifles, and the Indian fell dead at her feet. Crack ! crack 1 crack ! crack ! and the the other four Indians dropped. Then a vol ley, and all the savages but one on the other side of the brook, bit the turf, and the survivor fled swiftly to the cover of the underbrush.— Then with a cheery htizzah, a band of " Ran gers" rushed from the bushes, and gath ered around the brave woman, who now that she was safe beyond all contingencies, satdowu upon the ground and wept bitterly. The rangers had been in pursuit of the sav ages for several days, and thanks to the report of their rifles when they shot the panther, and their yells on discovering Mrs. Jenk's hiding place, they had been found and punished at last. The gallant Rangers conducted tho heroic snfferer safely to her friends, where r b c . long lived to recount the story of ber perils and her r>rapr? l to nrv*r tiring listener's. The Night of St. Bartholomew. MURDER OP COLIGNY. Amid the mighty massacre, the mind can scarcely pause to contemplate the fate of suf fering individuals on this fearful night ; yet, however awful and afflictive in itself, it affords a faint relief from twe horrors of the scene, to linger for a moment over the fate of illustri trious individuals who perished in the massacre. Among* the first victims to fury and treach ery, was the noble, the brave, the venerable the generous, but alas ! the too confiding Ad miral de Coiigny. To seenre his destruction, the Duke of Guise, at a very early period, hurried the troops to the Admiral's abode.— Accordingly, accompanied by a number of the nobles and a multitude of soldiers, he hasten ed to the palace where the Admiral resided, which he surrounded by his military bands.— They forcibly entered the gate of the court, which was kept by the guards of the King of Navarre ; these, with many others, they bar barously murdered. But the courage of the duke and his noble associates began to fail at the dark deed of blood which yet lay before them ; and they shrunk from inflicting the fatal blow them selves. Perhaps they were awed by its deep atrocity, or afraid to face their venerable vic tim —or, perhaps they trembled in the sight of Heaven. Whatever were their feelings, the fears or the silent upbraidings of their con science,—they dared not venture further than the court below ; but, remaining there, they dispatched a band of ruffiaus to the Admiral s apartments. The unfortunate Coiigny, hearing the tu mult, the clashing of swords, and the dying groans of his slanghtered servants, started from his couch, and now—when, alas ! too late—suspected some dark deceitful tragedy. A sense of deep injury—of horror at the out rage apparently contemplated ; a sudden ap prehension of danger to himself, and a power ful impression of his own approaching doom, rushed into his mind, and roused a conflict of agitated feeling. Yet even at this moment of awful suspense, when a painful death seemed rapidly approach ing, his courage did not fail—his great mind quailed not before the dreadful prospect. The principles of piety which reigned within his soul, enabled him with calmness to meet the sudden summons, and the energies of faith po werfully and sweetly sustained him iu the aw ful conflict. He calmly kneeled down by the side of his couch and looking towards heaven, and clasp ing his hands in the attitude of prayer, he pour ed out his soul in deep, devout, and imploring application. A few moments passed—moments of strange and mingled emotion—moments of awful and unutterable solemnity to the humble and ador ing suppliant at the throne—when Cornaton, one of his faithful attendants, rushed into his apartment with a countcuance of awful anxie ty and hprror. "We are gone 1 my Lord !" lie wildly ex claimed—" we are gone !—we nre betrayed ! God calls us to himself ! The house has been forced, and no means remain for resistance or escape 1" The Admiral instantly arose from his knees, evincing by the dignity and calmness of his countenance, the consoling, strengthening, and elevating influence of his devout and holy ex ercise. He mildly replied to the frantic ex clamation, " Well ! Cornaton, t am ready ! Let it come ; I have long been prepared. As for you my faithful attendants, save yourselves the best way you can, for you cannot save my life. I commend mv soul to the mercy of my God !" At this moment the murderers burst into the apartment, and advancing towards the Admi ral the leader of the band furiously demanded, " Art thou the Admiral de Coligny ?" " I AM," he replied, with inexpressible com posure, with a dignity and grace of ineffable benignity that awed them to silence, and stay ed for a moment their murderous design. He then added, in accents solemn and impressive, " Young man ! Reverence these grey hairs, my wounds and my infirmities ! But, do what thou wilt, thou canst only shorten my poor af flicted life a very few days " The words were scarcely uttered, when the murderous assailant, mastering his momentary feeling of compunction, plunged his sword, with the fury of a fiend, into the breast of the brave Coligny, who fell to the ground without a straggle or a groan, and expired beneath the daggers, the insults, and the curses of the coward and the furious demons of destruction. The lifeless form of the unfortunate Coligny was precipitated into the court of the palace, where it WHS instantly surrounded by the eager crowd helow who surveyed the mangled form with satisfaction. Wounds and blood had al tered the appearance of the Admiral so mnch, that none who hod known could recognize him now. But when the Duke of Guise, in the joy and triumph of gratified revenge, wiped the blood from his face, his venerable features were dis tinctly recognised. Though many marks of violence marred his noble countenance, yet its former aspect might still be clearly seen. The stillness and paleness of death which rested over it, seemed but the smile and the pleeid look of life which in former days arrayed it. His eyes, indeed, at whose piercing glance his mightiest foes had trembled, were now forever sealed—and the tongue that had been used to connsel or command, was now forever bushed—and the sage and fearless spirit that had swayed the mightiest destinies was now forever fled. Bat his lofty brow, though mangled and disfignred—and his hoary locks thongh clot ted with his gore—and his noble coontenance, though covered with the image and the pale ness of death, folly evinced the features of the brave but nnfortunate Coligny. Being now completely snt'sfied with the Ad miral's identity, the joy o! his murderers was undisguised and boundless. " Now I recognize him !" exclaimed the Puke of Guise, regarding the conn tens nee of his lifeless foe with a savage exultation. "Now I really know him. It is indeed the same I It is—it is the cursed Coiigny I" Having said this, he leaped upon his horse, and with the direful fieetness of some savage bloodhound, which had been roused to mad ness by the sight and scent of blood, he flew throughout the city, wherever the massacre raged in hottest fury—galloped through the streets, followed by a band of noble attendants, encouraging the soldiers to deeds of horrid carnage. ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN.— In his valedictory address, ex-Lord-Rector, Glasgow University, Sir E. Bulvver Lytton, lately offered the fol lowing excellent maxims to the students : " Never affect," said he, "to be otherwise than yon are, either rich or wiser. Never be ashamed to say "I do not know." Men will then believe you when you. say "I do not know." Never be ashamed to say, whether applied to time or money, " I cannot afford to waste an hour in the idleness to which you in vite me : I cannot afford the guinea yon ask me to throw away." Once establish yourself and yonr mode of life as what they really are, and your foot is on solid ground, whether for the gradual step onward or for the sudden spring over a precipice. From these maxims let me deduce another. Learn to say "No " with decision, " Yes " with caution. "No " with decision whenever it meets temptation ; " Yes " with caution whenver it implies a prom ise. A promise once given is a bond iurio late. A man is already of consequence in the world when it is known that we can implicitly rely on him. 1 have frequently seen in life such a person preferred to a long list of appli cants for some important charge ; he has been lifted at once into station and fortune merely because he has this reputation—that when a man says he knows, he knows ; and when he says he will do a thing, he will do it. THE LOVER.— An exchange savs. a love is a young gentleman who lives 011 sentiment and moonlight—a believer in Byron and fate—a youth who dislikes wise, good advice, and salt pork, and supposes that all that's required to convert this world into a paradise, is a six keyed flute, and a pair of light blue eyes. The lover is a great gilder. Hovels with his brush are converted into cottages. He transmutes red hair into sun-colored ringlets. The lover sets uo valne in business ; very little in weather. All he wants is "The star of Love" and solitude. The lover takes large ly to misanthropy, and looks upon the world as " cold and calculating"—the abode of hate, envy, and tribulation. The lover soars above mercantile operations, and terms commerce the mutual cheating of a mercenary mob.— The lover talks much of doves, turtles and rabbits. Sets a priceless value on sighs and other windy products, and esteems no man hu man who speaks patronizingly of baked beans and mutton pies. The lover labors under a sord of rose-eolor ed lunacy—the cure for which is marriage, and butcher bills, a slouehy wife, and a pair of dirty-faced twins. If this does not cure him, the case is a hard one, and fc beyond the reach of human skill. PROFESSOR DOESTlCKS.— Doesticks is im mortalized and he did it himself. He has gone into the Patent Medicine business, and become a Professor. His furtuue is made.— He is a great man, and a universal benefac tor. Hear him tell how it was done ; " Bodght a gallon of tar, a cake of bees wax, and a firkin of lard, and in twenty-one hours I presented to the world the first batch of Professor Doesticks' Patent Self-Acting Four Horse Power Balsam, designed to cure ail deseases of mind body, or estate ; to give strength to the weak, money to the poor, bread and butter to the hungry, boots to the barefoot, decency to the blackguard, and hon or to the politician. It acts physically, mor ally, psychologically and geologit a ly, and is intended to make our sublunary sphere a bliss ful paradise." ANECDOTE nr JrnoE MARSHALL —Judge Afar shall, returning from North Carolina, wrapped in profound thought on some knotty point,found himself suddenly brought to a halt bv a small tree which intervened between the front wheel and the body of his buggy. Seeing a servant at a short distance, he asked him to bring an axe and cut down the tree. The servant told the judge that there was no occasion for cutting down the tree, but just to back the buggy.— Pleased at the good sense of the fellow, he told him that he would leave him some tiling at the inn hard by, where he intended to stop, having then no small change. In due time the ne gro applied, and a dollar was handed him.— Being asked if he knew who it was that gave him the dollar, he replied " No Sir : I conclud ed he was a gentleman by his leaving the mo ney, bat I think he was the biggest fool I ever saw." RaT" Lorenzo Dow, the celebrated itinerant preacher, once came across a man who was deeply lamenting that his axe had been stolen. Dow told the man that if he would come come to meeting with him he would find his axe. At the meeting, Dow had on the pulpit, in plain sight, a big stone. Suddenly in the middle of the sermon, he stopped, took up the the stone, and said : "An axe Was stolen in this neighborhood last night, and if the man who took it don't dodge, I will hit him on the forehead with this stone !" at the same time making a violent effort to throw it. A person present was seen to dodge his head, and proved to be the gnilty party. B*s?* A peasant went to a priest to confers having stolen hay from a large stack belong ing to a neighbor. " How many loads did you take ?" arked tho father confessor. " You may as well rtckon the who'e stack at oocoj" S3id the peasant, " as I and my Vfg intend to fetch it all awvy befer* *9 stop •' VOT>. XVIII. —NO. 19. The Uses of Home. Where lie the dearest proofs of a heavenly watchfulness over our heads, if not in the shel ters where we fay those heads at night ? Con sider what seenrities home affections bind abort tempted virtue ; how the man of business car ries a zone of moral purity woven about him by the caresses of children, from his home to the market-place } how the false and fraudu lent purpose, half conceived in the counting room, is rebuked and put to shame by the in nocence that pazes into his eyes and elings abont his neck when he goes home and shuts the door on the worid at night. Consider what a household love interposes to stay the erring fept of disposition—what a triple shield it holds op ngainst the sins of prodigality, in dulgence, or dishonor ! Consider that, wiih most of us, whatever impulse of generosity visit the soul, whatever prayers we breathe, whatever holy vows of religious consideration we pledge, whatever aspiring resolves we form, are apt to spring np within the sacred enclos ures of the house ! Consider how the mere memory of that spot, with all its precious en dearments, goes forth with the traveler, sails with the sailor, keeps vigils over the exposed heart among the perils of the foreign city, sweetens the feverish dreams and softens the pain of the sickly climate, and by calling his love homeward, callsjhis faith to heaven ! Consider that the discipline of disease, the pu rification of bereavement, the tears of mourn ers, are all implements in the sanctity of home ; that closets of devotion are parts of the archi tecture of the house ; that. Bibles are opened on its tables ; that the eyes of new-born child ren open, and its first breaths are drawn in its chambers and that the dead body is bo n ont of its door ; how fast do the gathering proof-, accumulate,that the human dwelling is a sauc tuary of the Most High — Huntingdon. INVENTION or CHESS. —According to M. Basterot, a late French authority, this game was invented during the Oth century by an Indian Brahmin, called Si>la, who presented his invention to the reigning monarch, Sir ham, requesting as a reward one grain of wheat for the first square, two grains for the second, and four for the third, and so on. in geometric progression, np to the sixty fourth ; to reaeh the amount of this humble request, the author informs us, would require the en tire wheat crop of France during 140 years. How ro Faosr.F.R IN BUSINESS. —In the first place make up your mind to accomplish what ever you undertake ; decide upon some partic ular employment and preseverc in it. All diffi culties are overcome by dilligence and assiduity. Be not afraid to work with your own hands and dilligently toff. " A cat in gloves catches no mice." "He who remains in the mill grinds : not he who comes and goes." Attend to your business ; never trust another. " A pot that belongs to many is ill stirred and worse boiled." Be frugal. " That which will not make a pot will make a pot lid." " Save the pence and the pounds will take care of themselves." " Who dainties love, shall a beggar prove." Ilise early. '■ The sleeping fox catches no poultry." " Flow deep while sluggards sleep, and you will have coru to sell and keep." Treat every man with respect.—- " Everything is gained and nothing lost by courtesy." (jood manners insure success.— Xever anticipate wealth from any other source than labor ; especially never place dependence upon becoming a a possessor of an inheritance. " He who waits for dead men's shoes may go for a long time barefuot." "He who runs after a shadow has a wearisome race." Above all things never despair. A G.W 01.0 TJAXK. —Yesterday a chap who had been slightly pulverized in an encounter with Old Hum went into our leading banks and wished to purchase some gold. The teller, who was busy, answered rather briefly, " Got no gold." " What," said the applicant, " got no gold ? Gay old bank, this ! Got no gold ! Gay old bank"—and off he started in search of a bank that was'nt " gay" and had some gold. As a rose, after a shower, bent down bv tear drops, waits for a passing breeze or a kindly hand to shake its branches, that, light ened, it may stand once more upon its stem. —so one who Is bowed down with affliction, longs for a friend to help him out of his sor row, and bid him once more rejoice. Tlnppy is the man who has one to whom he can look in sorrow's stormy hour. feSf" Will you give me them pennies now ? ' said a big newsboy to a little one ( after giving him a severe thumping. " No. I wont,'* was the reply. " Then I'll give you another pounding." " Pound away. Me-an' Dr. Franklin agrees. Dr. Franklin says : " Take care of the pancn and the pounds wiil take care of themselves." A. feEArrtFtr. TiJnrGirr—A little girl, while walking with her father on a starry night, absorbed in contemplation of the sitiefs being asked of what she was thinking, replied —" I Was thinking if the wrong *U\e of heaven, is so glorious, what must-the right side be ?" THE GREAT RACE. —"Ginger?" "Sah!" " When am that great race to eoine off dat dar Is so much talk about 1" " What great race ? I habent heard of any great race." — " De human race ; de great human race, da 1 * is to come off afore long. VGF Shabspeare says, u Frail tr, thy name is woman." A French translation h&s it, " Mademoiselle Frailty is the natnc o.-t ac complished way of using books is to serve them as m&st people do lords—learn their titles atul then brag of their acquaintance.