|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.