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<M in its exercises ; thus showing to their
■Mrn, in the most convincing manner, that
fuel that their present employment is an
™ port ant one, and that the duties of school
,e not to be regarded as of little conse
quence.
rh-n D ". STRIOCs ® XVY - —" Moralists,"says Fair
-Id, may talk as much as they please of the
- C( Dv y> 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 <e-f the
lady."
Sterne nsed to say—" Tlv© *>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.