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jJrtMUd jiVinj.
KXITTI.XG.
I'h, fire burns low ; no other light
i, MS|S iln i hades of coming night,
! j ; ; ,ji its "learnings seems to take
s, v v shapes, and wierd-like pictures make.
i..! a- the light grows less without,
outlines of relief stand out,
\ id in th. picture smiling sits
i iiing wife who deftly knits.
i ; a she lilts her eyes to gaze
in- . the evening's twilight haze,
C.,1 hopes in vain to see his face,
1 r the day to night gives place.
Each stitch seems wrought with rays of hope,
Which lesson with the ankle's slope ;
hut oil she knits—the "heel" is set,
flic night comes down—no soldier yet.
(ud now the instep narrowing's done,
im "even " knitting is began ;
v., need to look—she shuts her eyes,
\ud softly smiles—lie means surprise!
IV night and knitting wane apace,
And hope to fearful doubt, gives place ;
ii, wrote il' God las life should spare,
1 i.s evening s meal with her he'd share.
; look again. She seems to sit
in tli' selfsame place but does nut knit.
X need the toeing to commence ;
The hoped for feet are going lience,
; • where bright, woofiess garments wait
in, w.-ary soldier, at that gate
,Vlo noli is writ in words of gold ;
A',,an-, i nter—'tis the Savior's fold.
So clash of arms or widow's cry,
Oh'-' v.iii have passed these portrls by ;
X nulit but the Father's smiling face,
A- at thy side lu- leaves a place
l*i.r wife and little ones to sit,
\Vh, n on the earth woe's web is knit;
X iii asy waiting there is done—
No doubt, or fear or setting sun.
OH ■ SARAH F. RICE.
snT)innt jfkttth.
For tbe Bradford Reporter.
A REMINISCENCE OF TOWANDA.
11V I'AUL PEMBERTOX, JR.
me years ago when business for the
:';*t lime called me to Northern Pennsylva
.,a. 1 came by a stag*e route along the
[iii haiiiia river. The region was then
ivildcr than now ; in many places where
cable farms and neat dwellings at present
nark the landscape, were nothing but fur
s'. tracts. Through these silent aisles of
ature, over mountains and through val
et's, our stage-coach wound its tortuous
my on a sultry day in July.
There were but three passengers beside
(self; a young lady with a child, four
>us old, and a scowling old man. I soon
became familiar witli the lady by the ef
ts which were made to amuse her little |
laughter. 1 learned that she was a widow j
n -sling in Philadelphia. She had no rec-;
llection of her father. The death of her |
mtiiei' 'following swift upon that of her ;
-Kind, she determined to try and find a j
sister who, her mother had informed her
win u dying, once lived in the vicinity of
I 'Wamia. A mourning habit added to the I
sadness which overspread the features of
the young widow. But the smile of a soft,
blue eye, made the serious face beautiful as
! '"W and then her pretty Nannie answered
in childish oddness to my questions. Once
I said :
In.,re is grandma, Nannie?" She re
pied: '• Grandma got sick and could not
at, -1 she went to Heaven where folks
"v - without eating." "Where is grandpa?"
-Vciiiii- was thoughtful a moment, then
glancing at the old man who had shrunk
Hit" a corner where he sat in stolid silence,
*he replied —" Old men are grandpas, that
is my grandpa."
Die old man looked up, suddenly affixed
his eyes fiercely upon the child, then glared
at tiit- mother and relapsed into sullen si--
Die thought struck me that lie was
deaf and had perhaps been aroused by Nan
ii; * hand which had been laid upon his
at'tn 1 turned to him and said in quite a 1
••' tone, • this dear little girl thinks you
In- -1 ' grandfather." He looked at me
u -'..i a frown and 1 caught his eye ;it was
•* It blue spite of his ill humor. I repea
•' 1 iny sentence but elicited no response.
Da- day passed slowly ; at length we
:Vf,| l. just as the shadows of night were
--'-•"-ting over, at the top of Browntown
111 At the same time a thunder storm
had been threatning all the after
i urst furiously upon us. We stopped,
widow and myself alighted and entered
-' i house by the roadside, the uld man
g "fining in the coach. I pleaded with
driver not to descend the dangerous
""tain side until the storm should abate,
" was firm, the mail must be got
; g'h at all risks. The night was ter
} black, save when the lurid lightning
•"filiated the earth. To add to our dan
• * oil in the coach lamp was dried
•Hid the driver had lost his chain with
In- usually locked the wheels in a
" b descent. Nothing that would aid us
•" ibe borrowed but a lantern. Finding
"'"'"listiations vain, 1 rolled up iny
'■ a " ls "ad taking the lantern, started in
- nt of the horses, assuring the lady that
He ught we should go down safely,
g bile 1 stood at the coach door 1 obser
g t cat the rain was beating in upon the
i''"ir" ' ei 'D " I shall walk a few miles,
o -""Lather,' said I, " better put your feet
•e opposite cushion, there," and 1 dis-
fis long coat around him to keep his
"J " Thank you, young man," came
E. O. GOODBICH, Publisher.
VOLUME XXVI.
gruffly from beneath his high coat collar.
I then proceeded about two yards in ad
vance of the horses. The rain continued to
fall in lioods, the rocky road was washed
and gullied, the lightning increased so that
the lantern was almost useless. A lew in
ches to the side and the coach must plunge
down, down hundreds of feet. The driver,
as he said, " knew the road by heart," and
he was a good horseman, so we, after many
doubts and fears, crossed the little bridge
which announced the foot of the mountain.
We reached Wyalusing in a short time,
and remained there all night. The morning
was glorious, and the journey to Towanda
was enjoyed by all. Even the uncompan
ionable old man appeared a shade brighter.
We arrived in time for an early dinner, af
ter which, as I sat upon the portico, the
old man came to me and said, " 1 am P
M , live a few miles from here, if you
will come to my house 1 will pay you what
1 owe you." He shuffled off so quickly that
1 hud not time to think what he meant or to
make any reply. My curiosity was exci
ted and 1 resolved to visit this singular
person ; I inquired where he lived of the
landlord. He informed me, but advised me
not to go ; bis house was as odd as him
self, and as mysterious ; noises were heard,
sights were seen there, unearthly and un
accountable. I learned further that old
Mr. M. had had two wives ; the first was
driven away from her husband by his as
perity of temper—taking one child a year
old and leaving one, six. Both were daugh
ters. Soon after, XI. married a young - wo
man who had been brought up in his house.
The change from service to position affec
ted her unfavorably ; she became austere
and imperious to himself, and cruel to his
child. Suddenly in the midst of her rule
she died. M. was an educated man ; un
derstood chemistry, possessed a chemical
apparatus and frequently experimented,
using poisonous materials--a suspicion
arose that his wife had been foully dealt
with He lived remote from neighbors, the
fact of the woman's death only known to
few, and they were not disposed to exam
ine into it ; so the event passed from their
minds. M. looked after his men on the
farm, but mingled socially with nobody.
His daughter grew up as quiet as himself,
receiving education from her father. Nei
ther was often semi away from home. The
single exception of which 1 write was the
only one in which XI. was ever known to
make a journey.
This singular man had invited me to his
house to receive pay for 1 knew not what.
1 had read Washington li ving's mysterious
Knickerbocker stories, and began to im
agine myself a hero Xl's. was the very
place for me. 1 should at least remain
with him one night and have the privilege
of seeing a real, buna-fide, honest hobgob
lin. I could scarcely wait till the follow
ing day, and dreamed of ghosts all night,
though 1 believe that 1 slept none. Bright
and early I vaulted into a saddle and
dashed olf for the haunted house, i reached
it at 'J o'clock. XI. had not yet risen; he was
fatigued ; it was uncertain at what hour
he might be seen. This was told me by a
colored servant who seemed to be the only
one about the house. 1 was anxious to see
the daughter before night to prevent mis
taking her for the ghost. I busied myself
in examining the ancient fabric. From the
parlor into which I was shown a door open
ed into a library ; both rooms were fur
nished with solid old furniture, the carpets
were of large round figures, yellow predom
inating. Dampness had changed the wall
paper so much that its original hues could
not bo told. A faint light fell through
windows with closed shutters, and with no
curtains whatever. I with difficulty raised
a sash, but the shrubbery had grown so
dense against the shutters that 1 could not
throw them open.
The windows in the library were so high
that 1 could not reach them ; they were
perfectly square, and ranged along over
the book-shelves close to the ceiling. Dust
had gathered thick upon most of the books.
I stood a moment awed by the silence that
reigned. Suspended over the door through
which 1 had entered, was an old portrait ;
it was a beautiful lady, apparently about
twenty-five years of age- -the lineaments
seemed strangely familiar. " But then,"
thought I, "how many people look alike in
this world." 1 stepped back to sec the pic
ture in a better light. As I did so a sound
came t<> my ears like two or three quickly
drawn breaths. I passed into the parlor,
expecting to see Xliss XI. I waited a few
minutes and nobody appearing, 1 went out
and surveyed the premises, Everything
bore a neglected aspect. Rose bushes and
other flowers, and weeds, had sprung up
from old roots in the large yard and were
choking one another to death. Out houses
were dilapidated, and the dwelling itself
was in woeful repair. I loitered around
till four in the afternoon, when the servant
informed me that dinner was ready. In the
dining-room I saw Xliss XI. for the first
time. She was short and light complex
ioncd, wearing one curl behind either ear.
She looked full thirty years of age, and
was prematurely gray. She bent her head
slightly as I entered, pointed to a chair at
the table and motioned the servant, whom
she called Moses, to bring on the meat.
"I hope your father is not seriously ill,"
I ventured.
" No Sir," without removing her eyes
from her plate, "He will see me early to
morrow, 1 hope."
" Yes Sir."
This was all ; her manner was so icily
cold that I made no effort at conversation.
I determined to stay all night (and sleep in
the library) whether invited or not. At
the close of the meal Miss M. arose and
bade me a low "good evening." . •
1 returned to the library and took down
a volume of Spencer. Again was the breath
ing audible, as distinctly as before. There
was but one door beside that going into
the parlor. 1 hesitated before opening it,
least Miss M.'s room should be contiguous.
1 opened it cautiously however, and discov
ered only a large closet whose shelves
were filled with bottles, labeled with the
Latin names of drugs and chemicals. I
closed the door— there was the sighing again.
There was certainly no living creature in
that closet. Just then came the thought of
the sudden death of M.'s second wife. I
retreated into the parlor ; simultaneously
Moses brought a match and lighted a half
burnt out wax candle that stood in a three
branched candleabrum upon the mantel.
The light was too dim to read by, so 1 went
again into the library boldly resolving not
TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., AUGUST 3, 1865.
to be run off by a sigh. I sank upon a
leather covered lounge and ruminated upon
the peculiarity of my situation, in a haunt
ed house, several miles from any other,save
a tenant house. I had thus fur seen noth
ing "of which I could inquire :
"Be thon a spirit of earth or goblin damned,
Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
Be thy intents wicked or charitable
though 1 had heard noises for which 1
could not account. Night however was just
ahead ; I must wait for the revelations of
midnight. Kesigniug myself to sleep, to
wait for adventure, 1 stretched myself at
full leugth on the lounge. I know not how
long I slept, but I was awakened by the
signing sound, still louder than tit the for
mer times. Opening my ejus and cough
ing (for I had taken cold from lying too
near the damp wall) I saw a figure glide
lightly past me and pass into the parlor.
The candle was going down in the socket,
several flicker shalf lit the room and then
all was* dark and gloomy as Erebus. I
stated up, trembling from head to foot, and
again 1 heard the mysterious sounds as 1
hastened away into the hall. The hall-door
stood ajar, and outside, upon the portico, I
saw the same figure that had tied from me.
I watched it a moment expecting to sec it
" vanish into the air." Now wide awake
and remembering my errand, I stretched
out my arm and pointing at the figure with
my linger, exclaimed :
" Angels and ministers of grace defend
us 1"
" Will you be kind enough to tell me if
Mr. M. is at home ?" inquired a voice which
I immediately identified as that of the young
widow who had ridden with me in the
stage-coach. Apologising, 1 tqok her hand
and informed the lady who I was. The sur
prise was mutual. : '
" This is where my father and-sister live,"
said MI B. Bane, " I did not know the former
was still alive until to-day, as my mother
never referred to him. After resting at the
hotel until this afternoon," continued she,
"I ascertained the facts and set out in a
hired carriage for this place. The driver
missed the road ; after going several miles
out of the way we have just arrived. Nan
nie is in the carriage at the gate, I knock
ed at the door and nobody appearing I fol
lowed the course of the light which I saw
shining from the window Finding the
room vacant, and seeing a person lying in
the adjoining one, 1 went in, supposing it
might be my father. When you arose I
saw I must be mistaken, so quickly with
drew."
1 stood in blank astonishment during this
recital of Mrs Bane, not once recurring to
the fact of her little daughter being with a
stranger at the gate. I now invited the
widow to walk into the house of which 1
seemed to have taken possession, and said
I would go for Nannie. She objected to
tin's and accompanied ine to the carriage
where the child lay as she had been left,
asleep on the cushion. I bore Nannie to
the house in my arms and lay her upon a
sofa. I began to realize my peculiar posit
ion ; with a lady in a large dark house with
which I was unacquainted ! I groped my
way to the'dining room and knocked loud
ly upon the table, but without succeeeding
in bringing any one to the spot. I made a
circuit of the room but could find no door
except the one 1 had entered. 1 returned
to the hall with the intention of going out
and examining the exterior doors in the
rear of the house, when to my joy I saw
Xloses at the top of a flight of steps, and
carrying a candle. He said he should have
been down before to show me to bed, but
his master had been very sick and he could
not leave him. He now came to say that
Mr. M. desired to see him in his own room.
1 informed the steward that a lady was in
the parlor, and cutting the candle into two
pieces with rny pocket knife, carried half to
the caddelabruin, and excusing myself to
Xlrs. Bane,followed Xloses to Xli . XL's chain
her.
The old man lay prone upon his bed, but
turned bis face toward me when his daugh
ter whispered that I was present. He mo- 1
tioned me to bring a chair near him, and
his daughter to leave us alone. The door
had scarcely closed when he began to tell
me the story of his wicked life, in incoher
ent sentences. He acknowledged the abuse
of his first wife and the murder of the sec- j
ond. During the past decade he had part
ly lost both sight and hearing, and suffered
intensely from an internal disease of long
standing. Remorse seized him,he resolved
at least-to find and do justice to his wife
if she were living. Supernatural strength
seemed, given for the effort,but it had prov
ed useless. With his return hope died,and
he sank beneath the overwhelming thought,
lie felt that the sin qf avarice could not be
layed to his charge ; he had always satis
factorily remunerated those who labored
for him. He requested me to open a small
box that stood on a stand by his bedside
aud appropriate a hundred dollars to my
self for caring for hint at Browntown hill,
and preserving the life of that child on the
night of our ride in the thunder shower.—
Wishing not to disturb him, I turned to the
box, raising and shutting the lid without
taking the money.
I did not once interrupt the old man dur
ing his confession, but now imparted to
him the knowledge of his wife's recent
death, and informed him of whom I obtain
ed the information of his own daughter
who had been passenger in the Coach with
him, and who was waiting in the room be
low to see him. The intelligence did not
excite hiin as I apprehended. He only re
plied, " Not to night, not to night? To-mor
row 1 will see her, and the child which has
lias her grandmother's face. You will see
her portrait in the library !"
1 did not see the meeting of the long
separated sisters nor that of the father and
daughter. It was a place of family sacred
ness which I felt that I had no right to in
vade. Xly stay in the house! of Mr. M. was
necessarily limited to two days, during
which time he was obliged to keep his
bed.
I spent part of the last day in unravel
ing the mystery ot the library. I had the
windows thrown open wide and the carpet
removed. The floor had become nitcven and
the boards loose beneath one of the book
shelves which had sprung from its fasten
ings in the partition and swayed to and
iro with every footstep, eansing rough
sounds like the rattle in a ftick person's
throat, as it pressed a vellnm bound volume
that had fallen behind and caught open,be
tween the partition and a shelf.
I corresponded with Mrs. Bane after my
REGARD).ESS OK DENUNCIATION EROM ANV QUARTER.
: departure and.learned that her father sur
vived until the opening of the following
! Spring, when he died, leaving his property
I equally divided between his two children.
m
CLOVER BLOSSOMS.
I
There's a modest little blossom,
Blooming closely to tbe ground,
While its wealth of sweetest perfume
Thrills through all the air around.
White and pure, a field of clover,
Iu the sunny summer day,
Rrings a caltn my spirit over,
Sweet as music far away.
In the rich man's terraced garden
Many a fair exotic twines
Many a gaily tinted flower
'Neath the glossy foliage shines.
By the poor man's lowly cottage,
Violets sweetest odors yield ; •
Yet I love the air of freedom
Blowing from a clever field.
Lilies in the Valley growing,
Roses in their blushing pride,
These may wreathe their regal beauty,
Fitly for the youthful bride.
Laurel wreaths may suit the poet,
Forest flowers may lure the child,
I would ouly ask the clover,
Meek and modest, brave and mild.
Little care my hardy flowers,
Thdugb the Soil be poor and dry,
Blooming by the dirty wayside,
Blessing all who pass thereby,
Let me learn Urn gentle lesson,
Even in my lowly way,
Working bravely, like the clover,
In the sultry summer day.
A TURKISH BATHIN NEW-YORK.
A lady iu New-York who lmd just for
the first time takeu a Turkish bath in that
city, writes to a friend as follows 1
Fresh from the bath. Did you ever take
a Turkish bath, Nell ? I fancy not. They i
are scarce luxuries in the country, but let!
me describe one to you while 1 am glowing
with the warmth and friction generously
bestowed, and ray mind and body sympa
thizing with each other in elasticy and
lightness. lam inclined to have a very
good opiaiou of my looks reflected in the
glass, and consider the fresh, rosy hue, a
good exchange for the old, sallow look.
But come with me and take a bath, in im
agination at least, and see if it is not well
worth giving a good deal of pains to enjoy.
We go down a flight of stairs, open a
door to the right, and enter the Frigidarium,
which, to translate to your unaccustomed
ears, means a nice, comfortable room, filled
with easy chairs, and lined around with
little curtained apartments which are dress
ing rooms, ten iu number. You enter one
of these apartments, disrobe yourself of
your attire, and take upon you the bath
garment, which is a single garment of rec
tangular shape and Turkey-red hue, kuowu
as a "Cummerbund." This is tied artistic
ally over the right shoulder, passing under
the left one, and descends about to the
knee ; thence you proceed to the uext room
—the Tepidarium. As you open the door
the air within seems hot as an oven ; but
don't sin ink back ; you have not reached
the hottest place yet; and in a moment or
two the sensation is very peasant. Y'ou
seat yourself on a softly cushioned lounge ;
an attendant wets your head iu cold water,
and wraps your forehead in a wet towel,
places a tub of warm water at your feet,
and having immersed your feet therein,
you lay your head back, fold your bauds,
and begin to feel at peace with all the world,
and witli the soft tight from the stained
glass windows upon your eyes feel as if it
would be the easiest thing in the world to
go to sleep. Soon the perspiration begins
to start, and we are conducted by our at
tendant from luxurious hotness, into what
you learn to be the "Sudatorium," meaning
in a free translation, the hot place. Y'ou
are stretched upon a couch, a sheet thrown
over you, and the air envelopes you like a
liquid element, warm, delicious ; and there
you lie till bathed in a profuse perspiration,
and you are wet with tears of sweat.—
Then you are laid upou the shanipooning
bench in the middle of the room, and your
limbs and body rubbed and kneaded till all
tire old skin is gone, and every joint is lim
bered, while pains and aches flee to parts
unknown. A sponge bath of soap suds
and a shower bath, the temperature grad
ually lessening from warm to cool, a brisk
rubbing with a cotton sheet, and you go
back to the Tepidarium, cool a little, and
then to the Frigidarium, where for the first
time you feel that it deserves its name,
from its contrast to the hot air you have
beeil in. But a good, motherly, soft, wool
en blanket keeps you warm, and you sit in
oue of the easy chairs, till you feel quite
ready to go back to the every day world
once more fresh with vigor and life.
Ax EXTRAORDINARY SNAKE BITE.— One of
the most extraordinary cases of the effects
of a suake bite of which we have heard,
occurred last Saturday at Balls Prairie in
the northern part of this county. Mr. Ja
cob Schuster, a fanner, was engaged in
mowing, and in swinging his scythe, sever
ed a rattle-snake a few inches below tbe
head. He then, prompted by curiosity,
proceeded to examine the reptile, and ap
proached it for that purpose, supposing it
to be rendered harmless, when it instantly
threw its head about and fastened its fangs
in his thumb. He threw the snake oft' by
jerking his hand violently, and immediate
ly his entire system received a shock from
the venom infused into it by the snake.—
His qrin swelled rapidly to four times its
natural size, and became of a dark color.
11c was seized with vomiting and purging
blood, and it even oozed through the pores
of his skin, and large blisters filled with
blood covered liis arm and hands. His ag
ony was intense, and all efforts to relieve
him were futile, and it was found necessa
ry to call medical aid. A messenger was
therefore despatched to this city for Dr.
Staples, and he immediately repaired to
the residence of Mr. Schuster, arriving
there early Monday morning. He found
him suffering greatly, and though the case
seemed hopeless, made every effort to coun
teract the poison which was spread through
his system. When Dr. Staples left him, at
about noon on Monday, the patient was
somewhat easier, but there was little ex
pectation of his recovery.— Dubuque (Toxba)
Herald.
FOBCE OF HABIT-
Burke relates that for a long time he had
been under the necessity of frequenting a
certain place every day, and that, so far
from fiuding a pleasure in it, he was affec
ted with a sort of uneasiness and disgust ;
and yet if by any means he passed by the
usual time of going thither, he felt rernark
j ably uneasy, and was not quieted until be
was in his usual track.
Persons who use snuff soon deaden the
sensibility of smell, so that a pinch is ta
ken unconsciously, and without any sensa
tion being exerted thereby, sharp though
the stimulus may be.
After a series of years winding up a
watch at a certain hour, it becomes so
much a routine as to be done in utter un
consciousness ; meanwhile the mind and
body are engaged in something entirely
different.
An old man is reported to have scolded
his maid-servant very severely for not hav
ing placed his glass in the proper position
for shaving. " Why, sir," replied the girl,
" 1 have omitted itfor mouths, and I thought
you could shave just as well without it."
We are all creatures of habit, and the
doing of disagreeable things may become
j more pleasant than omissions ; showing to
the young the importance of forming cor
rect habits in early life, to the end that
they may be carried out without an effort,
even although at first it may have required
some self-denial, some considerable resolu
tion to have fallen into them.
But if doing disagreeabie tilings does
by custom become more pleasurable than
their omission, then the doing right, be
cause we love to do what is right, becomes
a double pleasure to the performer in the
consciousness that while he is yielding al
legiance to his Maker, he benefits his fel
low man, and cannot get out of the habit of
well-doing without an effort and a pang.
Thus are the truly good hedged round
about, and are more confirmed in their good
doing, and its practice becomes easier and
more delightful the longer they live, help
ing them to go down to the grave " like as
a shock of corn cometh in his seasou."
These principles are equally applicable
to our physical nature—to bodily health.
Habits of regularity, temperance, cleanli
ness, and exercise Become a second nature
in the course of years ; their performance a
pleasure, their infraction a discomfort ;
while the use of beverages of ale, beer, cor
dials, cider, and other drinks containing
alcohol, or the employment of tobacco in
chewing, smoking, or snuffing, and the
over-indulgence of propensities, becomes a
slavery, an iron despotism, which iu the end
debases the heart, undermines the health,
and destroys life, making a miserable
wreck of soul, body and estate together.
DON'T Ji'IKIE BY APPEARANCES.— Some years
ago there arrived at the hotel erected near
the Niagara Falls an odd-looking man,
whose appearance and deportment were
quite in contrast with the crowds of well
dressed and polished figures which adorn
ed the celebrated resort. He seemed just
to have sprung from the woods ; his dress
which was made of leather, stood dread
fully in need ot repair, apparently not hav
ing felt the touch of a needlewoman for
many a long month. A worn-out blanket
that might have served for a bed, was
buckled to bis shoulder; a large knife hung
on one side, balanced by a long, rusty, tin
box on tbe other, and his beard uncrop
ped, tangled, and coarse, fell down upon
his bosom, as if to counterpoise the weight
of the thick dark locks that supported
themselves on his back and shoulders.
This strange being, to the -spectators.seem
ingly half civilized, half savage, had a
quick, glaneing eye, and elastic, firm move
ment, that would, no doubt, win its way
through the brakes, both of the wilderness
and of society. He pushed his steps into
the sitting room, unstrapped his little bur
den, quietly looked around for the landlord,
and then modestly asked for breakfast.
The host at first drew back with evident
repugnance at its uncouth form among the
genteel visitors, but a few words whisper
ed in his ear speedily satisfied his doubts;
the stranger took his place in the compa
ny, some shrugging, some staring, some
laughing outright. Yet there was more
in that single man than in all the rest of
the throng. He was an American woods
man as he said; he was a genuine son
of Nature, yet had been entertained with
distinction at the table of princes ; learned
societies, to which the like of Cuvier be
longed, bowed down to welcome bis pres
ence ; kings had been complimented when
he spoke to them ; in short, he was one
whose fame will be growing brighter when
the fashionables who laugh at him and
many much greater than they shall be ut
terly perished. From every hill-top and
deep, shady grove, the birds, those blos
soms of the air, will sing his name. The
little wren will pipe it with his matin
hymn about our bouse ; the oriole carol it
from the slender grasses of the meadows ;
the turtle dove roll it through the secret
forest ; the many-voiced mocking-bird pour
it along the air ; and the imperial eagle,
the bird of Washington, as he sits far up
on the blue mountains, will scream it to
the tempest and the stars, lie was the
late John J. Audubon, ornithologist.
TIGER FRIGHTEN3D BR A MOUSE. — A travel
ler gives the following anecdote of a tiger
kept at the British Residency at Calcutta :
" But what annoyed him far more than
our poking him with a stick, or tantalizing
him with shins of beef or legs of mutton,
was a mouse introduced into the cage. No
fine lady ever exhibited more terror at the
sight of a spider than this magnificent roy
al tiger on seeing a mouse. Our mischie
vous plan was to tie the little animal by a
string to the end of a long pi le, and thrust
it close to the tiger's nose. The moment
he saw it he leaped to the opposite side,and
when the mouse was made to run near him
he jammed himself into the corner, and
stood trembling and roaring in such an ee
stacy of fear that we were always obliged
to desist in pity to the poor brute. Some
times we insisted on his passing over the
spot where the unconscious little mouse
ran backward and forward. For a long
time, however, we could not get him to
move, till at length, I believe by the help
of a squib, we obliged him to start; but
instead of pacing leisurely across his den,
or of making a detour to avoid the object
of his alarm, he generally took a kind of
flying leap so high as nearly to bring his
back in content with the roof of his cage."
&Q pei* Annum, in Advance.
MOUSE POWER
A gentleman in Scotland has trained a
couple of mice, and invented a machinery
for enabling them to spin cotton yarn. The
work is done on the tread mill principle.
It is so constructed that the common house
mouse is enabled to make atonement to so
ciety for past offences, by twisting and
reeling from 100 to 120 threads per day of
the same length and quality of the enclosed
baud, which I send as a specimen of their
work, for the inspection of the curious. To
complete this the little pedestrian has to
run 10' miles.* This journey is performed
every day with ease. An ordinary mouse
weighs only half an ounce. A half-penny
of oat meal at 15 cents per peck serves one
of these tread-mill culprits for the long pe
riod of five weeks. In that time it makes
110 threads per day, being an average of
3,850 threads, of 25 inches, which is nearly
nine lengths of the reel. A penny is paid
here to women for every cut in the ordina
ry way. At this rate a mouse earns 9d.
every five weeks, which is 1 farthing per
day, or 7s. fid. per annum.* Take fid. off
for board, aud Is. for machinery,re the w ill
arise 6s. clear profit from every mouse
yearly. The mouse employer was going to
make application for the lease of an old
empty house, the demensions of which was
100 by 50 feet, and 40 feet in height,which,
at a moderate calculation, will hold ten
thousand mouse-mills, sufficient room being
left for keepers and some hundreds of spec
tators. Allowing £2OO for rent and task
maskers, £SOO for the interest, and £lO,-
000 to erect machinery, there will be left
a balance of £2,300 per annum.
A very curious and highly interesting
little animal is at this time in the possess
ion of a persoii residing in the town of Bre
ton, of the name of John Watkins, who
captured it about seven weeks since. It is
a mouse of the common (kind) species, but
possesses the power of singing similar to
the bird in a wonderful degree. The imi
tations of the wood lark and linnet are
very striking, the notes partake likewise of
those of the nightingale. The often repea
ted jug, jug, is truely beautiful.— Country
Gent.
THE HORRORS OF ANDERSONVILLE.
The bower of slavery is Albany, Ga.,
only a few miles south of that plague spot
of civilization, that Golgotha of horror, An
derson ville, which I passed on the way.
As 1 looked out upon those " bull-pens,"
where our boys were huddled, like hogs,
beneath the open sky, under chilling ruins
and blistering suns ; when it rained, bury
ing their rags in order to keep them dry,
wallowing in mire and their own tilth, and
when the sun returned shuddering like sick
plants ; that the fount of mercy even only
festered with disease as I looked out upon
this sight, while a repentant Confederate
officer (this genus homo in Georgia is ex
ceedingly rare) confessed how a respecta
ble neighbor to the prison, having ventured
to bring to the prisoners some vegetables
to relieve somewhat the craving of their
horrible infection, scurvy, (a disease resul
ting from low diet on salt and stale food,)
had himself been thrust into durance, and
kept there three weeks, while with his veg
etables the foul fiend who had charge of the
prison, instead of throwing them away,with
a cruelty more refined, intermingled buck
eye leaves, a sure poison, and thus distri
buted them to the starving and suffering
wretches to increase their agonies and dis
able their last chance of surviving. "And
if any escaped," said my mournful narra
tor, " they were hunted down with hounds
by a fellow who lives a short distance from
here."
" What's his name, and where docs he
live ?" 1 insisted.
(Somewhat reluctantly the answer.)
" Why, lie was employed by AVerts, who
kept the prison. Perhaps he did not mean
to be cruel. His name is Hen. Harris, and
lie lives about four miles south from the
station."
" Does lie keep his dogs yet ?"
" Yes," said he. " I was in that neigh
borhood a few days ago, employed by one
of General Wilson's agents to collect the
State supplies, and I saw his dogs there
with him. The people about Andersonville,
most of them, are of a sort, for the country
is poor, and they are rankling with spite
and bitterness, so much so that 1 have been
threatened in the peaceable discharge of
my office. These things make me blush for
the South. They are an indelible disgrace.
Albany is a better district, and the people
there are ashamed of the Andersonville out
rages."
As I saw and heard these things 011 the
fatal spot, I was pointed to a place over
the hill, beyond where were fourteen thous
and new-made graves , the awful damning
proof of the truth of these otherwise incred
ible rumors of horror. — Cor. Cincinnati
Cow mercial.
HINTS TO BATHERS.—AT this warm season,
when bathing is so popular, it will be well
to observe the following hints : On first
plunging into the cohl water there comes
a shock which drives the blood to the cen
tral parts of the system. But immediately
a reaction takes place, which is assisted
by the exercise of swimiug, producing, even
in water of a low temperature, an agree
able warmth. The stay in the water should
never be prolonged beyond the period of
this excitement. If the water be left while
this warmth continues, and the body imme
diately dried, the healthy glow over the
whole surface will be delightful.
To remain in the water after the first re
action is over produces a prolonged chilli
ness, a shrinking of the llesh, and a con
traction of the skin, by no means favorable
to health or enjoyment; for it is only in
water thoroughly warmed by the summer
heats, where we may bathe for many hours
with impunity.
Certain precautions are necessary. Mod
erate exercise, by summoning into action
the powers of the system, and quickening
the circulation, is better than inactivity.
We should never go into water immediately
after a meal nor while the process of di
gestion is going forward. Nor should we
plunge into the water when violently heat
ed, or in a state of profuse perspiration.
Such imprudences are often fatal, especially
if the water be unusually cold. If too
warm, the temperature of the body may be
reduced by bathing the wrists and wetting
the head.
Before meals rather than after, and espe
cially before breakfast and before supper,
arc proper seasons for bathing. 'I ho heats
of the (lay arc to be avoided, but in very
hot weather a bath is useful to cool the
blood and secure refreshing sleep. If in
the middle of the day, a shaded place should
be chosen, or the head protected from the
sun by being kept wet or by wearing a
straw hat.
AN ABSENT-MINDED CLERGYMAN-
Dr. Samuel West of Dartmouth, Mass.,
was one of the celebrities of New England
during the latter half of the last century
lie worked upon a farm until his 20th year,
when he spent six mouths in preparing for
College, and in 1750 started for Harvard
College bare footed, carrying his shoes and
stockings under his arm. On being exam
ined for admission, he had a dispute witli
the Professor in regard to a Creek reading,
in which he is said to have carried his point,
lie was Bettled in 1761 on a salary of £66
13s. 6(1., which, small as it was, was not
j paid. He was twice married. Ilis first
! wife was very tall, and her christian name
' was Experience, a common one at that time.
After her death lie said lie had "learned
; from long eaynTuou'e that it was a good
) thing to be married," and so he took anotb
jer wife. He was an ardent patriot from
I the beginning of the difficulties with Eng
, land, and was unsparing in his dei.uncia
j lions of those who were unwilling to come
out on the side of their country. luiinedi
| ately after the battle of Bunker Hill hejoin-
I ed the army to do what he could as a min
| ister to keep up the courage of the soldiers,
and to promote their welfare. He gained
great notoriety by deciphering for General
Washington a treasonable letter from Dr.
Church to an officer of the British army, a
full account oi which is contained in
Spark's Writings of Washington. During
the Revolutionary war lie rendered import
ant service to the country. lie was an im
portant member of the Convention that
adopted the Constitution, audit was through
his influence that Governor Hancock was
induced to give his asseut to the adoption
of the Federal Constitution.
Dr. West was remarkable for absence of
mind. During the session of the Conven
tion to adopt the Coustitutiou ot the U ni
i ted States, he spent many of his evenings
abroad, and generally returned with his
' pockety filled with handkerchiefs, silk
gloves, silk stockings, and other small ar
ticles, and was greatly distressed on lind
iug there thinking that he had taken them
up and slipped them into his pocket. In
fact they hud been placed there by friends
who took this method of making him pres
ents, well knowing that lie was too much
engaged in conversation to take any notice
of it. While he was pastor his friends
would sometimes find him on his horse,
which had stopped to graze by the way
side, the bridle loose, the Doctors hands
folded on his breast, and himself wholly
absorbed in his own thoughts. Once lie
went out to drive a cow from his yard, and
striking at her with a long board, missed
the cow, and was himself brought to the
ground, and split his small clothes nearly
the whole length of the leg. He knew
nothing of this latter accident; but gath
ering himself up, and forgetting entirely
where he was, he went on without a -hut
three miles, entering a friend's house, and
passed the night talking with him to the
consternation of his wife, who, on his re
turn, saw in what a plight he was for a vis
it to one of the most genteel families of tin
parish. He once met a friend, and told
him that he and his wife were on their way
to make him a visit. 'Your wife?' said
his friend. 'Where is she?' '\\ hy,' repli
ed the Doctor, '1 thought she was on the
pillion behind me.' She had g"t ready to
accompany him and the absent-minded Doc
tor had gone off without her. lie would
sometimes at the church stop at the horse
block for his wife to dismount, when she
bad been forgotten aud was still at home.
Once lie went to mill, leading his horse and
carrying the grist on iiis shoulder. One
who saw him on his way, states that when
before his second marriage, he went to ask
the town clerk to publish the bans, he
walked the whole distance leading his
horse, and passed directly by the house of
the town clerk, and did not halt until he
was brought up by a log at the end of a
wharf.
NUMBER 10.
Once, upon a Saturday afternoon, when
on his way home from Boston, he was over
taken by a violent shower as lie was riding
011 horseback, llis family at home were
anxiously expecting Ins return, but he did
not make his appearance until the last mo
ment on Sunday morning, when lie was
seen hurrying his horse onward, with mud
dy ruffles dangling about his hands, and
another large ruffle hanging out of his bo
som through the open vest, which he us
ually kept buttoned close to bis chin. He
never had wore such embellishments be
fore, and never afterward could tell how
he came by them then. It was too late to
make a change, the congregation were
waiting. His daughter buttoned up his
vest so as to hide the ruffles of the bosom,
and carefully tucked the ruffles in about
the wrists. During the opening services
all went very well, but probably feeling
uneasy about the wrists, he twitched at
at them until the ruffles were llourishing
about, and then growing warm as he ad
vanced, be opened bis vest and made such
an exhibition of muddy finery as tended
very little to the religious edification of
the younger portion of his audience, lb
was on terms of intimacy with Dr. Whit
ridge, a physician of Tiverton, K. 1., at
whose house he frequently met the celebra
ted Dr. Hopkins of Newport, another friend.
It was not often that three such men were
brought together. They usually spent
nearly the whole night in conversation.—
Dr. Hopkins sometimes required a little
sleep, but the morning light not unfrequent
ly found the others still up. On one occa
sion, Dr. West having mounted his horse
a little before light, Dr. Whitridge went
out barefooted to see him oft A new topic
was started ; the horse walked 011 a few
steps and stopped ; then a few steps more,
the friends being still earnestly engaged
in conversation. At last they were alarmed
by the appearance of a light in the east,
which, after a short time, they found was
the break of day. Ilis absence of mind in
creased upon him as be became advanced
in years, and at length bis memory failed,
although his intellect, when excited, retain
ed much of its vigor, lie had preached the
same sermon to his congregation three Sab
baths in succession, but no member of bis
| family was willing to distress him by in
j forming him of what he had done. 1 lie
fourth Sabbath his daughter saw with a
heavy heart that lie had his bible open at
the same place, the Parable of tin-rich man
; and Lazarus. Fortunately he left the room
for a moment j she opened the bible at uu-
I other place, and put it back with the leaf
turned down just as lie had left it in his
own place. When he took up the book ou
his return he seemed for a moment lost,
then fixed his attention upon the passage
' to which she had opened, and from that
preached a discourse which to some of
his people seemed the ablest that he had
given for years.— Harjter's Monthly.
IT is said the prettiest girls in I tali gen
erally marry young.