(HE DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOWANDA:
Thursday Morning, May 31, 1860.
jStkdtb "lottrj.
LIFE AND THE SIGN.
The summer tide is at the full,
The eglantine grows fresh and fair ;
And twilight brings a pensive lull
On musing sonl and scented air.
The crisp cicada's songs are hushed,
The mist is on the river,
The glow of fading day has blushed
Adown the western sky forever.
The aged host of the village inn
Looks musing on the street ;
And floating from the leafy lin,
The lily's breath is sweet—
And the host is humming a cheerful strain—
A ditty of love i' the olden_time,
Of a tender maid and a bashful swain,
And passionate vow and love divine ;
And the cry of the bittern in sombre glee
Breaks from the lonely fenland cover ;
And now, beneath the trysting tree,
They meet—the loved one and the lover.
And id'.ers round the hostel door
Are gathering for the night;
And homely song and sad folk lore
Will linger loug and light:
But ever, from its post on high,
The sign a lonely vigil keeps,
And looks, as with a sightless eye,
While life beneath its shadow sleeps ;
And there for many years it's stood—
In rain and sun and cold—
' Mid summer, winter, wind and flood,
And sun and sighed—so old, so old !
It stood when father John Devoe,
The parish Nestor, bent and worn,
First saw the light, years, years ago.
In a cottage there on l'aucras morn.
It stood when good Sir Rupert came,
Last scion of his fated line ;
Though all have changed, 'tis still the same-
Same sad and sighong, old, old sign!
The churchyard stones have numbered more-
Aye, many more, since it was new ;
And there, beside the hostel door,
'Twas planted,'ueath the ancient yew.
I've heard it on a winter's night,
When wailing wind the snow
Dashed in a dismal wild affright.
On the cold, cold earth below ;
I've heard it in the lion blasts,
Of blust'ring March, to fierce and free,
When sails are close on shiv'rirtg masts,
And storm is on tire trembling sea i
I've heard it when the autumn breeze
Its mournful requiem sung,
And eddying from the naked trees
The whirling leaves were flung r
I've heard it when the days were long,
And earth was wrapt in summer's fold;
But I'll ne'er forget the thoughtful song
It seems to sing—so old—so old 1
For looking down, it seems, forsooth.
From life to catch its mournful lay,
The echo of this mighty truth—
Lift, love, and joys, shall pass atray '
H. W,
Utistellan# tus.
School Law.
County Superintendent's Cerlifica.lt indispensa
ble—Decision of Hon. Judge Taylor.
The complaint contained in the petition of
a uutnber of citizens of the Borough of Hun
tingdon. against the Board of School Directors
and praying for their removal on the ground
that a teacher had been employed to take
charge of one of the public schools, who had
received a certificate from the County Super
intendent, was heard on Wednesday last, the
day fixed for that purpose by the Court, After
the hearing, one of the counsel of the Board
requested a3 early a decision as possible, since
he sail 1 , the opeuing of the schools had been
deferred until the controversy had been set
tled. Judge Taylor, stating that the Judges
had no doubt or difficulty respecting any ques
tion involved in this, proceeded to deliver the
opiuion of the Court, substantially as follows :
It is the duty of the County Superintend
ent, as the Common School system of Pennsyl
vania is now organized, to examine those who
desire to be employed as teachers, and to give
to each one found qualified, a " certificate set
ting forth the branches of learning he or she is
capable of teaching and the Act of Assem
bly expressly declares that " no teacher shall
be employed iu any school to teach other bran
ches than those set forth in such certificate."
No teacher can lawfully be employed at all,
who has not a certificate ; nor can any one be
employed to teach other branches than those
set forth in such certificate. Subject to this
limit, however, aud within it, the School Dire
ctors' may exercise a discretion with which no
body has any right to interfere, and for which
they are only answerable to the people who
elect him. But if they exceed their limit, and
violate a plain and express provision of the law
by employing " incompetent teachers, " or in
other words, teachers who have not received
certificates from the Couuty Superintendent,or
to teach branches which such certificates do
not show them to be qualified to teach, it be
comes the duty of the State Superintendent
(Act of Assembly, Sec. 38.) " to withold any
warrant for the quota of such district of the
annual State appropriation and such neglect
or refusal to employ competent teaehers persis
ted in for a moDtb, " such district shall forfeit
absolutely its whole quota of the State appro
priation for that j ear." This is the ground
and reason of complaint against these directors
and upon which their removal and the appoint
ment of others in their places, is sought,
The 9th section of the Act of Assembly pro
vides " that if all the members of any Board
ot Dirccvovt shall reluse or neglect to perform
their duties by levying the tax required by law,
aud to put or stop the schools iu operation so
far as the meaus of the district will admit, or
skaii neglect or refuse to perform, any other duly
enjoined by law, the Court of Quarter Sessions
of the proper county may, upou complaint i n
vriting by aoy 6ix taxable citizeus of the dia
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
trict, and on due proof thereof, declare their
seats vacant, and appoint others in their stead
until the next annual election for directors."—
To employ an " incompetent teacher," or one
whose competency and qualifications are not
condemned by " a certificate'* of the County
Superintendent, especially if persisted in so as
to hazard the district's quota of the annual
appropriation, it cannot be doubted is such a
neglect or refusal to perform a " duty enjoined
by law," as would make it the duty of the
Court to remove the directors, and supply their
plaees by the appointment of others. But the
question here is, whether these directors are
before us upon the facts of this case, and their
sworn answer to this complaint, in an attitude
which demands such action by the Court.
The teachers referred to iu the complaint,
are— - By a resolution of the Board
of Directors, teachers for all the schools were
chosen, and notified ; but the schools have not
yet been opened, and none of them have, as
yet, been actually employed. None of the
teachers had, at the time, formal certificates ;
but, with respect to all of them except,
and they were all known and admitted to
be entitled to certificates, and either have re
ceived or will receive them from the Superin
tendent. The Directors had, at the time of
their action, a communication from that officer
reporting the result of his public examination
of all the applicants for certificates ; and giv
ing assurance that all named upon it, except
ficates corresponding with the reported result
of the examination. With respect to all the
others, therefore, there was a virtual and sub
stantial compliance with the law. As to
the Directors acted, they allege in theirauswer
upon what was eontaiued in the Superinten
dent's report ; but, they distinctly dislaim any
intention or purpose to violate the law, and
declare that, if the communication of the Sup
erintendent is not equivalent to a certificate,
they are ready and willing to retrace their
steps and obey the law. It is to be noticed,
also, in their behalf, that a number of those
whose children are taught in the school assign
ed to Mr. ——, had strongly solicited his ap
pointment. They had, too, a report of his
scholarship from the Superintendent. Under
these circumstances,the Directors do not occupy
an attitude before the Court which calls for
their removal. They only desire to kuow their
duty, and declare their raadiness to do it. —
And this, the coniplaiuants here say, is all
thev want.
The only question of any pratical importance
in this case, therefore, is, was the report of Mr.
Owen, the Superintendent, a certificate to Mr.
we have no doubt whatever. The paper only
purports to be the result of the examination
It proceeds to name several in one class, and
styles then "first class" teacher?, without
more. It theu elakscs together a number of
others, grading their scholarship; with the
statement that certificates will be furnished
them accordingly. Then follows the report of
the scholarship of Mr. and another, with
some remarks derogatory of the former, and
with the intimation that a certificate will not
be given him except upon a contingency stat
ed. Was this" a certificate?" Clearly it was
not. The paper itself speaks of Certificates to
be given, as something different aud distinct ;
aud intimates that a certificateio Mr. may
be withheld The certificate, moreover, is a
document, the form of which is given in the
pamphlet containing a digest of the Acts of
Assembly, and the decisions of the State Super
intendent. placed in the hands of every Board
of Directors by authority, and familiar to every
one. It is not easy to see how such a paper
could be mistaken for a certificate.
It has been insinuated that the Superiuten
dent withheld the certificate improperly and
from personal motives. That, if true, does not
supply the place of a certificate. The question
for Directors in this matter, is, what his he
done ? not what should he have done. They
are not to determine the qualifications and
competency of teachers. That is his duty.—
Nor is lie an irresponsible officer. For suffi
cient reasons, he too, may be removed from
sfflce. But School Directors arc not constitu
ted his judges. "To his own master," or the
proper tribunal, must he answer for wilful or
corrupt violations of the public duty.
The respondents here, will, therefore, distin
ctly understand that it will be unlawful and a
violation of their official duty, to take into ser
vice as a teacher or any one else, unless
or uutil he or she shall receive a certificate
from the County Superintendent. And since
their attitude here is one of willingness to do
their duty, aud nothing more is asked of them
no further action is required ; and the com
plaiut is accordingly dismissed.
BY THE COURT.
INTERFERING WITH PROVIDENCE.— We have
a curious story of a professed New Church
man, who owns a large pile of money, and is
generally believed to love it most dearly. A
poor neighbor was in great need of a small
loan, by means of which he could save his lit
tle home from being forfeited and lost. He
called on the man who owned the money and
requested a little aid. The man considered
the case and at length replied :
" Well Mr. Jones, I have the money, it is
true, aud could spare it, and would do so if it
were not for one consideration. It seems that
Providence designs that you should suffer this
trial, and if I snould help you out, I might in
terfere with the purposes of Providence in re
gard to you."
FREQUENCY OF RECESS. —A law of the mus
cular system requires that relaxation and con
traction should alternate, or, in other words
that rest should follow exercise. In accord
ance with the law, it is easier to walk than to
stand ; and in standing, it is easier to change
from one foot to another than to stand still.—
This explainswhy small children after sitting
awhile in school become restless. Proper re
gard for this organic law requires that the
smaller children be allowed a rcccss as often
at least, once an boar,
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
" REGARDLESS Ot DENUNCIATION FROM ANT QUARTER."
Personal Traits of Washington.
A volume of recollections and private me
moirs of Washington, by his adopted son,
with a memoir of the author, by his daughter,
is juat out. There is much in it that will be
read with great interest.
HOW WASHINGTON RODE AFTER HIS HOUNDS.
Daring the interval between 1759 and 1774,
the time which Washington could spare from
his building and agricultural improvements
was devoted in a great measare to the plea
sures of the chase. He appears to have had
no tasle for shooting or fishing ; but fox hunt
ing was a sport in entire accordance with his
athletic habits and his fondness for equestrian
exercises. His kennel was situated near the
family vault, in which his remains were at
first deposited. It was a rude structure, but
afforded comfortable quarters for the hounds.
The pack was very numerous and select.—
Every morning and evening Washington vis
ited and inspected the kennels, in the same
manner as he did his stables. He took pride
in the discipline of his hounds. If in ruuning
one of them lost the scent another was at hand
immediately to recover it, and thus when in
full cry, in sporting phrase, you might cover
the pack with a blanket. He kept a register
of his horses and hounds, in which might be
fouud the names, age, and marks of each, and
with these companions of the chase he was as
punctual in his attendance as to any\>ther
business of his life. At the commencement of
the season, Mount Yernon became crowded
with guests fTom the neighborhood, from Mary
land and elsewhere. Their visits were pro
longed not only for days but for weeks, and
they were entertained with the exuberant hos
pitality of the Old Dominion. Washington
was always superbly mounted, and in the gen
uine costume of the chase. He wore a blue
coat, scarlet waistcoat, buck-skin breeches,
top boots, and velvet cap. With his long
thonged whip in hand he took the field at day
break. Will Lee, his huntsman, and a brave
array of friends and neighbors, followed in the
train, but none rode more gallantly in the
chase, or with more cheery voice awoke the
echoes of the woodland, than the host of
Mount Vernon.
After the close o F the Revolution, the hunt
ing establishment, which had gone down during
the last war, was renewed by the arrival of a
pack of French hounds, sent by Lafayette.—
These dogs wete of gVeat strength and fierce
courage. They would have been able to en
counter the wolf or bear, or even to grapple
with the lion on his native sands, as well as to
pull down the stag in the American forest
It was necessary to keep them in close confine
ment, as, from their ferocious disposition, they
would not hesitate to devour a stranger who
might pass their keunel after nightfall, should
the gates be unclosed. The huntsman always
presided at their meals, and it was ou'y by the
vigorous use of the lash that any degree of
law and order covld be preserved among these
savage animale. If the weather permitted,
there was a hunt three times a week. Break
fast was served on those mornings by candle
light. Washington, as usual, took nothing
but an Indian-cake and a bowl of milk. Be
fore sunrise the whole cavalcade would often
have left the house and unkenneled the fox.—
Washington was one of the most accomplished
cavaliers. He rode with aase, elegauce, aud
power ; he took no account of any vicious
propensities of his horse. The oniy quality
which he demanded of a horse was that he
should go along, and ridiculed the idea that he
could be unseated, provided that the animal
kept on his legs. Indeed, with his sinewy
frame and iron mnscles, he had such a tena
cious grip with his knees that a horse might
as easily throw off his saddle as such a rider.
His famous animal for the chase was a horse
called Blueskic, of a dark iron gray color ap
proaching to blue. This was a fine, but fiery
steed, of great endurance in a long'run. The
hunt-man Will, better known in Revolution
lore as Billy, rode a horse called Chiukling, a
wonderful leaper and very much like its rider,
low, but sturdy, and of great bone and muscle.
The only duty of Will was to keep with the
hounds. Gallantly did he perform his task.
Mounted on Chinkling, throwing himself ah ;
most full length on the animal, with a French ,
horn at his back, and his spur in flank, this
bold rider would rush at full speed, through
brake or tangled wood, in a style at which ,
modern huntsmen would stand aghast. There !
were roads cut through the woods in various
directions, by which timid hunters, and even
ladies, could enjoy the exhilarating cry, with
out risk of life or limb, but Washington rode j
gaily up to his dogs, nor spared his impetuous |
steed, as the distended nostril of Blueskin
would show, lie was always in at the death,
and yielded to no man the honor of the brush.
After the chase, the party would return to the
mansion house, where, at the well spread board
and with the flowing glass, the incidents of
the field were discussed, while Washington,
never deviating from his orderly habits for the
sake of convivial pleasures, would, after a few
glasses of Maderia, retire supperlcss to bed
at nine o'clock.
MANLINESS. —The purpose of life is to form
a manly character,to get the best^ development
of body and spirit—of mind, conscience, heart
and soul. This is the end ; all else is the means.
Accordingly, that is not the most successful
life in which a man gets the most pleasure, the
most money or ease, the most power or place,
honor or fame ; but that in which a man gets
the most manhood, performs the greatest
amount of human duty, enjoys the greatest
amount of human right, and acquires the great
est amount of manly character. It is no im
portance whether he wib this by wearing a
hod upon his shoulders or a crown upon his
head. It is the character, and not the crown,
I value. The crown perishes with the head
that wore it ; but the character lives with im
mortal man who achieved it.
a&r You must rise earlier, and sit np later,
and work harder thaD you employees, or yonr
business will suffer from their neglect as well
as from your own.
Gossip about Duelling.
It is belieted that the fate which overtook
the parties in the first duel ever fought in
New England has been the cause of much of
the odium with which duelling is regarded in
that section of our country. These parties
were two serving-men, who falling into a dis
pute, agreed to settle their differences after the
manner of " gentlemen," by swords and dag
gers. They fought in 1621, the year after the
landing of the pilgrims, and both were severe
ly, though not dangerously, wounded. There
was no statute in relation to the offence, so
the elders got together to consider the method
of punishment. It was decided they should
be tied together neck and heels with stout
thongs, aud be compelled to endnre each oth
er's companionship for twenty-fonc hours, with
out food or drink. The sentence was carried
into executiou j and the ridicule which was
thrown upon the practice of duelling by this
event has descended to our own day.
Within a year or two after the Cilley and
Graves duel in Washington, by which Cilley
was murdered, Mr. Graves, even then stricken
with horror by the never-failing remembrance
of his crime, was on his way from Kentucky,
through the interior of this State, to one of
the northern counties. The coach stopped for
the night at Pekiu, Tazewell county, at a ho
tel then kept by Sam Knott, afterward a brave
lieutenaut in the 4th Illinois regiment of Mex
ican volunteers, It was announced soon af
ter Mr. Graves' arrival who he was. Knott
said nothing then, but when Mr. Graves ask
ed for a bed (he had not taken supper,) ad
dressed him thus : " No, sir, you canuot
sleep in my house. You are not worth enough
to buy a lodging under my roof. Go, there is
blood on your hands I" The ex-Congressman
went, and, with his cloak wrapped around him,
passed the night iu the coach iu the stable
yard. Poor Knott died on shipboard, between
Vera Cruz and New Orleans, after haviug
goue through all the dangers of the campaign.
As a man of true courage and magnanimity,
he had an aversion to the duel which he could
uot couceal.
It is a little singular that Illinois, settled at
first by men from the States where the code is
recognized, should have escaped with the few
duels that have been fought on her soil. The
case related in Governor Ford's history of the
State, iu which the survivor iu a fatal meet
ing was tried by a jury and hung, may have
done much to give an early and salutary di
rection to public opinion in this matter. Across
the river, iu Missouri, the duel has never been
unpopular. Her politicians, editors, lawyers,
doctors, etc., were only a few years ago par
ticularly foud of appeals to the code as the
arbiter of their quarrels. All our older read
eis will recollect the fight between Biddle and
Pettis—both gentlemen of distinction, aud
both of unquestionable courage. They fought
with pistols at a distance of only five feet. —
When in position, their weapons overlapped.
Both as cool aud collected as a clergyman iu
the pulpit, fired at the word. Both were kill
ed. Cases of lesser note, in an early day,
were by uo means unfrequent ; but the prac
tice never crossed the river into Illinois. Gen
eral Shields, when living at Belleville, used to
show that he had the blood of Donnybrook in
his veins ; and at one time it was thought that
he was determined upon a set-to with Senator
(then Judge) Trumbull ; but his vaporing
came to nattght, and the two gentlemen now
maintain friendly personal relations.— Chicago
Tribune.
NOT WORTH THE TROUBLE. —" Oh, it's not
worth the trouble to dress ; I see only my
husband." Then) madam, if your husband is
not better worth pleasing tliau a host of "com
pany," it is a pity you are married. Not
worth the trouble to look better to him than
to his merest acquaintances ? Not worth the
trouble to surround yonrself with every grace
and fascination that you are capable of? Then
if you are a neglected wife byand-by, never
complain, for it is yotir own fault: it was "not
worth the trouble" to have a happy home.
" Oh, it's not worth the trouble,'' says the
nervous mother, snatching the implements of
work from her awkward child } " not worth
the trouble to teach her ; I can do it better
myself." Can you? Then how, if this is
your method, will the child ever learn to be
come useful ? If her timid services are not
worth the trouble of encouraging, how can
you blame her if in after years she prefers to
sit in the parlor, and leaves the work to you ?
The instructor, who has not one tithe of the
interest you should have in the child, thinks
it well worth the trouble to impart to her a
dozen different accomplishments ; alas that the
mother should be more indifferent than a
stranger 1
llow TO ENJOY TOOTHACHE. —To enjoy this
delectable pain to its fullest extent, you should
have it in all its glory for about a week. Let
the paiu permeate aud insinnate into every
portion of the body, racing, jumpiug and
springing around generally like rats in a corn
crib ; let it ache until you can't tell whether
the pain is in yonr month, on the top of your
head, or in your cravat, bat rather think it is
around there ; let it ache until you feel like it
would be a great relief to bold up your head
by the ears and shake oat every molar, incisor,
grinder, and acher in it ; let it ache until you
are doubtful whether you stand in the position
that nature assigned you, or with your heels
in the air ; let it ache antil yon seriously be
lieve that every bone, nerve and muscle of
your body is full of teeth, and that every tooth
is aching on its own hook, and then, when you
have enough pain to fit out an hospital—when
you feci like kicking yourself down stairs—
when yon are exceedingly anxions to fall down
somewhere and break yonr neck—then, we re
peat you will begin to realize the toothache.
agy We cannot advise any one to enlist in
the army of the United States. Even if the
soldier if well treated, the life he leads in time
of peace, is one of idleness, and one that un
fits him for other and better occupations.
A PARAGRAPH MATRIMONIAL. —Choosing a
wife is a perilous piece of business. Do you
suppose there is nothing of it but evening vis
its, boquets and popping the question ? My
dear, simple yonng man, you ought not to be
trusted by yourself alone 1 Take care that
you don't get the gilt China article, that looks
exceedingly pretty on the mantle-piece until
the gilt and ornament are all rubbed off, and
then is fit only for the dust pile 1 A wife
should be selected on the same principle as a
calico gown. Bright colors and gay patterns
are not always the best economy. Get some
thing that will wash aud wear. Nothing like
the suns and showers of matrimony to bleach
out these deceptive externals ! Don't choose
the treasure by gas-liubt, or in parlor-sitting.
Broad day-light is the best time—a kitchen
the most sensible place. Bear in mind, sir,
that the article once bargained for, you can't
exchange it if it dou't suit. If you buy a
watch and it don't run as you expected, you
can send it to a jeweler to be repaired : iu the
case of a wife, once paired you can't re pair.
She may run in the wrong direction—very
well, sir ; all that is left for you is to run af
ter ber, and an interesting chase you will prob
ably find it I If you get a good wife you will
be the happiest fellow alive ; if you get a bad
one, you may as well sell yourself for two and
sixpence at once I Just as well to consider all
these things before hand, young man.
NEEDLE WORK. —There is somethiug ex
tremely pleasant, and touching—at least, of
very sweet, soft and winning effect—in this
peculiarity of needle-work, distinguishing .men
from women. Our own sex is incapable of
any such by-law aside from the main business
of life, but women—be they of what earthly
rank they may, however gifted with intellect
or genius, or endowed with awful beauty—
have always some little haudiwork to fill up
the tiny gap of every vacant moment. A
needle is familiar to the fingers of them all.—
A queen, no doubt, applies It on occasions ;
the woman poet can use it as adroitly as her
pen ; the woman's eye that has discovered a
uew star, turns from its glory to send the pol
ished little instrument gleaming along the hem
of her kerchief, or to darn a casual fray in
her dress. And they have the advantage of
us in this respect. The slender thread of silk
or cotton keeps them united with the small,
familiar, geutle interests of life, the continual
ly operating influences of which do so much
more for the health of the character, aud car
ry off what would otherwise be a dangerous
accumulation of morbid sensibility. A vast
deal of human sympathy runs along this dec
trie line, stretching from the throne to the
wicker chair of the humblest seamstress, and
keeping high and low in a species of commun
ion with their kindred beings. Methinks it is
a token of healthy and gentle characteristics,
when women of accomplishments aud high
thoughts love to sew, especially as they are
never more at home with their own hearts
than when so occupied.— Hawthorne.
Sti.ENcE tx NATURE. —It is a remarkable
and instructive fact, that many of the most
important operations of nature arc carried on
iu unbroken silence. There is no creaking of
heavy axles or groaning of cumbrous machine
ry as the solid earth wheels on its way, and
every planet aud system performs its revolu
tions. The great trees bring forth their boughs
and shadow the earth beneath them—the
plants cover themselves with buds, and the
buds burst into flowers } hut the whole trans
action is unheard. The change from snow and
winter winds to the blossoms and fruits and
sunshine of summer is seen in its slow develop
ment, but there Is scarcely a sound to tell the
mighty transformation. The solemn chant of
the ocean, as it raises its unchanged and un
ceasing voice, the roar of the hurricane, and
the soft notes of the hreeXe, the rushing of the
mountain river, and the thunder of the black
browed storm, all this is the music of nature
—a great and swelling anthem of praise,
breaking in on the universal calm. There is
a lesson for us here, the mightiest worker in
the Universe is the most unobtrusive.
IIOI.D ON.— Hold on to your tongue when
you are just ready to swear, lie, or speak harsh
ly, or use an improper word.
Hold on to your hand when yon are about
ready to strike, scratch, steal, or do any im
proper act.
Hold on to yonr foot when yon are on the
point of kicking, running away from study,
or pursuing the path of error, shame or crime.
Hold ou to your temper when you are an
gry, excited, or imposed upon, or others are
angry about you.
Hold on to your heart when evil associations
seek yonr company, and invite you to join in
their games, mirth and revelry.
Hold on to your good Dame at all times, for
it is more valuable to you than gold, high places
or fashionable attire.
Hold on to the truth, for it will serve well;
and do good throughout eternity.
Hold on to your virtue—it is above all price
to you in all times and places.
Hold on to yonr good character, for it is
and ever will be, your best wealth.
UNWRITTEN POETRY.— It is stamped npon
the broad blue sky, it twinkles in every star,it
mingles in the ocean's surge, and glitters in the
dew drop that gems the lily's bell. It grows
in the gorgeous colors of the decline of day,
and rests in the blackened crest ot the gather
ing stormcloud. It is in the mountain's heightb
and in the cataract's roar—in the towering oak
and in the tiny flower. Where we can see the
hand of God, there beauty finds her dwelling
place.
It is not over the great things of this
life over which mortals stumble. A rock we
walk round, a mountain we cross ; it is the
unobserved, unexpected, onlooked for little
stick; and pebbles which cause us to halt on
our journey. The blind may run against a
rock anl! not fall; bat pnt a 6mall matter in
his way and ne will stumble over it.
VOL. XX. —NO. 55*.
MANAGING WINDOWS FOR Alß. —There is
always a draught through key-holes and win
dows crevices, because as the external air is
coldei than the air in the room we occupy, it
rushes through the window crevices to Bupply
the deficiency caused by the escape of warm
air up the chimney. If you open the lower
sash of a window, there is more draft than if
you open the upper sash. The reason of this
is because if the lower sash be open, cold air
will rush into the room and cause a great dra!t
inward ; but if the upper sash be open tie
heated air of the room will rush out, and of
course there will be less draft Inward. A room
is best ventilated by opeuing the upper sash,
because the hot ventilated air, which always
ascends towards the ceiling, can escape mora
easily. The wind dries damp linen, because
dry wind, like a sponge, imbibes the particles
of a vapor from the surface of the linen as fast
as they are formed. The hottest place in a
church or chapel is the gallery, because the
heated air of the building asceuds, and all the
cold air which can enter through the doors
and windows keeps to the floor till it has be*
come heated.
Special attention should be given to the
ventilation of sleeping rooms j for pure air and
an abuudaace of it are, if possible, more nt
cessary when we are asleep than when we are
awake. Sleeping rooms should be large,high,
and airy, more espicially in warm latitudes,
and in situations where the windows have to
be kept closed at night on account of malaria.
" I DID AS THE REST DlD." —This tame yield
ing spirit—this doing " us the rest did " —has
rained thousands.
A young man is invited by vicious compan
ions to visit the theatre, or gambling room, or
other haunts of licentiousness. He becomes
dissipated, spends his time, loses his credit,
squanders bis property, at last sinks into an
untimely grave. What ruined him? Simply
" doing what the rest did."
A father has a family of sons. He is weal
thy. Other children in the same situation of
life do so aud so ; are indulged io this thing and
that. He indulges hD own in the same way.
They grow up i Hers, triflers, and fops. The
father wonders why his children do not succeed
better. He has spent so mu.h money on their
education—has given great advantages ; but
alas 1 they are ouly a source of vexation and
trouble. Poor man, he is just paying the pen
alty of " doing as the rest did."
This poor mother strives hard to bring up
her daughters genteelly. They learn what
others do, to paint, to sing, to play, to dance,
and several useful matters. In time they mar
jy, their husbands are unable to support their
extravagance, and they are soon reduced to
poverty and wretchedness. The good womau
is astouished. " Truly," says she," I did as the
rest did."
The sinner, following the example of others
puts off repentance, and neglects to prepare
for death. He passes along through life, till,
unawares, death strikes the fatal blow. He
has no time left now to prepare. And he goea
down to destruction, because be was so foolish
as to " do as the rest did."
THE ESD.— Generation after generation from
the unknown beginning, so stormful, busy, I
have seen thuudering dowD, down ; and all
tall silent—nothing but some feeble re-echo,
with grew eveu feebler, struggling up; and
oblivion has swallowed them all. Thousands
more the unknown ending will follow; and
thou hangest here as a drop, still son-gilt oa
the giddy edge, one moment while the dark
ness has not yet engnlphed thee. O, brother!
is that of small interest? andfor/Aee ? Awake
poor troubled sleeper ; shake off thy torpid,
uight-mare dream j look, see, behold it—the
tlaine image ; splendors high, terrors deep as
Hell ; this a man's life !— Carlyle.
RATHER IPLE.— A popular preacher tells a
good story as a hit at those kind of christians
who are too indolent to pursue the duties re
quired of them by their faith. He says that
one pious gentleman composed a very fervent
prayer to the Almighty, wrote it legibly, and
affixed the manuscript to bis bed-post. Then
ou cold nights, he merely pointed to the "doc
ument," and with the words, " Oh, Lord 1
those are my sentiments I" blew out the light
aud nestled amid the blankets.
THE BIBLE.— Out of the Bible have cotne
all pure moralities. From it bare sprung all
sweet charities. It has been the motive power 1
of regeneration ana reformation to millions of
men. It has comforted the humble, consoled
mourning, sustained the suffering, and given
trust and triumph to the dying. The wise old
man has fallen asleep with it folded to his breust
the simple cottager has used it for his dying
pillow ; and even the iuuocentchild has breath
ed bis last happy sigh with fingers between its
promise-freighted leaves.
I®- A passenger on a steamer had a roll of
canvass with him ; in a larch of the boat it
rolled overboard. He pitched in after it; on
seeing which, aby-stander remarked, " As that
fellow is in for a duck, he is bound to have the
i canvass back !"
I®* A writer, who aims at satire la one of
our magazines, intimates that Apolld has givefl
him bis bow and arrow. Seme other power
should give him what he seems more worthy
of—the 6tring.
Were you really a plucky fellow yoti
would not make a prodigious show of sorrow
at " not having knocked the puppy down " fof
throwing a cigar in your face.
The man of genius is Dot the master of
the power that is in him ; is is by the ardeut,
irresistible need of expressing what he feels, ad
he is a man of genius. This mysterious power
Socrates called bis demon ; Voltaire called it
i the devil in tbe body