USE DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOWANDA :
Thursday Morning, July 11, 1861.
js.'lttftb |!ottrj;.
UNION HYMN.
■ J...,,. hv MM LIFVIK I>. HOWARD,* native of Bal
timore. now an OB*riitivo ia th* Indian Orchard
ililU, Spriugtield.]
Father, we bend to Thee t
For peace and liberty
We humbly pray.
Oh, shield our lovely land.
Stay anarchy's dread hand,
Let Freedom firmly stand
'i hriugli trial's day.
Thou wast our father s guide,
When they in loyal pride
For Freedom tought.
Father, this country save.
Land of the free auu brave ;
By many a patriot's grave
Our houie was bought.
Our hope is all in Thc-a ;
Father of Liberty,
bull keep us one.
Bring not ourjeause to shame,
Guard well our country's fame,
Let power be in the came
Of Washington.
Father, td Thee we bend.
Prayers to Thy throne we send,
Iu this dark hour.
Fraycrs for our native land,
Prayers for the valliant hand,
Who by her tiimly stand
'Gaint wrung and power
For Goo and Liberty,
Our watchword ever be.—
Freedom and right.
O'u. hear us as wc plead ;
(Father, Thy aid we need.
Soon let our land be Iree'd
From peril's night.
1 ill is c 111 a itc o us.
,U AND'SLIDE IN SWITZERLAND.
In the year 180G there was a frightful land
jliile iu 11-xsriurg .Mountain, Switzerland, and
several villages were entirely buried up iu the
earth. In one of tiiese towns lived Joseph
Wigeld and his family. He was one of the
few that escaped with life, and on bis recovery
of health, after the fearful trial lie had suffer
ed, he wrote out the following narrative of bis
experience during the catastrophe. It is trans
.teri from a Swiss book entitled "The Moun
i It was on the second of September, about
Aigo'clock in the afternoon when I told my
I st daughter, Louise, to take her pitcher
■ fining us iu some water from the spring.
I Die took the vessel and proceeded on her er
f .'and, but came back again in a few minutes,
I ami told me that there was no water in the
•'/' Wi g—it had ceased to flow. As ilie spring
.s only on the other side of the garden, I
wit myself to examine this strange phenome
na, and found that it was as she had said, the
dMii was dry. With my spade I set about
removing a little earth, with the idea of per
haps finding water below, or of discovering the
cause of its failure. At that moment it seem
el to uie that ths ground trembled be
neath mv feet and on letting go of the spade
from my hand, I was amazed at seeing itslia.te
to ami Iro as it stood untouched upright iu the
soil. I heard at the same moment tiie scream
ing cries of a flock of hi.ds flying over head in
a cloud As f was gazing up at their wild and
hurried motions, I saw some heavy masses of
rork part from the side of the mountain and
[commence rolling down. Thinking my eyes
*ere playing me false, I hastened to return to
f house ; but, on turning round, found my
t'on tlie brink of a huge rift in the earth, so
<!eep that I could not see the bottom of it, and
v i lud suddenly opened across mv path. I
i 'v/i over it in a state of bewilderment, and
b-towards the house, under the impression
K!!ie mountain had left its foundation and
coming after inc.
Close to ilie door I saw my father in the
ICI of filling his pipe. lie had often predict-
Wsome terrible disaster, and I now told biin
'•at the mountain was staggering like a druuk
"man, ami was about to fall and bury us.—
-k probably taking mv words for a joke, rais
<a ins head, stnd merely saying " Pooh ! I shall
■'b time to light my pipe," went into the
use. At the same instant, something flying
"ougli the air envelope 1 nie in deep
' uiuw. I loiked up and beheld a huge mass
[ i rx ' t rushing along like a cannon ball; it
about live hundred yards from the village,
'Ottering a house to pieces.
At that moment 1 caught sight of my wife,
10 . with three of our children, was turning
corner (it the street I ran towards her,
* '• taking two of the children in my arms,
• 1 r to follow me ; but she cried out, " Ala
:" ! poor Marianne ! she is left in the
. c with Frances; and she would have
to house, but I held her by tbe arm
'•'lnvented her, for at that instant I saw
-loiise itself whirled round like a top. My
' r , who was standing on the threshold, was
t'i the otherside of the street. I drag
'l o wife awav, and forced her to come
' ; when of a sudden there arose a most
' - "H noise, and the whole valley was swal
lupin a eloud of dust. It seemed now
j _"'- v w 'k was forcibly torn from my side ;
t n iied to look for her, but she had vanished,
; w ' 1 ' 1 the child she led ; it us uuspeak-
: 'Crrible to think of, but the ground had
IJ*' beneath her feet, and after it had swul
sto'v ' f n ' > " ' la( ' c ' osei t so completely that I
oel' T '' ave known where she was, but for
Urth " V et ru ' se fl itself out of the
tj' *' ,reW m ? "P on the poor, dear
'l i " S K ri !'ped by the earih as in a
childr 1 " i ' 1 '" 01 ''a** l left the spot but for my
f w j,*ho cried and wailed and clamored
* lb until I started up like one frantic
r . seiimg one iu each hand, fled for life—
!tt?e - w * e I thrown down by tbe vio '
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
lent shaking of the earth under me, and three
times I rose again with the children aud pur
sued my flight. At length, it WHS no longer
possible to retain a footing for a moment ; if 1
laid hold of a tree for support, the tree fell ;
if I sought to steady myself by a rock, therock
glided away from my grasp, as if it had been
alive. I could only lay the two children on
the ground and myself by their side. The
next moment, it was as if the day of judgment
had conie-~the whole mountain fell.
During the whole of the remainder of the
day, and part of the night, I remained there
with Ihe suffering children ; we imagined that
we, of all people, were left alone in the world,
when suddenly we heard some oue shouting at
a few paces distant. The voice was that of
a young fellow from Busingen. lie had been
to church with his bride that same morning,
and was returning wifh the wedding party from
Art. Just as they were all entering Goldau,
lie lingered behind to pluck a bunch of flow
| ers for his bride from one of the garlands.—
i When he sougnt to re-joiu the party, he found
I nothing but horror aud desolation ; the vil
j luge, his friends, his bride, ull had been swal
I (owed up or crushed beneath the wreck, aud
i he kept wandering hastily among the ruins,
culling "Catherine ! Catharine 1" I called
1 to liiir, and he came to us ; but when he saw
. that she whom he was seeking was not with
us, he left immediately.
The moon was shining, and, on rising and
looking round us, we could see that the large
cross was yet standing. On approaching it,
I perceived an old man laying at the foot of it
as if dead ; I saw that it wa. my father, and,
thinking liiin deed, I threw myself on the- bo
; dy, and I found he was unhurt, aud had only
tieen asleep. In extreme old age the mind is
little moved by circumstances. I asked him if
■ he could tell me what had happened at the
; house, which he was about entering when the
j calamity occurred ; but ail lie knew was, that
{ our servant, Francis, had caught up little Ma
rianne, exclaiming, " The day of judgment has
j come, let us save ou'selves 1" The next mo
ment the house was overturned, and lie him
j self was thrown across the street. He could
give no farther account of anything ; his head
had been thrown against a rock, and he had
been stunned by the force of the blow. When
lie had recovered Iroui his stupor, he had re
collected the cross, had groped towards it, and
having said his prayers there, had then fallen
asleep. 1 gave him the charge of the two
children, and then wandered about among the
ruins, endeavoring to discover, if possible,
where our house bad been. At last by the
aid of land-marks,and by marking the position
i of the cross relatively to that of the summit of
the Ilos.sberg, I came to the conclu ion that I
had found the spot. I got upon the top of a
mound of soil heaped over the wrecks of a
, dwelling, and, stooping down with my face to
j the ground, called out to the utmost strength
i of my voice, as though speaking to workmen
in a mine. I heard instantly the sorrowful
tones of a child's voice answering me, and i
kr.ew at once it was little Marianne. All ho'
1 had no tools, I began at once to scrape and
; rake away the earth with my hands ; and iu
this manner, the soil being loose and shifting,
j succeeded iu soon making a bole to lite depth
of several feet, until I came to the rool of my
house. I tore away the tiles ; and as soon as
there was sufficient s-ace to allow of my
getting through, I si d down below the
beam and alighted in the room, which was
strewed with stones and fragments of the walls.
[ now called out again, aud was answered by
a voice which seemed to com i from the bed ;
it was that of the child ; I couhl feci her head
aud a part of her body under the little couch,
where she had been thrown. I endeavored to
extract her, but site was fast wedge 1 between
the bedstead and the floor. The roof ban
crushed the bed by its tall, aud the poor child's
leg was broken.
Exerting myself to the very utmost, I suc
ceeded iu hftiug thebeodstead, when she was
enabled to crawl out upon her hands. As I
lifted from the ground, and pressed her
to my bosom, she said she was not alone and
that the servant Frances was not far off. I
called loudly, " Fences ! Frances J" and heard
Iter groans in answer. She had been torn
from the child, whom she was holding bv the
hand when the ruin came, and was precipi
tated headlong, and, with her face most
frightfully bruised, had remained suspended
head downwards, her body being held firmly
by the fallen masses. After oig s ruggling
she had got her hands free, so us to be able
to clear the blood Irotn her face, but could do
no more, and in this fearful position she lay
listening to the moans of the little child.—
She spoke to her, aud the child replied, and
where she was, answered ihat she was
stretched on her back under the cot ; that
she could use her ha ids, and that, through
an aperture above her head, she could see
daylight and the branches of trees waving.—
Marianne then asked Frances how long they
would have to stay in that dreadful pla.e, and
whether people would not come to look for
them ; but Frances, still under the impression
that the day of judgment was come, told her
that they two alone of all the people on the
earth were left alive, but that they should die
and go to Heaven and be happy evermore.—
Then he bade the little girl say her prayers,
and the two prayed aloud together. While
tliey were saying their prayer-*, they were
comforted by the sound of a church bell which
commenced ringing for service ; and then tliey
heard a clock striking seven, and recognized
the chimes of Stei uersburg Church. Frances
began now to hope that help would come to
them, as there were people still alive and not
far off. She therefore strove to comfort the
child, who by this lime feeling very hungry,
was moaning and crying for supper, iiy de
grees the moans and cries became weaker, and
soon ceased altogether,so that Frances thought
that poor Marianne was dead. All sounds
had now ceased, and she prayed to God that
she herself might die. and be with the child an
angel in Heaven. In this way passed many
weary hours. Fiances felt a dreadful icy cold
ness in her limbs ; her blood could no longer
circulate; she felt assured that death was
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0. GOODRICH.
near. But little Marianne, who had oniy fal
len asleep, now awoke, and began to weep and
moan again ; these feeble sounds, coming from
u human voice, roused the fainting Fiances,
who, struggling with all her might,finally freed
one of her feet from the mass of rubbish, ttnd
having thus succeeded in changing her position
she felt so tar relieved as to be able to take a
little rest. She fell into a kind of slumber,
from which she had been startled by the sound
of my voice. When I got hold of her, it was
with the utmost difficulty that I succeeded in
extricating her from the ruins. She supposed
all her limbs to be broken, and, ns she suffer
ed intolerably from thirst, she begged and
prayed for water. I brought her to the child
tn.der the aperture I hud made, and bade her
look up at the stars ; but she could not see
them, and told me she thought she had lost
her sight. I bade her reinin where she was,
and promised that I would return to save her;
but she laid hold of me, and implored me not
to leave her. It was sometime before I could
quiet tyer fears ; but, on being assured that
there was no longer any danger, and that I
would come back to her as quickly as possible,
she allowed me to endeavor to escape with the
chi'd in the first instance.
Then I took her apron from her, and tying
up Marianne within it, slung it round my neck
holdiug it also as (irmly as I could with my
teeth. Having thus my hands at liberty. I
was able to sway myself up along the beam
which I had sliddeu dewn, and so got out with
the chihi. I made all haste to the foot of the
cross where I had left my father ; on tny way
thither 1 again fell in with the poor bride
groom from Busingcn, who still with flowers in
hand was searching for his bride?
"Where is Catherine?' said her; "have
you seen Catherine ?"
" Come along with me," I said, " I ata go
ing to the cross."
"No, no," he returned sharply, " I must
find her I must find her and he ran off, cal
liug loudly for Catharine.
At the foot of the cross I found not only
my father and the two little ones, but several
other persons who had escaped, and had ran
thither for safety. 1 gave Marianne in charge
of her brother and sister who were older, and
promised to take care of her, and then I told
the people that our servant Frances was still
in the ruins of our house, and that I did not
know how to get her out. One of them direc
i ted me to a lone house which was standing
at some distance off,and said I might get there
a ladder and ropes. I ran to the house, and
found it empty, with the doors wide open, the
inmates having fled. Hearing a noise up stairs
I cailed out, when a voice replied, "Is that
you, Catherine?" I knew it was the poor young
man looking for his bride, and it almost broke
iny heart to hear him. To avoid meeting him,
1 ran out into the courtyard ; there I found a
ladder, which I seized, and also a gourd,which
I filled with water, and then rati back to
Frances.
I found her a little revivtd by tlie fresh air
and she was standing upright under the hole,
expecting me. 1 put down the ladder till it
touched the ground, and then carried down
the water, of which poor Frances eagerly
drank. I had no difficulty then in guiding lnw
up the ladder, ulthough she could not see ; and
thus, alter being buried jjJive for fourteen hours
she was rescued. She continued quite blind
tor several days, and during a much longer
period was subject to nervous convulsions.
When at length the sun rose upon that fear
tul scene, no language can describe the aw.'ul
spectacle it shone upon. Three villages hud
entirely vanished ; a hundred dwellings and
t wo churches had been swallowed up; and four
hundred of the inhabitants hud been buried
alive. A vast portion of the mountain, roll
ing down in the Lake of Lowertz, had driven
forward the mass ot water in a wave a hun
dred feet high and three miles long, which,
sweeping over the Island of Sehwadau, hud
washed away all its inhabitants and their
dwellings./ The wooden chapel of Otter was
seen floating on the waters of the hike ; and
the bell of Golduu church was huried through
the air to a distance of more than half a mile.
Of more than four hundred persons whodwealt
in the doomed villages, ouly seventeen surviv
ed the catastrophe.
This narrative was written by me at Art,
on January 10th, 1807, for the sake of tny
little daughter Marianne, that she may not
forget when I am no longer living to remind
ner of it, that though we were chastised by
the Lord, he remembered us in mercy.
JOSEI'II WIGF.LD.
AN INVITATION' TO DINNER. —It was observ
ed that a certain covetous rich man never in
vited any one to dine with him. " I'll by a
wager," said a wag, " that I get an invitation
from him."
The wager being accepted, he goes the next
day to the rich man's house about the time he
was to dine, and tells the servant he must
speak with his master immediately, for he cau
save him a thousand pounds
Outcaine the master. " What is that, sir;
you can save me a thousand pounds?"
" Yes, sir, 1 can, but I see you are at din
ner; I will go away and call uguin."
" O.i, pray, sir, come in aud take dinner
with ine."
" I shall be troublesome."
" Not at all."'
The invitation was accepted. As soon as
dinner was ove; , and tiie family retired, "Well,
sir," said the man of the house, " now to vour
business. Pray let me kuow how I am to
save a thousand pounds."
" Well, sir, I hear you have a daughter to
dispose of in marriage "
" I have, sir."
"And you intend to portion her with ten
thousand pounds."
" I do, sir."
" Why, then, sir, let me have her, and I will
take her with nine thousand pouuds."
The master of the house arose iu a passiou,
and kicked him out ot doors.
BST A blanderbnss : Kissing the wrong
woman.
" RE6ARDLK3S OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANT QUARTER."
The Restored.
A THRILLING REVOLUTIONARY STJRT.
God is everywhere. His words are on the
heart. He is on the battle field or in our peace
ful homes. Praise be to His holy name.
It was in the wilds Wissahicon, on the day
of battle, as the noon day sun came through
the thickly clustered leaves, that two men met
in deadly conflict near the reefs which rose
like the rock of some primeval world, one
thousand feet above the dark water of the
Wissahicon.
The man with dark, brown face, and dark
er gray eyes, flashing with deadly light, and
muscular form, clad in a blue frock of the
revolution, is a continental named Warren.
The other man, with long black hair drop
ping long his cadaverous face, is clad in the
half military costume of a tory refugee. This
is a murderer of Paoli named Dehuch.
They met by accident and now they fought
not with sword or rifle, but withlonge deadly
hunting knives they struggled, twining and
twisting on the green sward. At last the
tory is down—down on the turf with the kuee
of the continental upon his breast —the np
raised knife flashed death in his face.
" Quarter ! I yield," gasped the tory, the
knee was pressed upon his breast—" spare me,
I yield."
" My brother," said the patriot iu that tone
of deadiy hate, " My brother cried for quar
ter on the night of Paoli, and even as he
clung to your knees you struck that knife
into his heart. O, I will give you the quar
ter of Paoli."
And, his hand raised for the blow, and his
teeth clenched with deadly hate, he paused
for d moment, then pinioned the tory's arms
and with a rapid stride dragged him to the
verge cf the ruck, aud held him quivering over
the abyss.
j " Mercy 1" gasped the tory, turning ahy
pale as that awful gulfyawued below. "Mer
jcy I" I have a wife and child at home—
| spare rue ?
! The continental witTi his muscuiar strength
I gathered for the effort, shook the murderer
once more over the abyss, and than hissed
j his sneer in his face;
" My brother had a wife and two children.
The morning after the night of Paoli, that
j wife was a widow, those children orphans.—
| Would yui not like to go and beg your life
of that widow and her orphans !"
The proposal made by the continental in
I mockery and bitter hate. was taken in serious
j earnest by the terror stricken torv.—He beg
| ged to be taken to the widow and her orphan
ed chihlten and to have the privilege of beg
| ging bis life. After a moment's serious
; thought, the patriot soldier consented. lie
! bound the tory still tighter, placed him on
: the rock, and led him to the woods. A quiet
: cottage embossed among the trees, broke
l out on their eyes They entered the cottage.
There beside the desolate hearthsoue, sut the
widow and her children.
She sat there, a matronly women of about
; twenty-three years, with a face faded by
! care ; a deep dark eye and long black hair
hanging in disheveled state about her shoul
deres. —On one side was a dark haired boy
of some six years, on the oilier side a girl one
year younger, with light blue eyes. The bi
ble —an old venerable volume—lay upon the
: mother's knee. And now the pale faced tory
! dung himself upon his knees, and confessed
| he had butchered her husband op the night of
i Paoli, and begged his life at her bauds.
" Spare me for the sake of my wife—my
child—."
He had expected this pitiful moan would
touch the heart, but not one relenting gleam
softened her face.
" The Lord shall judge between us " she
said in a cold icy tone that froze the murder
ers heart. " Look, the bible is in my hand,
I will close it, and tins boy shall open to a
line, and by that you shall iive or die."—
This was a strange proposal, made in good
faith, of a wild and dark suoersliiiou of old
times. For a moment the tory, pale as ashes,
was wraped in deep thought, then in a faint
ing voice signified his concent.
liaising her dark eyes to heaven, the moth
er prayed to the Great Father to direct the
finger of her son. She closed the book and
liauded it to the boy whose cheeks reddened
with loathing as he guzedj upon his father's
murderer, lie took the bible ; opened its
holy pages at random, aud placed his finger
upon a verse.
There was a silence. The continental sol
dier who iiad sworn to aveng his brother's
death, stood with dialating eyes and clenched
teeth. The culprit kneeling upon the floor
with a face like discolored clay felt his heart
leap to his throat.
Then in a clear voice, the widow read this
line from the old Testament.
" Thai man shall die.!"
Look 1 the brother springs forward to
plunge a knife in the murderer's heart, the
tory pinioned as he is, clings to the widow's
knee.—He begs that one more trial may be
mand by the little girl, that chile<£*with the
golden hair and black eyes.
The widow concents. There is an awful
pause. With a smile in her eye, without
knowing what she was doing, the little girl
opened the Bible as it lay upon her mothers
knre ; she put her finger upon a line.
The awful silence grows deeper. The deep
drawn breath of the brother, and the broken
gasp of the murderer, alone disturb the still
ness ; the widow and dark haired boy are
breathless. The little girl, as she caught a
feeling of awe Iroiu those about, stood breath
less, her face turned aside, and her finger 011
the line of life or death. At length gather
ing courage, the widow bent her eyes upon
the page and red. It was a line from the
New Testament.
" Love your enemies."
O, book of terrible majesty and childdike
love—of sublimity that chrushes the heart
with rapture—you never shone more strongly
than there in "that lonely cot of WissahicoQ
when you saved the murderer's lift.
Now how wonderful are the ways of heaven.
That very night a? the widow sat by the
fire side thiukiug of her husband who now luy
smouldering on the drenched soil of Paoli—
there came a tap at the door ; she opened
it ; that husband, living though covered with
wounds, was iu her arms. He had fellen at
the Paoli, but uot in death ; and his wife lav
panting on his bo?om.
That night there was a prayer in that wood
embowered cottage of the Wissahicon.
INSTINCT OF THE DOG. —Among the Gram
pian mountains there are glens chiefly inhabi
ted by shepherds, and the pastures over which
their flocks range extend in every direction
for many mile?. It is the daily business of the
shepherd to visit successively the different ex
tremities of the pastures, and to turu back auv
of the flock that may be straying to those of
his neighbors. It is a common practice with the
Highlanders to accustom even their young chil
dren to the rigors of the climate ; and on oue
occasion, a shepherd took with him an iufaut
of about three years old. To have a more ex
tensive view, be assended a summit at some
distance, and,as this was too fatiguing for the
child, he left it at the foot of the mountain,
charging him not to stir until his return.—
Scarcely, however, had he reached the top
when one of the mists which frequently fall on
these mountains came suddenly, and in a few
minutes, almost changed day into night. Has
tening back to find his child, he missed his way the
the morasses and cataracts around,and
night actually came on while he was continuing
his search in vain. At length, in his wander
ings, he reached the verge cf the mist, aud
the moon having now risen, he found he was
not far from his own cottage. Further pursuit
appeared very dangerous, aud he entered his
home greatly distressed, for his child was lost,
aud a dog also, who had faithfully attended
hiin for many years. At the break of day,accom
panied by several of his neighbors, he went
forth in quest of the child,but the day was spent
without success. Returning to his cottage, nt
night-fall, he found that the dog had returned,
but had immediately left home ou receiving a
piece of cake. As this was done more than
once, and the child could not be found, the
shepherd determined to reijain at home, and
when the dog should next cotno and go, warily
follow hiin. As he did so, he tracked the dog
to a cataract,the banks of which almost joined
at the top, but were separated by a chasm of
considerable depth, and down one of these rug
ged descents it proceeded, and entered a cave,
the mouth of which was almost on the level
with the. torrent. It was with difficulty that
the shepherd followed, but, on entering.be be
held, with indescribable feelings, his child eat
ing the cake the dog had just brought. The
child, it afterwards appeared, had wandered
from the spot where he was left, to the brink
of the precipice, and then had either fallen or
scrambled down till he reached the cave, from
which lie had not gone, from fear of the tor
rent. Hither he had been traced by the dog,
who had not quitted him night or day, except
to go home for food ; and he was observed to
go thither and return at his utmost speed.
! WATERLOO THE DAY AFTER THE BATTLE.—
On the surface of two square miles, it was as
! eertained that fif'.v thousand men-and horses
j were dying ! The luxurious crop of ripe grain
which had covered the field of battle, was re*
1 dueed to litter and beaten into the earth, and
| the surface trodden town by the cavalry and
| furrowed deeply hy the cannon wheels,strewed
; with many a relic of the fight. Helmets and
! cuirasses, shattered firearms and broken
| swords 5 all the varieties of military ornaments
lancer caps and Highland bonnets ; uniforms
! of every color, plumes and pennon ; musical in
! Moments the apparatus of artillery, drnms,
bugles, but good God ! why dwell on the har
rowing picture of a foughten field ?—each and
every ruinous display bore mute testimony to
the misery of such a battle. Could the melan
chofy appearance of this scene of death pe
heightened, it would be by witnessing the re
searches of the living, amid its desolation, for
the objects of their love. Mothers and wives
and children for days were occupied in that
mournful duty ; and the confusion of the cor
pses—friend and foe intermingled as they were
—often rendered the attempt at recognizing
individuals difficult and sometimes impossible.
In many places the dead lay four feet deep
upon each other, marking the spot some Brit
ish square had occupied, exposed for hours to
the murderous fire of a French battery. Out
side lancer and cuirassier were scattered on
the earth. Madly attempting to force the
serried bayonet of the British, they had fallen
in bootless essay by the musketry of the inner
Gles. Furtncron you trace the spot where
the cavalry of France ar.d England had en
countered ; chasseur aud huzzar were inter
mingled ; and the heavy Norman horse? of the
Imperial Guards were interspersed with the
charges which had carried Albion's chivalry.
Here the Highlander and Tiralleur lay side by
side together ; and the heavy dragoon, with
green Erin's badge upon his helmet, was grap
pling in death with the Polish lancer. On the
summit of the ridge,where the ground was cum
bered with the dead and trodden fetlock deep
in the mod and gore by the frequent rush of
rival cavalry, the thick strewn corpses of the
Imperial Guards pointed out the spot where
Napoleon had been defeated. Here, in column
the favored corps, on whom his last chances
rested, had been annihilated ; and the advance
and repulse of the guard was traceable to a
mass of fallen Frenchmen. In the hollow be
low, the last struggle of France hud been vain
ly made ; for there the Old Guard attempted
to meet the British and afford lime to their
disorganized companies to rally.
The follasjng is a true copy of a letter
received by a schoolmaster in Michigan:—
" Sur, as you are a man of noledge, I inteud
to enter my son in your skull."
B&* If you wish to appear agreeable in
■ociety, yon mnst consent to be taught many
thing* that yon know already.
VOL. XXII. —NO. 0.
Slaughter of two Thousand Persons in
Africa.
One of the native missionaries who wituessed
the " grand custom " of the King of Dahotncy
says that more than 2000 male human beings
were slaughtered, and about as many females
and young children, besides enormous numbers
of deer, turkey-buzzards and other fowl. In
a commercial point of view it has been produc
tive of evil. The West Africa Herald says :
We learn that besides the terrible sacrifice of
human life caused by tlie Pahoman 1 grand
custom,' it has ulso had the effect of,in a great
measure, putting a stop to trade in that part
of the country. All the principal people have
been compelled to repair to the capital Abomey
and reruaiu there to witness this custom, lu
Wydah we understand there were, when our
informant left that town, a few people bat wo
men and slaves. The palm uuts were rotitig
on the trees ; commerce and agriculture were
languishing grievously.
Amoug the King of Dahomey's army there
is a troop called Amazon Guard?. The West
Africa Herald thus describes them ;
" The Amazon Guards, as they have some
times been styled, are the most extraordinary
troops that we have ever heard or read of.—
They are 3,000 in number, all females, and
display such a degree of ferocious blood t'birst
irsess and hardihood as to bear a greater re
semblauce to a host of mad tigresses than to
human creatures. They utterly despise death;
they show no mercy to any living being in war,
' they are mad after blood, and seem not to
know what fear means.
They are in fact a troop of devils, so to
speak, whose hideous wildnessof manner, and
the savage madness of whose demeanor in times
of excitement is so appalling and inhuman as
to have Ud many well judging persons to opine
that these dreadful creatures are periodically
subjected to the influence of some species of
drug, which has this effect. Tue dress of the
Amazons consists of a pair of loose trousers an
i upper garment covering the breast, and a cap.
| They are armed with a gun, knives and dag
gers ; some have blunder busses, others loug
elephant guns, while the remainder carry the
ordinary musket. In their military exercises
I they display good dicipline, as well as wouder
! ful dexttrity and agility."
' _ —___
" CAN'T CHEAT THE PROFESSION." —An East
ern paper, speaking of a man who was un
able to procure mclical attenda'c •, says:—
" He died without the aid of a Physician
and such instances are very rare. Such con
! duct is discouraged. If a man dies without
| the aid of a physician, the coroner proceeds
to inflict post inortum fvengence upon him.—
He calls not one but two or three doctors,
who proceed to vindicate the slight on the
profession. They rip open the unfortunate'®
body, and if the debased complained of a
painc in his stomach a short tirno previous fo
his death, they saw his skull iu two and re
move the brain for microscopic inspection.—
His stomach is removed for chemical inspec
tion, and never brought back again. The#"
then certify that the deceased died from a
" diagonosis" of the horizontal membrane of
the right vertebra,' which being a mysterious
disorder beyond tho knowledge and compre
hension of the laity, is supposed to have been
a special visitation upou tbe unhappy man
for his iciquitv in trving to escape a doctor's
bill."
B&yCol. Billy Wilson's Zouaves are having
all sorts of stories told about tiiem. A corres
; poodent of the sprightly Milwaukee Sentinel
tells the following :—" Yesterday,a Methodist
clergyman went down to Staten Island to ex
i hert them. Billy Wilson drew up his uien,
i and called attentbn 1" The parson then gave
them a very edifying and appropriate discourse
j to which, in obedience to the colonel's coin
| mauds, they listened attentively. Wbea tho
[inrson hud tinished, Billy gave his ' boys' a
. short talk, somew hat iu this wise: 'Boys, I
" want you to remember what the minister has
told you. It is all for your good ; take his ad
vice and follow it j for there is no knowing but
that iu less than six months every d——-done
of ycu will be in Ilell !' Here a voice from the
ranks called out 'Three chters for Hell !' and
they were given with a will. The parson, as
tonished and angry,asked what it meant. 'Oh,'
says Biily, ' the boys don't know much about
Scripture. They think Hell is somewhere be
tween Montgomery and New Orleans,and they
are d d anxious to get down in that neigh
berhood !'"
CHALLENGES. —A gentleman from the troops
at the Relay House says that the sentinals
have, in some instauees, a pleasent way of
making challenges. A fellow who had been
fishing on the Patapsco, and secured u fine
string of fish, was stopped by the usual ques
tion, " who g. e there ?" " Fishermau" was
the answer. " Advance fishermau and drop
two shad," the alert scutiuel, looking out for
his own coramissiriat.
The Montgomery Confederation gives tho
following frotn a correspondent :
" Ou the first night aftgr ray arrival, in
passing from one quarter to an other, I was
stopped by a sentinel whom I recognized
as private P (though he did not recoguizs
me.) I was for the countersign, and
replied " a friend with a bottle of whiskey
the reply was " advance bottle and draw stop
per," which I did, and was suffered to pasa
on my way rejoicing.
fSjr Id nature in one person disturb tho
whole company, and make them feel cross, to,
as, electricity at one end runs the whole length
of the wire.
J6T Atl Irish lover remarked that it is a
great pleasure to be alone, especially when
yoar " swate heart is wid ye."
4®* Why is the Star Spangled Banner
like the Atlantic OceaD ? Because it will
never cease to wave.