Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, February 28, 1861, Image 1

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T O 13 A.:
Tltirsday Morning, February 28, 1861.
tVe wtre not many—we who stood
Before the iron -kvt that Jay,
Yet many a gallant spirit would
Lire half his years if be but could
Hare been with us at Monterey.
Kow here, now there the shot is hailed
In deadly drifts of fiery spray,
Yet nol a *inde soWier quailed
When w >unded comrades round them wailed
yLieir dv,nc shouts at d'-nterer.
And on. still on. onr column kept.
Throueh walls of flame its withering way ;
Where fell the dead, the living slept,
St.:. charging on the guns that swept
The slippery streets of Moutcrey.
The foe himself recoiled aghast.
When striking where he strongest lay.
We swooped its flanking batteries past,
And braving full their murderous blast,
Stormed home the towers o! Monterey.
Our banner* on the turrets wave.
An 1 there the evening bugles play.
Where orange boughs above their graves
Keep green the memory of the rave
Who fought and fell at Monterey.
We are not many—we who press d
Beside the l>rae > A., that day ;
Hut who of us has not confessed
He d rather share their warrior rest.
IB- n not have been at Monterey,
]!*- :s a little fiowret from the Louisville Amr*.',
1 -.• • rfuitie :* the soul of sweetness : tiic friends I low be near me
When 1 die ?
Will they shrink to touch the pallor
Of the lips that turn to meet them.
Trembling with the Last " Good hyel"
My my father's arms cnfUJ me
When 1 diei
Tiiey w.i'. shield my heart fr-im terror
When 1 g-> to not I the s uu *i
That tinea:h the Cowers i.e.
And my mother, sweet*.-t mother.
When 1 die !
1 wji.LJ hare thy \ ice to seoh.e
1 ii it iitiuglej * th the music
Of the angels ia the sky.
Brothers sisters, kiss rae often
When 1 die.
And my bpr will mail# in closing
At if closed in dreams so golden
That 1 would n t ie to sigh.
B Ah. the w rid will <-n f rgct me.
When I die,
lAnJ its p wer mil b'.-.<om so brightly
And it* b.rJs " . ' - ng so sweet'.y
Though 1 loved them and I dx*.
Slll cll k tf :t Ic.
Widow Simpson's Spoons.
T * ; irish of Bathgate, in Linlithgowshire,
•" „• ; to be reckoned Rmong the classic spots
i s '.land, inasmuch *•= it formed part of the
i ry which Robert the Bruce bestowed on
<; -st daughter Margery, when she rcarri
t: Walter, the High Steward o r SeeUaad f aod
: • b ante the progenitrix of the royal and
'..ST onse of Suart. Lying mid wav be
:*az Edir.bnrg and Glasgow, those rival
reeas c ? east and west, but out of the corn
- track of traffic and travel, it has been for
; pastoral parish, of small and rather
rt.swsrd farms. Of late years coal has been
[' t ".nrre ; and steam and trade, winch bid
I'v te rave the world no rustic corner, are
It - t it into a mining district: which
k >:r thought of about the time of the gen
.:• when Bathgate lived on its own
-• v barky, wore its own hoddeu gray,
at two suhjectsof interest—the corn
a ; the kirk-session Among its peaee-
Pfi , iistrious ppnlatlon there was one
*J \ though neither the wealthiest nor
f'* '--i orn. stood, in her own esteem, above
P- t:' tie la.rd and the minister: andherstyle
P- '*•'. ? was Widow Simpson This lady
-id herself—not on the farm left her rood
1~-- ** ha i departed this life some seven
F > *e * commencement of oar storv.
P " Us res *ere few, and thej consisted of
p : "" a 'red mooriaod not oo her erowu-np
o . though he was counted a likely
f - ad—not on her owa thrifty house
r ■ tuvugh .t was kaowa to be oo the
r* t -crew j r pie—but ou the possession of
f ' ' sh- - teasp-vns. Her account of
I i'- .hey had belonged to the Yonng
f i had bee a bestowed upon her
return for entertaining that
t 4 B uish crown on his march from
'"—in proof vf wn chshe wasaecustotn
a* t out a half obliterated crest and the
K 1 ' 1 S -th w h they were irkri
g i or< however, had a differ
p. .A.* regard g ;he r coming into the fami
■ " Wis l 'Y tne effect that her grandfalher.
k. 1 small ,nn somewhere in Fife, had
i • _ ■ 'ia of an i.l-doiQf .aird for three gal-
snd whiskey, and had bestowed
! ' 4 ' -* r *' d-daccbter, as the one of his
st kely to iioid fast to such an im
p" 95 ac^ c: ' : ' oa -
A-auy re< .led, ia the capacity of
pj • Vi- cy i. aapbei'.a girl of about uinc
h--r •* T suspected of having taken a
n w ho reciprocated tbe senti-
P r whmg, however, would soften tbe
i. ■' " ' Irw tne match until
ts.-y"• fcihwiag event occurred and
h" ; . ./" ? v - ay :—A t- .lie :.ay mak
-1 ' ''-Ar,*. tL>d comparatively nc'h rela- '
i-. 10 cad and take tea that
I -TaT, **y from LiaiithC'*. It was
I ■ .'2 reiat v hooared
4 T • : Mrs 6 -
j t-e wait.r-g iok^
entertainment, brooght out the treasured
spoons early in the ferenoou,with many injunc
tions to Nancy touching Jthe care she should
take in brightening thern up. While this opera
tion was being performed in the kitchen, in
the midst of one of those uncertain days which
vary the northern June, a sudden darkening of
the sky announced the approach of a heavy
rain. The hay was dry and ready for housing.
Robin and two farm men waere busy gather
ing it in : but the great drops began to fall
while a considerable portion yet remained in
the field, and with the instinct of crop preser
vation, forth rushed the widow, followed by
Nancy, leaving the spoons half-scoured on the
kitchen table. In her rapid exit the girl had
forgotten to latch the door. The weasel and
the kite were the only depredators known
about the moorland farm; but while they were
all occrpied in the hayfield, who shoold coaie
that wav but Geordv Wilson.
Well, the kitchen door was open.and Geordy
stepped in. He banged the settle with his
staff, he cooghed, he hemmed, he saluted the
cat, which sat purring oil the window-seat.and
at length discovered there was no oue within.
Neither meal nor penny was to be expected
that day, the rain was growing heavier, some
of the hay must be wet, A Mrs. Simpson would
retnrn in bad humor But two objects power
fully arrested Geordy's attention ; one was the
broth-pot boiling on the fire, and the other the
silver spoons scattered on the table. Bending
over the former, Geordy took a considerable
sniff, gave the ingredients a stir with the pot
hook. and muttered, " very thin." His pro
! coedtugs with regard to the latter must remain
unmentioned; but half au hour afterwards,
when he was safely ensconced in a farm house
a mile of. the family were driven within doors
I by the increasing storm: they found everything
as it had been left—the broth ou the fire, the
j cat on the window-seat, whiting and flannel
ou the table ; but not a spoon was there.
I "\\ liar's the spooos ? cried Mrs. Simpson
j to the eutire family, who stood by the fire
drying their wet garments. Nobody could
tell. Nancy had left tbeni on the tabic when
1 she ran to the hay. No one had !>een iu the
house, they were certaiu, for nothing was dis
turbed. The drawer was pulled out, and the
stocking exhibited. Every shelf, every cor
ner was searched, Lut to no purpose; the
spoons had disappeared, and tbe state of the
farm-house may be imncined. The widow ran
through it like one distracted, questioning,
scolding and searching. Hobin, Nancy and
the farm-men were despatched in different di
re>'; <uis, ns soon as the rain a' a'ed, to adver
tise the neighbors, under the supposition that
some strolling beggar or gipsy might have car
ried off the treasure, and would attempt to dis
pose of it in tlie parish. Nobody thought cf
Geordy Wilson: he had uot be-n spied from
the hayfield; his circuits were wide ; his vi-its
to the honse were not frequent: and if heesch
ewe.i Widow Simjison's from the day ot her
loss, it was because Geordy know that neith r
her tenver nor her liberality would be improved
by that circumstance. 1. st the spoons were,
beyond a doubt, and the widow bade fair to
fcvte her set s s.
The rich relation came at the appointed
rime, and had such a tea that he voe i never
again to trnst himself in the boose of hri cuter
tainec. But ther sparch went on : rabbit
holes were locked into for tie missing siiv. r
and active boys were Bribed to turn out mag
pie*'nests. Wells and barns in tbe ncigi.bor
boo-d were explored. The criers of th- ueare>t
par *hcs were employed to proclaim the loss;
it was reguiariy advtrtised at kirkgate and tbe
market : aces ; a:.d Mrs S ir.pson began to
ta k of gettiug a search-warrant for the big
gar's nual pouch Bathgate was alarmed
through all its borders concerning the spoons ;
but when almost a mouth wore away,ai.d noth
ing couid be heard coucerning the spoons, the
widow's suspicion turned from beggars, barns,
and magpies, to light ou poor Nancy. She
had been scouring the spoons, and left the
bouse last : silver coul l not leave the table
without Fan is. It was true that Nancy had
a!way borne an unquestioned character but
such spoons were not to be met with eTtry day
and Mrs. Simpson was determined to have
them back ia her stockii g. After sundry
bints to Robin, who could not help thinking
that Ins mother was losing her judgment, she,
one day, plumped the charge, to the utter as
tooishinent of tbe poor g;rl, whose anxiety
in tbe search hap been inferior only to her own
Toough poor and an orphan. Nancy had some (
honest pride ;sbe immed.atciy turned oat the
whole contents of her kist, box.) unstrung
her jxxket in Mrs.'s presence.and then
ran tears in her ejes to tell the minister
As was common theu ia the county parishes
of Scotland, d.fficultics and disputes which
xtght have employed the writers and puzzled
tae magistrates were referred to his arbitration
and thus iawsuits and scandal prevented. The
n. ulster had heard, ss who in Bathgate had
not ?of Mrs. Simpson's loss. Like the rest of
the parish he thought it i> very strange:
but Nancy t'ampbeii was one of the most ex
empla-v g.rls ia his congregation—he could
not believe that the charge preferred against
her was true: yet the peculiarities of the caae
demanded investigation With some difficulty
the mini-ter persuaded Nancy to return to her
mistress, bearing a message to the effect that
he and two of his elders who happened to re
side in the neighborhood, would come over in
the following evening, hear what could be aaid
on both sides, and, if possible, dear op the
mystery. Tuc widow was wed pleased wnhlhe
m : tster and his eider? coming to inquire after
her sponv trite put oo ber best narci— tna:
is to sav cap—prepared her best speecnes. and
enlisted some of the most serious and reliable
of ner neighbors to as-ist ID the investigation.
Early in the evening ot the following day—
when the summer was wearing low and the
field w rk was over—they were ail assembled
in the c.*ean scoured kitchen. The ministers,
elders, and neighbors, soberly listened to Mrs. <
Simpson's testimony touch tug her lost stiver, i
Nancy, Robin, and tbe farm men setting by t;;l
turn cam? ; when the door winch had
been left opn to admit tbe breeze —for the
tVtQiDg was saltry— WAS qu elly pushed aside,
and in slid Geordy, with his usual accompani
ments of staff and wallet.
"There's nae room for ye here, Geordy,"
said she; "we're on weighty business."
"Weel, mem," said Geordy, turning to de
part, " it's of nae consequence. I ouly came to
speak about your spoons."
" Hae ye heard o' them ?" cried Mrs. Simp
son ; bouncing from her seat.
" I couldna miss bein' blessed wi' the preci
ous gift o' hearin"; and, what's better, I saw
them," said Geordy.
" Saw them Geordy ? Wliar are they 7 and
here's a whole shilhV for ye;" and Mrs. Simp
son's purse, or rather an old glove used for
that purpose was instantly produced.
" W eel, said Geordy, " I slipped in ae day,
and seein'the siller unguarded,l thought some
ill-guided body might covet it, and jist laid it
by, I may say, among the leaves o' that Bible
thinkin' yon would be sure to see the spoons
when you went to read."
Before Geordy had finished his revelation,
Nancy Campbell had brooght down the proud
ly displayed but never opened Bible,and inter
spersed between its leaves lay the dozen loog
sought spoons.
lhe mioister of Bathgate could scarcely
command his gravity while admonishing Geor
dy on the trouble and vexation his trick had
cansed. Ihe assembled neighbors laughed
outright when the daft nan, pocketing the
widow's shilling, which he had clutched in the
early part of his discourse, assured them all
that he kenned Mrs. Simpson read her bible
so often that the spoons would be certain to
turn out. Geordy cot many a basin of broth
and a luncheon of bread and cheese on account
of that transaction, with which he amused all
the firesides of the parish, Mrs. Simpson was
struck dumb even from scolding. The discov
ery put an end to her ostentatious professions,
and it may be hoped, turned her atteutioa
more to practice. Byway of making amends
for her unjust imputations on Nancy Campbell,
she consented to receive her as a daughter in
law within the year ; and it is said there was
peace ever afterwards iu the farm house ; but
the good people of Bathgate, when discussing
a character of more pretence than performance
still refer to Widow Simpson's spoons.
Ancient Rains in the United States.
Dim and mysterious is the eer'y history of
man on this coutinent. It is enveloped iu thick
darkness, never, it may be presumed, to be
penetrated by human research. And yet the
ruins of ancient cities are frequently discovered
that tell of a race that has long since pass
ed away—probably exterminated by the
ancestors of our present Indians, who are also
fast departing from the human family—fair'.y
dying out, before the ever-advancing influence
of the pale-faces But these monumental cities
indicate great populations, and prove the exis
tence of mighty men of old. A new stimulus
is likely to be given to American archaeology,
by a discoverv recently made siaie ninetv mile.-
northeast of Fort Stan'on, a long account of
wHch has appeared in Fort Smith Arkansas)
Ti vj.
The plain upon which lie the massive relics
of g temples and magnificent halls,slopes
gradually eastward toward the river Fecos, and
is very fertile, crossed by a gargling stream of
the purest water, that not only sustains a rich
vegetation, but perhaps furnished with this
necessary element the thousands who once iu
ha 1 it-d this present wilderness. The city was
. probably bu;:t by a warlike race, as it isquad
' raogu'ar, and arranged with skill to afford
the highest protection against an exterior foe,
many of the buildings ou the outer lines being
pierced with loopholes, as though calcu'ated
for the use of weapons. Several of the build
-1 are of vast size, and built of massive
blocks of a dark granite rock,which coul l only
have beeu wrought to their present condition
by a vat amount of labor. There are tDe
ruins of three noble edifices, each presenting a
front of three hunlred feet, made of ponderons
blocks of stone, and the dilapidated wails are
even now thirty five feet high. There are no
partitions in the area of the middle (supposed
temple, so that the room must have been vast:
and there are also carvings in bas relief aud
fresco work. Appearances justify to conclu
sion that these silent ruins could once boa-t of
halts as gorgeously decorated by tbe artist's
hand as those of Thebes and Fa'myra The
buildings are all loopholed in each side, much
re"mbling those found in the old feudal castles
of Europe, designed for the use of archers.—
Toe blocks ol w hieh the ed uces are formed are
cemented together by a species of mortar of a
biiuminons character, which has such tenacity
that vast masse? of wJI have fallen down
without the blocks being detached by the
For a great many years had Mr Twist borne
the title of Deacon. Clergy and laity recog
nized it and everybody called him deacon.—
"Go>l morn : ag Deacon Twist," was common
salutation, and 't seemed fitting that he should
be a deacon, because be was sach a good
quiet, benevolent man. Your neighbor. Dea
con Twi-t, seems to be a great favorite," oue
said, who had lately moved into the neighbor
hood, to an old settler ; "what church is he
deacon of : " " Not of any church," wa the
reply. " Well, what gives him his title, then ;
the stranger continued. " Why." said the
one questioned. " when they were piasteriag
the new church down there, be and another
mar. sat up one cold night to watch the fire so
that their work should'nt freeze : and to keep
awake they played old sledge in the o-gan
loft, and he has been called deacon to this
A Fashion Lose Nsedrt —lt is stated that
the latest " fashion '' announced from Europe
is that of dressing very p.a,:,iy when gong to
church. Some of the ladies of the first circles
go up to worship in plain calico. It is thus
sought to encourage tbe attendance of the poor
who have hitherto witnneid taere presence
for lack of "Sunday clothe*.*
The Banker of Antwerp.
In 1814, there lived at Antwerp a bauker
who had a passion of speculation, but who in
variably was unsuccessful, This ilMack be
came proverbial; his affairs fell iDto confurion,
and all Antwerp looked to see him become
bankrupt and retire from the preciucts of tbe
Exchange, when suddenly his luck changed,
and he gained in every operation he under
took as invariably as he had formerly lost.—
No matter how suddenly or how violently the
funds went up or down in Faris, London,
Vienna, or elsewhere, the Antwerp banker
was always a gainer by every movement of the
money market, no matter how capricions.—
In the course of two years he realized a large
fortune, quitted Antwerp with his wife and
family, and established himself for the rest of
his life in a charming country seat, where he
abandoned himself to the delights of rural ex
istence and the cultivation of flowers, which
latter branch of horticulture he pursued with
an abiding enthusiasm worthy of a Dutchman.
Tbe electric telegraph was unknown at the
period in question, and the clumsy signals by
which statesmen contrived to communicate with
one another were ouly worked by the heads ol
the State, and for their own behoof ; and
Autwerp puzzled its brains for some time in
vain efforts to ascertain by what mysterious
art the ex-banker had managed to turn the
tide, and to win over to his interests the favors
of the blind goddess who had hitherto been so
decidedly against him. In these speculations
upon the changed fate of the speculator, Ant
werp simply lost its trouble ; nor was it until
several years afterwards that the seeming mys
tery was explained.
It had been uoticed in Antwerp as a singu
lar fact that two drivers of stage-coaches be
longing to that city had made, during the
lucky period of the banker's career, fortunes
which in proportion with their means, were as
considerable as that amassed by the specula
tor. But no one thought of attributing tbe
improved position of the two coachmen to the
operations of the fortunate speculator. Yet all
three owed their good luck to the same simple
If any of the townspeople had bethought
them of watching the doiugs of the banker,
they would have seen that every evening, about
nine o'clock, the latter betook himself to a lit
tle lonely cottage of his, standing in the m dst
} of a garden, a few miies from the town. There
in siience and secresy, the banker received tbe
visits of one or other of the two coachmen, to
whom, after the exchange of a few words, he
j handed a basket, carefully covered over with a
I bit of tarpaulin, and which was at once de
posited by the coachman at the bottom of a
great hamper of poultry, collected by him from
I the neighboring farms, and to be sold by him
at the towns throngh which he drove his coach.
As soon as the coachman had taken his de
parture. the banker locked the cottage door,
and went cp stairs to a room fitted up as a
pigeon-house, of whose existence no one else
was aware, in which a number of pigeons soon
began to make their appearance with flagging
wings, impatient to drop into their nests. The
banker, having stroked and petted the weary
birds, and given them corn, gently lifteJ their
wings and detached the little billet conveyed
to him by each unconscious messenger. These
birds brought to the speculator news of the ex
change on all the priac pal markets of Europe
Sent off daiiy from London, Faris, Vienna,
Brussels, Ac., about four in the afternoon, tbe
home-loving little Mercuries never failed to
reach their ne-ts about midnight. After re
ceiving the intelligence thus sent to him by
trnsty confederates in each capital, the banker
locked the boor of the cottage and returned to
Lis own dwelling, ready to operate next day
on tbe Antwerp Exchange with certain suc
The carrier pigeon is now superseded by
electricity; bat the Belgians have notrenooDC
ed the old partial.ty for this bird, and "pigeon
races" still give rise among them to numerous
gatherings and heavy bets. On these occa
sions the pigeons are carried in a ba-ket to a
certain distance, aud are then waited for at a
given spot by their owners—the bird which
arrives first winning the prize, exactly as in the
case of horse-races. Recently, at one cf these
pigeon-races he'd at Malines. a feathered cour
ser. let loose at six, a m . at Tonnerre. in the
department of the Yoone, France, reached
Malines at twenty-six minutes past eleven !
Not quite so quick as light or sound, but Tery
much quicker than steam could haTe made the
joarney—-Yrtr York Tost.
A HA33 LETTER. —The following letter,
says an exchange, was sent by a man to his
son at college:
" My SOD, I write to yon to send yon two
pair of my old breeches, that yoa may have
a new coat made out of them. Also some
new socks which your mother bas just knit by
catting down some of mine. Your mother sends
yoa ten dollars without my knowledge, and,
for fear yoa will aot use it wisely, I have kept I
back half, and cn!y seed yea five. Your
mother and I are well except your sister has
got the measles, which we think would spread
among the girls if Tom had Dot had them
before, and he is the only one left. I hope
you will do honor to my teachings ; if not,
yon are an ass. and your mother and myself
your affectionate parents.''
THE W:SD is the merriest, and maddest, ar.d
saddest, and the gladdest of pipers in tbe world.
He makes all thiags his instruments—he whis
tles ou tae reed aud sighs on the fiig : some
times he makes a ch mney bis mouth piece ; j
then the tunes be plays on a simple smoke
pipe are the wildest and weirdest, and he pnffs
and blows and—smokes like a burgomaster.
Seid a certain individual to a wag, " The
man who has rased a cabbage bead has done
more good than all tbe meupoysic ADS in the 1
worid !" "Then," replied the wag. " yoar
mother oogh; to have the preiß.uc !~
fihcalianal Jtprimeub
One appeal to God above.
Supplicating for bis lore
Daily offer. Peace of mind
Makes the happy, good, and kind.
Daily sing one cheerful song,
From the bosom's fiery throng ;
Dally do on* noble deed ;
Daiiy sow one blessing's seed.
Daily make one foe thy friend ;
Daily from thy snrphis spend ;
Daily, when the gift is thine,
Write one Terse in strains divine.
Daily seek kind nature's face :
Daiiy seek for some new grace ;
Daiiy dry one sufferer's tear,
Daiiy one grieved brother cheer.
Daily drink from sparkling eye
Sweeter rapture ; soar on high 1
Then thy life will know no night,}
And thy death be robed in light.
Experience—What it Costs.
I have somewhere heard, or read, of a cel
ebrted occulist in London, who, on being com
plimented for his skill in managing diseases of
the eye, replied : "It is true 1 have 6orne
skill in preserving and restoring the sight, for
I have devoted myself to this business ; but
I have spoiled a hat-full of eyes to get this skill.
I have deprived many a man of the blessed
light of heaven, and shut np his son! in mid
night darkness. I have compelled many a
one to feel his way to the grave ; and my
present skill cannct restore vision to the sight
less eyes caused by my ignorance."
The same anecdote was once quoted by a
teacher who was complimented for his oktll in
teaching the youDg. He replied : "It is true
I have some skill in teaching, but 1 have spoil
ed a great many minds to get this skill. I
have deprived many a child, not of tbe bless
ed light of heaven, but of the blessed light of
truth. If I have any skill, I would that I
could repair tbe injury I have caued in ob
taining it. But it is too late, and I tremble
in view of what the great uay of final account
wiil develop."
Now what I waot to impress upon teachers,
is this : they should not insist on learning ev
erything by experience. They should be willing
to learn from the experience of others. The
world would make but little progress in sci
ence if each generation accomplished nothing
more than the preceding one. Tbe " march
of mind " so often alluded to, consists in tak
ing what the preceding generation has acquir
ed, as capital for further investigation and
more vigorous effort. Some teachers are al
ready too wise to learn, they look upon teach
ing as a natural gift, and supposing themselves
very gifted in this respect, think they have
nothing to leara from the success or failures
of others.
But experience is a dangerous, as well as
expensive school to the teacher. The education
of a child commences very early. From the
first view of the external world, the soul com
mences thinking, and thi:,ks on forever.—
The child looks opon this green and flowery
earth ; he admires the broad blue arch of the
sky, and the majestic sun, circiicg about his
own home, which he imagines to be :be centre
of the world. He rambles in the woods,
pioeks tbe modest wild-flower, views with de
light the beautiful cascade, and gazes with
rapture at the bright colors of the rainbow.
He listens to tbe song of birds, and tbe gentle
murmur of the rippling stream dancing over
the slippery rocks, and his son! is filled with
wonder. All is beantifn! and mysterious.—
He thicks—he reasons—be thirsts for know]
edge. His education commences. At this
period the mind shoold not be trifled with. It
is easily influenced, and moved by Tery s, igbt
impulses. The knowledge obtained at this
time is apt to be very definite, and very lasting
How important then that teachers shooid
nnderstand tbe iaw which govern tbe devel
opment of mind. They should not rnin the
minds of their scholars in acquiring, by their
own experience, that skill which they might
learn from the experience of others. It is
painful to see persons engaged in moulding the
immortal mind, who understand so little of its
nature. There are but few who study mora!
and inteliectQal philosophy while preparing
to teach, and still few school officers who
make this any test in granting certificates.
Teachers then should profit by other's ex
perience as well as their own. But how are
they to get this experience ? Read the
School Journal, and other papers devot
ed to the teachers' profession. Read books
writteu fcy teachers of long experience. At
tend teacher's institutes, ar.d visit each other's
schools. In a word, hep up vuh the times.
Teaching One Thing at a Time.
Children who bare tbe habit of listening to
words without understanding them, yawn SDd
writhe with manifest symptoms of disgust,
whenever they are compelled to hear sounds
which convey no ideas to their minds. Ail
supernumerary words should be avoided in cul
tivating tbe power o? attention.
A few years sgo, a gentleman brought two
Esquimaux to London. He wished to amuse
and at the same time astonish tbem with the
tnagu.Scence of the metropolis. For this pur
pose. having equipped them like Eoeiish gen
tlemen, he took them out one morning, to
walk through the streets of London. They
walked for several hours in silence ; ther ex
pressed neither pleasure nor adnriraiion at any
thing they saw When their walk was ended,
tfcey appeared uncommonly melancholy and
tapefied As soon as they got borne," they
sat down with their elbow? upon their knees,
and hid their faces between their hands. The
only words they cooH be brought to ntter,
were : " Too much smoke—too much noise—
too much honses—too much men—too much
Some people who attend public lectures on
natural philosophy, wr.h the expectation of
being maeb aaaeed acd icstnxted, go heme
VOL. XXT. —NO. 39
with feelings similar to those of the poor Es
quimaux ; they feel that they have had too
much of every thing. The lecturer has not
had time to explain bis terms, nor to repeat
them till they are distinct in the memory of
his audience. With children, every mode of
instruction must be hurtful, which fatigues at
tention. \ skilful instructor therefore, will as
much as possible, avoid the manner of teach
ing, to which the public lecturer is, in some
degree, compelled by hie situation.— Maria
A Printer's Christmas.
[THK editor of Pandy Hill HtraM ay? that on
Chriatm is Eva an txprawman delivered to h.u an ex
ceedingly rny-teriou* box. After payiug the charges,
thirty-eigbt i-euts—being the amount of ca*h on hand
—he proceeded with nervous hands to examine its con
tents. He says :]
The cover was removed, when our eyes were
erladdened with the sisrht of a fine fat turkey.
The next thing brought to light wa a bottle
of champagne, and the next and last was a
huge demijohn, marked " O Tar." What in
the world is O Tar? It must mean old tar—
but what in the world induced any one to
send os either old or new tar ? We havn't got
any wagon ; ar.d as for getting up a bonfire for
the benfit of the Pepublicans, we are not in
humor. We have it! We will sell it to the
livery man. Called on him, and he said he
did not use tar, but grease on his wagons.—
Brought it back to the office in not a very
good humor, still wondering why it was sent
to us. Resolved, finally, to draw the cork.—
Did so. It wasn't tar. Smelt of it. Knew by
the smell it wasn't tar. Tasted of it, and be
came fully satisfied that it wasn't tar. Tasted
again—knew it wasn't tar. Tasted again, and
drew up a resolution declaring iu the most
emphatic terms that it wasn't tar. Tasted
again, and begain to feel happy. Tasted again
and began to feel very rich, and resolved to
give our cottage to a poor widow and purchase
the elegant mansion over the way—to donate
the office to Jabe, and buy cut the New York
Ledger. Gave the "devil"' a $2O gold piece
for Christmas, and promised him a round hun
dred for New Year's. Bought a sj,ooo pair
of nags and a sleigh cushioned with scarlet
velvet, and decorated with gold and pearls.—
Ordered from the South a driver and footman
whose faces shone I ke a glass bottle under a
direct sun ray. Went over to the " UDI'OD,"
and told Fred to send every poor family in
town a barrel ot the best flour, and nameless
ather article- to render them comfortable
Bought all the wood in the market, and order
ed it to be seat immediately to the aforesaid
poor families. Gave each of the clergymen
in town a thousand doilars ; adopted fourteen
orphan trirls and orphan boys : ran around
and paid all delta, what printer on earth did
that pot on our slippers (ima?inirg we
heard music did hear music—for somebody
come near beinc kicked cut cf bed. Alas?
we Lad only beeu dreaming!
Queer People.
Chambers' Joonal, in discussing a recent
book of missionary travels in Africa tins al
ludes to one of the tribes which were found in
that terra inccgnii-i:
I>Q: the strangest of ali are the stories told
lof the Dokos, wno lire armcg the moist,
warm wood' to the south of KaSa and Susa.
: Only four feet hieh, of a dark olive color,
savage ar.d naked, they have neither bouse
| nor temples, neither fire nor ordinary buman
food. They live only on ants, mice ard ser
pents diversified by a few roots and fruits ;
they let their naif* grow long, like talons, tbo
better to dig for ants, and the more easily to
tear to piect-s their favorite SDakes. They do
not marry, but live the most indiscriminate
lives of animal*, multiplying very rapidly, and
with very little maternal instinct. The moth
er nurses her child for only a short time, ac
customing it to eat ants and serpents as soon
as possible, and whet it can help itself it
wanders away whare it will, and the mother
'hicks no more ah it it. Pokes are iuvalua
ble as slaves, aod are taken in large numbers.
The slave-hunter? hold up bright colored
cloths 8? soon a? they come to the moist,
warm bamboo woods where these human
monkeys live, and the poor Pokes cannot re
sist the attraction offered by such snperior
people They crowd %'our.d them and are
taken in thousand®. In slavery they are do
cile attached, obedient, with few wants and
eioellent health. They have only one fault—a
love for acts, mice and ?eper.t*, arid a habit
of speaking to Yer with their heads on the
ground, and their heels in the air. Yer is
their idea of a vuperror power, to whom they
ta.k ia-this corn eal ma: rer when they are
dispirited or angry or tired of ants and snakes,
and longing for unknown fnod. TLev Pokos
seem to come nearest of all people yet discov
ered to that terrible cousin of humanity—the
PR. W OTFIP OCTOOSE—Dr. W7nbip. the
celebrated Massachusetts athlete, who win
asserted to be the "strongest man in the
world," has met a superior in the person of
William Thompson, whc is connected with the
Chicago Gymnar'noi. The test of strength oc
curred in that city one day last week, at a
gymnastic tournament, a; which Pr Winship
performed his ereat muscular feat of lifting
nine kegs of, weighing 1000 p-nnds. and
raising, with the aid :f harr.e-s .a his should
ers, 151T pounds. He was by
Thompson, who commoner z with the last lift
of the Poctrr, then went on add'ng weights
and lifting, with harness on shoulders and hips
until the number stood suecessiTelr 1550.1756,
'1754, 1r36, 1930, 2'36, 2136 pootds—a
rery remarkable Eft the latter, to be sure He
a'so experimented with dumb-bells weighing
100 and 265 pounds. Another competing
gymnast, named Curtis, " pushed "* first 130
pounds, and then 150 pounds in each hand
with the pulley, and lying down nj-oa h>3 back
put up 110 pounds in each hand * But the
feat of the evening waa the great hftof TV->-
isoc, and the judges so considered it in tie
award of tbt $209 prt* him