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DJLUR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
Thursday Morning, February 10, 1859.
[From the Atlantic Monthly.]
The nieht is mnilc for cooling shade,
for silence, and for sleep ;
And when I was a child. I laid
Mv hands upon my hreast, and prayed,
And -sink to slumbers deep ;
Childlike as then, 1 lie to-night.
And watch my lonely cabin light.
Each movement of the swaying lamp
Shows how the vessel reels :
o'er the deck the billows tramp.
And all her timbers strain and cramp
With every shock she feels,
It starts and shudders, while it burns,
And in its hinged socket turns.
>"nw swinging slow, and slanting low,
It almost level lies ;
Vnd yet 1 know, while to and fro
I watch the seeming pendule go
With restless fall and rise.
The steady shaft is still upright,
Poising its little globe of light.
0 hand of Cod 1 O lamp of peace !
0 promise of my soul 1—
Though weak, and tossed, and ill at ease,
Amid the roar of smiting seas,
The ship's convulsive roll.
1 own, with love and tender awe.
Yon perfect type of faith and law !
A heavenly trust my spirit calms.
My soul is filled with light:
The ocean sings his solemn psalms.
The wild winds chant: I cross my palms.
Happy, as if, to-night.
Under the cottage roof, again,
1 heard the soothing summer-rain.
[Written for the Reporter.]
GLEANINGS FROM OLD TIMES.
OLD EPITAPnS — NT. I.
Tombstones are sometimes great flatterers ;
to read the following, one would think that
the Virgin Queen of England was a saint; his
tory now speaks very differently of her In
in-raeli's Curiosities of Literature, is a letter
of hers, which shows her natural vanity of dis
position. she claims in it 110 beauty of face but
much strength of intellect; her environment
vas the secret of her greatness. The epitaph
here given is taken from the church of St.
Hallows the less.
" !f royal virtues ever crowned a Crown;
If ever Mildness shined in Majesty ;
If ever Honor honoured true Renown ;
it ever Courage dwelt with Clemency ;
If ever Princess put all Princes down
For Temperance, Prowess, Prudence. Equity;
This, this was she, that in despight ol Death,
Lives still admired, adored Kliznbeth.
Many daughters have done virtuously but thou ex
cellest them all."
In a book above her picture :
Thev that trust in the lrd shall be as Mount Zion,
1 ich shall not be moved."
On the right side :
Spain's I tod. Home's Ruin. Netherlands' Relief,
Heaven's Jem. Earth's joy, World's wonder,
On the left side :
Britain's Blessing. England's Splendor,
Religion'? Nurse, and Faith's Defender,
ynecn Elizabeth dyed 24th March, 1602.
IVe may with reason suspect that the above
'a- written before Elizabeth " came to finis
' rid of time."
Here is one ou a worthy custom-house officer,
frtainly not written by his successor. What
remarkable collection of epitaphs we should
■on have, if government officers should now
'rite those of their predecessors ! Imagine
e President in '<>o, writing an epitaph on the
'.seut inhabitant of the White House !
■ Our Holt, (alas!) hat stint his hold,
Bv Death called hence in Haste.
Whose Christian name being Christopher
With Christ is lietter plae't.
in Santon born, of gentle Race,
In London spent his Daves ;
A elerke that served in Custom House,
In credit many Wayes,
So that we lesse the Losse,
Of this so ilearea Friend,
Whose life well, while he was here,
Hath gained a better End."
Tiie next is from a very old almanac :
'' Here lyeth the body of Sir John Calf,
Three times Mayor of lanidou.
Honor! Honor! Honor!"
A wag thus completed it:
" Oh Deatli more cruel than Fox,
I'iil not let this Calf grow to be an Ox,
That he might feed among the Thorns,
Ami with his Brethren wear Horns,
Horns! Horns! Horns!"
"lie writer of the following does not appear
uve entertained a very high opinion of flie
■ ter sex." Those who believe in dreams,
8 trea-tire this up as satisfactory evideuce :
' Margarita a jewel I.
1 I'ke a jewel], tost by sea and land.
Ain bought by Him, who weaves me on his hand.
.'lit, two dreams made two propheticals,
Thine of thv coffin, mine of thy Funeral,
it women all were like to thee.
We men, lor wifes, should happy be."
church of St. Albaus, in London,
8 the next:
" To Sir William Stone.
A- to the Earth, the Earth doth cover,
s '> under this Stone lyes another,
*>f iliiant Stem*, who long deceased,
Lrc the World's |/>vc him released
No niurh it loved him."
l or brevity this, from St. Michael's is almost
' Here lyetli, wrapt in clay,
The body of William Wray",
I have no more to say."
•e following is an example of a singular
epitaphs, at one time quite common:
'■ r v D T I) r
os nguis irus ri-ti ulcedine avit
j- . 11 *a M Ch M I,
die capital letters of the first and last
figments the second, aud we
■ros aaguts dims tristi dulcedinc pavit,
|| I " mirus Christi wnl.edine lav it."
3>Hb!n >i4X °os introduced into England the
Win 1 l , )ur ' a ' ' n churchyards. So savs
Indeed, up to the time of the Sax
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
ons there were no large towns in England, and
of course no graveyards. I shall have some
thing to say, on that disputed question, as to
the existence of London when the Romans in
vaded Britain, in a future article. The old
Britains buried their dead here and there as
affection prompted, beside some gentle stream
let, or in the shaded nooks of the forest; they
seem chiefly to have loved small eminences.—
The stranger wandering over the fields and
through the woods, would come upon some
nameless grave ; its loneliness, to those uncul
tured and lonely men, may have been eminent
ly interesting—a type of their life—a type of
the silence, the mystery beyond the grave ;
but however strong the associations, which rise
to the mind from a nameless grave, the silent
but peopled cemeteries, have a sweeter, a more
chastening influence—we have baptised the
latter with beautiful names, " City of the Si
lent." " City of the Dead." Often, in the long
hazy afternoons of summer, have I lingered
in one of those cemeteries ; there was one spot
very dear to us, an old tomb, built of roughly
hewn granite, shaded by thick fir trees—it was
a retired spot. Few but those who loved to
meditate ever passed through the narrow walk
before it ; in it slept one of the old Puritans,
long ago gathered to his fathers ; there, 011
the stone steps which led down trom it, we
rested—dreamed of the sleepers around us—
talked of the dead and the living ; of the sun
shine and the darkness; till the large black
eyes of La Spirituelle would moisten with tears.
She felt that her puth was sloping downward
into some such resting place. Like one who
is to be among strangers, strives to forget her
old home and love her new, she strove to love
that silent land. Very tender are those re
collections ; very beautiful is her face in the
mirror of memory, seen through its mist of
Everybody has a partiality for dinner, and
one of the most frequent expressions at a din
ner table is the one which forms our caption,
and in order that onr renders may know some
thing of the substance they are using, we will
tell them a tew facts about salt. Salt is a che
mical compound of twenty-three parts by weigt
of a beautifully silver white, but soft metal,
called sodium, discovered by Sir H. Davy, in
1807, and thirty-five parts of a pungent, yel
lowish green gas, called chlorine, discovered by
Scheele in 1774—these two combined, form
this, the most widely diffused and useful of any
one compound in the world. It is found in the
sea, and in the rocks, from which our principal
supply comes. The most wonderful deposits
are in Poland and Hungary, where it is quar
ried like a rock, one of the Polish mines having
been worked since 1251. These Polish salt
mines have heard the groan of many a poor
captive, and have seen the last agonies of many
a brave man, for until lately, they were work
ed entirely by the State Prisoners of Austria,
Russia, or Poland, whichever happened to be
in power at the time ; and once the offender,
or fancied hindrance to some other person's ad
vancement, was let down into the subterranean
prison, he never saw the light of day again.—
So salt has its history as well as science.—
Other large deposits are found in Cheshire,
England, where the water is forced down by
pipes into the salt, and is again pumped up as
brine, which is evaporated and the salt obtain
ed. To such an extent has this been carried,
that or.e town in the " salt county," as it is
called, has scarcely an upright house in it, all
the foundations having sunk with the ground,
to fill up the cavity left by the extracted salt.
In Virginia there are beds of salt, and the
Salmon Mountains, in Oregon, are capable of
affording large quantities of the same material.
The Lriue springs of Salina and Syracuse, are
well-known, and from about forty gallons of
their brine, one bushel of salt is obtained.—
There are also extensive salt springs in Ohio.
The brine is pumped up from wells made in the
rock, and into which it flows and runs into
boilers. These boilers are large iron kettles
set in btickwork, and when fires are lighted
under them, the brine is quickly evaporated.
The moment the brine begins to boil, it becomes
turpid, from the compounds of lime that it con
tains, and which are soluble in cold, but not
in hot water ; these first sediments are taken
out with ladles called " bittern ladles," and
the salt being next deposited from the brine,
is carried away to drain and dry. The remain
ing liquid contains a great quantity of mag
nesia, in various forms, and gives it the name
of " bittern," from the taste peculiar to mag
nesia in every form.
" Hut how did this salt come into the rock ?"
is the natural query, and the wonder seems
greater when we recollect that salt beds are
found is nearly every one of the strata com
posing the earth's crust, This fact proves
another, that as the majority of these salt-beds
have come from lakes left in the hollows of the
rocks by the recedence of the sea; the sea has
through all the geologic ages, been as salt as
it is to-day. Let us take the Great Salt Lake
as an illustration, it being the largest salt lake
in the world, but by no means the only one, as
such inland masses of saline water are found
over the whole earth, but as ours is the great
est in extent, it will form the best example.—
is situated at an elevation of 4200 feet above
the sea, on the Rocky Mountains, and has an
area of 2000 square miles ; yet high as it is,
" once upon a time," as the story-books of our
juvenility used to say, it was part of the sea,
which retired, by the upheaval of the rocks,
and that basin took its salt water up with it.
Should this in time evaporate, and its salt be
come covered with mud and sand, and the land
again be depressed ; then, at some distant fu
ture age, the people would be wondering how
the salt got thore, little thinking that the Mor
mons had ever built a city on its shores when
it was a great salt lake. There are also how
ever, salt rocks taking their place in regular
geologic series with other rocks, interspersed
between red sandstone, magnesian and carboni
ferous strata ; these we can only account for,
as wc do for other stratified rocks, viz: that
they were deposited from their solution in water
or carried mechanically to the spot where now
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
" The Salt, If You Please."
" REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANT QUARTER."
found by that ever mobile liquid. We fear we
should be accused of an attempt to put our
readers in pickle, so we will stay our pen, hop
ing they will remember these bits of informa
tion when next they say. " The salt, if you
please."— Scientific Amtrimm.
KINO SOLOMON'S BLACKSMITH. —And it came
to pass when Solomon, the son of David, had
finished the temple of Jerusalem, that he called
unto him the chief architects, the head artifi
cers aud cunning workers in silver and gold
and in wood and ivory and stone —yea, all who
aided in working on the Temple of the Lord,
and he said unto them :
" Sit you down at ruy table ; I have prepar
ed a fea&t for all my chief-workers and artifi
cers Stretch forth your hands, therefore, and
eat and drink and be merry. Is not the labo
rer worthy of his hire ? Is not the most skill
ful artificer wbrthyof his honor ? Muzzle not
the ox that treadeth out the corn."
And when Solomon and the chief-workmen
were seated, and the fatness of the land and
the oil thereof were set upon the table, there
came one who knocked loudly at the door, and
forced himself even into the festal chamber.
Then Solomon, the King, was v.roth and said;
" What manner of man art thon ?"
And the man answered and said "When men
wish to honor mc they call me Son of Forge ;
but when they desire to mock me, they call me
blacksmith ; and seeing that the toil of work
ing in fire covers me with sweat and smut, the
latter name, O King, is not inapt,and in truth
thy servant desires 110 better."
" But," said Solomon, " why caiue you thus
rudely and unhidden to the feast, where none
save the chief workmen of the Temple are
" Please, ye, my Lord, I came rudely," re
plied the man ; " because thy servant obliged
me to force my way ; but I came not unbidden.
Was it not proclaimed that the chief workmen
of the Temple were to dine with the King of
Then, he who carved the cherubim said :
" This fellow is no sculptor."
And he, who inlaid the roof with pure
gold, said : "Neither is he workman in Due
And he, who raised walls, said : " He is not
a cutter of stone."
And he, who made the roof cried out : "He
is not cunning in cedar wood ; neither knoweth
lie the mystery of uniting pieces of strange
Then, said Solomon ; " What hast thon to
say, Son of the Forge, why should I not order
thee to be plucked by the beard with a scourge,
and stoned to death with stones ?"
When the Son of the Forge heard this he
was in no sort dismayed ; but, advancing to
the table, snatched up and swallowed a cup of
wine, and said :
" O King, live forever ! The chief men of
the workers in wood and gold and stone, have
said that I am not of them, and they have said
truly, I am their superior, before they lived I
was created. lam their master, and they are
all my servants." And he turned him around,
and said to the chief of the carvers in stone :
" Who made the tools with which you carve?"
Aud he said ; " The blacksmith."
" And he said to the chief workers in wood:
" Who made the tools with which you hewed
the trees of Lebanon, and formed them into
pillars and roof for the Temple ?"
And he said : " The blacksmith."
Then he said to the artificer in gold anil ivory:
" Who makes your instruments by which you
work beautiful things for my Lord the King?"
And he said : " The blacksmith."
" Enough, enough, my good fellow," said
Solomon, " thou hast proved that 1 invited
thee, and thou art ail meu's father in art. Go
wasli the smut of the forge from thy face, and
come and sit at my right hand. The chiefs of
my workmen are but men—thou art more."
So it happened at the feast of Solomon, and
blacksmiths have been honored ever since.—
I VORV. —The old books say—in a story which
without further explanation, is transmitted to
most of tha new ones—that " a great part of
the ivory imported is from the tucks of dead
elephants," which are found lying in marshes
and jungles. Wc are not able to say how far
this is true, but it seems impossible that it
should remain much longer true, and we should
lide to know the facts about this interesting
matter. It is really interesting, because a sup
ply of ivory, derived from dead material, must,
at some time be exhausted, and the cessation
or material reduction of the supply would com
pel a curious change in many manufactures,
and many habits of life. Several years ago it
was estimated that the consumption of ivory
in English Sheffield alone, (where it was used
for knife handles, and the like,) was equal to
the tusks of twenty-tiro thousand elephants an
nually. Such ft s'uughter, if the ivory were
derived from elephants killed for the purpose,
would soon reduce the supply to a minimum.
The chief supply from the tusks of dead ani
mals—for the remains of the niamoth and oth
er creatures, not elephants, furnished ivory
tusks —is, we believe, from the Northern part
of Eastern Siberia, where the tusks of the mam
moth, and other animals, arc found in large
quantities. This is called "fossil ivory," al
though of course, it is not fossilized. The par
ticulars of the course of this trade, aud its re
sources, would be worth looking up.
OLD Squire J , of Addisop Co. Ya., was
famous for bringing to market a better article
of cheese than any of his agricultural neighbors
which occasioned a merchant to inquire how it
" I think I can tell you the secret of it,"
said the Squire. " You may have noticed that,
when the milk stands a while in the pans,there
fs a thick kind of ytUnw scum that rises ou the
top of it. Now some women are so dreadful
ncitt that they skim all this off, but ray wife
ain't so particular, but stirs it all in together,
and r-c-a-ly I tbiuk the cheese is all the better
Remarks of Mr. Grow on'the Homestead
In the House, January 2fith, MR. KKI.SEY, from the
Committee on A gricaltu re .'reported back, witli a reeom
niendation that it do pass a bill to secure homesteads A
actual settlers on the public domain ; which was referred
to the Committee of the Whole on the state of the Union,
and ordered to be printed.
MR. GROW. I move to reconsider the vote
by which the bill was referred to the Commit
tee of the Whole on the state of the Union
Early in the last session I introduced this bill,
which provides for granting homesteads on the
public domain, and I also introduced a bill to
provide that hereafter the sales of the public
lands shall he confined to actual settlers for
ten years after they have been surveyed. Those
bills were both referred to the appropriate com
mittees. Twice, during my term of service in
Congress, a bill similar in aii its provisions to
this one, lias passed the House of Representa
tives, and twice it has failed in tlie Senate. As
the propriety of granting homesteads to actual
settlers on the public domain is a question that
lias been very fully dismissed in the House for
the last eight years, and in which I have taken
not a little part ;*I do not propose, therefore,
to trespass now upon its attention longer than
to enable me to make a single remark in expla
nation of the reason of t iiiv motion ;as I ?was
engaged when the m tion to refer was put, and
did not know that the report was made.
In mv judgment, the land policy of this coun
try should bo Drought back to thc c priiiciples of
sound legislation on this subject, as laid down
by General Jackson, in his message in 1842,
that you should cease to look to the public
lands as a source of and that thev
should be set apart and secured, in limited quan
tities, as homes for actual settlers. Believing
that that should have been the policy in the
first disposition of the public lands, I trust that
this Congress will restore the Government to
that policy, aud that the public lamh will here
after be secured in limited quantities to actual
settlers, instead of being left, as t hey now are.
to be absorbed by the capital of the country
in a vast system of landjmonopoly.
It is unnecessary, I trust, to argue with any
gentleman on this floor that the deadliest, direst
curse that can be inflicted onjthe new States or
upon any country is a system of land monopoly.
It palsies the arm of industry and paralyzes the
energies of a nation. It has been tried in the
Old World, aud its fruits are written in the
sighs and tears of its crushed millions. It has
been tried there sufficiently long to satisfy the
most skeptical that the condition of the new
States will be greatly improved if you will se
cure and guard the settlers forever against a
system of land monopoly in the public domain.
By securing the land to the actual settler, you
will not onlj confer a bkssing upon the new
States, but will add in the most substantial
manner to the greatness and glory of the Re
public. By the Constitution, Congress is made
a trustee of these lands, to administer them ina
way that will best promote the general welfare.
How can this be done in any better way than
by placing upon them actual settlers, who, by
the cultivation of the soil, will dcvelope its re
sources and convert the haunts of savage life
into a home for civilized man, and " make the
wilderness bloom and blossom as the rose?" ly
the present land system the settler is obliged
to go far intothe wilderness,or to pay to the spec
ulator, who has purchased from the Govern
inent the more desirable locations, four or five
dollars per acre in advance upon the Govern
ment price of the land. What is the injury
thus inflicted upon the labors of the country and
the developements of its great intercsLs? Under
and by authority of your existing laws you per
mit to he extracted from its hard earnings tour,
five, six, or eight dollars per acre, to be paid
into the pocket of the speculator and non-resi
dent landholder, to be squandered too often in
reckless and prodigal extravagance.
Under the existing system, the actual settler
gets his land in comparatively few cases atGov
erment price ; but that is not the greatest evil
he has encounter. By these lands being held
by non-residents, the actual settlers are of ne
cessity thrown further apart, thus making it
more difficult to have schools and churches,and
to surround their homes with all the adjuncts
of a nobler and better civilization. Let tlie
laud system be so fixed that the actual settlers
can take from the Government these lands as
a homestead, by paying the expenses of the
land office, or ut the Government price, as pre
emptors, and they are secured thereby in the
means of making compact settlements, opening
and constructing public roads, and building
school-houses and churches, aud even railroads,
and in supplying all the wants of a thriving
people and growing civilization ; and you will
require no grants of alternate sections to open
the wilderness. Four or five dollars per acre
would amount to the sum of eighty or a hun
dred thousand dollars in each township that
yon take from the settler, under the operation
of existing laws, and pay over to the specula
tor. And this legislation you call just. It is
of such legislation that the settler complains.
Why not leave this large nmount of earnings
in his own hands, with which he may open the
avenu.s of trade, surround his home with com
fort, and rear his children honored and respec
ted members of society ?
In addition to the justice of securing to the
actual settler a homestead in order thus most
effectually to develope the material interests of
the country, it is required by every dictate of
humanity. If yon would elevate the race, make
it wiser and better ; the first and most impor
tant step in its advancement is to surround the
fireside with comfort. It is in vain you at
tempt to beckon on the weary prilgrim of this
world to a higher existence, and arouse in his
bosom the nobler elements of his nature,unless
you place within his reach the means for satisfy
ing his present physical wants. I would not,
however, have the Government converted into
an almshouse to relieve all the distresses of
men. It cannot, I grant, alleviate the mani
fold woes of the race ; but so far as it is with
in its constitutional power, I would have it so
administered that it should add as much as ]>os.si
hie to the comfort, happiness, aud welfare of
of the race.
111 the disposition of the public lands you have
it in your power tc secure that object,to a great
extent,by securing to the actual settler a choice
of home on the public domain. At present the
public lands are openpd in large quantities, to
to be purchased by the speculator, who, of
course, seeks the best locations in the newly
surveyed districts, and the actual settlers are
thus pressed further into the wilderness, unless
they pay enhanced price. Secure to the actual
settler those lands nearer to civilization, and
leave to hiin his earnings, with whieh to stir
round his home with comfort and make his fire
side happy, and you will have overcome one ot
the greatest obstacles in elevating, purifying,
and ennobling the race. The man whose days
are dragged out in procuring a morsel to sus
tain life, ami whose last prayer, as lie falls bro
ken-hearted into his kennel of straw, is that he
may never behold the light of another day, is
a poor subject for the missionary of a purer
and better state of existence.
"(to say tu the raxing sea, be stilt;
Hiil the wild, lawless winds, obey thy w ill;
l'reaeh to the storiu, and reason with d<.-sj>uir ;
Hut tell not misery 's son that lift- is fair."
If you would elevate and reform, begin with
purifying the influences of the domestic fireside
by first making it comfortable and happy. I
hope the motion to refer will be considered, and
tliat this bill may lie put upon its passage. 1
therefore move to reconsider the vote by which
the bill was referred to the Committee of the
TV hole on the state of the Union ; ami upon
that motion 1 demand the previous question.
Poverty Essential to Success.
If there is anything in the world which a
young man ought to he more grateful for than
another, it is the poverty which launches us in
life under very great disadvantages. I'ovcrtv
is one of the best tests of human quality. A
triumph over it is like graduating with honors
at Oxford or Cambridge. It demonstrates
mental stamina. It is a certificate of worthy
labor faithfully performed A young man who
cannot stand this test is not good for anything,
lie can never rise to affluence or station. A
young man who cannot feel his determination
strengthened as the yoke of poverty presses
upon him, and his energy rise with every diffi
culty which poverty throws in his way, had
better never etter the lists with the champions
Poverty makes more than it ruins. It ruins
only those who ure destitute of sterling energy
of character ; while it makes the fortunes of
multitudes whom wealth would have ruined.
Now, if any young man with a good fortune,
and in the possessiou of that which is commonly
called an excellent opening in life, reads this
paper, let him be warned in time. His advan
tages may be anything but what they seem ;
they may turn out to be the bane of his life ;
the full jiocket on the long run may lie beaten
by the empty purse, for money will never make
a man, and never did in the whole course of
the world's history.
No, young man, if yon are poor, thank Hea
ven and take courage. You have the prospect
of making your own way in the world. If you
had plenty of money, ten chances to one it
would spoil you for all useful purposes. Do
you lack education? Have you enjoyed but
little schooling ? Remember that education
does not consist in the multitude of things
which a man possesses. What can you do !
that is the question which settles the matter
for you. Do you know your business? Do
you know men, and how to deal with them ?
lias your mind by any means whatsoever, re
ceived that discipline which gives to its action
power and facility ? If so, then you are more
of a man, and ten times better educated, than
the youth who lias graduated at college, but
who known nothing of the practical business of
life. And as to wealth, there ore few men in
the world less than thirty years of age, and un
married who can afl'ord to be rich. One of
the greatest benefits to lie reaped from great
financial disasters is the saving of a large crop
of young men. They are taught that they must
help themselves—tliey get energy of character,
and personal enterprise, and industry, in place
of a foolish dependence on the wealth which
their fathers or grandfathers have accumulated
before tliem ; they are made to work, and work
gives to their character that nobility and man
hood which are not to be obtained without it.
In regard to the choice of a profsssion, ev
ery young man must consult his own inclina
tion. If you adopt a trade or profession do
not be persuaded to resign it, unless you are
perfectly sati-Oed that yon are not adapted to
it. Advice of all sorts you arc certain to re
ceive ; but if you follow it, and it leads you
into a profefsion that starves you, those who
gave you the advice never feel bound to give
you any money. You have to take care of
yourself in this world, and you had best choose
your own way of doing it; always remember
that it is not your tjade or profession which
makes you respectable, lint that respectability
depends on the manner in which you discharge
the duties devolving upon you.
Manhood, and profession or handicraft, are
entirely different thing*. God makes men, and
men make lawyers, doctors, carpenters, brick
layers, all the trades or occupations of life.—
The offices of men may lie more or less import
ant, ami of higher or lower quality, but man
hood is nobler than any, and distinct from all.
A profession or trade is not the end of life ; it
is an instrument taken into our hands by which
to gain a livelihood. Thoroughly acquired and
assiduously followed, a trade is s:ill to he held
at arms' length. Tt should not occupy the
whole of his attention. So far from it, it should
he regarded only as a means for the developc
nicnt of manhood. The first object of living is
to obtain true manhood, the cultivation of every
power of the soul, and every high spiritual
quality. Trade is beneath the mail, aud should
be kept there. With this idea in your mind,
look around you, and see how almost everybody
has missed the true aim of life. They have
not striven to be men, but to be lawyers, doc
tors, tradesmen or mechanics—they have mis
sed the chief end >f life, and though they may
become influential in their professions, they
have failed to make the right use of their ex
VOL. XIX. — XO. 3G:
Elihii Burritt cultivated the manhood hns
was in liiiu until his trede and his blacksmith's
I shop ceased to be nsctul to luin. and lib con! 1
get a living in a more congenial way.
It is not NCCCS.HIIRV that you XIHMIII be a
j " leurneil blacksmith," lait it is npce.vwry that
j you should lie superior to your occupation, and
I that t< at lain inunhooii t- the great einl of
your struggle with the world.
Editor Dreaming on Wedding Cake.
A bachelor editor out West who had reeciv
•ed from the fair hand of a bride, a piece of
elegant wedding cake to dreaiu on, thus given
! the result of his experience :
" We put it under the head of our pillow,
| and shut our eyes sweetly as an infant blessed
j wit 11 nil easy conscience, and soon snored pro
, digiously. The god of dreams gently touched
us, mid presently, in fancy, we were married.
Never was a little (alitor so happy, it was
'iny love,' 'dearest,' 'sweetest,' ringing in our
eurs every moment. Ob, that the dream had
broken oirhere ! But no; some evil genius
put it in the head of our ducky to have pud
ding for dinner, ju-t to please her lord.
In a hungry dream we sut down to dinner.
I Well, the pudding moment arrived, and a lingo
slice obscured from sight the plate before us
" Mv dear,"' said we fondlv, "did you muko
" Yes, love ; ain't it nice ? "
"Ulorious—the best bread pudding I ever
tasted in my life.*'
" Hutu pudding, ducky," suggested my wile.
" Oh, no, dearest, bread pudding ; I was
always fond of 'ctu."
"Call that bread pudding?" said my wife,
; while her lips slightly curled with contempt.
" Certainly, my dear. Reckon I've had
! enough at the Sherwood House to know bread
pudding, my love, by nil means."
" Husband ! this is really to bad. I'lura
' pudding is twice as hard to make as bread pud
, ding, uud is more expensive, and a great deal
; better. I say this is plum pudding, sir !*' and
I my pretty wife's brow flushed with excitement.
| "My love, my sweet, mv dear love!" ex
'claimed we, soothingly, "do not get angry. I
1 atu sure it's very good, if it is bread padding."
" You mean, low wretch," firccly replied my
wife, in a higher tone, " you know it's plum
"Then, ma'am, it's so meanly put together,
and so badly burned, that the devil himself
wouldn't know it. 1 tell you, madam, most
distinctly and emphatically, and I will not ba
contradicted, that it is bread pudding, and tiia
very meanest kind, ut that."
" It is plum pudding !" shrieked my wife, ag
she hurled a glu>s of claret in my face, the
glass itself tapping the claret from my nose.
"Bread pudding !" grasped we, pluck totiiu
last, and, and grasping u roasted chickcu by
the left leg.
" Plum pudding !" rose above the din, as I
had a distinct preception of two plates smash
itig across my head.
" Bread pudding !" we groaned in rage, an
the chicken left our hand, aud flyiug with swift
wings across the table, lauded in madam's
" Plum pudding ! " resounded the war cry
from the enemy, as the gravy dish took us
w here we had deposited the first part of our
dinner, aud a plate of beets lauded upou our
" Bread pudding forever !" shouted we, in
defiance, (lodging the soup tureen, aud falling
beneath its contents.
" Plum pudding !" yelled the amiablespouso
as, noticiug our misfortune, she determined to
keep us down by piling on our head the dishes
with no ger.tle hand. Then, in rapid succession
followed the war-cries. " Plum pudding ! "
; she shrieked with every dish.
" Bread pudding !" in smothered tones cam *
up from tlie pile. Then it was" Plum pudding "
in rapid succession, the last cries growing ferb
i ler and feebler, till, just as I can recollect, it.
| had grown to a whisper. " Plum pudding "
j resounded like thunder, followed by a tremeu
| dons crash, a-my wife leaped upon the piie with
her delicate feet, and commenced jumping up
j and down, w hen, thank heaven, we awoke, ami
thus saved our life. We shall never dream ou
j wedding cake again."
j THE RKVOM TION' OK ASTKOXOMV.— Among
j the interesting revelations made by Astronomy,
is the fact that the analogy between Mars and
the Earth is greater than between the enrtlt
I and any other planet of the solar system.—
| Their diurnal motion is nearly the same ; tlm
j inclinations of their equators to the planes of
' their orbits, on which the seasons depend, are
: not very different front ours, when compared
, with the year of Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus.
| The earth, however, appears to be the more
forward of the two, since water would not re
main fluid even at the equator of Mars, and
; acoiiol would freeze in ln>. temperatezoue. The
j force of gravity on his surface is about one-tenth
j greater than at the surface of tlie earth. A
body which weighs one |>ound at our equator
would weigh ouiy live ounces and six drachms
at 1 hat of .Mars ; and were his course stopped,
one hundred and twenty one days ami tjn hours
j would elapse bet ore he dropped upon the sun.
Should sentient beings exist there they seethe
sun's diameter less by one-third than wo do ;
and, consequently, the degree of light and heat
they receive is le>s than that received by u-in
the proportion of I to St, or rather less than 1
to 2—liable, however, to variations from tint
great eccentricity of his orbit. If their atmos
phere be as dense as is supp sed, they cob
ably scarcely ever discern Mercury am' Venus
which will appear to burrow o! the solar rays ;
the earth and moon, however, will a (lord them
a beautiful pair of planets, ultimately chang
ing places with each other under horned or
located phases, but never quj'e full, and tmt
more than a quarter of a degree distant from
each other.— Sc. .1 clvui .
" How are yon Smith ?' says .Jones. Smith
pretended not to know him, and answered he-i
--; tatinglv, "Sir von have the advantage of me."
j" I suppose so. and everybody has that's £ >'
common sense "