Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, July 21, 1859, Image 1

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Thursday More lag, July 21, 1869.
jitlttteb l^ottrg.
The black-bird early leaves it real
To meet the smiling morn,
And gather fragments for its neat
From upland, wood and lawn ;
The busy bee that wings its way
'Mid seats of varied hue,
And every flower would seem to say—
" There's work enough to do."
The cowslip and the spreading vine,
The daisy in the grass,
The snow drop and the eglantine,
Preach sermons as we pass ;
The ant within its cavern deep,
Would bid us labor too,
And written upon his tiny heap—
" There's work enough to do."
The planets, at their Maker's will,
Move onward in their cars,
Nor nature's wheel is never still-
Progressive as the stars!
The leaves that flutter in the air,
And Summer's breezes woo,
One solemn truth to man declare—
" There's work enough to do."
Who, then, can sleep, when all around
Is active, fresh and free?
Shall mau—creation's lord—be found
Less busy than the bee ?
Our courts and allies are the field,
If men would search them through,
That best the sweets of labor yield,
And " work enough to do."
To have a heart for those who weep,
The sottish drunkard win ;
To rescue all the children, deep
In ignorance and sin ;
To help the poor, the hungry feed,
To give him coat and shoe ;
To see that all can write and read—
" Is work enough to do."
The time is shoit—the world is wide,
And much has to be done ;
The wondrous earth, and all its pride,
Will vanish with the sun -,
The moments fly on lightnings' wings,
And life's uncertain, too ;
We've none to waste on foolish things—
" There's work enough to do."
IB is c 1 11 anto us .
From the Battle-field of Solferino.
[The following letter, written by H. J. RAYMOND, editor
of the New York Timet, from the field of the late great
battle between the Allies and the Austrians, a few hours
after its occurrence, will be found very interesting.]
CASTIGLIONE, Italy, Friday night, June 24,1859.
I came from Brescia early this morning,and
arrived jnst in time to witness the last half of
what I have very little doubt will turn out to
have been the greatest battle the modern world
has seen. You will get the official summary
of its results by telegraph before this letter
seaches you, and will be prepared, therefore,
for this statement of its magnitude. I cannot
describe it with any precision as yet—for it has
lasted all, day, and extended over a circuit of
not less than fifteen miles ; the noise of the can
nonade, and even of the musketry, moreover,
is still in my ears, and none of those engaged
in it, except the wounded,have returned to give
us any distinct and connected report. But not
less than 450,000 men have been engaged in
it; and of those not less than 30,000 —dead or
disabled—lie, on this bright, starry night,npon
the bloody field.
The battle commenced at a little before 5
o clock in the morning—not far trom sunrise.
Just back of Castiglione rises a high range of
bills—which projects a mile or thereabouts in
to the plain and then breaks off towards the
left into a wide expense of smaller hills, and so
into the rolling surface which makes that por
tion of the plain. The Austrians had taken
positiou npon these hills, —planting cannon up
on those nearest to Castiglione which they
could approach, an the French army was in full
force in and around that little village,—and
had stationed their immense array all over the
the surrounding plain. As nearly as we can
now learn the Emperor FRANCIS JOSEPH had
collected here rot less than 225,000 troops,
and commanded them in person. His evident
purpose was to make a stand here and risk the
fortunes ot the war upon the hazards of the
day. NAPOLEON promptly accepted the chal
lenge, and commenced the attack as soon as it
was light this morning, by placing cannon up
on the hills still nearer to Castiglione than
those held by the Austrians, and opening fire
upon them on the heights beyond. He took
his own stand upon the highest of these—a
steep, sharp-backed ridge, commands a magni
ficent view of the entire circuit of the plain,and
from that point directed the entire movements
of his army during the early portion of the day.
The French very soon drove the enemy out of
the posts they held nearest to the town, and
followed them into the small villages of the
plain below. The first of these was Solferino,
where they had a sharp and protracted engage
ment. The Austrians disputed every inch of
the ground, and fought here, as they did
throughout the day, with the utmost despera
tion. They were three times driven out of the
town, before they would stay ont. The peo
ple of the village, moreover, took part against
the French, npon whom they fired from their
windows, and the French was compelled, in
self defence, to burn the town. When they
found it impossible to hold their ground any
longer, they fell back, slowly and steadily,until
they reached the village of Volta, which, as
jou will see by the map, lies directly southeast
from Cast iglione, and is ouly about a mile from
the river Mincio, from which, however, it is
separated by a range of hills. Upon these
hills, in the rear of the town, and overlooking
it competely on the south and southeast sides,
the Austrians bad planted very formidable bat
teries ; and when I arrived upon the field and
went at once to the height where the Empe
ror had stood at the opening of the engage
ment, bat which he had left an honr before to
follow his victorious troops, these batteries
were blazing away upon the French who were
stationed on the plain below. I was too far
off to observe with an accuracy the successive
steps of the actioo, but I could distinctly see
the troops stationed upon the broad plain, and
moving up in masses towards the front, where
the artillery was posted, as their services were
required. But as soon as they reached this
point they were speedily enveloped in the smoke
of the cannon, and disappeared from observa
tion. But the general result was soon made
evident by the slackening of the Austrian fire,
and by the falling back of their smoke and a
corresponding advance on the part of that
which rose from the French artillety. The
cannonading at that poiut lasted for over an
hour ; but in precisely what direction the Aus
trians retreated, it was not possible, from the
position I occupied, to see. I was airaid to
change it, moreover, because, although I might
easily have gone more directly and closely up
on the field, I could not have found any eminence
upon the plain from which I could have had
so sweeping and complete a view. Part of the
Austriau force probably crossed the Alincio
River, which flows southward from the lower
end of Lake Guarda, and empties into the Po.
But the battle coutinued to rage all over the
region northwest of a line connecting the towns
of Castiglione, Solferino and Yolta. At one
point after another a sharp cannonading would
arise and continue for half or three-qnarters of
an hour—and after each successive engage
ment of this kind, the result became apparent
in the retreat of the Austrians and the ad
vance of the French forces. During all the
early part of the day the sky had been clear
and the weather hot. But clouds began to
gather at about noon, and at 3 o'clock, while
the cannonade was at its height, a tremendous
thunderstorm rolled up from the northwest ;
the wind came first, sweeping from the parch
ed streets an enormous cloud of dust, and was
soon followed by a heavy fall of rain, accom
panied by vivid lightning and rapid explosions
of rattling thunder. The storm lasted for about
an hour, and the cannonading, so fur as we
could distinguish, was suspended. Then the
rain ceased, the clouds blew away, the sun
shone out again, and the air was cooled and
perfectly delightful. Tbouirh the cannon may
have ceased for a time to take part in it, the
fight had meantime gone on, —and when I
again resumed my post of observation, from
which the storm had expelled me,the cannonad
ing commenced quite on the extreme left of the
eutire field and ou the very borders of the lake,
northeast from Castiglione and west of Pesch
iera. The Piedmontee troops, under the King
who commands them in person, had been post
ed there and received the Austrians as they
; came around. From about 7 o'clock until after
night-fall an incessant and most terrible comb it
was here kept up. The t a'te ies of the two
armies were apparently about half a mile apart,
—and at the outset they were both served
I with nearly equal and effective vigor. But the
Austrians gradually slackened their fire and
several times took up new positions,—while
the Sardinians poured a rapid and uninterrupt
I ed shower of balls upon them, —suspending
only for a few minutes at a time, and then re
newing it again with redoubled fury. The
wind had now gone down, the air was still,and
the sound of musketry, as well as of the cannon
was distinctly heard. The former was contin
uous, sharp and incessant, sounding like the
! constant and irregular pattering of hail upon
a roof, while the latter was occasionally sus
pended, but while it lasted was overwhelmingly
grand and terrible. Over the Sardinian park
rose a dense white cloud of smoke, directly up
| wards, its sides perfectly upright and well de
fined, and spreading outward both ways at the
top like an enormous sheaf of wheat. The sun
was making a glorious setting iu the west, and
as his light gradually departed.the vivid flashes
at each discharge of the cannon gleamed
through the smoke like sharp lightning through
the breast of an enormous cloud. Sometimes
only a single flash would be seen, then two or
three at once,and sometimes half-a-dozen wonld
break forth in instant succession. It was be
ginning to be dark when I turned to descend
the hill, and all the way dowu I still heard the
roar of the cannon and the clattering of the
guns of the infantry. But the Austrians were
clearly falling back, and conld scarcely have
i failed to sustain a total rout. It is possible
they may be in condition to make one more
struggle in the morning, but, judging from my
own observation, it certainly is not probable.
They have sustained an overwhelming defeat,
and it seems to me not unlikely that the Emp
eror may now be induced, by the representa
tions of the natural Powers, to accept the peace
which NAPOLEON will be very likely to tender
Just before nightfall a tremendous cannonad
ing was distinctly visible in the direction of
Mantua, and it was supposed by one or two
French officers that Prince NAPOLEON was as
saulting that fortress as part of the general
plau of the day's operations, while the Empe
ror was engaging the enemy in the open field
But 1 see no reason to suppose that this is true
as Prince NAPOLEON could scarcely have reach
ed Mantua by this time, as he was in Florence
only a week ago.
1 have thus given yon a very general outline
of this great battle as it came ouder ray own
observation. I have mentioned no names of
subordinate officers, because I have had no op
portunity to learn to specific part which indi
viduals took in the engagement. Ail that I
must leave for subsequent letters, or refer you
for it to the official reports which we here shall
not see for three or four days after they are
published in Paris.
1 am afraid to ventnre npon any conjecture
as to the number of killed and wonnded in this
battle ; but from the nature of tbe case it must
be enormous. I am confident that not less
than ten thousand, wonnded have been brought
into this village alone daring tbe day—to say
nothing of those that were left on the field or
taken to other places. Tbe first intimation we
received of an engagement having taken place,
was from meeting three or four carts, drawn
by oxen, and filled with wounded—before we
reached Montechiaro on the road from Brescia.
As we had heard of no battle, we naturally
supposed that these wounds had been received
in some skirmish. Soon after we met a one
horse carriage, in which was laid at full length
an officer of rank, whose face wore so ghastly
a look as to make it evident he was dying.—
On reaching Montechiaro, and stopping for a
moment to rest our horses, we were told that
a great battle was then going on in the plain
before Castiglione ; and going at once to the
summit of some old fortificatious which once
defended the town, we could see with our
glnsses the smoke of the engagement. We lost
no time in pushing forward, although we were
told that we could not reach Castiglione be
cause the roads were completely occupied by
artillery held in reserve. We went on, how
ever, continuing to meet carriages and carts
laden with wounded, and passing the French
camps of the previous night, came to a poiut,at
about half a mile from the town, where a park
of artillery wagons was defiling from their camp
into the road. Watching our chance, we drove
in between two of the wagons, and so entered
the town under cjver of the enormous cloud of
dust which they raised. The main street was
densely crowded with carts, carriages, horses
donkeys, oxen, soldiers, sutlers and persons
and animals of every description. We pushed
our way, without hindrance, directly past the
house marked as the Quartier Generate, or
head-quarters of the Emperor, and were thus
within the camp. We had gone but a short
distance when we came to where the great'
processioo of the wounded was turning down a
cross street to a church which had been taken
for a hospital. It was certainly the most dread
ful sight I ever saw. Every conceivable kind
of wound which can be inflicted upon men was
here exhibited. All who were able to do so,
were obliged to walk—the wagons and animals
at command being all required for those who
could not otherwise be moved. Some walked
along, their faces completely covered with blood
from sabre cuts upon their heads. Many had
their arms shattered, —hundreds had their
hauds tied np,—and some carried most ghastly
wounds upon their faces. Some had tied up their
wounds, —and others had stripped away the
clothing which chafed and made them worse.
I saw one man walking along with a firm step
and a resolute air,—naked to his waist, and
having a bullet-woand upon his side, an ugly
gash along bis cheek, and a deep bayonet
thrust, received from behind, in his shoulder.
Most of those who were walking wore a serious
look, —conversing but little with one another
though they walked two and two, —and few
of them carried upon tbeir faces any considera
ble expression of pain.
Those who were more severely injured rode
upon donkeys or in carts, —and a few were
carried upon mattresses on men's shoulders.—
But these were mostly officers, and nearly ail
I saw carried in that way were so badly
wounded that their recovery is scarcely possi
ble. One had both his legs crushed by a can
non ball. Another had received a ball in his
thigh, and was evidently suffering the most
inteuse agony. Many of those whose wounds
were in their legs were seated in chairs swung
across a donkey—one being upon each side.—
Several who were thus carried, and were sup
ported by soldiers walking by tbeir side, were
apparently unconscious, aud seemed to be dy
ing. Then wonld come carts, large and small,
carrying three, five, and some of them ten or
liftten each. A steady stream of these ghast
ly victims of the battle of the day poured
through the town. I stood in the crowd by
the side of them as the sad procession passed
along, and watched it at this point for over an
hour. It was not interrupted for a moment,
—except now and then by a crowd of prison
ers, —and it continued thus from about 10 iu
the morning, when it began to flow, until I
left the street, long after dark. Every church,
every large hall, every private house in the
town has been taken for the service of the
wounded. Those whose injuries are slight, af
ter having them dressed, pass at once into the
ranks and mingle with their comrades. I
looked into the church as I passed by All
the seats, railings, ic , had been removed ;
mattresses of hay hnd been spread upon the
floor, and were completely filled with wounded
men, in every stage of suffering and peril, ly
ing side by side. The surgeons were dressing
their wounds Sisters of Charity and other
women were giving them wine and otherwise
ministering to their comfort ; —but morning, I
am sure, will dawn upon a large proportion of
them relieved forever from their pain. If
anything can be more horrible than a soldier's
life, it certainly is a soldier's death.
When we drove into town, we were warned
by a French gentleman, who had arrived a
little before us, that unless we placed our car
riage in the stable or grounds of some private
citizen, it would certainly be seized for the
services of the wounded, as his had been. As
it was all we could rely on for a bedroom as
well as a means of locomotion, we were un
willing thus to lose it. On going to a private
house, therefore, to make such an arrangement,
we found it had been taken for a hospital, and
among its inmates was a vivandere, —a woman
of perhaps 30, dressed in the style of onr
Bloomers, who had received a ball in her hand
while following her occupation and carrying
water and wine to the soldiers during the ac
tion. Two surgeons from the Emperor's fami
ly were dressing her wound, —and though pale
from loss of blood she was conversing cheer
fully and even gaily with them.
Six or eight times while I stood upon the
street, watching the wounded, there came
along squads of prisoners taken at various
stages of the action. Sometimes there would
be only three or four, —then twenty, fifty or a
hundred, and in one company over 400. They
walked closely together six or eight deep,—
the officers being generally in the middle, —and
were gnarded by a single file of troops walk
ing on each side. As a general thing they
were not bad looking men. Very many of
them were very young—not over 16 certainly
-~and only now and then you woold see n par
ticularly brutal aodstopid countenance. There
was nothing like anger or shame on their faces;
they seemed generally wholly indifferent to
their position, but 'ooked about with a good
deal of curiosity upon the crowd which sur
rounded them. They were generally silent,
though now and then they would talk and
laugh with each other as they passed along.—
The officers were, with scarcely an exception,
handsome, manly and intelligent fellows. All
were without arms. The uuiforin of the men
was a very coarse brown stuff, made of flax,
very plain, and with scarcely any attempt at
ornament. Towards night, carts began to
come in laden with wounded Austriaus, hun
dreds of whom passed along while I stood
there, and were taken directly to the hospitals,
where they received precisely the same treat
ment as the French. Most of them seemed to
be very badly hurt. Among the uuuiber, both
of the wounded and the prisoners, were many
The town to night, as might be expected, is
simply a camp. The streets which are narrow
are crammed with artillery and provision wag
ons trying, almost in vain, to make their way
through ttie town ; —bivouac fires light up the
orchards and fields all around the village ;
two streams of troops pour out on the two
roads leading to the field of battle, extendiug
as far as the eye can reach ; —sutlers, fruit
peddlers, and small dealers of every kind cir
culate among the soldiers who crowd the streets
—an immense train of Piedmontese artillery
are brought to a stand in the street, while try
ing to make their way through the town to
their place of encampment ; —and thousands
of French iufantry, despairing of reaching
their teuts, have seated themselves upon the
narrow sidewa'ks, and with the house-walls for
a back and tbeir haversacks for pillows, they
have addressed themselves in that position to
the labor of obtaining a night's rest. It is a
striking scene most certainly,—aud the most
wonderful part of it is the perfect order and
good behavior of the troops. I have not seen
during the whole day a single instance of dis
order, or even rudeness in word or deed from
any soldier. Not one have I seeu in the
slightest degree intoxicated ; —not one have I
seen shouting or singing ; —not a rough or rude
remark have I seen or heard addressed to any
one, —nor have I failed, in a single instance,
whenever I have applied to a soldier for in
formation or addressed him on any subject
whatever, to receive a courteous rcpiyaud the
most polite endeavor to aid my wishes. Nor
have I heard a single cheer over the victory,
—or a single syllable of exultation over the
prisoners as they come in. The most respect
ful silence has in every case been preserved.—
Expressions of sympathy with the wounded
were constant, and prompt attention, so far as
possible, was always giveu to their wants.—
Private property in the town, so far as I can
see, has been treated with perfect respect. 111
selecting fields for the camp, those which will
be injured by it the least seem uniformly to be
chosen. Bakers' shops, and groceries with
cheese, bacon, sausages, See., freely exposed,
are open,— and I have repeatedly seen soldiers
bargaining for supplies at their windows. But
I have heard of uo instance and seen no indi
cation of the slightest interference with pri
vate property. Yet there is no great rigor of
discipline enforced—for the soldiers seem to
be quite at their ease, and wander about town
very much at their own discretion. But they
look upon war as a business, —as something to
be done, like everything else, with as little fuss
and excitement as possible. So they look up
on a battle, and the operations attending it—
the care of the wounded, the reception of
prisoners, Ac., —as merely part of the regular
routine, —just like cleaning their muskets, or
boiliug their soup over their bivouac tires.
But it is 3 o'clock in the morning, and yon
will excuse me from a general disquisition npon
the character and habits of the French soldi
ery. I slept upon a bench last night,—and,
if the fleas permit, have hope of a little bet
ter accommodation for the few hours that re
main of to-night. I have written this letter,
however, in order that you may receive as ear
ly a report as possible, of the great battle and
victory which will make the 24th of June a
day long to be remembered in the history of
the world. '
I shall send this to Brescia in the morning,
and hope it may reach Liverpool in time for
the steamer of the 2d of July. 11. J. R.
THE WIFE.—IT is astonishing to see how
well a man may live on a small income, who
has a handy and industrious wife. Some men
live and make a far better appparance on six
or eight dollars a week, than others do on fif
teen or eighteen dollars. The man does his
part well, but his wife is good for nothing.—
She will even upbraid her husband for not
living in as good style as his neighbor, while
the fault is entirely her own. His neighbor
has a neat, capable, and industrious wife, and
that 'makes a difference. His wife, on the
other had, is a whirpcol into which a great
many silver cups might be thrown, and the ap
pearance of the water would remain unchang
ed. No Nicholas, the diver, is there to restore
the wasted treasure. It is only an insult for
such a woman to talk to her husband about
her love and devotion.
at his death-bed made a will. He called bis
wife to him, and told of its provisions. " I
have left," he said, "my horse to my parents :
sell it, and hand over to them the money you
receive. I leave to you my dog ; take caie of
him, and he will serve yon faithfully." The
wile promised to obey, and in dne time set out
to the neighboring market, with the horse and
the dog. " How much do you want for yonr
horse ?" inquired a farmer. " I cannot sell the
horse alone, but you may have both at a rea
sonable rate. Give me ten ponnds for the dog,
and five shillings for the horse." The farmer
laughed, but as the terms were low, be willing
ly accepted them. Then tbo worthy woman
gave to her husband's parent's the five shillings
received for the horse, and kept the ten pouuds
for herself.
[From the Pennsylvania School Journal ]
Judicial Decision.
Removal of Directors; Objects and impor
tance of the School System ; The lollowing is
ic. substance the opinion of the Court in an
application that lately came before Judge
WILMOT, at Towanda, for the removul of three
of the school directors in one of the townships
for refusing to conform to the requirements of
the school law, and put the system properly in
operation. It will be seen that Judge WIL
MOT'S views of the school system are in har
mony with the rule for construing the school
laws, promulgated by State Superintendent
BIRROWES, iu 1837, that " the school laws be
ing intended for the public benefit, should, in
all cases of reasonable doubt, receive a liberal
construction in favor of the system f' and in
this respect they ure iu cheering contrast with
some decisions of the Courts, whose effect has
been to cripple and embarrass the operations
of the system.
In the Court of Qua: ter Sessions of Bradford
In the matter of the application to remove
three directors of Albany School District
for refusiug to levy tax for building purposes.
WILMOT, P. J. "The substantial facts of
this case are : That the school houses of that
township (with the exception of two) were in
a dilapidated condition, and wholly unfit to
keep a school in. A majority in the Board
could not be obtained to levy a tax for build
iug purposes. Three of the* Board persistent
ly refused to levy such tax. The two elected
last winter, were members of the Hoard be
fore, and were re-elected on this issue, of tax
or no tax for building purposes. The whole
evidence showed a fixed resolve on the part of
the Directors complaiued aguinst, to resist and
defeat, indefinitely, the levy of a building tax,
relying upon the hope thatatsoinc time school
houses would be built by voluntary subscrip
tion. The other three Directors 'had urged
upon the Board from time to time the per
formance of this duty—two uniformly advo
eated and voted for a building tax.
It was urged before the Court, that pro
ceedings in this case should be against all the
Directors as a Board, and uot against a part.
The language of the statute, if the ,l words v
were in all cases to control the construction,
would sustain this view. But in construing
statutes of this character, the spirit of the
law—that is, the intention of the legislature,
as gathered from the whole enactment, and
kindred legislation, must control. So in this
case, we look if necessary to all the legislation
upon this subject, and find the motive, spirit,
and object of the Legislature, in the passage
of the particular act, or section under consid
It is perfectly clear by the legislation upon
this subject, tlmt the legislature contemplated
a thorough system of common schools, extend
ing into every township and neighborhood.—
It is no longer optional with the people of a
District, to accept or reject it. The system
must be universally carried out, and the officers
connected with it must perform any duty en
joined. Keeping this in view as the controlling
object of the legislature, we most construe ail
legislation so as to give it effect. The system
is as effectually broken down by a refusal to
tax for school houses when necessary, as it
would be by refusing to employ teachers. Hut
all this conceded—the question presented is
Must the whole Board be proceeded against
and removed, for the default of a majority, or
an equal number of its members ? I answer,
no. Such a proceeding is unjust, and in no
way necessary to reach the end to be attained.
A statute should never be so construed as to
effect injustice and wrong; to confound the
innocent and guilty,—the faithful and the un
faithful, in a common punishment. The plain
est dictates of common sense and common jus
tice are violated, in removing trum office, three
faithful Directors, because of the default of
three who are unfaithful, or negligent of their
duties. You give efficiency to the law, by re
moving the defaulting officers, and retaining
those who are ready and anxious to d seharge
their duties. To what end, and for what pur
pose, consistent with, and for the advance
ment of the school system, should the faith
ful directors be removed ? I can see no pur
pose—none can be suggested. The Court
surely would not be required to go through the
farce of removing men from office, and im
mediately thereupon appointing the same men
to the same office; and yet this our Conit
would surely have done had we felt compelled
to removed the three faithful directors of Al
bany As the consequences of the construc
tion contended for (that nil the directors must
he removed for the default of a part) lead to
absurdity and gross injustice, and in no way
farther the great purpose of the law, it must
be rejected on every priuciplc that governs in
the construction of statutes.
Having thus established tlie point, if argu
ment were necessary to establish so plain si
proposition, that the faithful directors should
not be removed . from ofliee, it follows of ne
cessity, that you must proceed against that
;part of the Board who refuse to perform their
duty; otherwise the sjstem is effectually
broken down. Three members of a Board can
as effectually arrest the common school sj stem
in a district, as if tlie board were unanimous
in opposition. What, in such cases, is the
plain remedy, suggested by the common sense
of a man ? Does it in any way advance the
end to be reached (the faithful carrying outof
the common school system) to remove from
office those who 6tand with fidelity by their
duty ? Certainly not. You sustain the law,
and give efficiency to the system, by removing
those who stand in the way of its execution."
Removal decreed accordingly.
To ENJOY LIFE.—Tom—" Don't you think
some werses would tonch her, Charley—a bean
tifnlpoem ?" Charley—"Oh bang yonr wenw s
Tom. If yon want to enjoy life, drop poetry
and the gals altogether, and jine a fire com
VOL. XX. XO. 7.
A ROMAN BANQUET. —All the furniture re
quisite for the banquet was of costly material
or exquisite workmanship. The number of
courses was gradually increased till it exceed
ed twenty, and alter each course everything
which had Ber.ved for the previous course was
removed aud fresh supplied.
! Slaves were especially appointed to each
convivial function, and those functions were
most minutely defined. The most delicious
perfumes embalmed the banquet-hall. A mas
ter of the ceremonies announced the merits of
' the dishes most worthy of special attention—
the claims they possessed to this sort of ova
tion ; finally noMiing was omitted of a nature
I to sharpen the appetite, keep alive the atteu
tion, and prolong enjoyment.
This luxury had also its follies and absurdi
; ties. Such were those banquets where the
fishes and birds served counted by thousands,
and those dishes which hud uo other merit
| than that of having cost an enormous price,
j such as that dish which consisted of the brains.
;< f 000 ostriches, and that other of the
j tongues of o.OOU hire's, all of which had
i bet-n taught to speak.
After the above the enormous sums spent
by Lueullus at his banquet and the costs of
ilie feasts he gave in the hall of Apollo will
be readily understood. At these feasts the
etiquette was to exhaust every known means
to flatter the sensuality of the guests.
Those irlorious days might be revived at our
own time, but we want a Lueullus. Let us
suppose some man known to be enormously
rich desirous of celebrating a great political
or financial event, and of giving on the occa
sion a memorable festival without regard to
Let us suppose that he engages the services
of every art to adorn the place of the lestival
in every detail ; that he gives orders that re
course be had to every means to procure the
rarest provisions and the noblest wines of the
most famed cellars ; that he has a troupe of
the first actors of the day to perform for the
amusement of his guests ; that the banquet be
enlivened by vocal and instrumental music
performed by the first artists of the day ; that,
as an entr ' ade between dinner and coffee, a
ballet performed by the prettiest dancers, shaft
enliven his guests ; that the evening shall close
with a ball at which two hundred women, se
lected among the most beautiful, and four hun
dred eh'gant dancers, shall attend ; that the
buffet be provided with the most excellent hot
and cold beverages, fresh and iced ; that at
midnight a wisely selected collation sbail im
bue new life into all ; that the servants be
handsome and well-dressed, the illumination
perfect, and, moreover, that the Amphitryon
should have arranged for every guest to be
sent for and conveyed hotne without discom
fort—the bill on the following day might star
tle even the cashier of Lueullus.
THE RELIGION'S OK CIII.VA.—The national re
ligions of China are three, namely the system
of Confucius, that of Tuou, and that of Bud
dha. Besides these, there are about a million
of Christians and quite a number of Muhome
dans. The religion of Confucios addresses
itself to the moral nature. The idea of virtue
and vice is inculcated, and the duty of com
pliance with the precepts of law. But it
ignores or but faintly recognizes the higher
sanctions of rewards and puaishmeuts in a fu
ture life.
Taouism is materialistic. Its ideas of the soul
arc physical and chemical. It regards the
stars as divine, aud it deifies hermits and
physicians, magicians and alchemists.
Buddhism differs from both. It is common
ly said to be a form of materialism and yet it
is eminently subtle, metaphysical and imagina
tive. It denies the existence of matter, re
pudiates the evidence of the senses, and renders
its homage and worship only to abstract ideas
of fictitious impersonations.
The religious are so many attempts to meet
the wants of the hntnan mind, and they sup
plement each other, so that one uoesuot abso
lutely supercede the others. The very fact
that this variety of faith can bo professed and
and tolerated by the Chinese people, in this
characteristic quietness and forbearance, is an
indication of a tolcraut and religious disposi
tion of mind.
fi-sy* The following good story of a negro's
[list meeting with a bear is told by Col. ,
who had spent the most of his fortune and
life in the woods of Florida. The Colonel had
a black fellow, a goodnatured, happy creature,
who, one morning, was strolling through the
woods, whistling and roaring as he went,
when he spied an individual as black as him
self, with much more wool. Dick looked at
his new friend, and the bear (on his rump) at
him. Dick's eyes began to stick out a feet.—
" Who's dat ?" said Dick, shaking all over.
Bruin began to approach. Dick pulled heels
for the first tree, aud the bear after him.—
Dick was upon the cypress, and the bear afttr
him—Dick move 1 out on a limb, the bear fol
lowed—till it began to bend. " Now, sec
here Mister, if von come any farder dis limb
broke. Here ! derc ! I told you so I'' As
Dick had said, the limb broke, and down come
bear and nigger. " Dcrc, you black debil, I
told you so ; dis all your fault ; yer broke yer
neck, and I'll just take yer to Massa Colonel !"
WOMAN. — An exquisite production of nature,
between a rose and au angel, according to a
German poet ; the female of the human spe
cies, according to a German zoologist. ; the
redeeming portion of humanity, according to
politer fact and experience. Woman is a
treasure of which the profligate and the un
married can never appreciate the full value, for
he who possesses many does not possess one
Malherhe sa vs in hi? Letters, that the Creator
( may have repented the creation of man, bnt
that he had no reason to repent having made
woman. Who will deny this ; and which of
ns does not feel, though in due subjection to a
holier religion, the devotion of Anacreon, who,
' when he was asked why he addressed so many
! of his hymns to women, aDd so few to deities,
' answered, " Bee*us# women are my deities