)(£ MLLAS PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE,
TOWANDA :
jlnrsiay Morning, January 22,1863.
Original Hotfrji.
(Written for the Bradford Reporter.)
AUTUMN RAIN.
BV TIIILA H. CASE.
Rain ! rain ! rain !
Paltering over the window pane,
Singing a dismal, sad refiuiu
To the wind's low wail ;
Moaning thro'the vale.
A requiem dirge for the loved and lost,
p or the dreary hearts, on the dark billows tost—
The wild, black billows of bitter pain,
That surgetH up tor the noble slain.
liain ! rain ! rain !
Sweeping down on the battle plain,
Oh ! will it wash out the purple stain
Of the heart's warm blood ?
That flowed in a flood,
OTr the terrible field where our brave men fell,
Xuble. true men, lighting long and,well
Far their country and homes, Oh ! Autumn rain
Sweep down and wash out the crimson staiu.
Rain ! rain ! rain !
Dripping down again and again,
Like tear-drops wrung from a heart of pain,
Are they tears from the sky ?
Are the clouds floating oy
Weeping such crystal drops over the land.
Wti-pirig such tears for the brave, noble band
iia the battle field, still in their glorious sleep?
While the wind o'er their unmarked graves lone vigils
keep.
ROME, I'A.
iHi s 1111 a it to us.
(Written for the Bradford Reporter )
The City of the Dead.
BV L'ASPIRAST.
Tim conven'-b'T.s ;tr< ringing ,
But mournfully and slow ;
J;: tiu- ray s.putre turret swinging,
With a dull sound to and fro.
Heavily to the heart they go !
Hark! the hymu is singing—
A song lor the dead below,
Or the living, who shortly shall be so!
Tor a departing being's soul
The death hymn peals, and the hollow bells knoll.
Byron.
Toll—toll—toll ! Such were the echoes
that greeted us ou one of the brightest after-,
MOMS in the last of September, of the preseut
year, its we entered the gateway of that City
if the Dead—Greeuwood Ce . etcry, Gowanos
Heights, Brooklyn. Toll—toll—toll ! The
oil hell in the tower swung slowly to arid fro,
sending its sad raid mournful echoes faraway ;
ringing out the death knell of another poor
mortal, whose life work wasetuled, whose task
was complete, and, who having done with
earth, was going down to the narrow home—
the ciiarncl bouse of all things human the
Grave. Toll—toll—toll ! A hearse, cover
ed with the sable trappings of death, drove
s.owly past, followed by a long train of mourn
ers, whose steps kept time with the mournful
cadence of tße funeral bell.
Greenwood Cemetery is probably the lar
gest piece of burial in the United States. It
contains 300 acres, aud throughout is laid out
in a m:,.-t beautiful and tasty manner It con
tain' kttoen miles of roadways with avenues
f - : iby paths innumerable. During the past
>'iison there were forty burials in this place
ibone in a single day, say nothing of those bu- !
Tod in the various other cemeteries in the vi
' :: ty of Mew-York and Brooklyn; and it is j
™ uncommon occurrence to hear the bell by i
-he gateway tolling without intermission from I
morning till night. Like every other institu- j
tou of the kind, it has its costly monuments!
well as its more humble graves—the rest-,
: s place.- of wealth and honor as well as those |
of poverty and crime. Go with me, kind read
er, fur a little while, and we will tread the in
itiate paths of the Silent City. I'ause now
—aroimd us lie the sleeping multitude—mem-
of the vast army of the unnumbered dead
Here they lie—the prince and the pauper—
'•he noble and the ignoble—the worthy and
:: 'e tin worthy. One by one the ephemeral of
earth, with mute lips and folded hands, take
tneir places with the pallid slumberers. But
f ve,J here it seems that death could not entire
'? remove the difference iu the social position
0i the sleepers. Here—around us—lie the
ff ealih and aristocracy of New-York ; while
way iu au obscure corner is the " Boor Mau's
Lot —the gr/.ves of the poor and the hum
,;e—of those who had not dollars and cents
f ßongh to purchase a grave alongside of their
D °re aristocratic brethren.
before us is a magnificent ceaat&ph of Ital
iin warble, hexagonial in form, aud erected
• j Hie memory of one of the passengers that
*cnt down with the ill fated Arctic, in 1854.
'I bears the following inscription :—" Erected
10 the memory of Charles C. F. Hamilton,
perished ou board the Arctic, on the
Memorable 27th of September, 1854.— JElat
* ,J ' Here is his monument, while far away
sleeps, with no marble mausoleum or wil
planted by a kindly band, to mark his
Stave. Who can tell of the terrible scenes
0t "i hour like that which closed the drama
°f Lis !if s ?— 0 f the aspirations of a lifetime
'Rtiilenly dashed away—of the ties sundered
p°f the hopes and wishes of years doomed to
in a single hour. When disease fastens
1 - fangs upon us, and we fade slowly, day by
j3 . v , vve come to look upon death with a calm
: but to have every tie sundered in a mo
ttent, every hope aud joy withered, is invest-
Death with a double terror. Within the
"i'ths of that illimitable expanse of waters —
ocean—the fabled Nereid watches his
, irse - guarding it with a zealous care. Ilia
obsequies were short—'twas but
A sadden plunge, the scene is o'er,
Ue waves roll uu as they rolled before."
,^ ear by, nestled in a clump of evergreens,
almost hide it from the view of the
is a monument of pore white mar-
R is a circular pillar, fifteeu feet iu height,
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
and surmounted by the figure of anaDgfl,with
bowed head and drooping wings, holding in its
outstretched hand an open volume, and with
_ the other pointing silently to heaven. The
only inscription upon it is—" To My Mother"
—" By Charlie—lßs4." How beautiful !
how touching ! it appeals more powerfully
to the heart than all the encomiums that have
ever been written in laudation of the great of
earth. This is one of the most beautiful trib
utes to the dead in the Cemetery, although
there are hundreds around it which may have
cost more mouey, oue iu particular, said to
have cost $30,000, yet none equal it, both in
elegance and beauty of design.
Tired at last of all this display of sculpture
and of marble, we turned our steps toward the
" Poor Man's Lot." Tread lightly, carefully
now ! around us lie the unmarked graves of
thousands. Few, very few of them have aught
to tell us who are the sleepers at our feet.—
Some have rude head-boards, with a cross, or
a hand poiuting upward, carved thereon, but
few have even this. Nothing but a little
mouud to tell us of a palsied hand and a pulse
less breast beneath. Some are fresh and new,
and some are covered with the grass of years.
There is a group of six, apart from the rest,
—two long graves with four little mounds be
tween ; probably father, mother, and children.
All but one had apparently been sleeping for
i years, aud that one was of but recent date.—
| While here, we stumbied over two little moss
! covered graves, with an evergreen shading the
j spot. This was something unusual to find in
I the " Pauper's Corner," and so we passed to
' examine them more closely. There were only
two, nestled close together, aud with a little
pine bead-board, which had rotted off and ful
-1 len down. Picking it up we deciphered through
. the mould and moss the inscription, " Charley
Lflie—Cholera—Juue 30th, 1832." What
a simple record, and yet it speaks of a more
enduring affection than could costly sculpture
or chiseled marble. Willi revereuee we re
; placed it and turned away wondering to our
j selves who could have cared enough for Char
| h-y and Lffie—two little paupers as they doubt
i less were, to ret r this touching, though rude
and simple tablet to their memory. Probably
j that hand which had performed this work of
| love had itself become cold and powerless, and |
' uo other was found to fill its place, aud save j
! its charge from the ravages of Time. And j
! no wonder, for every day the world sweeps by j
the poor little outcasts, in yonder city, with a
I smile and a sneer, unheeding the outstretched j
hand, the silent appeal for help. If they care I
*,so little for the living, why should they care
for the dead ? Then
" ltattle their bones over the stones,
Tliey re only poor orphans whom nobody owns !"
With feelings of sadness we retraced our
| stops toward the Heights to catch a glimpse 1
1 of the setting snu and note the beauty of the
j scene. What a magnificent, what a glorious
panorama is spread out before us ! Away to i
! southward, standing out iu bold relief, are the
j highlands of Nevorsink and Staien Island,
I while farther on, stretching away to meet the
| embrace of the distaut horizon, lies the grand
; old ocean, which, tinged with the rays of the
I setting sun, sparkles and glitters like a sea of
liquid gold. Nearer by, guarding the narrow i
entrance to New York Bay, are the frowning
battlements of Forts Hamilton, Richmond and
. LaFuyette. Iu the foreground, the surf is
i breaking upon the beacli with a dull and sul- 1
len roar, while the waters of the Bay are cov
ered with vessels carrying the flag of almost
every nation that beholds the light of the sun.
and bearing within their massive hulks the
J wealth and commerce of the Islands of the ;
I Last and of the West. Lying off larantine '
i are a couple of U. S. gunboats and a sloop of
i war, while a hundred yards beyond the French
transport frigate " Finisftrre," recently from
j Vera Cruz, is swinging slowly with the tide, :
: aud from her long line of white ports can be j
; s.en the mouths of her grim war-dogs.
Turn to the northward In the foreground i
are Forts Columbus and Castle William with
I the f> rtilieations on Bedloe's aud the adjacent
I island. Beyond is New-York, with its brick
j walls and stone, its churches aud theatres ;
Broadway with its ever busy, ever fashionable
I throngs. Wall street with its banks and bro
; kers, Five Points with its dens of filth and
crime, and Fifth Avenue with its brown stone j
i fronts and embryo palaces. While iu the riis j
! tance, as if to complete the picture, looming
up against the clear blue sky, the eye can just
! discern that master piece iu the picture-gallery .
of Nature—the Highlands of the Hudson.
Tramp—tramp—tramp—with slow and j
measured tread, with muttled drums and arms
reversed, a military escort swept slowly past,
followed by that long wagon draped in black,
with its solitary outrider—the coach iu which
sooner or later we all must ride. They form
ed around an open grave a short distance away,
the mourners gathered near. The coffin, wrap
ped iu a flag entwined with crape, was slow
ly lifted out and lowered into its narrow home.
As we drew near, the last words of the speak
er fell on the ears of the bowed and weeping
throng—" Dust to dust—ashes to ashes." The
i clods rattled heavily upon the coffin lid, awa
keuing within the heart their dull aud pain
ful echoes. At length the work complete, the
! last sod smoothed over the silent breast, the
'
i escort marching around the grave fired a rat- j
tliug volley—a farewell salute to their late
brother in arms. As its echoes died away in
j the distance, they filed away, leaving us again
; to our cogitations. We learned from one of
the bystanders that this funeral was in honor
of a Lieutenant Colonel iu oue of the New-
York regiments, who fell at the battle of An
tietam, aud whose remains were brought here
! for interment.
How very few of the many thousands who
go down to bloody graves, are accorded the
honor of a military fuaeral ! The Captain 3,
the Colonels, and the others of rank, may have
the houor bestowed upon them, and right well
do they deserve it, yet the myriads of the rank
aud Gle who sink before the tempest of death,
have an unmarked grave with the only epi
taph, written iu the hearts of their friends all
over the couutry—" Buried on the field !" and
yet, they were just as true, just as generous,
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA,, BY E. 0. GOODRICH.
and just as noble as any who have ever worn
the gaudy epaulette, or the gilded shoulder
strap with its three glittering stars. But the
world's criterion of merit is not founded upon
those noble aud sterling qualities of the heart,
which are the true index of the man, but of
tener upon wealth, rank and social position.
The world has yet to learu that a heart may
beat with just as true aud generous impulses
beneath rags cr homespun as uuder satin or
broadcloth.
What a terrible harvest has the Great
Reaper been gathering in during the past year.
In the camp and on the battle field—by dis
ease and the bullet, he has been gathering in his
harvest, —been reaping with a busy, tireless
hand ! And we are daily proving the truth
of Shelley's words, when he says—
" Death is here and death is there,
Death is busy everywhere,
All around, within, beneath,
Above is death—and we are death,
first our pleasures die—and then
Our hopes, and then our fears—and when
These are dead, the debt is due,
Dust claims dust—and we die too."
At last the lengthening shadows admonish
ed us, and we turned our steps cityward. As
! we were quitting the grounds the sound of
! the tolling bell again fell upon the ear, aud
; sent its mournful echoes far out over the busy,
tumultuous city. What a coutrast 1 Here,
around us, lie the inhabitants of the city of
| the dead—where all is beautiful, where eter
nal silence ever reigns, save the toliiug of the
bell, which is but the welcoming peal of an
, other recruit to the Silent Army, while from
the city at our feet, ever and anon comes up
the noise, the jargon of the hurrying, bustling
throng. Toll—toll—toll ! Such is the com
mon requiem of Man—to-day he is working
and planning, and to-morrow he lies low. And
as witji the worker, so with the works—they
must perish ; and not only the works of man
but the works of Nature itself, are doomed to
pass away, to vanish like a fleeting shadow.
Aye ! —"
*' The clond-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
T he solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Y ea, all which it iu'.ierit, shall dissolve ;
And, like an unsubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a wreck behind. — Hihaksjicurc.
Toll—toll—toll ! A long hearse, followed
by a magnificent cortege, moved past. The
ostentation, the pomp told plainly that one
hud been taken from the higher walks of life, ,
and as we turned away we asked ourselves the 1
question if this poor devotee at Mammon's
shrine is any the happier now for being borue
to his grave, surrounded by the pomp and pa
geantry, the glittering paraphernalia of wealth,
of pride aud place ? if the waves of Lethe's
fabled stream roll more calmly over his breast
than they do over that of the poor pauper who
is kicked into his grave, aud over whose death ;
the world gives a sigh of relief that he is out
of the way ? if his sleep will be sweeter be
neath a gorgeous mausoleum, than that of the
beggar who lies a little way off without a
mark or a stone? No ! Death is the leveler
of all human distinctions. Beyond the River
all will meet on an equality—the high and
the low, the rich and the poor, the prince and
the pauper, the proud and the humble. Death
has been unjustly termed a remorseless tyrant,
and yet, why should we fear him ? The sleep
he brings is a tranquil, a dreamless sleep, where i
no corroding cares break in upon its reposes. I
TH but a rest from the wearying strife of j
earth—a rest after years of toil and hardships. |
When tired of these, we can fold our hands :
aud lie down to that sleep which is hushed, j
deep aud breathless, with the assurance that j
its slumbers will be unbroken—its duration j
eternal. Yes—
" "l'i~ a long, 'tis a last, 'tis a beautiful rest,
When all sorrow lias passed trom the brow and the
breast;
And the lone spirit, it wisely may crave,
That sleep which is dreamless—the sleep of the grave."
NEWI-ORT, It. 1., 'id Oct., 1.382.
HISTORICAL EXCERPS. —" Rushes were used
to strew the floors in Normandy when Wil
liam the Conqueror was born, for at the very
moment when the infant burst into life, aud
touched the ground, he filled both hands with
the rushes strewu upon the floor, firmly grasp
ing what he had taken up. The prodigy was j
joyfully witnessed by the women gossipping ou !
the occasion ; aud the midwife hailed the pro
pitious omen, declaring that the boy would be
a king."
" When Harold was in Normandy, William
took him with him in his expedition to Brit
tainy, to make proof of his prowess, aud at
the same time with the deeper design of show
ing him his military equipment, that he might
perceive how far preferable vas the Norman
sword to the Euglish battle axe."
" Harold's spies, before the battle of Has
tings, reported that almost all the Normau
army ' had the appearance of priests,' as they
had the whole face with both lips shaven. For
the English leave the upper lip unshorn, suff
ering the hair coutinually to increase ; which
Cmsar affirms to have been a national custom
with the ancient inhabitants of Britain.
" The English at that time wore short gar
ments reachiug to the mid kuee ; they had
their hair cropped, their beards shaven, their
arms laden with gold bracelets, their skin
adorned with punctured designs. They were
accustomed to eat till they became surfeited,
and to drink till they were sick. Those latter
qualities they imparted to their conquerors ;
as to the rest they adopted their manners."
" Etherbald, of Mercia, who died iu 756,
exempted all monasteries and churches in his
kingdom from public taxes, works and impo
sitions, except the buildiug of forts aud brid
ges, from which none can be released. He
also gave the servants of God 1 perfect liber
ty iD the protection of the product of their
woods and lands and the right of fishing.' Er
go, there were rights of the feudal character,
and game laws before the conquest."
Kg" A western paper thus apologizes for a
poor issue:— " The Editor is absent, the fore
man has the toothache, the devil is drunk and
trying to drink lager beer out of a boot-jack,
the press is out of order, and we ain't well
ourselves; so please excuse a poor paper this
week."
"REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
From the 141 st Regiment, P. V.
CAMR NEAR FREDERICKSBURG, )
January 2, 1803. J
EDITOR REPORTER— Dear Sir : I forward
to you this complimentary extract for publica
tion, as the 141 st Regiment Pennsylvania
Volunteers were engaged in the great struggle,
and composed a part of Robinson's Brig
ade which supported the battery all through
the hottest of the fight. lam happy to say
that not a man faltered, but all stood up to
the work nobly.
Yours,
I. A. PARK.
Capt. Commanding Co. D., 141 st Reg't 1L V.
HEAD QUARTERS, ARMY Coßrs, )
CENTRE GRAND DIVISION, ARMY of POTOMAC, -
CAMP NEAR FALMOUTH, Va., Dc. 20,1-62. )
i To Lieutenant-Colonel JAMES DICKENSON, Assistant-
Adjutant-General, Centre Grand Division:
COLONEL. —For details and particulars as
to the movemeuts aud operations of Brigade
Regiments and Battalions, aud tbe acts and
duties performed by individuals, and detach
ments, I beg leave to refer to tbe reports of
some individuals, some of which are very elab
orate and circumstantial.
The state of affairs when Biruey's Ist Di
vision arrived on the ground, followed soon af
ter by Sickle's 2d Division, was anything but
promising. Their opportune arrival, however,
first checked, and then drove back the advanc
ing enemy, who yelling, were iu hot pursuit of
the two exhausted and retiring Divisions of
Mead aud Gibson, saved all their arms which
had been entirely abandoned by their supports.
Doubleday's Division from being cut off, aud
tukeu in reverse, left of Smith's Corps, (which
hud not been engaged,) from being turned,
and possibly, if not probably, the whole left
wing of the army from disaster. But iu do
ing this valuable aud important service, the
Ist Division lost upwards of a thousandj as
brave men as ever pulled a trigger.
Of the conduct of this fine Division, I can
not speak too highly ; composed as it is, of
regiments of almost every State, from the
Penobscot to the Mississippi. The whole
country may justly feel proud of its well earu
ed fame. The new regimeuts appeared to vie
with their veteran brothers in arms, iu cool
ness, courage and efficiency.
When all act nobly and well it is difficult
to distinguish. I must, however, be permit
ted to compliment Brig.-General Biruey, on
the handsome manner iu which lie handled
his Division, and his Brigade Commanders,
Gens. Berry, Robinson aud Ward, in the way
they fought their Brigades ; also Captain
Randolph aud his officers for the style iu
which they used their guns, all the while un
der fire of enemy, proving the value and effi
ciency of thorough arill aud discipline.
We, who survive, have to mourn the loss of
many brave hearted brothers in arms, but in j
no way are we discouraged or dispirited by i
tiie failure of our efforts to conquer a brave
and powerful foe, aud all we ask or desire is
to be led to renewed effort in a just aud holy
cause.
I am, Colonel, Very respectfully,
GEORGE STOXEMAN.
Brigadier-General, Commawling Corps.
(For the Bradford Reporter.)
MR EDITOR : —Permit me to call the atten
tion of the public to the law respecting " guide ;
boards "at the corners where roads cross.— !
Any person who has traveled much iu this and
the adjoining counties, must have noticed the
lack of these useful index boards, the hands !
of which direct him which way to go. He
lias also many times, doubtless, been at con
siderable trouble to find his way when he has
come to four corners, or where roads fork, be
ing frequently some distance from any house.
Iu such cases very great iueonvenience is fre
quently experienced, persons sometimes having
to go back or forward hundreds of rods or run
the risk of going miles out of their way. The
law is so plain on this point, that I do uot see
why it is uot enforced. The act of June 13th,
1830, as found in the pamphlet laws for that
year on page 564, section 61, reads thus :
" The supervisors aforesaid shall cause posts j
to be erected at the intersection of all public
roads within their respective townships, (where
trees are not couveuient) with boards firmly
fixed thereon, and index hands pointing to the
direction of such roads, on which boards shall '
be iuscribed in large and legible characters, !
the name of the town, village, or place to which j
such roads may lead, and the distance thereto |
computed in miles.
" If any supervisor shall, after ten days' |
personal notice, neglect or refuse to put or j
keep up in complete repair index boards as
aforesaid, sneh supervisor shall, for every such j
offence, forfeit and pay a sum not exceeding
ten dollars." j
Subsequent to 1836, a special act relative
to roads was passed, which act embraced Brad
ford county. Material changes were made,
but that part quoted above was not repealed,
or changed, only in this respect. In the coun
ties embraced by the subsequent act, three
persons were to be elected who were to be
styled " road commissioners," and tbe office of
supervisor was done away with. Thus the
road commissioners are now as much under
obligation to keep up these " index boards,"
as were the supervisors.
I have traveled on almost every road in the
county, and I doubt whether I have seen twen
ty-five "index boards," lettered and " kept in
complete repair," as the law directs, in the
whole county. Why this is so lamat a los 9
to determine. For persons traveling iu their
own township, or its immediate vicinity, their
absence is no great inconvenience, but to stran
gers it is otherwise, as I have frequently found
to ray great perplexity.
The law appears to give any person tho
right to notify the supervisors, or commission
ers in this county, that these " index boards "
are not kept op, and if one half of the fine goes
to tbe complainant as it does in many cases,
some money might be made, or the law would
; be complied with. X.
Perils in the Air.
The last balloon ascension undertaken fcr
scientific purposes was that of Mr. Glaisher,
which took place in England iu September.
With utter disregard of safety or comfort,this
gentleman has veutured upon scientific experi
ments at higher altitudes than any timid per
son would care to be, and although bis last ex
pedition nearly proved fatal to him, he has re
turned safely with a remarkable chapter on
a?rial experience to narrate. The London
Athenaeum justly remarks that in his hands the
balloon Js restored to its oldjrank of philosoph
ical agent. Gay-Lnssac has shown the men of
sc'ence how to use the balloon for scientific
purposes ; but Mr. Glaisher, by his successful
ascents, is adding largely to our knowledge of
the higher regions of the atmosphere.
The September ascension was made in Mr.
Coxwell's great balloon, and the highest point
reached was five and three-quarter miles. Mr.
Glaisher's interesting narrative of this voyage
thus describes the effects of the atmosphere at
different altitudes:
" When we attained the height of two
miles, at lb. 21 in., the temperature had fallen
to the freezing point ; we were three miles
high at lb. 28m , with a temperature of 18
deg.; at lb. 39m , we had reached four miles,
and the temperature was 8 deg., in ten
minutes more we bad reached the fifth mile,
and the temperature of the air had passed be
low zero, and there read minu3 2 deg., and at
this point no dew was observed on Regnault's
hydrometer when cooled down to minus 30
deg. Up to this time I had taken the obser
vations with comfort. I had experienced no
difficulty in breat: i g, whilst Mr. Coxwell, in
consequence of the uecessary exertion he had
to make, had breathed with difficulty for some
time.
At lh 51m. the barometor read 11.05 inch
es, but which requires a subtructive correction
of 0.25 inch, as found by comparison with
Lord Wrottesley's standard barometor just be
fore starting, both by his lordship and myself,
which would reduce it to 10.8 inches, or at the
height of about 5 1-4 miles, I read the dry
bulb as minus 5 deg ; iu endeavoring to read
the wet bulb I could not see the column of
mercury. I rubbed my eyes, took a leus, and
also failed. 1 then tried to read the other
instruments, and found I could not do so, uor
could 1 see the hands of the watch. I asked
Mr. Coxwell to help me, and he said he must
go into the ring, aud he would when he came
dowD. I endeavored to reach some brandy,
which was lying on the table at about a foot
from my hand, and found myself unable to do
so.
My sight became more dim ; I looked at
the barometor, and saw it between 10 and 11
inches, and tried to record it,but I was unable
to write. I then saw it at 10 inches, still de
creasing fast, and just noted it in my book ;
its true reading, therefore, wast at this time
about 9 3-4 inches, implying a height of about
5 3-4 miles, as a change of an inch iu the rrad
ing of the barometor at this eleta'ion takes
place on a change of height of about 2,500
feet. I felt that I was losing all power, and
endeavored to'arouse myself by struggling aud
shaking. I attempted to look at the barome
ter again, and my head fell on oue side ; 1
struggled and put it right, and it fell on the
other, and finally fell backward
My arm, which had been resting on the ta
ble, fell down by by side. I saw Mr. Coxwell
dimly, in the ring. It became more misty,aud
finally dark, and I sank unconsciously as in
sleep ; this must have been about 2b. 54m.
1 then heard Mr. Coxwell say, " What is the
temperature ? Take an observation; now try."
But 1 could neither sec, move nor speak. I
then heard him speak more emphaticall," take
an observation, now, do try." I shortly after
opened my eyes, saw the instrument and Mr.
Coxwell very dimly, and soon saw very clear
ly, and said to Mr. Coxwell, " I have been in
sensible and he replied, '* You have, and I
nearly."
I recovered quick, and Mr. Coxwell said :
" I have lost the use of my hr-nls ; give me
some braudy to bathe them." 1/is hands were
nearly black. I saw the temperature was still
below zero,and the barometer reading 11 inch
es, but increasing quickly. I resumed my ob
servations at 2h. 7m , recording tho barometer
reading 11.53 inches, and the temperature mi
nus 2 deg. 1 then found that the water in
the wet bulb thermometer, which I had, by
frequent disturbances, kept from freezing, was
oue solid mass of ice. Mr. Coxwell then told
me that while in the ring be felt it piercingly
cold, that hoar frost was all around the neck
of the balloon, and on attempting to leave tbe
ring he found bis hands frozen, and he got
down how he could ; that he found me mo
tionless, with a quiet and placid expression of
the countenance. He spoke to me without
eliciting a reply, and found I was inseusible.
He then said be felt insensibility was com
ing over himself ; that he became anxious to
open the valve ; that his hands failed him.and
that he seized the line between his teeth,and pall
ed the valve open till the balloon took a turn
downward. This act is quite characteristic of
Mr. Coxwtll. I have never yet seen him with
out a ready means of meeting every difficulty
as it has ariseu, with a cool self possession that
has always left my mind perfectly easy, and
given to me a perfect confidence in his judg
ment in the management of so large a bal
loon.
Mr. Glaisher is convinced that the balloon
(containing only himself and tbe mrnonaut
Coxwell) finally reached au altitude of over
sir miles, but of this he is not positive, as bis
ability to read the instrument ceased at the
height of five and three quarter miles. On
this point he says :
On asking Mr. Coxwell whether we had
noticed the temperature, be said he had not,
as the faces of the instruments were afi to
ward me, but that he had noticed that the
centre of the aneroid barometer, its blue hand,
and a rope attached to the car, were in the
| same straight line. If so, the reading must
have been between seven and eight inches. A
delicate self-registering imnimum thermometer
reads minus 12 deg. ; but unfortunately I
VOL. XXIII. —NO. 34.
did not read it till I was out of the car, and
I cannot say that its index was not disturbed,
The account of the descent is equally inter
esting. Mr. Glaisher says :
Ou descending, when the temperature rose
to 17 deg., it was remarked as warm, and at
24 deg., it was noted as very warm. The
temperature then gradually increased to 59 1.
I 2 deg , on reaching the earth. It was remark
| ed that the sand was quite warm to the haud
and steam issued from it when it was dis
charged. Six pigeons were taken up. One
was thrown out at the height of three miles.
It extendod its wings, and dropped as a piece
of paper. A second, at four miles, flew vig
orously round, apparently taking a great dip
each time. A third was thrown out still high
er, and fell downward. A fourth was thrown
out at four miles when we were descending
It flew in a circle, and shortly after alighted
on the top of the balloon. The two remain
ing pigeons were brought down to the ground;
one was found to be dead, and the other (a
carrier) had attached to its neck a note. It
would not, however, leave, and when jerked
off the finger returned to the baud. After a
quarter of an hour it began to peck a piece of
ribbon encircling its neck, and I theu jerked
it off my finger,and it flew round two or three
times with vigor, and Anally toward Wolver
hampton. Not one, however, bad returned
there when I left, ou the afternoon of the
6th.
It would seera from this ascent that five
miles from the earth is very nearly the limit
of humau existence. It is possible, as the
effect of each high ascent upon myself has
been different, that on another occasion I
might be able to go higher ; and it is possible
that some persons may be able to ex-ist with
less air and bear a greater degree of cold ;
but still I think that prudence would say to
all, whenever the barometer reading falls as
low as 11 inches, open the valve at once ;
the increased information to be obtained is
not commensurate with the increased risk.
During the ascent, Mr. Glaisher attempted
to take a photograph of the scene below,
which he described as being very beautiful,
but the immense velocity of the balloon during
the ascent rendered this impossible.
LIFE'S AUTUMN. —Like the leaf, life has ita
fading. We speak and think of it with sad
ness, just as we think of the autumn season.
But there should bo no sadness at the fading
of a life that has done well its work. If we
rejoice at the event of a new life,if we welcome
the coming of a new pilgrim to the uncertain
ties of this world's way, why should there be
so much gloom when all these uncertainties
are passed, and life at its waning wears lha
glory of a completed task. Beautiful as is
childhood in its freshness and innocence, its
beauty is that of uutried life. It i 3 the beau
ty of premise, of spriDg, of the bud. A
holier and rarer beauty is the beauty which the
waning life of faith and duty wears. It is
the beauty of a thing completed ; and as men
coining together to congratulate each other
when some great work has been achieved, and
see in its concluding nothing but gladness, so
ought we to feel when setting sun flings back
its beams upon a life 'bat has answered well
life's purpose. When the bud drops blighted,
and the mildew blasts the early grain, and
there goes all hope of the harvest, —one may
well be sad : but when the ripened year sinks
amid its garniture of autumu flowers and
leaves, why should we regret or murmur ?
And so a life that is ready and waiting for the
" well done"' of God, whose latest virtues and
charities are its noblest, should be driven
back to God in uncomplaining reverence, we
rejoice eat th 'l3 capable of so much goodness,
and is permitted such virtue.
LONGEVITY. —There is nothing in the system
of nature, which,in our present state of knowl
edge, appears unintelligible as the scale of lon
gevity. It must be admitted, indeed, that one
knowledge upon the subject is very imperfect;
for all that is known of domesticated animals,
and the accidental facts that have been pre
served concerning others, tend to the strange
result that longevity hears no relation either
to strength, size, complexion of organization,
or intellectual power. True it is that birds,
which seem to rank higher than beasts in the
scale of being, are also much longer lived.—
Thirty is a great age for a horse ; dogs usual
ly live only from fourteen to twenty ; but it
is known that the goose and hawk exceed a
century. But fish, evidently a lower rank in
creation than either, are longer lived than
birds ; it has been said of some species, and
of certain snakes also, that they grow as long
as they live, and, as far as we kuow, live till
some accident puts an end to their indefinite
term of life. Aud the toad 1 It cannot indeed
be said that the toad lives forever ; but many
of these animals which were cased up at the
general deluge, are likely to live till they are
released by an accident in the course of cen
turies.
A SACRED MEMORIAL. —AmoDg the articles
r9turned from the battle-field with the dead
body of a young soldier from one of the Con
necticut regiments, was a Bible which had
been given him by a praying mother. On ex
amining the Bible, a single leaf was turned
down, which pointed to the following verse :
" There is joy, in the presence of the angels
of God over one sinner that repentetb."
"Dad, I want to ask you a question?"
"Well, my son." "Why is neighbor Smith's
liquor shop like a Confederate note.?" "I can't
tell, my son." "Because you can't pass it," said
the boy. "Go strait to bed,you rascal, or I'll
make a smash of you."
The substance of a verdict of a recent
coroner's jury on a man who had died from the
effect of intemperance, was, " Death by hang
ing—round a rum shop."
To preserve Apples from rotting, put
them iu a dry cellar, of easy acccs3 to a large
family of children.