Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, March 16, 1865, Image 1

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" HA E-ARi D-HYE."
Was the parting very bitter?
Was the hand-clasp very tight?
Is a storm of tear-drops falling
From a face all sad and white ?
think not of it, in the future
('aimer, fairer days are nigh ;
not backward, but look onward
For a sunny "bye-atid-bye."
W. re some whispered words too cherished?
Was the touch of lips too sweet?
Are two souls once linked together
Never, never more to meet ?
Never here, earth's poor, vain passion
.Slowly smonld. ring out must .lie.
lint its ashes shall return you
Something purer " hye-und-bye."
Was the priceless love you lavished
Sought for, played with, and then slain ?
Where its crushed and qniv'ring remnants
Calmly thrown you hack again -
t Italy too the remnants gather.
Bring them home without a sigh,
sc. e.-t returns they yet shall bring you
In coining bye-atid-bye."
!- v>in frail boat tossed and battered.
With its sails all torn and wet.
i i -sing o'er a waste of waters
i ivri which your suu has set
I die shore all calm and sunlit.
i ' the smooth sand warm and dry r
I itli shall bear your shattered vessel
S l'i lv, surely, '• bye-and-byt." •
\i • the eyelids very weary,
lii'rv the tired head long for rest.
tlii t-'mph-s hot and throbing.
And the hands togetln t pressed ''
IB j■ shall lay you ou her bosom,
Ciml tin- poor lips parched and dry.
And shall vvliii j'cr ••Rest is coining,
Rest for ever, ■ bye-and-bye.
And when calmed and cheered and freshened
By her soul-inspiring voice,
l ie n look up, the heavens are bright'niug.
Cease your wailing and rejoice ;
Cry not out for days departed,
None will hear yon. none reply :
But look on where light is breaking
O'er a brighter " bye-and-bye."
Ihc rebels tire coming again, and this
they will dons more liann, I'm afraid."
I'b words were spoken by and old man.
i . a l >w, troubled voice
" I'm not afraid, father. I enjoyed look
ng at their brown fares and dirty uniforms
:i: List time they were here. A motley
w they were, but there were some hand
• am laces among- them."
Yon will never learn to look at life ser-j
usly. Annie. Can my daughter trust
;■ se who have been faithless to the best
c vernment this world ever knew? I des
-e those traitors, and tremble when they
inter our State. They will teach ns yet
that we should, for onr own honor, have
rpt them out. God grant, my ehihl, that
[hoy may spare its the little we have : it is
p t i ug I shall want it.',
I rouble comes soon enough, father;
I'ii't ; tus borrow it now. You look tired
pud auxioiis. Gii to sleep and forget these
f* ;,,, !s ; 1 don't believe they are coining,
P • i ■ it t! ydo they will pass onr store :
I' -' is t" . little in it for them to waste
Iheir tune upon it."
I Tin; old man kissed his daughter, but left
pic v i, with a sad troubled face. Annie
ri'own leaned her head upon Iter hand, and
leftne i absorbed in thought. They must
p ivi i .-en pleasant thoughts for a smile lit
(m low ) tir t tee and once she laughed right
I* M>;• dear father. I wish he was not so
telpVss p„, not afraid, but rather want
" see the dirty traitors again."
Annie Brown was a fragile-looking girl,
■mall atid very beautiful in appearance, with
(Alt brown eyes, and a face whose beauty
msisled in its never changing expression,
die Silt sidl foi a long time, and gradually
he smile changed into sadness.and a weary
\ptessinn stole over her face. She wa's
ui only child. Her father was old and in
ina—her mother's time was occupied in
usehold duties ; hers in attending the
iittle store that formed their whole support.
lien Annie lay down that night it was
•t t * sleep ; a vague fear come over her,
uid sue lay thinking of her father's words.
Annie had known enough of the trials of
! 'Vcrty to make her cling to the little they !
H : and she offered up an earnest
• ayi-r that God would save that to them.
H ' lunl sank into an uneasy sleep toward
■niing. from which she was awakened bv '
■ig voices beneath the window. Spring- •
- i.ghtly out of bed, she gently opened :
"butters, and listened to the speakers.
K'lnainl five hundred thousand dollars,
they can bor won't pay it, the town '
• A fie burned according to the General's
•' -B Let us be quick ;itis an ugly job,
" Aiio sooner it is over the better."
1 ii' se were the words which fell on An-
I here was no mistaking them,
V ■ ' ' :, e early dawn she could distinguish
[ri the speakers all wore the uniform of
\Y itli a heavy heart she dressed
f -t Hon quietly descending to the store
u she tied till the money in the draw
v -"to a small bag,and fastened it around
Lien noiselessly she went about the
■ tiding every vessel she could find
• and carried them into the store.
v 11 k was just finished when her father
in.. -V\"' nn '° child,what fire you doing?" ,
alar*,, K Va ' u 'y ,r ying to conceal his great
' "■Taxing for the rebels, father," she I
E. O. GOODBICH, Pnbliaher.
answered smilingly,for no matter what sad
and anxious thoughts Annie Brown might
have, her father always saw a smiling face.
It was a long time before Annie could tell
what she had learned, but her father's ear
nest questioning drew it from her ; and
when the old man heard the ominous words
hope and strength seemed to leave him.—
His had been a weary life of struggling
and disappointment—of little gain and
many losses - f and now, in the sunset of
life, when he had gathered a few comforts
into his little home, he was to lose all. An
nie turned from her work to comfort her fa
ther. Gently she led him into the little
back room, and tried to infuse some of her
own brave, hopeful spirit into his, but all in
vain. Old age cannot look upon things
with youth's hopeful eyes. While Annie
talked, suddenly red lights glanced in at
the windows, and the atmosphere grew
thick with smoke. She left her father, and
hurrying to the door a scene burst upon her
that beggars description. The whole town
was blazing. As far as the eye could see
it was fire—fire everywhere. Through the
dense smoke she could distinguish hun
dreds of figures wildly running to and fro.
There were heavy sobs—voices earnest and
pleading—there were wild shrieks, and
children's scieams of terror, mingled with
the tramp of soldiers and the crackling of
the Humes.
As the bewildered girl stood looking at
the fearful scene, three soldiers came and
ordered her to leave the house. She fixed
her dark eyes upon them, and begged, for
Iter father's sake, that there little home
might be saved. They laughed at her
pleading, and at the tears that were cours
ing down her cheeks. She saw that tears
and words were vain, and as they threw in
the burning torches, she sprang to her
buckets of water, and with a strength and
courage that seemed superhuman, she ex
tinguished torch after torch.
The rude soldiers looked in wonder at
the brave girl, and would have left her in
the house she had so nobly saved, but for
one more brutal than the rest. Drawing a
pistol front his breast lie exclaimed with an
" Put out another torch, woman, and your
life shall pay for your boldness."
Annie neither saw nor heeded the pistol,
though it was pointed at her, and the fierce,
angry face of the soldier told that he was
in earnest
Another torch was flung upon the floor ;
another bucket of water extinguished its
red glare. There was a bright flash, a loud,
quick report. The rohliers paused in their
work to sec the brave girl fall. But ihere \
she stood, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glar
ing defiance, and ready to extinguish an
other torch.
" Pour on the camphone, boys, and let us j
burn the fiend."
The command was obeyed, and the white j
flame spread over the store the brave girl i
had tried to save.
Leave this place, soldiers," said a voice j
of authority, and a tall officer entered the j
'• You deserve your home brave girl,"and i
seizing bucket after bucket, he threw the I
water on the flames that were rapidly gain- j
ing headway.
Some one to help her, Annie's spirits
rose again and together they worked, the
officer only pausing to look at the bright
eyes and flushed face of the brave and now
beautiful girl. They worked long and stead
ily, and saved the little house, but the con
tents of the store were gone. Annie lean
ed languidly against the door, and gazed
sadly arround her. Bending over the dreary
girl, the officer whispered.
"Tell me your name, noble girl ; I must I
go now, but you shall see me again."
" My name is Annie Brown," she answer
ed ; "and who must I thank for saving my
home ?"
"It was a rebel, sweet girl, who you j
shall see again ; he has saved your life and j
honor, too. Farewell."
Annie could see the tall figure but a mo- •
ment, for it was lost in the black smoke |
that now covered everything. She turned j
from the heated, heavy atmosphere, and
found her mother and father in the little
back-room, overcome with grief and terror.
" 1 he store is gone, dear father, but our
house is saved," she said, cheefully.
fears lulled down the old man's cheeks,
as lie drew the little dreary figure to his
And Annie felt more than repaid for her
labors, when her father proudly smiled up
on her through his heart.
A week of fearful suffering followed that
day of tire. Neighboring towns sent bread
to the famishing, and clothes to the naked.
But thousands were houseless and begger
ed who had lived in luxury and taste. They
lingered among the ruins,hopeless and help
less, clinging to the blackened walls, and
loving them because they had once been
Annie Brown's home was a refuge for I
many who knew not where to lay their I
heads ; and the little she had saved was ;
freely shared with those who had nothing. !
A week of toil, privation, and suffering
had passed, but bravely Annie Brown had
borne it. She had soothed and comforted
those around her; and had felt the cravings
of hunger that others might not suffer. But
oven Annie s courage and bravery was
commencing to fail. She sat upon her lit
tle back porch vainly trying to check the |
tears that w< uld come, and thinking sadly '
and hopelessly of the future.
All were asleep within the low house,and ;
she sat wondering what she could do to i
keep hunger and wretchedness from those ]
she loved so well. A weary prospect lay i
before her, and a prayer rose to her lips !
that God would teach her what to do.
The prayer was scarcely offered, when
she heard a little, quick step, and looking
up, she saw a tall form beside her. She
could scarcely distinguish it in the dark-;
ness, but as the figure turned toward her, '
the light from the window fell upon him, !
and Annie recognized the officer who had j
helped her save her house.
He put his finger to his lips and whisper
ed :
" I am alone, Annie, and have risked
everything to see you again."
Hie did not speak, and he sat down be
side her.
Are you glad to see me, Annie," he
" You have saved my life ; and all that I
have I owe to you ; but," she added, "that
is very little, and God only knows what we
are to do. It would have been kind, soldier,
| to have taken life too, when all else were
1 gone. We are beggers and you have made
| us so."
He did not seem to notice Annie's bitter
; words, but drew her to him. At first, she
' resisted, but his strong arm was arou id
| her, and there was something in his manner
that soothed the weary girl. He told her
of his home—of its beauty, its wealth, and
luxury ; he said he had come to offer it to
i her. He told her of his love ; that she
; would be to him more than all else ; that
lie would shelter and comfort her, and she
j should never know sorrow, or trouble, or
I weariness.
Annie listened to the strange, sweet
j words. Her life had beer, given to others.
She had borne her burdens alone and un
murmuringly, but life seemed often weary
i and full of care. The stranger knew this,
| for he could read woman's heart, aud he
j could whisper words that would soothe
1 and win.
i Hour after hour flew by, and still Annie
! listened to his glowing descriptions, and
low, loving words. It was past midnight,
j and the officer's voice sank lower as he
whispered :
| " Annie, will you go with me, trust me,
j and all 1 have told you shall be yours."
" \\ here shall I go?" she asked.
I "To the sunny South, and be my little,
: loving bride."
lie drew a glittering ring from his finger
and put it upon hers. He turned, that th •
light might fall upon the diamond. It fell
upon his face. It was a handsome face;
but as Annie gazed, there was something
there that made her tremble. She knew
nothing about that world beyond her home.
She had listened and believed the honeyed
words that had been whispered. But there
is little affinity between purity and vice,
and one look had roused Annie from her
dream of love, and brought back the reali
ties of life. She drew her hand from his,
| and taking the ring from her finger, said :
" I cannot go. God bless you, soldier,
for what you have done ; but 1 cannot go
i with you."
The calm, decided tone surprised the lov
er, but he did not quit his suit. Every act
jof persuasion was used, but in vain. The
more earnest he grew, the more decided
Annie became, and when lie found persua
' sion was of no avail, he resorted to force.
1 Annie's brave spirit rose as the danger
became more imminent. Her hand was up
on the door, and in. calm measured tones
she said :
" Soldier, you have been kind : fur this I
thank you, but I blush that I have listened
so long to a traitor—that I have trusted
even for an hour one who believes neither
in faith or in honor. 'Jo back to your com
rades, and remember that weak woman,
alone, and in the dead of night dared to
say she scorned a traitor."
" You snail pay for your scorn, proud
girl ; if love is sweet,revenge is sweeter."
He drew a pistol from his breast, and
tired. Annie saw his design, and moved
quickly, but the shot passed through her
arm. The noise roused the house, and they
hurried to the door.
Annie was alone. The traitor and cow
ard was gone. She was pale and faint from
the loss of blood, but it proved only a flesh
wound. And as she looks at it now, she
tells those who come to hear how she was
saved, "that a traitor may be kind, but he
never can be trusted."
TOOLS —The earliest tools were of the
simplest possible charac er, consisting prin
cipally of modifications of the wedge ; such
as the knife, the shears (formed of two
knives working on a joint), the chisel and
the axe. These, with the primitive ham
mer, formed the principal stock-in-trade of
the early mechanics, who were handicraft
men in the literal sense of the word. But
the work which the early craftsmen in wood,
in stone, brass and iron contrived to exe
cute, sufficed to show how much cxpertness '
in the handling of tools will serve to com
pensate for their mechanical imperfections.
Workmen then sought rather to aid muscu
lar strength than to supercede it, and main- ;
ly to facilitate the efforts of manual skill.
Another tool became added to those men
tioned above, which proved an additional
source of power to the workman. We mean
the saw, which was considered of so much
importance that its inventor was honored
with a place among the gods in the inythol- ,
ogy of the Greeks. This invention is said i
to have been suggested by the artange
ment of the teeth in the jaw of a serpent,
used by Tolus, the nephew of Ihedolus, in
dividing a piece of wood. From the repre
sentation of ancient tools found in the paint
ings at Herculaneum, it appears that the
frame-saw used by the ancients very near
ly resembled that still in use ; and we are
informed that the tools employed in the '
carpenters' shops at Nazareth at this day ,
are in most respects the same as those rep- !
resented in the buried Roman citv. An
other very ancient fool, referred to in the
Bible and in Homer, was the file,which was j
used to sharpen weapons and instruments.
Thus the Hebrews "had a file for the mat
tocks, and for the coulters, and for the
forks, and for the axes, and to sharpen the
guards." When to these we add the adze,
plane-irons, the augur and the chisel, we
sum up the tools principally relied on by
the early mechanics and working in wood
and iron.
How TO GET RID OF RATS. —For some
years I was considerably annoyed with
rats. I tried various "vermin poison,"
traps Sic., with very little success, until 1
thought of a mode which we adopted for
destroying dogs that used to hunt our rab
bit warren in the old country. So I got a
quantity of broken bottles and window
glass, and with a hammer and an anvil,
triturated it pretty line (a stone would do
to pound the glass on ;) I then sifted the
coarse part out, and mixed a cupful of the
fine with a cupful of flour and another of
oatmeal, and, scenting it with a few drops
of aniseed to attract them, 1 placed it on
boards in the cellar, etc. They ate it up so
fast that one of the family observed that
"instead of poisoning, it must be lattening
them ;" but a few days told a different
story. The hist mess served for them re
mains untouched yet, though put down last
Fall, and no appearance of a rat or mouse,
living or dead since. Neither have we
noticed any smell of blue-bottle (meat)
flies, as there would been had they died on
the premises. It was a happy riddance.—
The mixture must be kept from children,
dogs, and other silly animals, as it would
kill them as well as rats.
\Ye Americans are tlm most wasteful and
j extravagant people in the world. VVe waste
fearfully in food, in clothing, and in extras.
AYe waste in every secular day of the week,
and waste a double amount on Sundays,
i Men waste shamefully, women shockingly ;
boys anil girls, too, are permitted to waste
wofully. Wastefulness is one of our worst
national vices; for if economy be a virtue,
then extravagance must be a vice. The
' English don't waste half as much as we do;
1 the French not a quarter; and the Germans
I (while in Germany) don't waste at all.
Hundreds of leading hotels here and
| throughout the country prepare daily from
I twenty fo fifty different dishes for dinner,
| and out of these from a half to two-thirds
| are regularly wasted. Thus not only is
i iood wasted, but also labor at the same
j time. In ordinary families unwholesome
meals of half a dozen dishes are gotten up,
where a plain meal would at once be more
| economical and wholesome. We gorge
I ourselves with great numbers of articles,
which are neither nutritious nor delicious,
hut simply costly. Men buy four hats a
year, where one ought to last them four
I years. They throw away coats and pants
when they are for wear;
aud instead of having their shirts mended,
they purchase new ones and lling away the
1 'ld. Women wear very expensive articles
of dross without wearing them out ; and,
we have heard, are inclined to spend and
waste money and material without stint.
The present is a most excellent time for
the whole people to begin to learn and
practice the virtue of economy. If those
men who are striking for higher wages be
cause of the high price of living, would,
instead of this, waste less in their homes,
their clothing and their " sundries," it
would be much better for themselves and
for the country. If dealers would live less
extravagantly, and waste less, they could
sell more cheaply. If rich men would
squander less on their tables, their tailors,
their wine merchants, their last horses, big
houses and " fancy fixings," they would set
a better example, would better enjoy life,
enjoy better health, and be more able to
help their country. If the fair sex would
pay some attention to this matter —ami we
refer not merely to the wealthy classes, but
to those in the common walks of life—they
would be thrice Messed themselves ami
would confer blessings on the bearded sex.
Among the mercantile, mechanic, agri
cultural and working classes of Germany,
th<- same garment will not only be worn for
one season or one year, but for half a life
time or more ; and yet they will he no less
comfortably clad than our people, who wear
out a hundred suits of expensive clothing
during their brief existence. In Dachau,
the unterrock of the women will often be
handed down and worn for three genera
tions—which is a fact that might profitably
be p mdered by the daughters of America.
I hey are no less economical in articles of
food on the European continent. A witty
Frenchman asks the question why pork is
so dear in Paris, and himself answers the
inquiry by saying it is because they can't
raise swine in France, for the people them
selves consume all the garbage. There is
hardly enough truth in this to point the
joke ; but the (act is, that the nice and eco
nomical habits of the French, in matters of
diet, prevents the vast accumulations of re
fuse which are seen in some other countries.
Our habits of waste astonish all foreign
ers. We waste enough in this country, of
food and clothing, in one year, to sustain
the whole population for five. The times
are hard. The currency is deranged. W r e
know not what lies in the future. The
whole country should begin to learn habits
of economy. And it is a virtue, which, if
it is ever to become national, should at
once be begun to be practiced bv individu
TEACH YOUR BOYS TO A-ClßE.—„\! ucii pro
sy advice is bestowed ou boys and young'
men that never gets beyond the drums of
their ears. One of the most useful ideas
you can introduce in a young head is that
its owner is bound to make his mark in the
world if he chooses to try. Teach him that
it depends solely upon himself whether lie
soars above the dead level of mediocrity or
not, whether he crawls or Hies. Give him,
as far as possible, confidence in his own in
herent capabilities. Argue that lie lias the
same faculties by which others have risen
to distinction, and that he has only to cul
tivate them and apply in their exercise that
mighty propulsive agent, a determined will,
in order to rise. Bid him shoot his arrows
not at the horizon, but at the zenith. A
boy who sets out in life with the Presidency
in his eye. although he may fall short of the
mark, will be pretty sure to reach a higher
position than if his ambition had been limi
ted to the position of town constable, or a
tide waiter's berth in the Custom House.
This is not a land where poverty is a seri
ous impediment to advancement. Very
few of our millionaires were born with gold
spoons in their mouths, and several of the
most distinguished of our statesmen earned
their bread in early life by the sweat of
their brows. Fortune's gifts are wrung
from her in this country by heads and hearts
that know no such word as fail, and Fame
has 110 special favors for the silk-stocking
class. Action, says Aristocle, is the es
sence of Oratory, but it is more true that
energetic will is the soul of success. Tlie
best temporal advice a father can give a
son is "a*]>ire.''
" Boy, let the eagle's flight ever be thine.
Onward and upward and true to the line."
jgsar On the 20th ult. Mrs.Clark, of North
Collins, N . Y., and her three children were
seated at a table, on which was placed a
lighted lamp, which the girl undertook to
till with kerosene. In attempting this, the
blase communicated to the oil in the can,
causing an explosion of both the can and
the lamp, and instantly enveloping all four
persons in a sheet of liquid fire. Efforts
were made in vain to extinguish the flumes.
The unfortunate mother was burned to
blackness from head to foot, and her fea
tures so horribly disfigured that her most
intimate friends could not recognize her.
She survived till Tuesday afternoon,endur
ing the most intense agony. The girl aged
thirteen, and a boy aged six years, were
not expected to survive. The fourth a lad
of sixteen, was badly burned on the right
side of his head, shoulder, and the whole
length of his arm, hut hopes are entertain
ed of his recovery.
The London Times gives an encouraging
account of the progress of the new Atlan
tic Telegraph cable. On the 19th of Jan
uary the work of shipment, on hoard the
Great Eastern was begun. The cable is
transferred from the works at Greenwich to
the hulk Iris, for transference to the Med
way, and final stowage in the tanks of the
Great Eastern. The shipment will c intinue
without intermission now until nearly the
end of May, by which time it is hoped all
will be coiled away snugly on board the
great steamship. The total quantity of
rope required to connect Valeutia with
Bull's Bay, Newfoundland, allowing for the
"slack" which must run out to prevent too
great a strain on the cable, is about two
thousand three hundred nautical, or nearly
two thousand seven hundred statute, miles,
With this length a liberal margin is given
! of nearly six hundred statute miles of rope
| for slack caused by currents,possible rough
weather, and the avoidance of anything
1 like unusual strain on the cable in the deep-
I est water.
Over one part of the route the depth is
! as great as from two thousand to two thou
; sand five hundred fathoms, or nearly three
statute miles—a depth, however, which is
only considered of moment in case of rough
weather in paying out, the mere strength
I of the cable being sufticent to bear its own
| weight in eleven miles of still water. In
J this respect, as, indeed, in all others (the
I Times adds), the new cable has an enor
! tnous superiority over the old and ill-used
I rope which was first laid, and which, to the
| amazement of all those who knew its real
condition, nevertheless remained in fair
working order for a few days If such un
i expected results were obtained from the old
' cable, which the advancement of electrical
I science since then shows to have ben
! thoroughly ill-adapted for its purpose, it is
not over sanguine to expect a far more fa
: vorable conclusion to the present enterprise,
! every step in the conduct of which has
been marked with the most jealous care,not
i only to guard against the dangers known
to exist, but against other emergencies
which experience shows may arise, but
which live years ago were unknown. In
; size, in strength, in better condition, better
j insulation and better outer covering, the
1 new rope is nevertheless than three times as
| good as the old one, while in many cases,
I and these the most important, its superior
i ity is lour or five times greater. Though a
much larger cable, its weight ill water per
mile is less than half that of its unfortunate
! predecessor.
No final arrangements have yet been
made as to the rules to be followed in lay
| ing the cable, hut it will, of course, be com-
J menced from this side of the Atlantic aud
I carried across to Newfoundland, to get the
| benefit of the westerly winds which gener
| ally btow in summer. Steaming against a
| head wind, the Great Eastern is as steady
ias a rock. The rate of steaming across
will never exceed seven knots an hour, and
! at this rate the great object of the expedi
! tion ought to be accomplished in from ten
jto eleven days. All will, however, depend
on fine weather, which, fickle enough eve
rywhere, is trebly so in the North Atlantic,
as the terrific gale encountered by the last
expedition sufficiently proved. Against
this misfortune, however, no care or skill
on the part of the company can guard, and
at present this seems the only cloud over
the prospects of the new Atlantic telegraph.
CALIFORNIA ANTS. —That enemy of the
hoarded sweets of the California house
kheper, the ant, is beyond counting in his
annoyances this year. In the warmer dis
tricts of the state nothing eatable can be
stored without attracting myriads of them,
and the destruction they cause is realty ajt
important item. They have never within
the memory of the oldest settlers been so
numerous in the lower levels of the Sacra
mento and San Joaquin as in 1864, and in
the mines, residents inform us, they invade
in arfnies every pantry, kitchen and closet.
If a piece of meat, cheese, sugar, bread, or
what not, is laid down, in half an hour it
will be completely covered over with those
devouring little wretches, and burrowed,
tunnelled and perforated w'ith marvellous
expedition. The miners say they are lay
ing up an early stock of comestibles to pass
a long and heavy winter. In the vineyards
and gardens, as the fruit ripens, the ants
spoil what the rascally birds and squirrels
leave, and figs and soft lruit are their spe
cial delight. The ripening grapes around
Los Angelos are a great attraction to them
and the vineyard men run in distraction
over their raids, and it is likely they will
spoil the making of much good brandy, as
each of their wretched little bodies contains
a coucentrated quantity of a peculiar acid,
sour as vinegar. Here indeed is a new
and strange plague, and there is not only
the common little go-to-the ant-thou-slug
gard species of California, but several oth
ers, some with wings and some without.
One of these, twice as big as a tlea, bites
like a fish-hook, while another of his fel
lows, of blood color, stings as he bites,
rousing up the babies and kittens to a terri
ble concert of squalls and tears in tlie quiet
hours of the night.
FRAUD DETECTED. — Deter the Great, while
in Poland, visited a statute of the Virgin,
which was said often to shed tears during
the mass. He saw that the fact was, ap
parently, just as had been described ; but,
while his companions seemed struck with
conviction, he ruminated on the means of
discovering the cause, which he well knew
was not supernatural. The statute being
placed high, and close to the altar, so that
no one could reach it from the ground, he
took up a ladder which happened to be
near, and mounting it, very closely exam
ined it from head to foot. His curiosity
seemed ungratified, and the attending
priests mentally congratulated themselves
on their escape, as well as the conversion
of the czar, which they expected would
probably follow. But perceiving small
apertures in the eyes, he uncovered the
head of the Virgin, and to their great mor
tification exposed the whole mystery. The
head was hollow and tilled up to the eyes
with water ; this being agitated by a few
small fishes placed in it, a few drops were
occasionally forced through the apertures,
and thus the miracle was produced. Peter
took no notice of the matter further than to
observe that "it was a miracle indeed
and then left, as if nothing particular had
HK3 per* Annum, in Advance.
we grow up to our full stature ; and then
we decrease till we decease, we decline and
die. In another, we come at first to "per
fect stature," and so continue forever. We
are here subject to sorrows and sins ; the
first grevious to us as we are men, the oth
er as we are good men ; 10, we shall one
day be freed, be perfect. It is a sweet
meditation that fell from a reverend divine,
that many vegetable and brute creatures
do exceed men in length of days, aud in
happiness of their kind, as not wanting
the thing they desire. The oak, the raven,
! the stork, the stag, fill up many years ; in
regard of whom man dies in the minority
of childhood. This made the philosophers
call nature a step-dame to man, to the rest
a true mother. For she gives him least
time that could make best use of his time,
and least pleasure that could best appre
hend it, and take comfort in it. But here
divinity teacheth and revealeth a large re
compense from our God. Other creatures
live long, and then perish to nothing ; man
dies soon here, and afterward he may live
forever. The Shortness is recompensed
with eternity. Dost thou blame nature, O
philosopher, for cutting thee so short that
thou canst not get knowledge ? Open
thine eyes —perfect knowledge is not to be
had here, though the daj*s were double to
Methuselah's. Above it is. Bless God,
then, rather for thy life's shortness, for the
sooner thou diest, the sooner thou shalt
come to thy desired knowledge. The best
here is short of the least there. Let no
I man blame God for making him too soon
happy. Say rather with the Psalmist, "My
I soul is athirst for God ; 0 when shall I
; come to appear in the glorious presence of
; the Lord ?" Who would not forsake a pri
| son for a palace, a tabernacle for a city, a
i sea of dangers for a firm land of bliss, the
i life of men for the life of angels ?— Thomas
j Adams.
| COQUETRY AMONG GIRLS. —I suppose that
J coquetry, in its legitimate form, is among
i woman's charms, and that there is a legiti
! mate sphere for its employment, for, except
i in rare natures, it is a natural tiling with
| your sex. Nature has ordained that man
; shall prize most that which shall cost an
effort, and while it has designed that you
| shall at some time give your heart and hand
to a worthy man, it has also provided a
way for making the prize he seeks an ap
j parently difficult one to win. It is a sim-
I pie and beautiful provision for enhancing
j your value in his ej r es, so as to make a
| difficult thing of that which you know to
be unspeakably easy. If you hold yourself
cheaply, and meet all advances with open
willingness and gladness, the natural result
will be that your lover will tire of you. To
become a flirt is to metamorphose into a
distgusting passion that which by a nat
ural constitution is a harmless and useful
instinct. This instinct ut coquetry, which
I makes a woman a thing to be won, and
which I suppose all women are conscious
of possessing in some degree,is not a thing
to be cultivated or developed at all
It should be left to itself, unstimulated
and unperverted ; and if, in the formative
stage of your womanhood, by imitating
| them, or seeking to make impressions for
| the sake of securing attentions which are
| repaid by insult and negligence, you do vi
olence to your nature, you make yourself a
woman whom your own sex despise, and
whom all sensible meu who do not mean to
cheat you with insineerties as mean as
yours, are afraid of. They will not love
you, and they will not trust you.— Dr. Hol
| land.
OK CHRlST. —Christ made himself like to
us, that he might make us like to Himseif.
Christ must needs have died, how else
j could sin be expiated, the law satisfied, the
devil conquered, and inau be saved ?
They that deny themselves for Christ,
shall enjoy themselves in Christ,
j Men would rather hear of Christ crucified
for them, than be crucified for Christ.
If Christ denied innocent nature of love
to us, shall not we deny corrupt nature out
! of love to him.
Christ by his death appeared to be the
i Son of man, by his resurrection he appear
ed to be the Son of God.
Christ was the great promise of the Old
Testament, the Spirit is tiic great promise
of the New.
Christ's strength is the Christian's
If we would stand, Christ must be our ,
foundation ; if we would be safe, Christ
must be our sanctuary.
In regard of natural life, we live in God ;
in regard <>f spiritual life, Christ lives in
He that thinks he hath no need of Christ
hath too high thoughts of himself; he that
thinks Christ cannot help him, hath too low
thoughts of Christ.
Presumption abuses Christ,despair refuses
" Will you help me out of this mud hole?'
said a traveling druggist, who had just
been compelled to stop his team in a mud
hole, because they couldn't pull it out.
" No, I can't stop." said the Yankee, who
was heavily loaded, and fearful he would
be late for the cars.
" I would take it as a great favor, besides
paying you," said the druggist.
" What are you loaded with ?" asked the
•' Drugs and medicines," said he.
" I guess I'll try and get you out, then, j
for I am loaded with tombstones."
They were seen travelling together after |
WHAT IS CONSCIENCE ?—When a little boy,
my father sent me from the field home. A j
spotted tortoise in shallow water caught ■
1113- attention, and I lifted my stick to strike j
when a voice within me said :—"lt is J
wrong." I stood with uplifted stick,in won- i
der at the new emotion,till the tortoise van-'
islied from my sight.
I hastened home, and asked my mother !
what it was that told me it was wrong. j
Taking me in her arms, she said, "Some j
men call it conscience, but I prefer to call;
it the voice of God in the soul of man.— ,
But if you turn a deaf oar, or disobey,then
it will fade out little by little, and leave
you in the dark without a guide."
A thrifty husband cradles his wheat or i
cribs his corn, while the thrifty wife cribs, j
or cradles the babies.
weeks since," says the correspondent of a
Quebec paper, writing under date of the ftth
instant, "a peaceable family, residing at
Bon Desir in the county of Tadousac, were
roused from their slumber in the middle of
the night by a horrible noise and quaking
of the earth around their dwelling. Rush
ing out into the darkness, but not knowing
where to turn for safety from a danger
which threatened to engulf them every
minute, their fears increased a thousand
fold, they decided to await the return of
day before departing from the spot. Their
fears were not without foundation, as th<-
ground around them shook and groaned in
the most dreadful manner. Morning at
length came, and with it an alarming spec
tacle for the eyes of all the inhabitants of
the locality to behold.
"An immense moral hill had slidden
down, a house, a barn, and a number of
other, buildings had been removed to a dis
tance of about two acres below their origi
nal sites,and the beach close by was strewn
with immense boulders, and raised to a
height of from twenty to thirty feet above
its usual level, while the ground all around,
for the space of twelve or thirteen acres,
was cut up with deep crevices. The slide
covered an extent of over twelve acres in
depth by four or five in breadth. The un
fortunate proprietor of the land covered by
the slide is in the deepest despair at the
catastrophe. Almost all his crops, hay, po
tatoes, and grain, are destroyed, and the
better half of his farm useless for the fu
ture. There is, very fortunately, no loss of
life to be recorded."
remarkable circumstance, and an import
ant point in analogy, is to be found in the
extreme rapidity with which the mental
opcrations"are performed, or rather with
which the material changes on which ideas
depend are excited in the hemispherical
ganglia. It would appear as if a whole
series of acts, that would really occupy a
long space of time, pass ideally through
the mind in an instant. We have in dream
no true perception of the lapse of time—a
strange property of mind, for if such be al
so its property when entered into the eter
nal disembodied state, time will appear to
us eternity. The relations of space, as
well as of time, arc also annihilated, so
that while almost* an eternity is compress
ed into a moment, infinite space is travers
ed more swiftly than by real thought. There
t are numerous illustrations of this principle
011 record. A gentleman dreamed that he
had enlisted as a soldier, joined his regi
ment, deserted, was arrested, carried back,
tried, condemned to be shot, and at last led
out for execution. After the usual prepar
ation a gun was fired ; he awoke with the
report, and found that a noise in the next
room had, at the same moment, produced
the dream and awakened him.
A friend oi Dr. Abercromhic dreamed
that he crossed the Atlantic and spent a
fortnight in America. In embarking on his
return, he fell into the sea, and awaking in
his fright he found that he he had not been
asleep ten minutes.
related that a poor soldier, having had his
skull fractured, was told by the doctor that
his brains were visible. "Do write and tell
father of it," said he, "for he always said
I had no brains." How many fathers and
mothers tell their children this, and how
often does such a remark contribute not a
little to prevent any development of th<*
brain? A grown person tells a child he is
brainless, foolish, or a blockhead, or that
he is deficient in some mental or moral
faculty, and in nine cases out of ten the
-tatement is believed; the thought that it
may be partially so acts like an incubus
to repress the confidence and energies of
that child.
We know a boy who, at the age of ten
years, had become depressed with fault
finding and reproof, not duly mingled with
eucourageing words. The world appeared
dark around him, he had been so of
ten told of his faults aud deficiencies.
A single word of praise and appreciation,
carelessly dropped in his hearing,changing
his whole course of thought. We have of
ten heard him say, "That word saved me."
The moment lie thought he could do well,he
resolved that he would ; and he lias done
well. Parents, these are important con
ABSTRACTED GENT. —"OId Bumblebee"was
the cognomen of Mr. T , of Newbury -
port. He gained the title from the fact of
his catching a humble bee, one day, as he
was shingling his barn, and in attempting
to destroy the insect with his hatchet, cut
off the ends of his thumb and fore-finger,
letting the insect go unharmed. Other
mishaps happened to the old codger, on tin
same barn. In one of his abstractions, he
shingled over his spare hatchet : and cut
ting a small aparture in the building to let
a little daylight in, this man actually set in
a wooden pane, as being economical and
not likely to be broken ! Uncle T
in one of his obvivous freaks, nailed his
left arm so firmly betwixt two boards of a
fence he was putting up, that he had to call
for help to get extricated from his self-im
prisonment. He once put a button on the
gate instead of the post. But the rarest
freak of all was when he ran through the
streets with his hands about three feet asun
der, held before him, begging the passers
by not to disturb him, as he had got the
measure of a doorway with him !
A BOY'S PRAYER. —A Presbyterian clergy
man in Northern New York had two smart
boys, just old enough to have inquiring
minds,but not to discern the reason of things
They were taught to pray, and the efficien
cy and need of prayer daily impresse< 1 up
on them Both boys had a patch of " tuck
et" or " pop " corn in the garden, and the
growing blades were watched with intense
interest, a small reward being held out to
stimulate their industry. One day, the
father walking near the " patch," heard the
voice of the youngest solemnly engaged in
prayer, and drawing near listened to the
following petition : " 0 Lord, make m\
corn grow great big corn, but make broth
er Sam's grow all little nubbins !"
A BEAUTIFUL THOUGHT. —A writer whose
life has passed its meridan'thus discourses
upon the flight of time :—Forty years ooce
seemed a long and weary pilgrimage to
make. It now seems but a step. And yet
along the way are broken shrines where a
thousand hopes are wasted into ashes ; foot
prints sacred under their dust,green mounds
whose grass is fresh with the watering ot
tears ; shadows even which we would not
forget. We will garner the sunshine ol
these years, and with chastened steps and
hopes, push on toward the evening whose
signal lights will soon be swinging where
the waters are still and the storms never
"I THINK," said a farmer, "I should make
a good Congressman, for 1 use their lan
guage. I received two bills the other day,
with a request for immediate payment The
one I ordered to be laid on the table, the
other to be read that day six months."