OLE DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TpWANDA:
Thursday Morning, March 29, 3860.
JMcctci |!ottrn.
[From the Century ]
UNDER THE ROOF.
BY 11. W.
tinder the roof, by the gloomy stair,
Listening, alone in the darkness there,
Weary and sad of heart and brain,
I heard the song of the pattering raiu.
Out on tho moor, in the shadow night,
1 heard the wind as it shrieks in fright;
And the leafless tree rocks to and fro,
Moaning its monody of woe.
4 look not out on the desolate lands, i
Hut bury my face in my quivering hands, i
Breathing many an inward prayer,
Crouching low in the darkness there.
THE TAMILT.
The family is like a book—
The children are the leaves ;
The parents are the cover, that
Protective beauty gives.
At 3rst the pages oT the book
Are blank and purely fair,
But time soon writeth memories,
Aud paiutcth pictures there.
Love is the little golden clasp
That biudcth up the trust;
O, break it not, lest all the leaves
Shall scatter and be lost.
Selected Salt.
[From Chambers' Journal ]
HUSBAND AND WIFE.
IX TWO CHAPTERS.
• CHAPTER I.
I was not very much surprised to receive, ;
one morning, a letter from my niece, Mrs.
Lorituer, although she had never written to rae
since her marriage—nearly four years ego—
nor did the contents of her lefler excite much
astonishment in my mind, different as it was
frooi the undeviating accounts I had always
received of her happiness and prosperity. I
was unspeakably grieved, to he sure ; Out I
had always my doubts about the sincerity of \
her protestations, For I knew the vain, proud
heart of the girl, and that to own herself dis- i
appointed, would seem to her humiliation and
defeat.
I did not overlook the remembrance that
her sisters had visited her, and brought back
glowing accounts of her felicity ; but, then, a j
tine house and large establishment made up
llmir estimate of a happy marriage ; and so
long us everything seemed smooth and courte
ous between the pair, they would never look
further or deeper. Ilow-bcit, hero was Isa
bel's counter statement :
" Dear Aunt Surah," ran the letter, "will
you leave home, and eqme and stay with us
for a time ? The house is quiet ; the summer |
is in its glory ; and it will be such pleasure to j
me. Do come in spite of obstacles, for I am
unhappy, and want to consult you. • To whom
else can I look ?"
So, though 1 felt it rather hard to leave my
pretty cottage aud flower garden, at the pleas-,
an test season of the year, and still more so, to ;
break off my old ways and habits of life, ;
which li'ted tnc there like a glove, I resolved
to lose no iiiue in obeying Isabel's summons,
for I was very auxious about her. I thought j
some conjugal crisis must have occurred, or
she would never have dropped the veil. 1
knew Mr.'Lorimer so slightly that 1 had lit
tle ground for speculation, so far as lie was
personally concerned ; but 1 knew[that Isabel
had married—from respect, she said ; and 1
could not help remembering how, even with I
the solemn nuptial vows in her ear, and enun
ciated. too, with a tremulous passion, she had i
tefned her graceful head from altar and priest I
to uiark the ample flow of her satin drapery
and costly veil. Some might have called it a 1
charming unitelt; bat it did not seem so to j
me, nor was I one of those who fondled and j
praised her—her husband among the rest — !
for the clear calm tones in which she had spo- i
ken her own responses. I did not like it ;; ;
there was depth enough in Isabel's nature to i
have made her forget her bridal suit, and to i
have stifled in whispers her bell like voice, had i
her heart beeu true to her words. Wheu 1
looked from her husband's flushed face and i
eyes, which glowed when they fell upon her,
to her cool cheek and smiling lips, 1 made an
old woman's inward augury of ill : " Hot
love soon grows cold, 'said I to myself ; " and
she, poor child, is not in Irtve at all. God
grant the flame may never break out of
bounds !" To speak truly, the last was my
present fear. I was not afraid of any outward
compromise of Isabel's duty, for I relied upon
live relf-restraint of her character and her
pride of position ; but had she discovered that
sue was capable of loving as she never had
loved, and that the object of that love was not
her husband ? —that a blessedness once possi
ble, was now in sight, but out of reach forever?
Then, again, catnc back the consolatory re
flection, that she would never have owned it ;
pride and shame would have sent her silent to :
the grave ; and my heart ached involuutarily
as 1 conceived that burning grief devouring
her in secret.
At all events, I would go. The very same
day I received Isabel's letter saw my arrange
ments complete, and the evening post carried
her a letter stating at what hour they might
-end to meet me at at their railway station.—
Then I put on my bonnet, and made the best ;
of my way to the city, to tell her family cf
my visit, and receive their commissions.
it was a sultry evening in the beginning of
July, and the heat, dust, and turmoil of the i
metropolis struck rae oppressively. r |'he cross
of St. Paul's flamed in the rays of the blazing
sun ; the gay display of summer fashions in
the adjacent windows looked tawdry aud
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
eclipsed in the unmitigated light; and one pat
by, half iu pity, half in disgust, the droopiug,
scentless roses thrust upon the attention by
the unfortunate flower girls. I found my
brother's warehouse in full activity ; he him
self was paying commercial court to some im
portant customer in oue of the long narrow
alleys formed by bales of goods, which front
ed the public door by which I had entered.—
He saw me at once, and directed me to await
his leisure iti his private counting-house with
an air of undisguised astonishment at my ap
pearance. When he joined me, I told him
briefly why I had come, for it was long since
Robert and I had been on affectionate "terms.
He appeared highly amused at the idea of my
going to Morton Leas.
"Why, what can Isabel want with you,
: Sarah—a quiet, dull, old soul like you ? No
i offeuce, I hope ; but you must wonder your
i self; besides, you will be like a fish out of
| water in their grand house and with their fine j
| ways. Tou have uo notion of the stvle thev I
> live in f"
I said quietly : "If I bad not, it was from '
| no want of information on the subject, and 1
j that I had every confidence that I should not !
■ commit myself in his daughter's house and j
! then I went up stairs to see her sisters.
It was the same story over again—uubound-
jed surprise and Vitless conjecture. I had to
' listen for the hundreth time to a recital of
I " how things were done at Morton Leas," and
| they seemed to share their father's apprehen
sion that I should liud splendor quite too much
for me. As they had uo instructions to give '
beyond an entreaty to write and tell them !
" how it all struck me at first sight, and how J
I got on with Mr. Larimer," I was soon back
agaiu on my homeward way.
How it all struck me at first sight I well
remember! A heavy storm in the morning
I had cooled the air and laid the dust, and af- j
ter the restraint of my journey, I enjoyed 1
keenly the unaccustomed luxury of reclining j
: at my ease in a luxurious carriage as it rolled ;
rapidly over the well kept roads through the j
| noble lir plantations I had heard were Mr.
Lorimer's especial pride. How exquisitely j
the slender spires of the trees stood out i
against the roseate amber of the sky ; how !
gratefully the eye rested on their stateiy layers j
of green shade 1 Now a squirrel darted into i
momentary view, which was a charming vision j
to my citizen sight, as were also the mercurial
rabbits thai at every point appeared and van
ished with incredible swiftness.
" You can see the house now, ma'am, thro' i
the trees," said the coachman, civilly turning
round to indicate it. I could, and a grand
old place it seemed tc ine—grander even than
;ny tutored expectations. I don't know in 1
what style or of what date it was ; its ample !
front looked to me like the facade of a Greek !
temple, only the Portland stone was reddened '
with age, and was almost covered with a dense j
but close-cut growth of ivy, intermingling with !
the graceful festoons of the Virginia creeper, j
On the broad terrace on wlr'ch the front open- '
ed, I recognized the figures of my host and j
hostess, which so occupied and excited my j
mind, that I received but a very general im
pressiori of any other external object.
I was just conscious of green lawn stretch
ing its velvet plain beyond my range of sight
—of an antique flower garden glowing with
vivid dyes, and breathing a perfume exquisite
!y sweet and delicate—of the park beyond the
distant fence, and thi deer peeping timidly be
tween the slender rails. j
I could not help the reflection that Mr.
Lorimer's mercantile connection must indeed
be on a colossal aud remunerative scale,to have
permitted him in early life to make himself
the possessor of so tine an estate.
I was so eager to get my first glimpse of
Isabel, that I was on the point of overlooking
the courtesy of my host, who came down the
steps to hand me from the carriage. He spoke
to me so kindly that I woudered at my former
impression of his eolduess and stiffness.
" I am so truly pleased to sec you here at
last," he said ; " and so, you may be sure, is
Isabel." Silly old woman as I was, I was
looking out for some indication how matters
stood between them, and I fancied I could de
tect a change from the cordiality of his tone
the moment he mentioned his wife's name.—
He led me up to where she stood smiling to
receive me, and placed my hand in hers. " I
hope," he added " yoa will be able to enjoy ;
yourself with us and then, as if he consider- j
ed his duty done, he turned, and went into the
house. He bad not looked at Isablel as he I
spoke, or he could not have failed to have secu ;
in her eyes a wistful expression, which touch
ed me deeply, for it seemed to plead for his
notice ; aud he went away without a word,
which surely would not have been the ease if
cordiality uud affectiou existed between them, i
I turned and gazed at Isabel, who stood i
watching me attentively, and still holding my
hand in hers precisely as her husband had
placed it. " Why, child how beautiful yon !
have grown !" I said, involuntarily ; " and how i
stately stands the queen of this fair demesne !
What ! not a word or a kiss for the old aunt- I
mother?" In a moment, her lovely arms were
round my neck, and she was showering kisses i
upon me. 1 was affected by the convulsive
pressure of her embrace, and the speechless
ness of her emotion, and 1 tried to release my
self playfully. "Just as of old, reckless of
finery !" I said. " Alas ! for my new clonk
and bonnet. Take me up stairs, my dear,and
show me the children." Thereupon, suddenly i
composed, she drew out from behind her, with i
a charming gesture, a pretty snow drop of a <
child, who had been clinging timidly to her
dress, amid th& ample folds of which she had i
hitherto been effectually concealed.
"Hero is one of my darlings; Lily I call i
her, because she is so white. The other is i
asleep. Rut come ; I keep you standing ;we i
will show Aunt Sarah her room." She caught j
up tho child in her arms—lithe and tall, the
weight seemed of no account to her—and pre- i
ceded me np stairs with such a firm yet light
step that I followed her movements with ad- <
miration. llow the promise of the girl had
fulfilled itself in the woman ! She had always
been exquisitely pretty, but her beagty scenjed
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
to me to have a higher character now. She
had quite recovered her composure, and, stay
ing with me while I dressed for dinner, asked
me a hundred questions concerning her old
home and family. I could see she was afraid
of my taking the iuiiative, but I had no idea
of being so premature.
The reader of an old woman's story will
readily excuse all superfluous detail. I must
not describe trifles with the rniuuteness of a
three-volumed novel. Suffice it, all around rne
proved that wealth and good taste had com
bined to give my Isabel a homo that should
have been clysium ; and that before the first
dinner-hour was over, I was convinced that
Mr. Lorimer had survived his love for his wife,
and regarded her no longer hut as an elegant
appendage to his house and table. I saw, too,
that Isabel was miserable beneath her cold
and indifferent demeanor (good Heavens !
: how every trace of the impulsive, self-confi
dent girl seemed vauished); but the cause of
the husbaud's coldness aud the wife's disap
j pointiueut I could guess. With whom lay the
blame? We were not alone at the table. I
i found that Mrs. Vivian, Mr. Lorimer's only
| sister, was a guest as well as myself. This
| lady did not please me at all; her manners
i were at once haughty and careless, and it al
most seemed to me that in her attentive solic
itude for her brother, to whom all her conver
j saiion was addressed, and her measured civili
ties to Isabel, there was a lurking insult to the
latter which mast inevitably make itself felt.
Mr. Lorimer himself was an admirable host,
' so kind, and skiltul in his kindness, that even j
I, predisposed to nervous shyness of him, soon
felt at ease. Nor must it be supposed that i
there was any failure of outward respect to-
I wards bis wife ; he never avoided addressing 1
her, or referring to her opinion, whenever it i
was natural to do so ; but it was tho averted
or chilling look, the tones untouched by an ac
-1 cent cf tenderness, from which I drew ray con
i elusions. How differeut from the wedding i
! morning! thought I ; ay, one part of the
j prophecy fulfilled—the hot love was cold i
enough now.
I was very glad when dinner was over, and
; we rose to retire to the drawing room, and j
! still more so when Mrs. Vivian announced that 1
| she was under the painful necessity of leaving
us for an hour or so, to make arrangements
, for her departure on the morrow.
1 was very anxious now to question Isabel,
but 1 found such was not her present inten
| tion.
" Let us go to the nursery," she said, " I
always see the babies put to bad."
However, when we reached the nursery, we
found the children asleep, for dinner had been
later on my account, and the nurse had been
rigorous about extinguishing them at the ap- !
pointed hour. I had feared Isabel would have
been a careless mother ; but as I watched her
leaning over her babes, the tears gathering in 1
her eyes as she gazed at them, 1 felt ashamed
of my involuntary injustice. The baby lay in
her bassinet—which was in that state of high !
toilet common now-a days to those charming | ;
receptacles—with its cherub face flushed in j
healthy sleep, and one fat, rosy pushed '
against the tiny mouth. Lily, in her white :
bed, pale and motionless, looked like some 1 1
lovely piece of monumental sculpture. I saw
some deep passionate feeling was welling up in
Isabel's heart as she stood by her side, and
presently turfiing from her, she dismissed the
servants down stairs, saying to me, in a forced
tone of carelessness : " You aud I dear aunt,
will keep watch for a little while. I like some
times to spend a quiet hour with them thus."
We were hardly alone before her self-com
mand gave way ; she sank on her knees by
the child's couch, and stifled sobs shook her
from head to foot. I went gently up to her,
aud stroked the bowed head without speaking.
My heart bled for her ; I felt how bitter was
the long-suppressed auguixh that was now find
ing vent.
"Come, dear child," I said, " let us sit down 1
in this window-seat and talk your troubles i
over. lam sure they are not irremediable." |
She lifted up her wet pale face with a bitter
smile. " I have but one trouble, and you
have discovered it already—my husband docs '■
not love me H I
I saw she watched me feverishly, in half ]
hope of a disclaimer, but i could not give it. i
" There is some quarrel betweeu you," I be
gan soothingly—" some temporary alieuatiou;" I
but she interrupted me decisively. . i
" Not so, Aunt Sarah—not so ! It is con
firmed indifference, the result, he would tell i
you, of my own heartlessness--hopeless indifF- s
erencc, for it is the hard cold of former heat!"
" I*oor Isabel !" I said, " and you love him 1
now 1"
She stooped down aud kissed Lily with con- i
ccntratcd passion. "1 would give this child ;
of my heart to win back iny husband," was |
the answer. " I would consent to lay her in i
her grave, if over that grave he would look as 1
he used to look, and speak to me as he once ]
spoke." i
Rut I most not go over every spoken word, I
but tell in brief what Isabel told me in velie- <
meut detail. It may be other young wives I
may learn a caution from it. I
She had married with a very superficial I
knowledge of her husband's character, after a :
brief acquaintance. He courted her from a
position considerably higher than her own, <
which dazzled her ambition, added to which he <
was passionately iu love with her, and wor- <
shipped at her footstool. It was a dangerous <
incense he offered. Isabel had many fine s
qualities, but her education had been unfortn- f
nate ; she had always been greatly flattered t
and indulged in her own circle, and she took j
her lover's devotion as a matter of course, ac
cepting as her right all his lavish liberality, i
aud seeming to take it for granted that noth- '
ing more was required of her than to be the i
gracious recipient of the tribute offered.— \
Worse than all, she married without love, yet 1
dectiving Mr. Lorimer with the impression i
that she loved him. I rather thiuk she de- 1
ceived herself, saying she had a great respect i
for him ; that she loved him, she supposed, as I
much as she could love any man. Poor girl, 1
Fain, selfish, and ignorant of the world, she I
" REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
was weak enough to estimate her surrcuder at
the exaggerated price her lover put upon it,
and to believe the glamour would last 1
Rut men soon wake up from these illusions;
it is only for a time that a husband can de
ceive himself that he is loved, unless the wife
be consummate hypocrite, or he an uxurious
fool. Mr. Lorimer continued to adore his
beautiful young wife, until the first blindness
of passion having cleared away, he began to
perceive she was exacting and unresDonsive.
" You cannot believe," said Isabel, " with
what insane arrogance I acted. To be the
supreme consideration, for my will to take pre
cedence of his, was what I had expected and
claimed, and it never occurred to me to feel
grateful for his indulgence or to wonder at his
forbearance ; njoreover, I did not" love him
theu, and I began to weary of his attentions,
to 6icken of his perpetual companionship. I
suppose I scarcely tried to hide my impatience,
for I was so besotted that I believed he must
always love me.
"About this time his sister, Mrs. Vivian
came to 6tay with us, and I doubt not she
stimulated her brother's awakening. Resides,
Maurice is a proud man, with a sufficient sense
of his own excellence and eligibility ; aud it
was impossible for him, when ho began to re
flect, not to consider how much he had bestow
ed upon me, and that 1 had not even paid hita
with my love ! 1 dou't know how it was I
was blind to the gradual change iu my hus
band's manner, oblivious of the influence which
was working against my happiness ; but it
was so. It was over Lily's cradlo that I first
awoke to a consciousness of my position. It j
had been a great disappointment to both of us \
that she was a girl, to inc, especially. One
day, I was bewailing her sex very weakly, and I
felt surprised that ho did not join in the iamen- !
taticn.
"Are not you disappointed too ?" I j
" \es he said coldly ; " but my disap- j
pointment is irretrievable, and dates further
back. Try and love your baby, Isabel, if ycu
can."
"These words fell upon me like a thunder
bolt ; I suddenly saw my whole conduct iu its
true light, and in all its consequences; but it
was too late ! From the moment I was forced
to realise the idea that he had ceased to love
me, I received a vivid conviction of the value
of his love. I came down from my seclusion
to find him, as you see him now, coldly con
siderate, punctiliously attentive ; but he uo
longer sought my society, or welcomed my
coming with smiles.
*'l cannot tell you tho effect this change i
had upon my wayward hea.t ; besides, it!
seemed dreadful not to be loved by one's bus- j
band. Iu my turn, I began to love him pas- j
sionately, to wait upon his words, to court his
attention, even to solicit his endearments, for j
his coldness maddened me. Perhaps I might j
have succeeded if we had been left alone, but
Caroline Vivian was always with us. Her
presence and influence rufhed everything.—
Previously she had seen my husband's devotion
and my neglect at their full, and no doubt al!
she had said to him then of iiis biiudness aud
my worthlessuess, was bearing now its abund
ant fruit. 1 could not endure her to see how
our position was reversed and what I was suf
fering. I could not sue for her to see me re
jected ; and during the mouths she stayed with
us, 1 tried to act my former part as closely as
possible. So mad was lin my false pride,
that 1 have sacrificed the happiness of all my
life to it. I succeeded so well in this misera
ble game that I deceived both him and her.—
1 left them constantly to their own society,
while I was thirsting for one hour of his. "l
rode, drove, visited, according to my own con
venience and leisure. I consulted my hus
band's inclinations less than in former times.
1 justly laid myself open to Caroline's inter
ference and reproaches, but I would not bear
them. Violent scenes followed, until Maurice
himself silenced her. He wanted no champion
of his happiness, he said; expostulation and
reproach would not transform my nature, or
give him the wife he had expected—no third
person could lighten the lot he had to bear.
The night Caroline went away, I threw my
self at his feet—l besought him to love me—
to believe that I loved him. Men are not im
pulsive, inconsistent, demonstrative, like as,
aud he could uot understand such couduct.—
He called it caprice, policy, hypocrisy—said I
had worn out his regard ; reminded me of this
and that—carclc s words, selfish actions, which
I had furgotteu, but he had brooded over in
silent bitterness aud disappointment Alas !
alas ! bow black the catalogue appeared !
" The tale is nearly told out, Aunt Sarah.
Since then things have gone on worse and
worse. His propriety and coldness have been
always the same, while my conduct has been
actuated by passiou, grief and rescntmeut,
perpetually at strife. Ry turns, lam neglect
ful and disdainful, reproachful and imploring.
I love him now as he never loved rae. His
patience and temperance appear to me admir
able in the midst of my misery, for the uncer
tainty of my temper, and the discomfort of
our relations, embitter his life. Caroline has
been once more our guest for the last week or i
two ; and perhaps now her presence does good *
for it forces me to a measure of quiet and con
sistency.
" To-morrow my husband leaves rae for
Glasgow on important affairs. I ha'f think
everything is not going right in his business i
connection, but he never talks ou tho subject, ]
only ho looks harassed beyond his wont, lie i
said he might be a mouth or two absent; and I
so, Aunt Sarah, as my misery was getting in- i
tolerable, I thought I would send for yon.— i
Now, what comfort have you to give me ?" i
Poor Isabel! I could but clasp her in my <
arms, and try to soothe her by my affection, i
What chance she had of regaining the happi- -j
ness she bad so recklessly squandered, I felt I
very incompetent to decide, owing to my slight <
knowledge of Mr. Lorimer's character, and his <
immediate departure would preclndo the possi- i
bllity of my forming a judgment. " Rut, my i
dearest child," I argued, " one thing appear*
to me absolutely certain, that a man 'ike your i
hnsband, with quick perceptions and sensibili
ty, can uever resist the influence of your lovg
and duty, if you will hut try and regulate their
exercise. You must earn his respect, constrain
his affection, and time must give you the vic
tory. Prove yourself worthy to be loved, La
bel, and he will love you."
" I cannot wait," said Isabel, clasping her
hands ; " I want it at once—to-morrow—now!
I shall never win it on system. But it grows
dark, dear aunt: we must go 'down stairs.—
Come with me to my dressiug-room till I can
find nerve and composure to meet them again."
Election of County Superintendents.
As the election of County Snperintendant
is to take place on the first Monday of May
next, we make the following extracts from the
official department of the Pennsylvania Sch-xd
Journal, for March, in order that Directors
may have their minds directed to the subject.
The third election of County Superintend
ents will take place, at the respective county
seats, on the first Monday in May. There is
no duty of more overshadowing importance
than the one devolved upon School Directors
on that occasion, and the manner in which
they may perform it, will vital!* effect the wel
fare of the school system. The law has wise
ly conferred this responsible duty unon the
immediate representatives of the people in the
respective districts, relying upon their intimate
knowledge of the working and wants of the
school system, their sound judgment, disinter- !
ested motives, and knowledge of the persons |
I who might present themselves for this irnpor-;
j tar:t office. Thus far, this responsibility has
j generally been met in the right spirit, and in
1 most cases, though not always, with satisfacto
j ry results.
j But there are, doubtless, errors yet to be
, corrected, and possible dangers .avoided. The
j opportunity is now preseuted to accomplish
: Loth. Tne office is tfow permanently estab
i fished, as an indispensable agency in the ad
j ministration of the system ; and the best ef
; forts should be directed to the great work of
i makiug it uniformly efficient and acceptable,
j by the election of the right men and the best
' men, to fill it. If this is not done, the respon
| sibility rests with the directors, who have been i
! clothed with the power, uuder the law, to ]
strengthen cr weaken the system by their I
votes in convention.
The success and usefulness of tho County
Snperintendency depends, more than any other I
, office in the commonwealth, upon the men who I
fill il. The greatest care should therefore be j
taken in the selection. Every competent and
faithful officer, who is willing to serve, should
be retained ; for experience is of great value
in such an office as this, and cannot be trans
ferred to a successor. Besides, fidelity to duty
is such an arduous post, should be rewarded
by a continuance of public confidence and ap
proval. Those who have proved themselves
incompetent or unfaithful, have no reason to
expect any farther sacrifice of the public in
terests for their individual benefit, G'areshouid
be taken, however, to discriminate between
popular dissatisfaction arising from a faithful
application of the powers of the office, and
that arising from incapacity or indolence. Xo
man should be elected whose past official course
or personal pledges, will not be a sufficient
guaranty for the faithful devotion Gf his time
and energies to the full aud faithful perform
ance of all the duties of the office, according
to the letter and the spirit of the law. Anoth
er special danger should be guarded against
with scrupulous care. It is'this:—no man
should be elected who wants the offico as an
appendage to any other interest or pursuit ;
least of all, one who would make the duties,
of the office subordinate to any interest or
pursuit whatever.
The following exhibits of the requisite qnal
ifications of County Superintendents, appeared
in the editorial columns of the Pennsylvania
School Journal for April and May, 1357.
They are as suggestive and valuable now as
they were then, and are earnestly commended
to the attention of directors:
" Taking it for granted, then, that experi
ence has fully justified the wisdom of the Leg
islature in requiring the selection of a fit per
son and the payment of a sufficient salary, for
this office, two questions ariso for the consider
ation of Directors—
" 1. Who is a fit person for the office ?
" 2. What is a sufficient salary ?
" In answer to the first question, it may, in
the words of the school law, be replied that
fitness consists in—
"l. ' Literary aud scientific acquirements'—
These are Goth indispensable, and the degree
of them should be considered. In every coun
ty, schools of every rank aud grade—from the
lowest primary to the high school, with its full
round of branches—either are or soon must
come into existeuce ; aud to discharge the
office properly, the Superintendent must be
qualified "to examine " all the Teachers, "to
visit" them, and to " give such instructions in
the Art of Teaching and the method thereof
in each school" as the condition and grade of
each shall require. llow can this be done,
except by one who is scholar enough to teach
the teacher of the highest branch taught in
the highest school in this county ?
" 2. ' Skill and experience in the Art of
Teaching is another requisite and is also ex
acted by the law • —not only skill to know, but
practice to do. It is no doubt true, that, in
some instances, the office has been well filled
by persons of no great, or possibly of no act
ual experience in the art. This is owing to
the known fact, that some men have naturally
in them so much of the elements of the Teach
er and such a love for the work and the cause,
as to supply, to a great degree, all other de
•fects. But the exception only proves the rule ;
for the instances of failure for want of this
element, have been too numerous to leave the
question doubtful. The safer and the legal
rule is, in all cases, to require this "skill and
experience."
"The man, then, whom Law, Experience
and the Wants of the system demand for
Couoty Superintendent, is: A practical Teach
ers, \*ho is also an accomplished scholar, and
VOX.. XX. —NO. 43.
a ready public speaker ; with sufficient lova
for it to undertake, and energy to perform, tbo
great work before him ; and the salary should
be sufficient to compensate him, as fur as mon
ey can, for the efficient discharge of so great a
labor."
"'lie should have been active in the education
al movements of the County. Not only is this
proper as a proof that he possesses the right
feeling, but it will have another good result.
Such a person, being well versed in the move
ments and condition of the Geld of his labors,
will be prepared, at once, to enter upon their
effective discbarge ; whereas, an entire stran
ger, or one who has held aloof from the move
mcni, will lose much valuable time in acquir
ing the necessary knowledge of the affairs
committed to his care, and of the persons who
are to be his co-workers in their management.
" lie should have ability and experience in the
conducting of Institutes. The institute is the
j test of the County Superintendent's efficiency.
Great professional knowledge, tact in man
agement, influence upon the community, and a
lurgj fund of expedients, are indispensable to
rr.^e f the various and often embarrassing re
quirements of these meetings. It may safely
be asserted, that the Superintendency has not
failed in a single county, in which the Super
intendent himself has gotten up, conducted
and brought to a successful conclusion, a series
of annual County Institutes."
Adulteration of Liquors.
A Philadelphia correspondent of the New
York Tribune writes to that paper as follows,
March sth :
" One of our Temperance Societies had en
gaged Dr. Iliram Cox,the Cincinnati Inspector
cf Liquors, to deliver a course of lectures show
ing up the honors of the trade in strychnine
whiskey. This gentleman was appointed by
the authorities of Cincinnati to dive Into the
grog shops and liquor stores there, and apply
chemical tests to the liquor they had on sale.
Though hampered and opposed at every turn,
yet he was not to be thwarted. The revela
tions which followed bis investigation were
perfectly astounding. They carried consterna
tion even among the drunkards, and so dimin
ished the sale of i:quor by proving the nineteen
twentieths of it was deadly poison, that num
erous distilleries were closed for want of busi
ness, and the liquor dealers besought him to
quit, declaring that he had cnt down their
3ales $ 1,0C0,000 per annum. He showed that
most of the liquor soid in Cincinnati was so
highly charged with deadly acids that it im
mediately attacked and corroded a knife blade
and in some cases left on it a coating of cop
per as if deposited by a battery. In nearly
1,000 stores and grog shops where he applied
the test, he found the liquors adulterated with
poisonous ingredients. lie mentions a score
of young men who have been sent to their
graves by less than three months' drinking of
this poison. Older men have been killed off
by dozens in the same way. Two-thirds of all
the iusane case in Ciucinuali proceed from the
same cause, many of them being boys under 19
years of age. One of them became incurably
insane by a single debauch on this adulterated
stuff. Much of this liquor inspected contined
only 17 per cent of alcohol, when it should
have contained 40 ; the rest being represented
by sulphuric acid, nitric and prussic acid, nitric
ether, fusil oil, mix vomica, Guiuea pepper,
and other pungent poisons, to give it strength.
These compounds Dr. Cox pronounced so deadly
that a single pint was sufficient to cause speedy
death. The veuders were accordingly prose
cuted, punished, and their deggerries closed.
The very few who were found to be selling
pure liquor were allowed to continue. But the
effect of these wholesale exposures on the
traffic was most salutary. Thousands immedi
ately quit drinking on learning that nothing *
but poison was dealt out to them. They will
now be repeated [here by Dr. Cox himself.—
Our city needs a purification as much as Cin
cinnati, as we have thousands of doggeries in
which the same rot gut compounds are sold.—
Our temperanco men intend applying for a law
authorizing the appointment of a Chemical
Inspector on the Cincinnati plan, so that if
strong drink mast be sold among U3, it shall
ut least be the genuine, unadulterated artile.
SOMETHING ABOUT KISSING.— The Rev. Sid
ney Smith or.ee said in writing of kissing, "wo .
are in favor of a certain degree of shyness when
a kiss is proposed, but it shouid not be contin
ed too long ; and when the fair one gives it
should be with warmth and energy. Let therw
be soul in it. If she'closes her eyes and sighs
deeply immediately after it, the effect is great
er. Fhe should be careful not to slobber a
kics, but give it as a hamming bird runs his
bill into a honey suckle—deep but delicate."
AN IRISH EXCULPATION.—" And is it upon
the oaths of them two witnesses yer honor is
going to condium me V said Pat to the Judge
about to pass sentence upon him. " Certaiuly,"
said the Judge, " their testimony was able to
convince the jury of your guilt." " Och, mur
der !'' exclaimed Pat, "to condimn me*on the
oath of two spalpeens, who swear they saw me
take the eroods, when I can bring a hundred
who will swear they didn't sec me do'it."
A lady passing through the conntry,ob
served the following notice on a board :
" Horses taken in to grass. Long tails, three
shilling and six pence ; short tails, two shil
lings." The lady asked the owner of the land
the reason for the difference of the price ?
He answered, "you see, ma'am, the loug tails
can brush away the flies ; but the shcrt tails
are tormented by them, that they can hardly
eat at all."
There is a place in New Hampshire \
where they never have any old maids. When
a girl reaches the age of twenty-nine, and is
still on the ladder of expectation, the young
fellows club together and draw lots for her.—
These who e c epe pay a bonas to the one that
geds her.