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They will lie entitled to 4 column, confined exclusively to their business, with privilege of change. f.-ir Advertising in all cases exclusive of sub scription to the paper. JOB PRINTING of every kind in Plain and Fau ci colors, done with neatness and dispatch. Hand lulls. Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, Ac., of every va riety anil style, printed at the shortest notice. The REPORTER OFFICE has just been re-fitted with Power Presses, and every thing in the Printing line can he executed in the most artistic manner and at the lowest rates. TERMS INVARIABLY CASH. SILAS WEIGHT. " Some men are born to greatness, some men achieve greatness, and some men have their greatness thrust upon them." The truly great are those who become so by a a wise choice of opportunities, seconded by ability, will, and moral principle, without which conjunction all effort is vain. What is greatness 1 As understood by many, it is great capacity, extraordinary talent, vast intellect, and thus we bestow this appellation upon a host whose names will be examples through all time. We say great, because they have attained proud positions in the world, and were authors of results which more or less influence men and things,at the present. But too much have we worshipped genius and talent, and too little have we regarded the better qualities of the heart in our estimate of character, ami in the honor we accord to many who have g place in the history of the past. Hiiniiig qualities, brilliant achievements, enlist all our sympathy, and we forget in their gaud and show, the useful and the gin id. We judge of those who have gone before us, as we do of those who are pres ent with us, and are loth to ascribe great ness to any character who has not founded a great empire or won a great battle, or shed a great sea of blood, or performed some great act which strikes us with ad miration and awe. There is no nation, ancient or modern, (the fact may be spoken without an idle boast,) with a history so brief as our own, that may count so many examples of real, true greatness. Whatever may be our de finition, our roll is well filled, and we may safely challenge any nation to the compar ison of the last hundred years. In the sen ate, in the field, in arts and in arms, in lit erature and in science, our record is full. In August, 1847. there died suddenly in his own house, in a little village of less than a thousand inhabitants in one of the northern counties of the Empire State, in the fifty-third year of his life, a man, who as much as any one of his age and period, deserved the appellation of great. He was born to poverty and with his own hand earned the means to carry him through col lege. Without patron, or friends, or family influence, without other aid than his own indomitable energy and will, he became a college graduate, a student at law, a coun try magistrate, a surrogate of the country, a state senator, Comptroller of the State, Senator in Congress, and Governor of the | Empire State. He refused nearly as many offices as he filled, to wit: a place in the Cabinet, a Foreign Minister, a Vice Presi dential nomination, and a Justice of the | Supreme Court of the United States. This man was SII.AS WRIGHT. For four years he was State Senator. It was during a period when party spirit ran high, yet his political honesty was never doubted. As a member of the Court for | the correction of Errors, he acquired the ! happy gift or faculty of discovering truth, ' though encumbered with error, and that p wer of clear analysis, which ever after was a must valuable guide in the arena of national politics. After a service of four years in the Senate, he became again the village lawyer, and though solicited by par tial friends to remove to the city where a broader field invited, he refused. But the Mate of his adoption now sought to do him further honor. lit; was called in a period of great monetary disaster to manage her finances, and though surrounded with difti i ulties he succeeded. He adhered Btrictly to a literal construction of State law,avoid ed in every respect a creation of now state debts, and in so doing, acquired the epithet of barn-burner. His term of office as Comp troller was not finished when the Legisla-, ture elected him Senator in Congress. He was now in the zenith of his fame. The village lawyer had become a member of the most distinguished political body known to the American Constitution, and in some respects, to the world—a loftier position save one than that occupied by any other individual—the compeer of the talented and o-iiiiwued of the Western Continent. How well he discharged his senatorial duties let 'he journals speak ; let them say too how '"eral his construction of Constitutional and how strictly he adhered to the 'hinocratic principle, and shove all let "in declare how close and compact his ar gment in debate. He had served nearly sixteen years as ' "ator in Congress when the great strug j kctweeu Clay and Polk for the Presi ency came on. It was felt hy all that the 'te nf New Y'ork would determine the re * s and it was also felt that Polk could any it alone. The National Conven ' 'at nominated Folk had turned its 10. O. OOODRICH, Iul>li shcr. VOLUME XXV. back on Van Huron, refusnig him a uoinina politics,—the canal policy, the state debt the anti-rent question,—matters with which lie had been disconnected for years were brought into the canvass, and he was forced into direct antagonism with many with whom he had previously acted in concert. It was a great mistake and so he felt it,but the party intent on its own salvation only, forced him into the leadership, and although he was elected by ten thousand majority, five thousand greater than Hoik's, yet this same party selfishness insured his defeat two years later. I tion through the machinery of the two | third rule, in consequence 'of his Texas let i ter ; and yet, it had to use his friends to succeed. A nomination to the Vice Presi dency was therefore given to Mr. Wright. He refused it promptly, and at length, was i persuaded to give up his p'ace in the Sen ate, and receive the nomination for Gover nor of the state for the sole and only pur pose of securing it to Mr. Polk This was ;* great sacrifice for Mr. Wright. By ac ' cepting the nomination of Governor he be | came again mixed up with New York local This was the glorious era of Democrats and Whigs, of Barn-burners and Hunkers, of Locofocos, of Freesoilers, of Hard shells and Soft shells, of Anti-slavery, Anti-Hum, and now and then an ancient fossilized An ti-Mason —there were presses and platforms and promises and pledges, caucus conven tions and conferences, oaoh party had an organization and nearly each man a candi date. But when a man of known talent and probity was brought out lor office, it was often the case that those of different shades of opinion would unite in his sup port and thus secure his election. In this manner Mr. Wright was successful in the first canvass he made for Governor. But if such combinations sometimes result in the choice of the right man, other combi nations may in that of the wrong one, and in this way he was defeated in the last. Mr. Wright lost his election on the second trial by the anti-rent vote, llis opponent, John Young, a shrewd, talented man, made fair promises, and in some counties he received an overwhelming support. Mr. Wright had also vetoed the canal bill and as a con sequence, many Hunkers deserted him.— That bill, had it become a law, whould have re-inaugurated the spendthrift policy, and have enabled thousands to grow fat upon the public treasure. The State owes him much for his firmness. It was this selfish ness of his party which consigned him to private life, for notwithstanding the anti rent defection, he would have been success ful had the Hunkers been faithful. After his term of Governor had expired, Mr. Wright retired to his farm of thirty acres in St. Lawrence county, and there in the peaceful pursuits of private life forgot the excitement of political and the tumult of partizan strife. He plowed and sowed, and reaped and mowed, and planted and harrowed. The rising sun found him abroad in the field—he hoed his row and kept his swath with his hired man—he harnessed his team and drew his fuel and cut it for use, he went to mill and to the blacksmith shop, to the store and post-office, to train ings, and meetings, and gatherings of the people. In fact, he was one of them in all respects, engaged in the same pursuits, en joying the same pastime, and sympathizing in all their interests. What stranger would recognize in the rather stout, full chested, full faced, sun-burnt man in frock and trow ses, leading the field of mowers in a hot sunny day, Silas Wright, ex-Governor and ex-Senator, whose great speech had so charmed him in the reading, and which had established on a sure basis the true policy this great Nation? What faculty of the mind made Silas Wright the man he undoubtedly was ? It was the power of ANALYSIS. He could ex amine and inquire, and from thence there flowed forth by an irresistable logic the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. You could no more dispute his con clusion than you could the simplest prob lem in mathematics You were taken by surprise and convinced against your will. In the American Senate, where he won his I great victories, he was assured of a tri umph upon equal ground. Long before other minds had found a basis of action,his had gone over the whole field of inquiry, and by au almost intuitive analysis had unburrowed the truth. Other minds there were, undoubtedly, in some respects, su perior to bis ; but for correct logic, close analysis, overwhelming argument, none his equal. His true position was that of Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. Once more, —his excellence lay not alone in his intellect. Silas YVright was an hon est man—his path lay straight before hiui, and the end he sought was pure, and just, lie never descended to the arts of the mere politician,he despised the low jugglery and chicanery which constitutes the only stock in trade of some successful men. Thomas H. Benton of Missouri, called him the Cato of America, an appellation well earned and merited by a long and distinguished career, which if not as brilliant, was yet as useful to his country, as that of those who sought, by questionable ends, mere personal ag grandisement. It was said of him that he had refused more offices than he had .filled. It is certain that when he withdrew from the national arena to secure his own State to the Democracy, he stood most prominent, TOYVANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., APRIL 18, 1865. yea, foremost on the list of those to whom the nation would look after the pending election, for a Presidential candidate. We may say even more, we may say, and it is believed, witli truth, that at this very mo ment Mr. Wright held in his own hands the means to become the candidate of the par ty in place of Mr. Polk, and that it was his chivalrous devotion to Mr. Vanßuren, that staid their exercise. But why lengthen out this humble tri- j bute to the excellence of a good man ? \\ hy offer it at all ? Alas, personal ambi tion is the bane of American Statesmen. It has already shed rivers of blood and di vided a people, one in origin, in language, and law, bound to each other by the mem ories of common dangers, sacrifices and successes, —now hostile and belligerent. May those who are yet to stand in our Leg islate halls, and whose voice will from j thence go out through our land as conserv ators of our interests, and guardians of our liberties, remember him whose example is : so feebly portrayed in the foregoing sketch, j and that "An honest man is the noblest work of God." co it RESPONDENT;. NEW OIL TOWN, March 17, 1865. MR. EDITOR :—ON. FLOWS. To the dream- j er, language can not express the sweet ness of these words ; sweeter than happi ness and life ; these give them that which will secure happiness and can render life sweet. The excitement is great. Stocks rise as spring torrents ; marshy, worthless lands are worth millions, and the holders ! are mad with realization of dreamy desires. ! Formerly the sleepers waited, yearning ; | now, sure of all they saw, they blindly fol low any scheme. Over confident, they are ! ready and eager to stake their all on the j chance of grasping fabled fortunes. Among the most eager, most heedless, { most grasping, is the victim. He has no ! remembrance of being a farmer. Oil flows, ! and all other things vanish from his tliougt*. ! And the fever has passed to the IRRITABLE STAGE. The prominent symptom is headache, i Not the mere throbbing of the nerves of | the head caused by a diseased stomach, not the many-formed nervous headache ; i but the headache, a burning of gas, a burst- i ing, a throbbing, which increases as the | victim approaches oil, yet urges him to j seek it, to smell of it. You notice him with j on .• of his headaches ; he writes in the ex- I treme of agony, contorting his countenance, j Yet he wanders oft' in diseased dreams, for- j gets all but bis desire. A word on the I theme calls him and his agonies back. And again he sleeps. Daily you will find him when tiiey had an explosion, looking at the charred timbers of the derrick where the gas had been, turn ing every stone and chip to see if any grease sput or trace of one can be found, smelling of the fresh mud and sand to know if there he any prospect of a trace of grease. He will tell you he found a thin scum on the pools of water, a strong scent of gas on the stones and chips,, and that the sand felt real oily. He often visits his swamp. One day he saw bubbles rise and he thinks there is oil. You will see him trudging through the mud and water, seeking for the bub bling. Miry bogs are no trouble to him ; they seem like a soft velvet carpet. And, after a vain search till darkness, or famish ing, drives him home, he still knows he saw the bubbles and smelled the gas ; lie re turns cheered, confident, dressed in purple, not desponding, muddy. And he loves to sit on jutting crags. Back to the chaotic time when earth was sundered and the rocks yawned to receive the liquid, back he wanders and gazes down upon the tempting deposit of the region around. To his keener sense of smell, there are gases rising, thin, subtile gases, yet gases from the hidden store-house. Dream leads to longer dreams, sitting, gazing from the crags. Old salt wells attract. One of his chief enjoyments is to visit them, to smell the gas, to watch the fast following bubbles rise ; then he is carried off by sleepy fan cy. lie penetrates to the lakes of fluid hidden deep down below the rocks, liberates the golden liquid, and it rises higher, gaz ing on its graceful curves and showers of spray, drinking in the searching, irritating gases, his soul loses itself in the realms of forgetfulnesß. But Imw keen is his delight while viewing the real Jiowing oil. He smells of it, tasts to see if salt be there, feels, and is happy. How nicely it gushes fo-th ! Gold, happinesß, and ease, and al most life itself, gushes forth with the new found stream. Tired of seeing the princely treasure so freely wasted, he follows the winding stream, stops at each little eddy where the liquid strives to tarry, examines every stone on which may be found a trace of the blood of earth, wanders on till all is ab sorbed again, and wishes all, and more, were his. Gaziug on this golden stream, thought is followed by big thought, and the brain faints under the weary load. Fancy, free, carries him into unseen realms, a re gion yet more airy, where faint sounds of sirens touching golden shells, lulls the soul to slumber. When his headaches begin, he wanders off to one of these new haunts. And the deep thrill of delight keeps him till darkness or hunger worn. This is the sober man. But how trans formed. Once a steady farmer, now all the REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER. past is a dream and his visions are real | ities. Living on a farm, eatingoi the grain 'he worked night and day to raise, spending i in stocks the grain he Huld, walking through his swamp, muddy, tired, hungry, lie is not a farmer, has forgotten that he ever was. All things seem different now. He is rich ; j though walking through mire and over crags, he walks on velvet; though living ! in the old house (a pile of bricks), it seems | a palace in the centre of broad domains, and he is lord of all he sees. YVe hope to speak of what we gain and what we lose, in our next. J. G. H. Camp of sth New York Cavalry, i WINCHESTER, March 27th 1805. j DEAR SISTER :—I received your most wel come letter lust evening, and was very glad to hear again l'roiu home. You know that | letters, to a soldier's life, are like stars in a dark sky, and every mail is watched in a lever of anxiety. 1 supposed you had heard of my return from the raid, as I wrote i home the next day, and furthermore, I do not think you read the papers much, or you would have seeu an account of our doings. YYell we started from here, Feb. 27th, with Gen. Sheridan, and proceeded with him as far as Waynesboro', where the fight took place between Gen. Custer and Gen. Early, the result ending in the capture of Early's whole army, wagons, artillery, and every thing belonging to his command, and he only " escaped by the skin of his teeth," by taking to the mountains. His army consisted of only about one thousand three hundred men, which we guarded safely hack to Winchester. We were four days going and six coining back, the distance being one hundred and twenty miles, the road with the exception of twelve miles was very good, being a macadamised pike, and that twelve miles was the worst road I ever traveled without any exception. The mud was knee deep to our horses, and you can imagine how the prisoners looked wading through this mud. Occassionally a poor fellow would fall flat ou his face, and half a dozen men run over him. I felt sorry for the misguided rascals. They were mostly well dressed—altogether the best looking lot of " Johnnies" 1 have ever seen ; some of them expressed themselves stiff iSecesh—others said they were glad they were taken. Although we had no hand in capturing the prisoners, we had the satisfaction of cleaning out some of Kosser'sinen who haft gathered together with the intention of res cuing their fellows, and had been following in our rear all the way from Stanton, every day ge.tting more men until they had got three hundred men of all kinds, the most of | them officers ; and when we arrived at the i Shenandoah valley, we found we were stir-! rounded by guerrillas, could see them all around us, and they attempted to hold the i river so that we could not cross, but they | did not do it. While we were crossing the ! prisoners, the robs thought they could drive the rear guard into the river, and probably kill or drown them, but the sth N. Y. was there as rear guard, what there was of us —ouly about two hundred men -and we let the Itebs come upon a charge to within about twenty rods of us, when we gave them a volley and returned the charge with such fury that they were obliged to make good their escape as best they could, not however without leaving ten men killed and twenty prisoners. After that they were contented to let us come on in peace, and did not bother us any more. There are some interesting accounts in the papers of Sheridan's raid. They printed a paper in Oharlottsville, advertising for " their Jule, laud my boy Rosser," describing them as " runaways." The Johnnies in this valley are terribly afraid of Sheridan's cavalry, it is a perfect terror to them Little Custer is the man to ead them a dash and a yell, and the Rebs fly before them. '' Charge, was the Captain's cry, Theirs not to make reply, Their's not to reason why, Their's hut to o not crouch to-ihiv, ami worship The old l'nst, whose life is tied, Hush your voice to tender reverence ; Crown'd lie lies, but cold and dead ; For the Present reigns our Monarch. With an added weight of hours, Honor her, for she is mighty! Honor her, for she is ours! See the shadows of his heroes flirt around her cloudy throne ; And each day the ranks are strengthened By great hearts to him unknown ; Noble things the great Past promised. Holy dreams, both stunge and new ; But the Present shall fulfil them, What he promised, she shall do. She inherits all his treasures, She is heir to all his fame, And the light that lightens round her Is the lustre of his name; She is wise with all his wisdom, Living on his grave she stands, On her brow she bears his laurels, And his harvests in her hands. Coward, can she reign and conquer If we thus her glory dim ? Let us fight for her as nobly As our fathers fought for him. God, who crowns the dying ages, Bids her rule, and us obey— Bids us east our lives before her, With our loving hearts to-day! OUR L.ITTL.K FRIEND. Our little friend is in his grave ; The sod is green with April rain. We weep for him. What would we have? To him at least our loss is gain. We lose the hope of future years— Our child, our gallant little man ; But he, the future's pain and tears. We will be happy if we can. Or, if not happy, still, content His peace should solace our despair. God takes away the gem he lent To set it with the star-beams fair. [From the St. James Magazine.] DOWN A FREIBURG SILVER MINE. ! A whole village of miners exist around the shaft. The "hands" employed at this one mine number nearly 1,500. My friend's " house " seemed to consist of one largish room, serving as parlor, tap-room, cellar and bed-room; for behind a curtain was the " state-bed," and numerous children snored in all kinds of indescribable contrivances round the wall. The beer (no fear of that growing dead which never had a spark of life) was contained in huge stoneware jars, uncovered, from whence his wife drew for us into noggins exactly like " Luther's drinking-cup "in the Dresden Museum. I could not forget that his birth place was not far off ; that, however, " Cliurpriz," or " Konigovon Ssechs," or " reigning family " might turn political Papists, these poor mi ners would be staunch. Yes, there he was on the wall, "neatly framed and glazed," | and inscribed in the formal German way, much as if our immortal bard were entitled ! \V. Shakespeare, Esq., "Mr. Martin Luther." i Who, looking round at that humble por- , trait, could doubt that the poet was ex- ' pressing his countrymen's feelings, when, | indignant at Luther's bust being shut out of the Walhall, or German " Westminister j Abby" for great benefactors of their na tion, he cried " Der liebt in den Herzen ; wozn noch in Stein?" —"Why need we a bust when he lives in our hearts ?" But return to the miners. They came dropping in, one or two at a time, till some dozen were collected, drinking beer and eating black bread and slices of sugar sausage. The room, like all German rooms, was very hot to begin with, and now be came so insupportable, that 1 wondered how " mine host's " eldest daughter, (who, amidst the outstretched bodies of her brothers and sisters, was washing cups and passing occasional jokes with the company ) endured the thick Berlin wool jacket in which the upper part of her ligurc was en cased. However, by the time I had been rigged out in full miner's garb, much to my own satisfaction and to the infinite amuse ment of the lookers-on, the word was given to start, and I and my guide stepped out into the cold, rainy night. We soon reached the mouth of the shaft, and after a prepar atory descent into a work-shop, where we got lanterns fixed to our girdles, we hade farewell in good earnest to "all beneath the sun." Oh, that first ladder ! 1 shall never forget the resigned feeling with which I stamped down step after step be hind my guide; the greasy work; the damp, grave-like air ; above all, the roar and din from the huge water-wheel and en gines constantly at work to keep the mine in anything looking order. Truly, " I heard the wash of waters, but nothing could I see"--save vast slimey boards moving slowly up and down at iny elbows. At first 1 naturally enough took these collossal piston-rods for the firm walls of the chim ney, down which I was creeping. I was set by one grazing my hip, aud making me shrink within myself, like the man who saw the prison walls closing in around him. After reaching the first landing place all unpleasant feelings vanished, or were ex changed for a fear that some miner (we began to meet them as we got lower down) might, in his more rapid descent, come un awares upon my fingers. This was all but realized in the ascent ; the guide had for gotten to give the cry which should stop that flight to all down comers until we had passed ; and as I blindly worked my way up, my first intimation of danger was some clumped foot coming rudely in contact with my miner's cap. Of the depth to which I descended 1 can form no notion. My guide-book Nays the ladder is from 24 to 30 ells. Of these I was told there are sixty in the Himmelfurt. Indeed, my cicerone persuaded me 1 had gone down forty-two of them. However this may he, the depth of " Birch wood shaft" stands in the guide-book as over 1,300 ells ; and the "Murder Mine" is still deeper. The passages are generally very i low ; an exceedingly unpleasant stoop had ;to be maintained in traversing them. Gen ! erally the walls were plain gneis, or per Annum, in Advance. quartz, oft on discolored with red muddy water from iron springs ; but here and there the veins were so rich, that even our dim lights sufficed for a magic illumination.— This was especially the case in the " new vein," the great discovery of the year, suf ficiently painful to creep through, but re paying ail by its brilliancy. The gallery seemed to round almost to the same point • here our descent had ceased. Going up j the forty-two ladders was weary, tiring work. However, we were cheered at each landing by the " Gluckauf" from parties of descending miners, to whom we duly re plied " Maeht gesund Schicht"—"Well speed thy task for these people have conventional phrases, which are as indis pensible as the mixed jargon of French and English peculiar to certain circles at home. In ascending I noticed the excellent ven tilation, managed by trap-doors at the diff erent landings. There is always an official moving to see to this. In England we leave this important duty to mere chil dren. Tne floors and trap-doors were also in my eyes admirable preservatives against what might occur with such very perpen-! dieular ladders -viz : a fall right through from top to bottom. After a weary climb we got within sound of the eternal anti danger bell, and at length emerged into the cold rain. When we descended, the chil dren in the " schools " were singing their evening hymn, and " mine host's " parlor was full of grave omnivorous guests ; but ! now all was silent ; the cabaret deserted by all except one man, who had been some years among our Cornish Mines, and spoke a little English—a drunken fellow, who had wanted to accompany me below, and, foiled in this, had waited above, in hopes of more beer—and for one or two more, for whom the " swipes and sausage " seemed to have never-ending attractions. While we were divesting ourselves of our leathern integuments, I had an opportunity I of testing the honesty of my guide. It is ! strictly forbidden—l know not why—to sell i or give away any specimens of the ore; all j such must be obtained by special permis-! sion at the Bergmeister's office. We were ! alone in our dressing room, several really ! beautiful peices of fiuor, quartz, and silver j crystals, ect., were round, but nothing I could tempt him to let me do more than j touch them. It was too late to go and j visit the Amalgam Works or any other wonders, even had 1 been duly provided ' with permits ; so there remained nothing ' for it but to kill time till the hour for the : cilwagen's return ; I therefore waited till ; the change of relays (they have three in j the twenty-four hours.) This brought a j crowd of swarthy miners into mine host's I for " beer, washwasser, and putzen," (beer, i washing water, and toilet). The English j speaker now went into his turn, and I was ! left with some eight or ten, all burning to know whence I came, and why. I told them the fact, that I was from " aus Ire-; land and not being strong in geography, j they shook their heads, till one started "Is land " (Iceland) as an emendation; and forthwith I was set down as a countrymen of the geysers, and doubtless connected with legends of the iron-working Norse men, who forged the swords of Rollo and Harold Haarfager. This was too good to last, and the murder come out through my j own folly. Each miner wears a belt, to j which are attached two curious knives,and j a lead pencil of most primitive construe- j tion. This I coveted, and began bargain- j with one of my friends for the fee simple of I his property. At once the shrewdest of 1 the party cried out, " Acli Gott, der Her ist ein Englander," and up went the price of the belt, and my " little bill" for the beer and sausages was swelled, doubtless, to three times its true dimensions. Neverthe less, 1 got some good information about the hydraulic apparatus, and was told that, in spite of it, the mine nearest to this (the " Prince Elector's level)" could only be worked to two-thirds its real depth. The j miners were fine tall fellows, not a bit bent j by their work ; grave even beyond their : countrymen of grave Saxon land, never surprised into anything beyond a length ened " Wie-eh ?" whereby in their broad dialect they politely expressed an incred ulous " No, you don't say so?" The lowest wages are from three to five uewgroschen (some five pence to seven pence a day); men get about seven, and master workmen up as high as fifteen (i. e., about one shil ling and ten pence). However, we must remember that in matters of food, money is worth nearly twice, and in the considera tion which it gives the possessor full five times as much as in England. WALKING-LEAVES OF AUSTRALIA. —AImost everybody has heard of the wonderful walk ing leavos of Australia. For a long time after the discovery of that great island, many people really believed that the leaves of a certain tree, which flourishes there, could walk about the ground. The story arose in this way : Some English sailors ! landed upon the coast one day. After j roaming about un.il they were tired, they sat down under a tree to rest themselves. A puff of wind came along, and blew off a shower of leaves, after turning over and over in the air, as leaves generally do finally rested upon the ground. As it was mid summer, and everything quite green, the circumstance puzzled the sailors considera bly. But their surprise was much greater, as you may well suppose, when after a short time, they saw the leaves crawling along on the ground toward the trunk of the tree. I They ran at once for their vessels, without j stopping to examine into the matter at all, | and set sail away from the land where everything seemed to be bewitched. One of the men said that he " expected every moment to see the trees set to dance a jig." Subsequent explorations n Australia have taught us that these walking leaves are insects They live upon trees. Their bodies are very thin and flat, their wings forming large leaf-like oranges. When they are disturbed their legs are folded away under their bodies, leaving the shape exactly like a leaf with its stem all com plete. They are of bright green color in the summer, but they gradually change in the fall, with the leaves, to the brown of frost-bitten vegetation. When shaken from the tree, they lie for a few moments upon the ground as though they were dead, Lut presently they begin to crawl aloug towards the tree, which they ascend again. They rarely use their wings, although they were pretty well supplied in this respect. TEE VITAL PBIROIPLE. What is animal life? This question has perplexed the world for ages ; and is stdl in dispute. If the medical faculty could solve it they would have a key to the origin of all diseases, and no longer treat us by guess, as they too frequently do now.— "The life is in blood," we are told on high authority ; but the grand problem in medi cal philosophy is not where is it? but what is it? The priests of Chaldea and Egypt consulted the stars upon the subject, but obtained no answer of any practical value. The Greeks studied the laws of nature thoughtfully, but failed to fathom the great secret. Modern doctors have argued the point very learnedly and given us a multi ! tude of theories thereupon, but the common sense of mankind is not entirely satisfied with an}' of them. Neither the subtile I logic of the metaphysician nor those of the | anatomist has been able to determine pos i itivcly what animal life is. Pythugoras and most of the ancient sa ges believed the vital spirit to be invisible fire. Epicurus—who, by the way was a man of immense mind, and not, as many sup pose, a two legged pig who grovelled in the mire of sensualism—insisted that it was compounded of heat and gas. Among the I moderns, John Wesley, Dr. Priestly, Sir I Humphrey Davy, Abernethy, and many | others, maintained that electricity or mag i uetisin is the animating element. The late Dr. Metcalfe, one of our own distinguished | men of science, held caloric or latent heat to be the basis of vitality, and supposed clectricty its emanation, to be the active vi tal principle. That atmospheric heat is intimately con nected with this principal, is evident from its influence in the production of innumer able forms of animal and vegetable exis tence. Of the million and a half of animal and vegetable species which the earth is esti mated to contain, probably three-fourths inhabit regions where there is no winter.— The whole tropical ocean may be said to be alive, while within the artic circle life is sparsely scattered, and what there is of it is comparatively sluggish. Summer in all latitudes is the nurse, if not the parent, of myrids of existences, and it is obvious that if the world were deprived of solar heat, every living thing would die. We know that the vital spark has been apparently extinguished in fish and reptiles by the ac tion of cold, it can be re-kindled by the ap plication of heat. Fish that have been fro zen stiff and remained in that condition for twelve months, may be thawed back to life. This feat has been accomplished by a Eu ropean professor, who is now soliciting per mission to congeal a few criminals con demned to death. He says that after keep ing them under the seal of Jack Frost fur a year or two, he could warm them up ami set them agoing again as good as new. 01 course, nobody believes him. It may be possible to recall a frozen tadpole to life, but it is beyond the power of science to summon back to its earthly tabernacle a departed soul. The sum and substance of the whole matter is, that although heat and elictricity are apparently essential to the development of animal life and to its revival after tem porary suspension, its principle is beyond the scrutiny of man. The laws of life and motion we may investigate and determine, but their origin is a civine mystery which reason cannot penetrate. THF. DISCOVERER OF AMERICA. —Not long since, writes a correspondent, Mr. A. the master of one of the public schools in East Boston, while making a call in the room of his assistant, Miss 8., requested the boys who could tell him who discovered America to hold up their hands. A large number at once complied, but, to assist the rest, he said— "Don't you remember that adventurous navigater who had so much trouble with his crew, who wanted to throw him over board ?" Here a small boy held his hand up very high, and made every effort to attract the master's eye. "There," said Mr. A., "that boy knows who discovered America. See his eyes snap. Now, for the instruction of the boys who don't know, you may tell who it was." "Jonah!" screamed the little fellow, at the top of his voice. Mr. A. has not probably examined that class in history since. THE SKY AN INIHCATOX OF THF. WEATHER.— The color of the sky, at particular times, affords wonderful good guidance. Noi only does a rosy sunset presage good weather, and a ruddy sunrise bad weather, but there are other tints which speak with equal clearness and ' accuracy. A bright yellow sky in the evening indicates wind ; a pale yellow, wet ; a neutral grey color constitutes a favorable sign in the evening, and an unfavorable one in the morning.— The clouds are again full of meaning in themselves. If their forms are soft, unde fined, and full feathery, the weather will be fine ; if their edges are hard, sharp and de finite, it will be foul. Generally speaking, and deep unusual hues betoken wind or rain; while the more quiet and delicate tints bespeak fair weather. These are simple maxims ; and yet not so simple but what the British Board of Trade has thought fit to publish them for the use of seafaring.— Scientific American. HUMAN NATURE. —Some wise man sagely , remarked,"there is a good deal of human j nature in man." It crops out occasionlly in boys. One of the urchins in the School Ship Massachusetts, who was quite sick, was visited bj- a kind lady. The little fol low was suffering acutely, and his visitor asked hiin if she could do anything for him. "Yes," replied the patient,"read to me."— "Will you have a story?" asked the lady. "No," answered the boy ; "read from the Bible ; read about Lazarus ;" and the lady complied. The next day the visit was re peated, and again the boy asked the lady to read. "Shall I read from the Bible?" she inquired. "Oh ! no," was the reply,"l'm better to-day ; read me a love story CONTRABAND TOM who has come into Sheri dan's lines, says the rebels are having a ■ "right smart talk" about arming the colored i men, and the negroes are talking about it j themselves, but the blacks are about equally I divided on the matter. Says Tom—"Bout ! half do colored men tink dey would run di i reetly over to de Yankees wid de arms in ! der hands, and todder half tink dey would jiss stand an' fire a few volleys to de rear j fußt, fore dey run—dat's all de difference." LADY Caroline Lamb had, in a moment of passion, knocked down one of her pages with a stool. The poet Moore, to whom this story was told, observed. "Oh, noth ing is more natural for a literary lady to double down a page." "1 would rather," said one of the company, "advise Lady Caroline to turn over a new leaf," "MR. SMITH, you said you boarded at the Columbian Hotel for six mouths—did you foot your bill ?" "No, sir, but it amounted to the same thing—the landlord footed me.' NUMBER 4(i.