Of HILAR "ER ANNUM INVARIA3LY IN ADVANCE.
TOWA.ND A. :
- ■
Thursday Morning, March 14, 1861,
~~~ j<ttcli IMrg.
THE SNOW FALL.
{Tbe following line* are by JAMKS HCSSKLL LOWKLL,
u n o t included in the latest edition of hU works :]
Tlie snow had begun in the gloaming,
Aud busily all the night
flsd been heaping field aud highway,
With a silence deep and white.
Erery pine, and fir, and hemlock,
Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm treo
Was fringed inch-deep with pearl.
prom sheds, now roofed with Carrara,
Came Chanticleer's muffled crow.
The stiff rails were softened to swan s down—
And still fluttered down the snow.
I itoad and watched by the window
The noisciess work of the sky,
And the sudden flurries of snow-bird*,
Like brown leaves whirling by.
I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn,
Where a little headstone stood,
ltow the flakes were folding it gently,
As did robins the babes in the wood.
Up spoke our little Mala'!,
Saying '• father, who makes the snow t"
And 1 t"ld her of the good All Father
Who cares fur us all below.
Again I looked at the snow fall.
And thought of the leaden sky
That urehed our first great sorrow,
When the mound tvns heaped so high.
I remember the gradual patience
That fell from that cloud-like snow,
Flake by fluke, healing and hiding
The scar of that deep stabbed woe.
| And again to the child I whispered,
" The snow that husheth all.
Darling, the Mercilnl Father
Alone can luoke it fall."
Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her,
And she, kissing back, could not know
That my kiss was given to her sister,
Folded close under deepn'ing snow.
selrc i c ft t;i 11.
The True Hero.
Not many years since the good siiip Ponto
wiled from R >ston, bound to Sumatra. She
VKIS commanded T<Y Captain Isaac Jacobs, a
gnrxt seninnn and a naturally good hearted man
[ hut in his long career beneath the tiideot of
| Neptune lie had iiubided many of those false
I tdias prevalent among seamen, and he Lad
wat to look upon the sailor's life as one which
r, -snrily did away with those warmer and
t ctraits of character that mark the humane
sod generous landsman. Iu this wise Isaac
Js obs sometimes lost sight of true merit
where it actually existed.
Among the crew of the Ponto, on her pre
[i;' voyage, was ay >uug man named Caleb
Hiker. ID had shipped only three days be
I 'are the ship sailed, lie was a slender framed
| man, with a fair, prepossessing countenance,
I .'fit Line eyes, and light brown hair. Though
'■glit in his build he w as yet well stocked with
!iiiiWe, and his motions were quick and ener
getic His appearance was calculated to pre
disp lie beholders iu his favor.
One day, shortly after the ship had left port
Hakcr was busy about soma matters of his
"wn in one of the gangways, one of the men, a
rough, uncouth fellow, by the name of Runk
ton, cam* along and gave the clothes-bag of
Baker a kick out of his way, tiwrehy scatter
ing a number ol things about the deck
" I wish you'd be careful," said Raker, as
, k moved to gather up his tilings.
I hen keep your things out o' my war,"
trtiUly returned Ruiiktoii.
" They were not in your way."
Do you mean to tell me I lie ?"
1 said my things were not iu your way."
And I say they were. Now don't dispute
St aj-ain "
Wrv well, have it your own way," calmiv
r 'P'ieil Baker, as he drew his bag in towards
be bulwarks.
And don't yon be impudent, neither,"
provokingly added Runkton
Look ye, Runkton, if you're any business
cf jour own, you'd better rnind it."
I hh, lubber ? I'll show you my business.—
I Take that."
As Bunkton snoke, he struck the young man
' P o 'i the face. The crew had most of them
s'-' iered about the place, and arrangements
*tre quickly made for a fight.
Ju-t come forward—come forward, and
show ye my business," cried Runkton, bris
hing about with his fist doubled up.
A fight ! a fight !" cried half a-dozen of
. • men. " Don't stand that. Raker."
r . e young man's eyes had flashed as he re
rfl the blow, and there was a quick qui ver
bs' of the muscles in his hands, but be made
60 motion to strike.
Am't you going to take it up ?" said
Bur.kton.
So I want nothing to do with you," re
tariied Caleb.
Rien you are a coward 1" uttered Buuk
-0:b:b With a contemptuous tone and look.
i Biker calmly replied to the taunt,
nr ' buuktou became stili more savage. Those
0 know anything about the ocean life, will
r . °|' e Ul "lerstuud the sentiments of the
•'- crew upon such matters as the present.
a „ • eou ''l comprehend out one kind of cour
a"d the moment that Baker refused to
A V 1 e - v S( A him down for an arrant cow ard.
faiorT 1 ' ia d been prepossessed in his
lr 1 ,'1 " r ' on WHS a quarrelsome fellow,
*het 'ji' 7 ' T' ( -d Caleb would Hog him; but
fume I' '" m T liet, y t:irn away and re
•• u*k W , ' to ° N an tauut him.
Who ■ ,lts a " this ? asked Cuptain Jacobs,
WD ° attracted to the spot.
.J.p ller "as exp.ained to him.
-■ J • reent it uttered the cup*aiu,
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
looking with mingled surprise and contempt
upou Caleb. " TV by didn't von knock him down
Baker ?"
" Because I dou't waut to fight with any
man sir."
" And will you allow yourself to be struck,
and not resent it ?"
" I will defend myself iu case of danger,but
I will uot so abuse myself as to eugage in a
brutal fight when it can be possibjy avoided.
I have as yet done wrong to no man; but were
I to fight one of my shipmates, I should wrong
him aud myself both."
" Then you will have yourself looked upon
as one who may be struck with impunity."
A quick flush passed over the young mau's
face as the captain thus spoke,but he was soou
calm.
" I mean, sir," he returned, " to give no one
occasion to strike me; yet Bunkton struck me
and you can see that he already suffers more
from the effects of it than I do."
Bunkton gave Caleb the lie, and again tried
to urge him into a fight, but the captain iu
terfered, and quiet was restored.
From that time Caleb Baker was looked
upon by the crew as a coward.
At first they taunted him, but his uniform
kindness soon put a stop to these outward
manifestations, and the feelings of the crew
were expressed by their looks. Bunktou took
every occasion he could fiud to annoy the
young man, for he had taken his oath that he
would "have a fight out of the coward yet."—
The rest of the crew might have let the matter
pass, had not Bunkton's coutinued behavior
kept alive the idea of Baker's cowardice.
Noue, save himseif, knew the great strug
gle tliat went ou ia the young man's bosom;
but lie hud resolved that lie would not flight ex
cept in actual and necessary self-defence, and
he adhered to his principle, lie performed his
dnties faithfully, and Captain Jacobs was forc
ed to admit that tho' Buker was a coward, he
was a good sailor.
Thus matters passed until the ship had
doubled the Cape of Good Hope and entered
the Indian Ocean. It was toward the close of
a day that had been sultry and oppressive,
that a fitful breeze spruug up from the south
ward. It came in quiet, cool gusts, and tho
canvas only flapped before it.
" We are hkyly to have a blow," remarked
the mate.
" Not much, I think," returned the captain,
as he took a survey of the horizon. "This
spitting will soon die away, and I think the
wind will then come from the west'ard. How
ever, it may be well enough to shorten sail.—
You may take iu the t'gallants'is aud close
reef the tops'ls."
The order was quickly obeyed, and, as the
captuiu had predicted, tho spitting gusts died
away, but there was no wind came out from
the west'ard. It grew dark, but no wind had
come. About ten o'clock those 011 deck were
startled by a sudden darkening of the stars,
and they saw a great black cloud roiling up
from the southward. It soon hung o'er the
ship like a black pali, and the men began to
be frightened. The captain was called, but
before he came on deck there came a crash as
though the very heavens had been rent asun
der. The old ship trembled in every joint, aud
a huge ball of fire rolled down the mainmast.
Another and another crashing of the light
ning came, and at length the electric light be
gan to play about the ship in wild fantastic
streams.
" The mainmast is struck," shouted one of
the men. " See where its head is shivered !"
A!! eyes were turned to tise spot, and by
the next wild flash the men couid see that a
dangerous havoc had been made with the
mainmast. The onp was shivered,the starboard
cheek was nearly stripped off, and the trestle
trees was quivering. Of course, the heavy
topmast was only held in its place by the dub
ious trestletrees, and the maintop threatened
every instant to come thundering to the deck,
with the long topmast and topgallant mast in
company Such a catastrophe would prove
fatal to the ship, and all were aware of it.
But while all hands were gazing at this,
another danger arose. The low rumbling sound
that had been muttering in the southward hud
escaped the notice of the crew, and ere they
knew it the rushing, howling wind was upon
them. The ship leaped like a frightened stag
before the gale. The mate cut the maintop
sail sheets, and the sail was snapped into rib
bons. The foretop.sail was clewed up, and the
ship got before the wind.
The lightning cloud was swept away, and it
was dark as Erebus. The wind howled fear
fully, but there was a sound more fearful than
that. It was Ihe creaking of the shattered
trestletrees, as the fid of the topmast bore
down upon them.
" (J Uod 1" ejaculated Captain Jacobs, " if
the trestletrees give way we are lost. Ilark !
hear them labor 1"
Away up aloft, in the impenetrable dark
uess, stood the giant topmast, and all felt tbut
it could not stand there long. The men
crowded aft, and with painfully beating hearts
they heard the mast labor.
" If we could bring the ship broadside to,"
said the mate, " the weather iigging might be
cut, and the mast would go overboard."
"True, true," returned the Captain ; " but
who'll go aloft and do the job ? There
will be no foot-hold in the top, for that will
go with a crash. The trestletrees are already
shattered."
" If you will port the helm I will make the
trial," cried a clear, strong voice, which was
at once recognized us Culeb Baker's.
" It will be sure death," said Jacobs.
"Then let it be so," returned Caleb. "If
I succeed, the rest of you may te saved ; but
now we are all in danger. I'ort the helm and
I will go."
Caleb took the axe from the mizzeoroast,
and soon his form wus lost in the darkuess, as
he moved towurd the itarboard rigging. The
helm was put a port, and the ship gradually
gave her starboard side to the gale. Soon
the blow of an axe was heard. There was a
fearful straining and cracking— ODU then came
the crash. The heavy top mast bad gooe
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY R. V. STURROCK.
j clear over the side. Fragments of the trestle
and cross trees came rattling upon the deck,
hut all eyes were strained painfully toward the
masthead. The dim outline of the heroic man
; could be seeu safely hanging by the rnizzen
. top mast.
The ship was once more got before the wind
and ero long Baker came sufely to the deck.
He staggered aft to the binnacle, and there
he sank, fuiuting and bruised, upon the deck ;
but he was quickly conveyed to the cabin, and
| his wants were all met.
Culeb's bruises were none cf them bad, and
in a few days he was again at his duty. The
; meu eyed him anxiously, and seemed uneasy
as they met his smiles. The captain too,chang
ed color when he met the kind, noble look of
j the young man, but soon overcome the false
pride that actuated him, and stepping to the
uoble fellow's side, he took him by the hand.
" Caleb," said he, " if I have done wroug,
I freely ask you to forgive me. I have called
you a coward, but I did not know you."
" Think no more of it," said Caleb, with a
I beaming eye. " I once promised to one whom
I loved better than life—my mother—that I
j would never do a deed of which I might af
terward be ashamed."
Bunkton pressed forward. " Caleb," he
said seizing the hand of the young man in his
hard fist "you must forgive me for what's
passed. We'll be friends after this "
" B!es9 you, Bunkton, aud frieuds wo will
be," returned Caleb.
" Yes," added Bunkton, " an' if you wou't
fight yourself, I'll fight for you, if ever you
| stand iu need of it,"
" I tell you, my men," said the captain,
j " there's certainly two hindx of courage ; and,
after all, I don't know but Caleb Baker's
kiud is the best. It takes a stronger aud big
-5 ger heart to hold it, at all events."
Espinosa, the Dancer.
Many doubtless remember u very supple
young man who traveled through this country
some years ago—with the Ravels, we believe
in the capacity of a dancer. A late number
of the London lira contaius an interesting
sketch of his life, from which wo take the fol
lowing :
One day California with its golden prestige,
fascinated our hero's mind, aud forthwith he
dreamed of nothing else, save artistic glory,
| ornamented with gold, aud in the hope of gath
ering the same, he embarked for the Pacific
Ocean. Crossing the Ilocky Mountains he fell
into the hands of a gang of cannibal robbers,
who relieved him of ail he possessed, aud kept
him a close prisoner for three months. Here
. he was destined to be roasted and served up
at the table of the cannibal chief at their next
grand solemnity ! Rut Espinosa would uot
j "grow fat" for the grand cannibal display ; so
1 when the day did come, he was tied, as useless
flesh lumber, to the fatal tree, there to be tor
tured to death. The last savage dance had
already begun around him, but the "pale face"
stood and looked undismayed ; non timco scd
spcro, thought he ! During his captivity he
had learned enough of the savages dialect to
make himself understood ; so as the cannibals
jumped and frisked around him, he suddenly
exclaimed : "Oh ! ye accursed red skins ! call
ye that dancing ? Loose my cords and I'll
show ye what dancing is." lie was silent,
and the capering red horde stopped suddenly
short. The chiefs moved to a short distance,
and field a conference ! " Covticuere nmnes, rt
vufgi stante cor ana!" The result of which
conference was, "Re it as the pale face hath
spoken ; let him dance," spoke the principal
Chief. Amid a yell of infernal noises a ring
was quickly made, and Espinor a, loosened from
his bonds, jumped into the middle of it with a
pi/i'iHtie so moriholant, so fantastic, yet so out
landish and extravagant, that the red-skinned
squatters giggled, and grinned, and chattered
like monkeys. He then gave them a dance of
the regular gamin de Paris style, lie vaulted
head over heels a la Grimaldi, pirouetted
round the savage enclosure, within aud with
out, aud enraptured oue aud all. Finally, see
ing the favor he was "stepping" into, he began
the popular Paris dance called La Savalc, and
through it he went, con amore it pedibus, right
and hft, backward and forward, dispersing his
audience on all sides, surprising them, delight
ing them, mesmerizing and entrancing them
by his impromptu dance 'twixt life and death ;
and, while all were in solemn nmazemeut and
mute astonishment at the velocity of his twist
ings and turnings, his jumping and vaultings,
he suddenly vaulted into the vacant saddle ou
oue of the fleet steeds of the chief, aud, presto,
off he went like an arrow, to the general ad
miration of the lied Skins, who mistook that
pas for a part of his exhibition ; or, as Doc
tor O'Tooie says, "a part of his system !" Rut
when the eutranced savages saw him fly through
the air, aud when they lost sight of him, feel
ings of rage and vengeance succeeded admira
tion and delight, and yelling out their war
cry, the best riders jumped 011 their steeds iu
pursuit of the "Pale face Devil 1" Rut "For
tune favored the brave," and Espinosa ne'er
saw the silly lied Skins more. What a dance
he had of it 011 his "borrowed courser 1" Vet
'twas only when his pursuers from afar saw
Lioi arrive in sight of a numerous and well
armed caravan that they gave up all hope of
recapturing their fascinating fugitive dancer ;
and, as a desperate signal of rage and ven
geance, they fired off at him a shower of poi
soned arrows, while he rode, under safe convoy
towards San Francisco.
WHOEVER undertakes to put a joke on the
razor-strap man is sure to get floored in the
loug run. Recently while selling his straps at
Plymouth, and expatiating the while ou the
evils of rum drinking a tipsy fellow cried ont ;
" If drinking rum made me lie as last as
you do selling yonr straps, I'd quit to day."
" Very good," replied strap seller " the only
difference between yonr lying and mine is this :
my straps enable me to lie iu a good warm bed,
while mm makes you lie in the gutter/'
" REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANT QUARTER."
Peter Cartwright.
A remarkable character was Peter Cart
wright. He was a great anti-slavery man,
and struck right and left to all who opposed
him. Oue day, on approaching a ferry across
the river Illinois, he heard the ferryman
swearing terribly at the sermons of I'eter
Cartwright, and therateniug that if ever he
had to ferry the preacher across, and knew
him, he would drown him in the river. Peter,
uucecogiiised, said to the ferryman :
" Stranger, 1 want you to put me across."
" Wait till I am ready," said the ferryman,
aud pursued his conversation and strictures
upon Peter Cartwright. Having finished, he
turned to Peter and said :
" Now I'll put you across."
On reachiug the middle of tbe stream, Peter
threw his horse's bridle over a stake in the
boat, aud told the ferryman to let go his pole.
" What for ?" asked the ferryman.
"Well, you've just been using my name
improperlike ; and said if ever I came this
way you would drowu me. Now you've got
a chance."
"Is your name Peter Cartwright?" asked
the ferryman.
" My name is Peter Cartwright."
lustontly the ferryman seized the preacher;
but he did not know Peter's strength ; for
Peter instantly seized the ferryman, one hand
on the nap of his trowsers, aud plunged him
into the water, sayiog :
" I baptise the (splash) iu the name of the
devil, whese child thou art."
Then lifting him up, added :
" Did you ever pray ?"
" No."
" Then its time you did."
" Nor never will," answered the ferryman.
Splash ! splash ! aud the ferryman is iu the
depths again.
" Will you pray ?" asked Peter.
The gasping victrn shouted :
" I do anything you bid me."
" Then follow me ; " Our Father which art
in Heaven," Ac. Having acted as clerk, re
peating after Peter, tbe ferryman cried :
" Now let me go."
"Not yet," said Peter, " you must make
three promises : —First that yon will repeat
that prayer morning and evening as long as
you live : secondly, that you will hear every
pioneer preacher that comes within five miles
of this ferry : and thirdly, that yon will put
every Methodist preacher over free of expense.
Do yon promise and vow ?"
" I promise," said the ferryman.
Aud strange to say, that man afterwards
became a shining light.
A Case Hardened Que.
Bill Rigdon, whose exploits down on Red
River we have mentioned before, had been
drinking some, and contrary to his usual cus
tom, was blowing considerably, and finally
said he could run faster, jump higher, dive
deeper, and come out dryer, chew more to
backer, drink more whiskey, and do more
strauge, queer and impossible things than any
man in the crowd, winding up by offering to
throw any man or fight a dozen, one at a time,
then and there. A tall, cadaverous, fever
and-ague looking chap got up and said :
" I'm in for that last, strunger. I'm some
on a wrastle myself, and I'll try you."
At it they went, and Bill got thrown badly.
They then tried jumping, aud Bill was euchred
again. There was DO water near to experi
ment at diviug in, aud Bill himself proposed
that they should try some whisky.
" Wolf" said fever-and ague, " I don't chaw
tobacker, but I jist kiu drink you dead drunk
iu an hour."
" Never!" shouted Bill, and they sat down
whiliug the time away by playing euchre.
Game after game aud glass after glass pass
ed, without the least apparent effect upon the
stranger, while Bill showed it badly, soon not
being able to tell the cards or eveu to handle
them. At this stage the pale faco arose, re
marking :
" Wal, I guess as how you're drunk enongh,
and ef you'll make me one driuk I'll mount my
pony aud be off."
" What'll you bavo ?" said the clerk.
" Got any braudy 1"
" Yes."
" Put in a middling dram." It was doce.
" Got any red eve ?"
" Yes."
"Wal, a lectle of that. Any turpentine ?"
" Plenty."
" Abeout a spuueful put in. Any red pep
per !"
" Yes,"
" Shake in some ; and now, my boy, ef
you'll put in a leetle of that aquafonis I see
up thar, I'll take my drink and be gone."
" My ," groaned Bill, " I should think
yon would. I give it up. I'm beat. Don't
drink it."
Amid the roars of the crowd the pale gent
mounted his pony and cantered away. •
Ar the criminal term of the Superior Court,
now being held in Lawrence, Mass., a little
boy, six years old, was called as a witness in
an assault case. The District Attorney, having
some doubts whether a boy of so tender age
knew the nature of an oath, proceeded to ask
him a few questions, as follows :
District Attorney—Little boy do you know
what it is to testify ?
Little Boy—l suppose it is to tell the truth
District Attorney—Yes, but what would be
the consequences if you did not tell the truth?
Little Boy—l suppose I should be sent to
jail.
District Attorney—But would not God pun
ish you ?
Little Boy—No, I guess not ; dad's a Uni
versalis t !
A WARNING. —Young ladies should never
go to church merely with the intention of
having some gentleman escort; them home.—
It is also a bad policy to have a different one
every Sunday night.
SEE HOW THEY GROW.—The other day we
were readiug, 6ays a Boston paper, of a jolly
old Frenchman, in one of the towns of llliuois
who boasts of having built the first house ou
the present site of Chicago, a city that now
has a population of something like 135,000
This reminds us of an incident that happened
to us some score of years ago, in Cincinnati.—
We were smokiag our post-prandial cigar iu
the reading room of Cromwell's Hotel, in coin
pan v with a couple of friends, wbeu an amphi
bious-looking person,half farmer, half flatboat
man, joined iu our conversation ou some slight
pretext.
" Excuse me, geutlemen," said he, " but
you are speaking of the rapid growth of this
city. Now, I suppose you would bo surprised
if I told that I heard the entire site, of Cin
cinnati offered iu trade for two barrels of
whiskey, a box of tobacco, and a flatboat,
would you uot ?"
We asseuted, and asked the particulars.
" Iu 1791," said be, "I was a lad of sixteen,
and one of the crew of a cerello boat that we
used to drift down to New Orleans with a
cargo, and track up again to Fort Duquesne
after we had sold out our load. Deer Creek,
that runs up by the side of the city here, was
one of our favorite stoppiug places. A man
by the name of Lloyd, who bad a log cabin,
with a blacksmith's forge and a bullock yard
just about here, owned all tbe land on which
this city now stauds. Oue night we had tied
the boat up at Lloyd's and, with another boat's
crew, were smoking our pipes in the shanty,
when Lloyd said to our skipper: 'I have got
about tired of living here, Jim, aud I'll make
a trade with you.' 'What is it ?' said our cap
tain. ' Well, I will give np to you all my right
and title iu this house and my tract of land,
for your boat and cargo.' 'Wbv, Lloyd,' said
the skipper, 'I wouldu't gave you a barrel of
whiskey for the whole Cinciunati bottom!'
" That's a fact, gentlemen; and now look at
this splendid city 1" and the tears actually
came into the old fellow's eyes as he poiuted
out of the window.
RAISING THE TREIIONT lIOUSE. CHICAGO. —
The Tremont llouse, aud about an acre of
houses thereon, commenced rising to grade this
morning. There are five thousand screws un
der the house, and a gang of fire hundred men
employed, giving each man the supervision of
teu screws. The power was applied at ten o'
clock this forenoon, and at eleven o'clock the
inmense weight of building had been raised
three inches. It has yot five feet nine inches
to rise, which the contractors assure us will be
completed ou Saturday night next. As a
proof of the immense power of the screws, it
may be stated that when the building com
menced rising, a portion of the foundation,
which is a stone wall six feet in depth, cement
ed with an unusually tough cement, and rest
ing on white oak planks, and those in turn
upon the clay, was torn off as easily as if it
had been of straw. This part of the founda
tion had not been disconnected from the main
building. The rear part of the hote', 180 by
100 feet, has been cut off, and is now being
torn down to make room for the new kitchen
and dining apartment. The contractors iu
form us that the Tremout rises better and
more satisfactorily than any building they
have ever raised in Chicago.— Chicago Jour
nal, 25th.
' AN EDITOR IN DISGUISE.—WM. H. Clark,
the editor of the Meudall, (111.,) Clarion,loves
a good joke, and never lets an opportunity slip
that promises a dish of fnn. Here is his last :
" DISGUISED. —We have lately got a new
suit of clothes, aud no man could be more
effectually disguised. We look like a gentle
man. Upon first puttiug thera on we felt like
a oat in a strange garret, and for a loDg time
thought we were swapped off. We went to
the house aud scared the baby into fits ; our
wife asked us if we wanted to see Mr. Clark,
and told us that we would find him at the
office: went there, and pretty soon one of our
business men came in, with a strip of paper in
his hand. lie asked if the editor was in ; told
him we thought not ; asked him if be wished
to see him particularly ; said he wanted him
to pay that bill ; told him we didn't believe ho
would be iu ; business man left. Started to
the house again ; met a couple of young ladies
one of them asked the other, ' What handsome
stranger is that ?' In this dilemma we met a
friend and told him who we were, aud got hiua
to introduce us to our wife, who is now as
proud of us as cau be. The next time we get
a new suit, we shall let her now beforehand.
Too SHARP FOR HlM. —The Agriculturist
relates the following anecdote of Prof. Johns
ton, of Middletown University. "He was one
day lecturing to the students on Minerology,
and had before him qnito a number of speci
mens of various sorts to illustrate the subject.
A roguish studeut, for sport, slily slipped a
piece of brick among the stoues. The profes
sor was taking up the stones one aftar an
other, and naming them. ' This,' said he, 'is
a piece of granite ; this is a piece of feldspar,
etc. ; presently he came to the brickbat.—
Without betraing any surprise, or even chang
ing his tone of voice, 'This,' said he, holding it
up, 'is a piece of impudence 1' There was a
shout of laughter, and the student concluded
he had made little by that trick."
Ot'R EARTHI.Y LIKE. —My life is a frail life;
a life which, the more it increaseth, the more
it decreaseth j the further it goeth, the nearer
it cometh to death ; a deceitful death. New
I rejoice, and now I languish ; now I flourish,
and now I fade ; now I live, and now I die ;
now 1 laugh, and now I weep 1 O joy above
all joy, without which there is 110 joy, when
shall I enter into thee, that I may see my
God?— Augustine.
Every morning we euter upon a new day
carrying still an unknown future in its bosom.
Thoughts may be born to day, which may
never be extinguished. llopes may be
excited te day, which never expire. Acts may
be performed to-day, the consequences of which
may not be realized till eternity.
VOL. XXI. —NO. 41
(Ebncational |jtprimtnt.
History in Common Schools.
NUMBER I.
Of all the subjects of popular education,
where used in the every day life of the mass
es of the people, there is uot oue so much neg
lected in our coinmou schools, as that of his
tory. No teacher, nor board of Directors,
would for a moment think of excluding read
ing, or arithmetic, or writing, or geography,
or iudeed English grammar from our commoa
schools ; yet noue of these subjects are of
more practical importance, than a knowledge
of the past. If any one will take the pains
to classify the different kinds of kuowlet'gu
taught in our schools, which man use most in
the ordinary concerns of life, it will be found
that none of tbem tukes a higher rank, than a
history of the men and events of the past. —
There is scarcely a subject about which we
couverse, nor a business in which we engage,
where a knowledge of history is not of advan
tage, if not of absolute necessity. Even a
common newspaper paragraph, to say nothing
of the science of government, of political
economy or political philosophy, or of educa
tion, cannot often be understood, unless illu
minated by the light of past experience. A
subject thus interwoven into the texture of
popular knowledge ought most certainly, to
form a part of popular education.
There is an old maxim in philosophy, that
all kuowledge is one, that the preseut is but
the continuation of the past. If this be true,
we cau never gain a complete and exhaustive
idea of a subject, by just viewing that part of
it which is uuder our immediate uotice ; and
hence the importance of all of our studies can
only be seeu by a reference to their history.—
For example, in the study of geography, we
Cud in cur books whole pages devoted to the
most miuute description of England, France,
Germany aud the United States, while other
countries which occupy far more space on the
maps are passed over with as many lines.—
The inquiry is at once started, why this
difference ? The auswer most obviously sug
gested is, on account of the greater importance
of these former countries to the general well
being of mankind, than the latter. But tbu
next question, how came England to be supe
rior to Turkey, or the Uuited States to Mexi
co? cannot be answered without a knowlcdgo
of their history.
It would be difficult to Cud any practical or
useful purpose to which the description of a
country may be applied that does not apply
with equal force to its history. The two illus
trate each other and should be studied to
gether. In fact tr.auy localities have a place
upon our maps and in our bocks, only because
of some event which transpired there in years
gone by. What would give Jamestowu a
place on our maps, if it were not for
being the place of the first permanent Eng
lish settlement in North America ? What
would give St. Helena or Elba their locality,
and their page, but the fact that they were
connected with one of the greatest of modern
heroes. Now carry out this principle. When
a locality is learned, associate with it an
event or scries of eveuts which transpired
there, aud they wi'il assist each other in being
held iu the memory ; the event will help im
press the locality of the place, aud the place
will fix the event. And what is true of the
relation of History to Geography is true of
its relations to all the subjects of common
school education. Every article iu our read
ers has its peculiar incidents of composition
or delivery, aud every rule aud almost every
example iu Arithmetic has its history which
if kuowu would contribute beyond all compu
tation, to the interest of those studies. A
subject so intimately connected with all tho
subjects of popular education, ought certaiuly
to have a place iu the peoples colleges.
TERRYTOWN, FA. D- C.
EDUCATORS. —Upon the importance of Edu
cation too much cannot be said or written,
provided it be done by the proper persons.—
There is, however, a class of writers both in
England and in this country, who evidently
wish to engross the public attention, and to
have the privilege of saying all that is to ba
said on this subject. To these person?, lam
doing no injustice, when I say of them, they
have an are lo grind. Some of them are seek
ing political preferment, and all of them wish
to gain a well filled purse. Parents ought to
know that he who pats their child upou the
head, calling him a good boy, or writes dia
tribes against whipping, is not necessarily the
most benevolent man that lives, although that
good mothers and weak fathers seem disposed
to think so.
CRUELTY TO CHILDREN. —There are few con
tinuous acts of wickedness that oue could not
sooner pardoa than the wanton infliction of
misery on children ; none that rests so heavy
on the conscience. To make the period of
childhood miserable is sin which the poor vic
tim, however amiable, cannot forgive. In tha
very nature of things it is impossible ; its ef
fects are euduring. Offences in after life may
be expiated—may be overcomo by benefits—
may be effaced by remorse and atonemeut, but
cruelty to children !—no, it is not in human
nature to forgive it; those who are capable
of the atrocity, are almost always the most
dastardly cowards, and when brought into
contact in after life with the victims of their
cruelty, endeavor to propitiate forgiyeness by
the basest servility.
THE REUSE PASSION. —We scarcely know
of a more touching incident of " the ruling
passiou strong in death," than are the last
words of a schoolmaster, who for upwards of
thirty years, had gone in and out before suc
cessive little flocks in the snine placp, when
the film of death was gathering over his eyes,
which were soon to open in the presence of
Him who took little children in his arms and
blessed them, he said : "It j 3 getting dark—
the boys may go out—school s dismissed I