|t 03LLW Pc R ANNUM INVARIABLY w ar VANCE. TOWANDA: Thursday Morning, October 24,1861. Shlrttrt jpodrn. THE VOICE OF THE NORTH. BY JOUS o. WHItTIER. Vp the hill side, down the glea, liou*e the sleeping citixeu ; Summon out the might of man ! Like s lion growling low- Like anight storni risin; slow!— Like the tread of unseen foe. It is coming—it is high ! Stand your homes and altars by. Ou your own free thresh "Id die. Clang the bells in all your spires. (in the gray hills ol your sires VI to heaven your signal tires. Oh ! for 0"d and duty stand. Heart to heart and hand I" hand, 'Round the old graves ol the laud. Whoso shrinks or falters now, Whoso to the yoke would b"W. Braud tb > raveu ou nis brow. Freedom's soil has only pis. e For a tree and tearless race— None lor traitors lai-e and Base. lVri-h party—perish clan ; Mr.kc together while you can. Like the strong arm of one man. I lake the angel's voice sublime, Htard above a world of crime, ■ Cr > ng tor the end ot Time. I With one heart and with one mouth. Lei ti - North -peak to the S uth ; -•i*ak the word befitting both. jstltttik Calt. " COB'WBBS." '"Hist ! look there !" r , -|Hok< r was one of two young menr-wwJfo i! cour- up to the mountains on a p.tbstrian . i sketching expi ditiou from the city of Phil . As tie spoke, :: anion's arm This person be addressed kftl, ami saw a little girl, about ten years advancing in an old biackheiry path, ivie .- as brown es a berry from exposure to the fUn, and tier feet and arms were bare, but uere was a grace about licr, as she came trip ling lor warn, lhat a princess ui gbt have eu- I Just in front ot her u spider had spuu B > trap acro-s the path, and, as the youug I .a -p. ke, .-he slightly sluojied her head, and By - ,g tnr hands pushed the cobwebs usnle I *as this aitless, uaiural movemeul which B.spieled the picture B 1 -hould like to paiut her," said he who B What! love at first sight ?"' answered his anion, laughing. 44 l'o think of the fa-- B i- C larence losing his heart to a sunburnt B You are eighteen, and she about teu B '• vou can afford to wait.'' I i'ae conversation bad tieen carried on in B -pers. The child, still advancing, had by B > time come opposite to the two youug men B -eeing thein she stopped ami stared curi- B■ v at tfieui, as a youug d<-er that had uever B hauled may be suppo->*d to -top utid re- B" fi r> stranger that enters tiie forest. m ; • g;.t, -p< ak ug face, a- u tiiUs stood B ■ • arrested, wa- not less beautilui, in B i iv. taau her little figure. B M • ■ • ar,' siid the m-t speaker, "would nke jhema le iniou picture ' Mi liieiui B -i i • ler, and will give you a dollar if M imm sketch you " T - grl !< ked from the speaker to his m --'. Crt tiie natural confidence which the easy air of the other had for the rno ■- • ikni bbe drew coyly up to him, as 1 vve read of pictures." she said, gazing - lace, " but never saw one. Is it a tare of me you will make?" ■ ..e artless appealing of the Child went to ;: g man's heart. He aoutd as soou and iu bantering her as iu bantering a- gooi a picture of you as 1 can, • * let me—a picture like one of these" m t opened bis portfolio, which coutain 'V'VUs -ketches. ! ho* beautiful !" cried the cbikl. It Uriil tl.at a new world had opened to b -■ L'aZ-d breathlessly at sketch after the itsi had beeu examined, and ivv j a Jeep sigb. ■ F r*.e, ir." -aid she. timidly, at last, " > u give tae my picture wheu you have I No,' .me- •v, .} the otlier youug man, e * tire you a dollar." " !u ' ed on ine speaker, let go the hand 4 In-iditig, and drew herseif up with W haughlibesS. -• r <Jt want your dollar," she said, with I fl ■■ I'he was turning to escape, when the Covering hei haud, said soothingly, AI ihi in, my dear, I will paint two 4lJ d sive vou one. Come, that will |J '"-r. end Clarence Harvard, for that fgf - J ng artist's name, htgan rapidly ■ | i> re noon two hasty sketches in > ■ 4u " r d he, drawing a long hreath, ■ 'afi? ttt-fii as quiet as a 111 tie aiou-e. and r- 4 '- ti-ainj times obliged to you. Take ud he handed her the sketch, he. some of these days, you Will '' lo ,4> you " 1 will, an my life long," artlessly said ,lj rapturously gazing on her new yos "'to an etitha.-ia.-ui partly boru of the * tun ber, aud partly the result ot f'"de in what ts its own especial pro iuter|osed the other youth, * promise to be bis wife some dav, Cobwebs ?" THE BRADFORD REPORTER. The child's eyes flashed as she turned ou the speaker. Her instinct, from the first, had made lur dislike the sneering man. She stamp ed her pretty toot, and retorted, sarcastically, " I'll never be yours, at any rate, 3ou old snap piug-turtle and, as if expecting to have her ears boxed, if caught, she darted away, disap peariug rapidly down the path whence she had come. Clarence Harvard broke into a merry laugh in which, altera momeutof auger, his compan ion joined him. " You deserve it richly," said Clarence ; 'it's a capiat nickname, too ; I shall call you noth iug eise, after this, than snappiog-turtle." " Hang the little jade I" was the reply.— " One wouldn't think she was so smart. But what ash ew she will make ! I pity the ciod liopper site marries ; she'll henpeck him out of all peace, and send him to au early grave." Nothing more was said, for at that moment | a dinner horu sounded, aud the young men I rose to return to the road.-ide inn where they s had stoppi d the uighl before. Their time was I limited, and that evening, kuapsacks ou back, they were miles away from the scene of the morning A week later they were both home ! in the city, Clarence hard at work perfecting ; himself in his art, and his companion delv -1 iug at Coke and Blackstone. Years passed. Clarence Harvard had ris en to be an artist of eminence. His pictures were the lasliiou ; he was the fashion himself. Occasionally, as he turned over his older pro j duclious, he would come upon " Cobwebs," as be was accustomed, langhing'j to call the sketch of the child ; and then for a moment I he would wonder what had uecoine of the ori ginal ; bm, except on these rair occasions, he , never even thought of her. Not so with the child herself. Nellie Brey was a poor orphan, the daughter of a decayed gentleman, who, after her father's death, had been adopted by a maternal uncle, living ou a wild, upland farm among the Alleghauies.— Iler childhood, from her earliest recollection, ha I been speut amid the drudgery of a farm This rude but free life bad given ber tbe snringy step aud ruddy cheek, which had at traded the young artists attention, but it bad failed to satisfy tlie higher aspiratious of her nature—aspirations which had been born in her blood, and which came of generations of antecedent culture. The first occasion ou which these higher impulses h id found cougeniel tood was w hen she hat] met the young ai list. She , carried her sketch home, and would never part with it His refined, intellectual face, haunt ed all ber day dreams. From that bour, a new element entered into her iife ; she became conscious that there were other people beside the dull, plodding ones with whom her lot had beeu cast ; all her leisure hours were spent in studying. Gradually, through her influence, her uucle's household grew more refined, aud, finally, her uucle himself become ambitious for Nellie, as he had uo children, consented, at his wife's entreaty, to'send the youug girl to a first class bo trding school. At eighteen the barefooted rustic, whom the youug artist had sketched, had dawned into a beautiful and accomplished woman, who, after having carried > fT the highest prizes at school, ' was the belle of the country town, near which her uncle's possessions lay. For, meantime, that uncle had been growing rich, like most prudent tarmcrs, partly from the judicious in vestment- of hi- savings. But, iu spi e of her many suitor-. Nelly had never yet seen a face that appeared to her half so handsome as the manly one ot the young artist, whose kind, gen tie words and manner, 'ight years before, had hvcil tuber memory ever since. Ofteu, after a tiriiiiant company, where she hud been queen of tne evening, she iound herseif wondering, in her chamber, if she should ever see that lace again. " Are you going to the ball, next week ?" said one of Nellie's frieuds to her. 44 They say it is to be the most splendid affair we have ev er had. My brother tells me that Mr. Mow brv, the eloquent lawyer from Philadelphia, who is in the great case here, is to be present.' " I expect to go," was the reply. " But Mr Mowbry being there won't be the induce ment." " Oh, you are so beautiful, vou can afford to be indifferent. But ail the other girls are dyeing at the very thought." The ball came off, aud was really superb. Mr Mowery was there, too, with all his laur els. The " great will case," which had agitat ed the country for so many mouths, had beeu concluded thai very day, and had beeu decid ed ui tavor of bis client. No such speech as .Mr Mowbray's, it was uuiversaily adm.tted, had ever been heard in the court bouse. Its alternate wit and argument had carried the ju ■ rv by storm, so that they had giveu a verdict without leaving the box Tbe young lawyer at the ba I, was tike a hero fresh IroiD the bat tle field A huudrtd eyes followed his form, a huudred fair bosoms beat quicker as he ap ! prone bed. But he saw only one iu ail that ] brilliant assembly—and it was Nellie. Her ! graceful form, ber lulelbgeut face, her style ' ami tn-aaiy, arre-ted him the moment he eu i tercd ; iie ,.iw that she bad no peer iu the r>o!U ; and he devottd himself to her almost j exclusively, througuout the evening Nor had Nellie ever shone so brilliantly.— I She could not but feel that it was a great ! compliment to be thus singled out from among MJ many. But -he had uuother motive for ex . erting herself to shine. At 'he very first glance , *be recognized in Mr Mowbry the companion ! of the artist who had sketched her eight years i back. In hopes to bear something o: his Irieud, she turned the conversation ujou art, the city, childhood, and everything else that she tho l might be sugge-tive i but in vaiu. £>ne cou.u HOI be more definite, because she wished to con ceal her identity, for it was evident that Mr. Mowbry did uot know tier ; besides, her na tural delicacy shruuk from enquiring about a perfect stranger. The next day. aa soon as etiquette allowed, Mr Mowbry was seeu driving up to the farm. Nelbe appeared beautifu ly attired, in a Deat rooming lifcs*, and looking so fresh aud spark ling, tu spite 01 the late Lours of the night be fore, that it could hardly be considered flatted}' PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0. GOODRICH. when her visitor assured her that she looked lovelier than her loveliest roses. Mr. Mow bry was lull or regrets at cruel fate, which, he said, compelled him to return to the city. He could not conceal his joy when Nellie s aunt inadvertently, and much to Nelli'o secret au noyance, let out the fact that in the fall Nel lie was to pay a visit to an old schoolmate in Philadelphia, Miss Mary Stanley. " Ah, indetd !" cried the visitor, and his face flushed with pleasure. "lam so delight ed. I have the houor to know Miss Stanley. You will be qu te at home in her set," bowing to Nellie, 44 tor it is, by common cousent, the most cultivated in the city." Nellie bowed coldly. Her old distrust in the speaker had revived again. Through all the polish of his manner, and in spite of his deferential admiration, she recognized the same sneering spirit, which believed in nothing true or good, trorn which she had shruuk instinc tively when u child. During tbe inter view she was civil, but no more. She could uot, how ever, avoid being beautiful ; nor could she help speaking with the intelligence and spirit which always characterized ber conversation ; and so Mr. Mowbray weut away more iu love than ever. A few months later found Nellie domociled for the winter iu Philadelphia. Hardly had she changed her traveling dress, when her friend came to her chain' er. " 1 want you to look your prettiest to-night,' said Miss Stanley ; " for I expect a crowd of beaux, aud among them Mr M wbry, the 1 r.l liant young lawyer, aud Mr Harvord. The former claims to have met you, and raves ev erywhere about your beauty. The latter, who is a great artist, and very critical, laughs at his frieud's enthusiasm, aud says he would bet you are ouly a common rustic, with cheeks like peo lies. So I wish you to convert the heretic." " Only a common rustic," said Nellie, to herself, heartily ; and she resolved to be as beautilui as poisible. Perhaps, too, there was a half form d resolve to bring the offender to her feet in revenge. A great surprise awaited her. When she entered the uraw ing-room lhat evening, the first stranger she saw the identieal Clarence, who painted her a- a barefooted little girl; anil then tor tbe first time, it flashed upon her that this was the great artist who had spoken con temptuously of her charms. Her notion prov ed correct ; for Miss Stanley, immediately ad vancing, prtsented tiie strauger to her as Mr. Harvard. A glance into his face reassured Nellie of his identity, and satisfied her that he had not r-coguized her ; and theu she turned away, after a haughty eourttsy, to receive the eager felicitations of Mr. Mowbry. There were conflicting emotions at war in her bosom that evening. All her old romance about Clarence was warred upou by her indig nation at a belief of his slighting remaiks and at his preseut indifference ; for he had made no attempt to improve his introduction, but left ber entirely to the crowd of other beano, pro minent among whom was Mr. Mowbrav Piqued and excited, Nellie was even more beautiful and witty than usual. Late in the evening she consented, at M.-s Stanley's re quest, to play ami >iug. She fust dashed off some brilliant waltzes, then played bits of ojieras, and at Mr. Mowbray's solicitations, sang several ballads. Few persous bad such a sympathetic vo.ee, and Clarence, who was pa-siotiutely fond of music, drew uear, fascinat ed. After singing "Are you sure the new is true?" 44 Dannie Dundee," aml 4 other>jwbich had been a-ked for, Clarence said : " And may I, too, ask for my favorite ?" 44 Lefiaiuiy, sir,"' she ausweied, with the least bit uf hauteur. 4 " What is it ?" " O ! too sad, perhaps, for so gay a com pany. 4 The land of the Ileal.' I hardly dare hope yon will consent." It was her. favorite also, and her voice slightly trembled as .-he began. From this or some other cause, she sang it as even she had uever sung it before, and when she fin ished her eyes were full of tears. She would have given much to have sen Clarence's face, but she could uot trust herself to look up ; and partly to conceal her emotion, part ly by a sudden impulse, she struck into the Miserere of 4 11 Trovatore " Nobody there had ever before realized the full tragedy t f the saddest, yet most beautiful dirge Even the selfish heart of Mr. Mowbray was affected. When the las; chord had died away, he wag the first one to speak, aud he was profuse iu adm ratious aud thanks But Clarence said nothing. Nellie, at last, looking towards him. saw that his eyes had beeu dim as well as her o#u. She felt that his silence was the most eloquent of eompiiuients, aud from that hour forgave him for having called her a •' common rustic." Clarence soon became a constant visitor at Mr. Stanley's. But he always found Mr. Mowbray there before him, who endeavored in every way to monopolize Nellie's atteutiou. Reserved, if not absoluetly haughty, Clarence left the field generally to his rival ; aud Nel lie, h&tf mdiguant, was sometimes tempted to affect a gayety in Mowbray's company which she was tar from feeling. Occas.oualty, how ever, Clarence would aisert his equal rights to share the company of Miss Stanley's guest, and at such times his eloquent talk soou eclipsed eveu lhat of the bniuaut advocate As Nellie said in her secret heart, it was agaiust Yo tarie. And the more C.ar ence engaged iu these conversations, the more he felt that, for tbe first time in his life, he had met one who understood him. Oue morniug the footman came up to the little paneled boudoir where Nellie and ber friend were sittiug, saying that Mr. Mowbray was in the parlor, aud solicited a private in terview- with the former. Nellie rose at once, lor she foreboded what was coming, and was ooly too giad to have this early opportunity of stopping aiteultoua which had become uu eudunble to ber. Mr Mowbray was evidently etnbarrased. an nnu-ual thing for him. But be rallied, and came directly to the purpose of his visit, which was. as N'eiue had soeprcted, to tender ber his heart ar.d hand He was proceeding in " REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANT QUARTER." 1 a strain of high-flown compliments, when Nellie said, with an impatient wave of the haud : 44 Spare me, sir. You did not always talk ' so." He looked at her in astouishment. I 44 Many years ago I answered you the same I question which you now ask. i He colored up to the temples. 44 I surely | do uot deserve," he then said, 44 to be made a jest of." 44 Neither do I make jest of you. Do you not kuow me." 44 I never saw yon till this summer." j 44 You saw me eight years ago. You and 1 a friend were ou a pedestrian tour. Yuu met a little barefooted girl, whom your friend made a sketch of. and whom you jeered at and then nickuamed." Aud rising, she made a mock courtecy, for she saw she was now re i cognized : 44 I aui 4 Cobwebs,' at your ser | vice, sir !" The discomfited suitor never forgot the look of disdain with which Nellie eourtesied to him. His mortification was not lessened 1 when, ou leaving tbe house, he met Clarence ou the door steps. He tried iu vain to assume . an indifferent aspect, but he felt that he had failed, and that his rival suspected his rejec tion. Nelly Could not avoid laughing at the j crest-fallen look of her old enemy. Her w hole | maimer changed, however, wheu Clarence en tered. Instead of the triumphantly saucy tormentor, she became the coucious, trern j bliug woman. Clarence, who had longed for, yet dreaded this interview, took courage at once, aud in a few manly words, eloquent with emotion, laid his fortune at his Nelly's feet. Poor Nelly felt more like crying with joy than anything else. But a little of the old saucy spirit was left in her. She thought she j owned to her sex uot to surrender too easily ; and so she said, archly glancing up at Clar ence : 44 Do you know, Mr. Harvard, whom you i are proporiug to i lam no heiress, no high born city be I e bit ouly—'e' ne,see —wl a' is it ?—ouly a common country rustic." Ahd she rose and eourtesied to him. 44 For Heaven's sake don't bring that fool -1 ih speech up against me !" he cried, passion | ately, trying to take her hand. 44 I have re peoled it a thousand times daily, since the uulucky moment 1 was betrayed into saying it. Do me tha justice to believe that I never meant it to be joersonul." 44 Well, Then, 1 will say nothing more of : that matter. But this is only aw L;m of yours. , How is it, that Laving known me so long, I tou or.lv now discover mv merits ?" 44 Known you so long f" ! 44 Yes, sir," demurely, j 44 Knowu you." 4 " For eight years." 44 Good Heavens !" he cried, suddenly, his \ ' whole face lighting. 44 How blind I have beeu ! Why did I uot see it before ? You are " 44 Cobwebs," said Nellie, taking the words out of his mouth, her wboli face sparkling with glee ; and she drew off and gave anoth er sweeping couilesy. Belore she had recovered herself, however, I a pair of stroug arms were around her, for Clarei C; diV ned now that iu wis loie ; . Nel lie all along, had bad a half a secret fear, that when her suitor knew the past, he might Dot be so willing to marry the barefooted girl as the brilliant belle, but all this was now goue. Two months later there was a pay wedding at St. Mark's. A month after that a bridal pair, returniuiug from the wedding tonr, drove up to a handsome house in Philadelphia. As Clarence led Nellie through the rooms, in which his perfect taste was seen everywhere, she gave way to exclamatiou after exclama tion of delight. At last they reached a tiny boudoir exquis itely carpeted and curtained. A jet of gas, ! burning in au alabaster vase, d ffused a soft light through the room. A solitary pic ure hung on the walls. It was the original sketch .of her, eight years before, now very elegantly framed. The tears gushed to Nellie's eyes, and she threw herself iDto her husband's arms. 44 Ah ! how I love you !" she cried. Nobody who sets that picture suspected its origin. It is too sacred a subject for either Nellie or Clarence to aliude to. But it was only the other day that a celebrated leader of lasbion said to a friend : 44 What a oneer pet name Mr. Harvard has for his beautiful bride ! In anybody else ex cept a genius it would be eccentric. Bat yon do not kuow how pretty it sounds from his ; lips." 44 What is it ?" 44 Cobwebs !" — OrnocßarHY.—Among the other difficulties af English orthography is the relative po-ition i and t in words ending in 44 ieve," or 44 eive," I and both in manuscript and print are seen 41 believe" "beleive," "receive" and recieve," 44 reprieve" and "repreive." The writer was somewhat surprised on being told not long since by a foreign lady, who was taught Eng lish in Holland, that there was a rule regulat ing the position of the letters referred to in all such words; and as it was ne* to him and so far as be has been able to discover, new- to every one, he thinks it may prove useful to g v • it publicity. When the preceding consonant is a letter ! which comes after i in the alphabet, comes after i in the word, as "believe: but when the precediug consonant comes before i in the alphabet, e comes before t in the word, as 44 re ceive." The rule is invariable as applies to the class of words referred to, but is not of general ap plication to wurds of one syllable having the same vowels in juxtaposition : thus we have "niece" 44 ceil," Ac., Which conform to the rule; and 44 chief," 44 seize," Ac , which do not —Newark Advertiser. j tew. Gen Beauregard i- the grandson of a Mexican bandit. Locking of the Tower of London. Few persons are aware of the strictness | with which the Tower of London is guarded from foes without and treachery withiu. The j ceremony of shutting it up every night contin ues to be as solemu and as rigidly precaution ary as if tbe French invasion were actually a foot. Immediately after 44 tatto," all stranges are expelled ; nothing short of such imparative necessity as fire or sudden illness, can procure their being re-opened till the appointed hour uext morning. The ceremony of locking up is very ancient curious, aud stately. A few miuutes before the clock strikes the hour of 11—ou Tuesdays aud Fridays, 12—the head Warden (Yeoman Porter,) clothed in a long, read cloak, oearing in his haud a huge bunch of keys, attended by a brother Wardeu carrying a gigantic lantern, appears iu front of the main guard-house, aud calls out in a loud voice, 44 Escort keys !" At these words the Sergeant of the Guard, with five or six meD, turus out and follows him to the "Spur," or outer gate, each sentry challeng ing as they pass his post— 44 Who goes there?" 44 Keys." The gates being carefully locked and barred the Wardeu wearing au aspect, aud making as much noiae as possible—the procession returns the seutries exacting the same explanation,and receiviug the same answer as before. Arriv ing once more iu front of the maiu guard house the seutry there gives a loud stamp with his foot,aiidjthe followiug conversation takes place between bim and the approaching party : 44 Who goes there ?' 44 Keys." 44 Whose keys ?" " Qaeeu Victoria's keys," 44 Advuuce Victoria's keys, aud all is well." The Yeoman Porter then exclaims, 44 God bless Victoria." The main ?guard de voutly responding, 44 Amen." The officer on duty gives the word, 44 Pre sent arms !" tbe firelocks rattb ; the officer kisses the hilt of his sword ; the escort fait in among their companion*, and the Yeotnaj Porter matches majestically across the p?trade alone to deposit the keys iu the Lieutenant's lodgings. The ceremony over, not only is all egress and ingress totally precluded, but those within be ing furui>hed with tbe countersi. u, ariv one who, uuhappily forgetful, ventures from his quarters unprotected with his taiLman is sure to be made the prey of the first sentinel whose post he crosses. IT ow A MAN FKELS UNDER FIF.E.— The Ph ludelphia American thus relates how a soldier feels during a battle : We yesterday ! stumbled upon a volunteer on furlough, who first smelt powder at Bull Run. Durlog an hour's chat with him, he gave us a very good general idea of the way iu which a man feels when uuder an enemy's gun. When his regi meut was draw n up in line, he admits his teeth chattered and his knee pans rattled like a pot closet in a hurricane. Many of his comrades! were similarly affected, and some of them would have laid down Lad they dared to do so. When the first volley had beeu inter changed, our friend informs us, every trace of these feelings passed away from him. A reac tiou took place, and he became almost savage' from excitemeut. Balls whistled all about hirn, aud a cannon sbot cut in half a compan ion at his side. Another was struck by some explosive that spattered bis brains over the clothes of our informant, but >o far from in timidation, all these thiugs nerved up his reso lution. The hitherto quaking civilian in half an hour becomes a veteran. His record shov s he bayoneted two of his euemies, and dis charged eight rounds ol his piece with as de cisive an aim as though he had selected a turkey for his mark. Could the entire line of an army come at the same time into collision, he says there would be no runuing except alter hopeless defeat. The men who played the runaway at Bull Run were men who had not participated in the action to auy extent, and who became pauic-trieken where, if once smell ing powdet in the manner above described,they would have been abuudant y vict rious. In the roar of musketry and the tnuudering discharge of artillery, there is a music lhat banishes even innate cowardice. The sight of tneu strug gliug together, the c!a>h of sabres, the tramp of cavalry, the gore-stained grass of the battle field, and the coming charge of the eoemv dimly visible through the battle smoke—all these, says our intelligent iolormant, dispel every particle of fear, and the veriest coward in the ranks perhaps becomes the most tiger like. (fimntioiul Department. Map Making. There can be little doubt that in making maps, if not in the stndy of geography itself, the best way is to begin at home. Indeed, at the preseut day, this is a j>oiot conceded by nearly every intelligent and successful teacher, and r.ot a few of our school geographies are constructed with reference to this important principle, Having initiated the pnpil I would set bim to making maps of the school room, and of rooms, places aud things, in good earnest. In making a map of the school rooms, he shoold be taught to mark the places where some of the principal things stand, such as the stove and teacher's desk, xs well the places occupied by the doors and windows. The teacher will, of course, lead the way in this exercise on the black I ord. After draw ing the outlines of the room, he will say.— 44 What shall I place bere 1" pointing to the spot where it will be obvious to some of them if not to all, mast be the place for the stove, or the teacher' 9 desk If they raise their hands in token that they know, he then a.-ks some oce Suppose it is the stove which is to be located, and it stands on tbe south side of the room He next asks, putting down his penal on the opposite or northern side, at the place VOL. XXII. NO. 21. i which should iudicnte the spot oo which the desk stands " What shall we put here ' The answer is elicited in the same way as be ' fore, and the place of the desk is accordingly marked on the map " What shall I putdowa . here? llow many of you can tell ?" All raise ' their hands. Addressing himself to a particu ■ lar pupil, he says, " You may tell ns." Of the door, in like manner, he asks ; " Where shall it be placed ? Where shall I put the south west window ? Where the north-west ?" Ac. Next to a map of the school-room, should be a map of the school house. There are few school-houses which contain no more than bare ly the school room. Most of them contain ao entrauce and clothes room; some a wood room; and a few have one or more recitation rooms. All these should be marked off, on the map ; i first on the black board,and then ou the slates. | For whatever is worth pr< paring oo the black board, by the teacher and the pupils conjoint ly, is usually worth copyiug by the pupils on their slates. Iu any event,all maps, how much soever the pupils have bad to do in assisting the teacher to prepare them, should be trans ferred to their slatet. If there is a play ground regularly enclosed, in connection with the school-home, a map of this should come next. If not, the pupils may I be required to make a map of the road near i the school house, tr of some open space or I cotnmou, if there is one uear by, with which they are all familiar. Next to the map of a play ground, tnat of the road uear the school house is usually most interesting to children. It afford-, in general, a greater uumber of impi rtant purts, such as here a tree, there a brook or a bridge ; there a house,there a shed; there a well ; there a baru ; there the begin ning of auotber road, Ac. Wheu the pupils of any school can copy from the black board, maps of the school room, the school hou-e, and the road, aud tell the points of compass with relation to each map, tbo teacher may require of them to draw ou their slates, without having any thing to do with the black board*a map of their father's house, or garden, or the road near it. Of course, neither Le nor any one of bis pupils may be able to correct the errors of each, iu ail particulars ; though it will usual.y happen that there will be somebody a toe school, who will ne able to make the necessary corrections. The exer cise, iu auy event, is one of the most valuable that cau be given. From a map of the road near the scbool house, they may proceed to a map of the other roads, not far distant,especially if there is auy thing striking near or on the road; as a church factory, tavern, prison, or store. With the aid of the teacher who uiuat, of course, lead the way on the bl.y.k board, the pupils of a school , might be taugbt to make maps of most of the roads and streets throughout the regiou where they were brought up, as well as most of the fields adjoining them, near the school-house and their re-p-olive Lones. Tile uext step in nne natural progress of thlugs is to a map of the town. This is always exceedingly interesting to the young. For ' though it cauuot be r try large, on a single j black board, nor so large ou the slates as on the black board, yet there will be room enough iu general, for the principal public roads :o towu, with ail the streams, large aud small, and the lakes, ponds, and mountains, if any , exist. This putting dowu the brooks and ponds, with which many of lbs pupils must be more or le.-s famils.-r, is not only exceedingly interesting, but it prepares the way for the right preparation and uutUxstandmg of other maps. From a map of the tewn, the teacher will proceed to draw a map of some three or four or five adjoining tow ns, with their own town in the centre. Further than this exercise it would, 1 think, be premature, to require the pupils to go. lie may iudecd eo on aud make a map of the county, the state, Ac.; but not as a lesson for the pupils, but only to prepare the way for the futuie. Before going so far as a map of the county iu which the pupil resides, there is another ex ercise which may be commenced here, tbongh it cannot or at least ought not to be carried tc any considerable extent, until the pupil is fair ly inducted into the study of geography. I refer to the use of dissected maps In pursu ance of tLe present plan, I would first draw on paper two outlines of the towns immediately ad joining that in which the pupiis aud teacher w ere, including of course their own town and then cut them apart, precisely on the tow u lines These it should be the business of the papds to bring together again into their origi nal shape and relative position. . At the same time, however a map made by the teacher on the black board will be desira j ble ; for young pupils find it more difficult, at first, to put a dis-ected map together than we miybe aware : ani will not be directed too mucb, by the b!a< k board. Afterward bow ever, they may be required to unite them pro perly without the black board They w ill not proceed far, in these various processes, before they shonid be required, one at a time, to come to the black board and draw maps on that, to be corrected by the class after tbev have finished. Tbey should begin with the most simple ; because although they were able to do somethii g mere on their own slates, yet when called to-tand before the whole school, and with the recollection too, that tbey miv be criticised by tliem, most pupils will be at tirst, a little embarrassed. A dissected map of the whole county seems to be the oexi thing in order unless the coonty were remarkably large ; in which case I would omit it, aud pass on to a dissected map of the States of the UuioD. The towns, ur.l ss in one's uwn coonty, and that connty of Terjr moderate size, are such small divi-ioas, that it is hardly advisable to attempt to put together iu towns of a whole state ; except perhaps those of such small states as Rhode Island and Delaware. But I would not at once posh the work of map makiag very far I would leave it for the present, aud attend awhile to writrng; or rath er to the formatiou of letters aud words mechanically.
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