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They will be entitled to 4 , ' uiiu. confined exclusively to their business, with r.vilcge of change. advertising in all cases exclusive of sub , fiption to the paper. JOE PRINTING of every kind in Plain andFan ,rs, done with neatness and dispatch. Hand , \ Blanks. Cards, Pamphlets, Ac., of every va •v and style, printed at the shortest notice. The IVRRIETEB OFFICE has just been re-fitted with Power and every thing in the Printing line can * xec uted in the most artistic manner and at the J,st rates. TERMS INVARIABLY CASH. StUCUiI f O^ttge THE FREE. ET ELIZA COOK. v . wild streams leap with headlong sweep :r curbless course o'er the mountain steep ; i :r, -h and .strong they foam along, . ,k:n" the rocks with their cataract song. J jjv t . ve bears a glance like the beam on a lance, L.le I watch the waters dash and dance ; - -rn with glee, for 1 love to see i .till of any thing that's free. skylark springs with dew on its wings, ind up in the arch of heaven he sings I.nlia—Trilla, oh, sweeter far _..u the notes that come through the golden bar. . ILv joyous bay of the hounds at play, The caw of a rook on its homeward way— these shall be the inusie lor me, ■ r I Jove the voice of the free. The Jeer starts by with his antless high, proudly tossing his head to the sky ; Ike barb runs the plain unbroken by the rein, With streaming nostrils and flying mane ; The clouds are stirred by the eaglet bird, As the flap of its swooping pinions is heard. >L' these shall be the creatures for me, For my soul was formed to love the free. The mariner brave, in bis bark on the wave. Hay laugh at the walls round a kingly slave ; And the one whose lot is the desert spot, Has no dread of an envious foe in his cot. The thrall and state at the palace gate ire what my spirit has learned to hate*: .hi the hills shall be a home for me, 7 r I'd leave a throne for the hut of the free. pisallmwouisu A STORY OFTHE OPEQUAN. ZEg CHARIOT WITH THE HEADLESS HORSES. j I da tie right bank of the Opequan—that turesqae little stream which, rising ve Manchester, in the valley of Virginia, ws between rush-clad banks and be white-armed sycamores to the Po- : :_ic—there stands to-day, as it stood fif ■ ns ago, an old country house. This : .has a wide hall, full of deer antlers, ' ktarcs ut race horses, fishing rods, fowl og pieces aud game bags. In the large "Attmeuts of the mausion, portraits of ur and cavaliers, in lace aud ruffles, j i>wn from the walls. Without, tall ! ,i, . retch their mighty arms against the an "1 *'gb around the gables. lu front A br a'i p'-Ttch extends a sort of chase, ttoi over yvilJU other oaks so huge and : that they dying at the top. Be ch the lull do w* the Opequan with a w continuous murmur, a "river of time" -rs.ug the Potomac, its eternity, ii: the thirty years which have rolled over head of the present writer since his itldhood—each of which has destroyed ime hope, brought to him some grief, or tie away upon its dusky wings some illusion—many hours have been j e.riit by Lim in this good old mansion, and , -e hours were among the happiest ol his : v--nce. The faces, the eyes, the lips — i j or eyes! smiling lips! where are they ; w ■' They shone aud laughed once, to- j they are dim and cold iinuiig the divertisemeiits of the place j • • taiie were "ghost stories." W hence | , 't-es that profound interest taken by so -ay persons in tales of diablerie ? Does , •?ri:ig from some inherent weakness of -uman mind, Home craving for a theory •tfe more exciting than the real ? I -* not: but I know that many hold to o- itf that there are more things in heav- j and earth than are dreamed of in the • phy of mortals. Above all is this the ■friction of the yuung, it was the convic at of him who writes this page \ i-.ng gone years when he lead witli of the nerves, the wondrous nar- I frvjng, "The Mysterious Picture," ■■Devil a.*ul Tom Walker," and all the : rful repe. v torie of that prince of story was better wading ghost 5, however, hearing them. iUj -•< i house on the 0,' > oq u ' ia be received j I •■portion of his educa.*h> n -_ By the \\ in-, -re, or in the Summer nights, lui Us i with more or less credulity, ad uis • : = were few or many, to those singular ■ r.ives which escape from the lips of ced in the midst of a circle of awe i ■ i listeners ; aud, though since that many real persons aud events have I - into oblivion which awaits all human j those narratives, falling upon the ssihle mind of youth, struck so deep | •• they remain rooteo in his memory. ■ tof these tales of diablerie is here ! lilted. It is not the product of the im "•' nation, a fable feigned for the enter • 'aent of the reader, but the offspring of - r y. It was told me in the old house - lV ? mentioned, the lontly mansion, with j -aunted chambers," its dusty corridors, ' * 3 gt oaks without, those boughs, as I ! -■ d, brushed against the windows or | around the gables with a weird Mysterious effect, which made the au "Urt at times and hold their breath. I y story was called THE CHARIOT WITH H£AI)LEM HORSES, and was as follows : •arly in the precent century, there come a small village on the Potomac, in I | - '--a, a young gentleman named Shir j • 't ii not necessary to say that the ' trance of a youthful stranger in any of the known world is an occuf- T breathless interest to the fraternity " : P 8 J who have their representatives • *uere ; ajul young Shirley at once j ••••titrated upon himself a hundred eyes H ' Ungues. All that anybody knew of : ! <.r * dß ,at he came from Lower Virginia, ■ '-(.Hied to design remaining at the vil li E. O. GOODRICH, Publisher. VOLUME XXVII. lage for some lime, as it was discovered he had taken lodgings by the month at the village tavern. For the rest, he was a young gentleman of about twenty-five, tall, well-dressed, courteous, but grave in his demeanor, and with an aristocratic pallor, which his dark eyes and hair rendered still more striking. Three days after his ar rival, when the fraternity of gossips were almost in a state ot frenzy from his unman ly and insulting silence in regard to him self and his errand, he suddenly terminated all speculation by hiring a small office, in front of which soon appeared a sign bear ing the inscription "James Shirley, Attor ney at Law." In three weeks the gossips had discov ered all about him, and their disappoint ment was great. The "unknown stranger" appearing so suddenly and mysteriously was simply a young gentleman from Low er Virginia who had, after the common fashion, left home to commence life upon a new arena. S. had been selected as that arena, and there he was, a simple attorney at law, not a royal exile or prince in dis guise. He soon made friends, though his man ners were criticised as much too grave for those of a youth. At times, this gravity amounted to gloom ; but an unfailing cour tesy conciliated everybody, and in six months Shirley was what is called a "ris ing man." He had appeared with great success in several actions in the courts, and had made an impression in society. Letters of introduction had opened to him the best circles of S. and the neighborhood; and, wherever he appeared, he was re ceived with smiles and welcome alike bv old gentlemen and young ladies. At twenty-five, the feelings soon concen trate. In the skies of youth, one star comes very quickly to outshine all others. Shirley fell in love with a young lady of about nineteen, bearing the pretty name of Pauline Weston, a daughter of Colonel Weston, to whom the young man had brought a letter of introduction. A month afterward, it was known that he was engaged to this young girl. She was gay, witty, and the soul of every merry-making. A brighter pair of blue eyes bad never shone in that region ; redder lips had never uttered the jest or the laugh. Why did Shirley select her ? It seemed impossible to explain the fact, save upon the "theory of opposites." En gaged they were, however, and Colonel W eston, who had become very much at tached to the young man, placed no sort of obstacle in the way. The gossips speedily informed each other that the wedding day was fixed, and this time the fraternity had come into possession of the exact truth. Fifteen days before the evening fixed for the ceremony, Pauline Weston was set ting at a window looking out upon the main street of the town, when she saw Shirley coming toward the house. She awaited him with something nearly resem bling gloom. Since her engagement Paul ine had discovered in her lover some traits of character which made her uneasy. For a man of fresh and vigorous intellect, he was strangely superstitious, and at times gave way to fits of gloom and melancholy, from which nothing could arouse him. At such moments his pale face became paler ; bis eyes bad in them a singular light, as though the gaze of their owner were turned inward ; and when any one spoke to him he would start with a frightened air, and answer entirely at random to any question. More than once he had related with omi nous gravity the wildest and most extrav agant stories of weird occurrences in his own family ; the appearance of spirits to members of the household ; the fulfillment of terrible dreams, and the strangest verifi cations of mysterious warnings. That hu man beings received these warnings of im pending woe he believed as firmly as lie be lieved in bis own existence ; and one of bis habitual phrases was, "Three warnings never deceive," One of Lis gloomy moods had attacked him on the preceding evening, and Pau line had vainly attempted to laugh him out of it. He had remained obstinately som bre, and had left the house about eleven o'clock, the picture of despair. As he now approached, Pauline saw that his mood had not altered. As he entered, Shirley's face was as dark as night. A frightful pallor covered his features ; but to all the young lady's questions, he only replied that he had had "bad dreams." Assuming a bright smile and a gay tone, she endeavored to laugh her lover out of his mood. The attempt was entirely un successful. In vaiu did Pauline assume her most coquettish provocation, twisting as she did so one of her golden curls over her white and taper fingers, the wide sleeves falling back and displaying an arm round, rose-white and charming. Shirley remained gloomy and almost speechless. " Upon my word," said the young lady at lat, with something like a pout, " any oue who saw you at this moment would scarcely believe that you were engaged to be married—and to my very bumble self." A sigh was the only response. The young lady colored slightly, forced a laugh, and added : "JYou surely must have had bad dreams! What in the world is the matter that you start so ?" " You are right, Pauline," returned Shir ley, "I have had the most distressing dreams, and can not dissipate their influ ence." " Tell me your dream." lie looked at her gloomily. " I am afraid." " ifo not be," was the earnest reply, in a voice fuli of affection. " Have you forgot ten that it is my light to share your trouble —your sorrow as your joy ?" lie looked at the blushing face, and a slight co or came to his own. " You are right," he said j "above all does it concern you —for you were the sub ject of my dream." " I !" came again with a forced laugh, " what in the world lias your lordship con descended to dream about me ? That 1 had cut my little finger, that I was thrown by some wild steed i was riding, or did the chariot with the headless horses stop be fore my door ?" At those words, the chariot with the headless horses,ishirley gave a visible start, and turned so frightfully pgle that he seem d about to faint. " What —do you mean ?" he almost gasped, his dark eyes burning in his pallid face. Then understanding, doubtless, that this emotion would have a disagreeable ef fect upon the young lady, he passed his trembling hand over bis forehead bathed in cold sweat, and said more calmly ; " I do not understand yonr allusion to 'headless horses.'" " Have yon never heard the legend ?" said the young lady, with a troubled glauce. " I thought every one in S. bad heard it." " I am a stranger—relate it," he said, with gloomy calmness. "It is very absurd, aud very simple. They say that whenever any one is going to die in S. a chariot with six horses, all with ut heads, drives noiselessly up to the door of the house where the sick person lies, and at the moment when i e expires the door of the chariot opens, without noise, closes in the same manner, dusky hands are seen to gather up the reius, and the chariot drives silently away." The words uttered by the young lady produced a terrible effect upon Shirley. He placed his hand with a quick movement upon bis heart, uttered a groan of the deep est agony, and, closing his eyes, sank back almost fainting in his chair. The younu girl ran to bring a glass of water, which she placed to his lips, and in an instant be opened his eyes. " Do not trouble yourself about me," he said, with an expression of almost agony upon his features ; "I have these attacks sometimes, but soon get over them. See, Pauline, I am quite calm again." And by a powerful effort he suppressed his emotion, and resumed his former ex pression of gloomy calmness. " But you have not told me your dream;" said Pauline, with a beating heart, "what could it have been ?" " 1 had three dreams —each time the same," he responded in a low tone,' ' but we will not speak further of them at pres eut. This is almost my last visit before going, Pauline ; let us speak of our mar riage." In fact Shirley designed setting out on the next morning to visit home and make every necessary arrangement for his mar riage. He gave himself fifteen days for this journey. On his return the marriage was to take place. Of this they now spoke, and it is unnes cessary to listen to the conversation. At the end of three hours, Shirley rose, en closed the young girl in a long, lingering embrace, and left the house. On the doorstep he met Colonel Weston, portly, rubicund aud laughing, as he struck iiis gold-headed cane at every step which he took, upon the pavement. " Well,- James !" was his hearty excla mation, ' you are not going just as dinner is ready ? A bad rule—very bad ! But what makes you so pale ?" " Am 1 pale ?" muttered Shirley. "Yes—as pale as if you had seen the chariot tcith the headless horses I," laughed the Colonel. S' irley started. " The second !" came in a hoarse murmur from his lips. "What—what—James? What did you say, my boy ?" " Nothing, sir, I hope you are well, and that I will find you as -*ell on my return." " Ah, yes ! yon go to-morrow ; you must positively come in and diue. You can't ? Y T ou have business ? Hang business, say I ! or I would have said, a fortnight, be fore my marriage ! But you will spend the evening with us? Y r es? Well, come early." And the old Colonel stumped into the house. " The second ?" muttered Shirly again, with a st: ange expression in his eyes, * ? he went back to bis office. He spent the evening at Colonel Wes ton's, and when the rest of the family re tired, he was left alone with the young la dy, who continued to converse with him un til midnight. What occurred during this interview is not known, but it was after ward observed that Pauline carefully avoid ed any allusion to it. No one saw her af ter the interview, on that night ; but on the next morning all the roses in her cheeks had faded. The state of Shirley's mind after the con versation was better known. A sort of busybody of the town who spent his time in collecting and disseminating news— that is, gossip—of every imaginable des cription, happened to be returning home after midnight. Seeing a light in Shirley's office, behind which was his bed-chamber, the busybody conceived a desire to ascer tain what kept the young lawyer up so late. No rules of ceremony r< strain such people. The busybody coolly entered, and a3 coolly asked where Shirley—with whom he had but a slight acquaintance—was going. The reply of the young man, according to the report of his visitor subsequently, was rather rough. " To make a journey !" " I see," said the intruder, " but where ? to the low country I suppose ?" " Yes sir !" came still more curtly than before. " On business ?" " On business, sir?" A slight color began to tinge the pale face of Shirley. This persistence annoyed him. " Well," said the visitor, " I see you are busy, and I won't intrude. Preparing for your marriage, I suppose ? lam told the Colonel is delighted, and Miss Pauline is the beauty of the country. In splendid health, too. That is a great thing in mar riage, Mr. Shirley. I have known hey from a child—she never had a day of sickness, You aro going away to-morrow?" " Yes, sir !" " Well, well, a pleasant journey." And the busybody leit the office. — Shirley continued to pack his valise, for his journey was to be made on horseback Suddenly the head of the busybody was again thrust in. " I forgot," he said. " forgot what, sir V "To say that you will miss old Torn Brigg's fuueral 5 it will be a grand again ; he was formerly sheriff, and very popular. He died to" night. They said he would live. 1 knew he would not. I saw the chariot and hornet." "Saw what ?" exclaimed Shirley, turning round. " The chariot with the headless horses. In a dream last night I saw them as plain as t see yoy, drawn up before his door. Did you ever hear the legend J" And the busybody was returning quickly REOAKDI.BS3 OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER. TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., MAY 31, 1866. into the apartment, when Shirley abruptly exclaimed, " I have heard it 1 good-night, sir !" and shut the door in his face. As the door closed, the visitor heard Shirley fall into a chair, and utter, with a species of groan, the singular words, "The third !" The busybody took his revenge by de claring subsequently to all bis neighbors that the young lawyer must "have some thing on his mind"—his face was as livid as a corpse, and his eyes looked wild. On the next morning Shirley set out for the low country, and in three or four days reached his home without accident. On the day after his arrival he received a letter from Pauline—long, loving, so full, indeed of evidences of her affection, that it made his pale face fiusli. He had already written—their mutual promise had been to write every day. Two letters came from Pauline. Then they stopped. Shirley wrote daily—no an swers came. The effect of this upon the young man was frightful. The darkest forebodings seized upon him, and a settled gloom took possession of him, rendering him almost in capable of attending to the business of his journey. The great irregularity of the mails at the epoch gave him a faint glim mer of consolation ; but as day after day wore on, and no more letters came, he ab ruptly terminated his arrangements,sprung upon his horse, and set out rapidly for S., which by hard riding he reached before midnight on the second day— the 1( )th of November. Three montiis after these events he was dead. Those who held his dying form in their arms heard him describe in faint mur murs all that happened to him after com ing in sight of the town. As lie approached the village, he said, a deeper and deeper gloom oppressed him ; a more profound foreboding seized upon him. A huge black shadow, like the wing of some gigantic bird of night, seemed to draw toward him from the far horizon; and strange dim shapes flitted by bim in the night. The moon had risen like a great bloody disc, bathing the bleak forest in its solemn and mysterious light ; a low, moan ing breeze from the Potomac detached one by one the last leaves from the Autumn trees ; and the wind from the great river, as it passed on, seemed to the startled ears of Shirley like the sob of a host of unseen mourners, accompanying some in visible cortege to the grave. What follows is given upon his own statement Entering the town at a gallop, he pressed on through the deserted streets, ! drew up in front of his office, threw the bri- j die over the fence, and hastened toward j Colonel Weston's. As he turned the corner leading to the house of his bride, he remembered looking at his watch. Jt was twenty-right minutes jjast eleven. Hurrying on, he emerged from beneath a long row of over-shadowing trees, nearly stripped of their foliage ; Col onel Weston's house was then not more than a hundred yards distant, when sud denly he reeled and staggered against the trunk of one of the trees. His blood was frozen in his veins ; his eyes glared ; at what he saw, shudder after shudder passed through his limbs—a sort of vertigo seized upon bis burning brain. In front of Col. Watson's house stood a black chariot with ebon plumes nodding from the roof, and attached to the chariot were six black horses, without heads, a dusky figure driving with shadowy reins. Over all fell the the blood-red moonlight,in weird and solemn splendor. The young man remained speechless and without motion lor about two minutes, when all at once a hoarse and stilled cry escaped from his lips, and stretching out his arms, he fell insensible to the earth, as if struck by a thunderbolt. The door of the chariot had suddenly but noiselessly revolved upou its hinges ; it opened ; a dusky something flitted for an instant in the moonlight, and the door as silently closed. The shadowy figure on the driver's seat had then gathered up the reins, the vehicle began to move without noise, and passing within ten feet of the young man, draw i by its headless horses, dusky as phantoms, had disappeared with out sound in the darkness. The road which it took was toward the village cemetery. An hour afterward Shirley was discov ered insensible upon the ground by Dr. Butler, a physician of the village who had just come out of Colonel Weston's house. Assistance was promptly rendered him,and he was put to bed ; but a violent attack of brain fever ensued. Three months after ward, he was dying ; but his mind, long obscured by delirium, had regained its clearness, and he listened calmly to Paul ine's father, who sat sobbing by his bed. What happened may be related in a few words. Three days later after Shirley's de parture, the young lady had gone to a par ty in a very thin dress and slippers ; on her return she had been attacked by pneu monia, and this attack had proved fatal. She would not permit any one to write to her betrothed, fearing to alarm him un necessarily—hence the cessation of the let ters. In her last moments she had muttered faintly something about a dream-warning of the young man's—a chariot with head less horses which appeared to him three times in sleep, even before he had heard the legend ; and after this she sank rap idly. Pauline had expired at precisely half jja-4 eleven on the night of the 10th of No vember. The chariot with the headless horses had waited but two minutes. Three mouths afterward, as I have said, Shirley had gone to rejoin her. JOHN ESTEN COOKE. An old fellow in a neighboring town,who is original in all things, especially egotism and profanity, and who took part in the late great rebellion, was one day blowing iu the village tavern to a crowd of admiring listeners, and boasting of his many bloody exploits, when he was interrupted by a question ; " I say, old Joe, how many reba did you kill during the war f" " Ilow many did I kill, Sir ? how many rebs did 1 kill ? Well I don't know just how many ; but I know this much, I killed as many o' them as they did o' me 1" TEE persons who live on the failings of their neighbors will never die of starvation. THE ATLANTIC CABLE. PROGRESS OF THE MANUFACTURE—COILING THE WIRE IN THE HOLD OF THE GREAT EASTERN—INTEREST ING EXPERIMENTS—PICKXNG-UP APPARATUS. [From the London Daily News, April 30,] The Blender Birmingham wire, which we recently traced from its arrival at the gut ta percha works in the City-road, through the various processes of manufacture, un til it left Morden-wh&rf, Greenwich, a com plete submarine cable, is now being coiled at the rate of two miles an hour in the vast tanks of the Great Eastern. The Amethyst hulk, which we saw receiving its precious freight the other day, is now moored along side the great ship off Sheerness, while the Iris is being laden in her turn at Green wich, and will supply the Amethyst's place directly the latter is emptied. Thus, manu facture and stowage go on concurrently, and at the moment one part of the great wire is receiving its elementary coating of Ckattertons's compound, or perhaps being spun at Birmingham, other portions are being laid down in the great ship ready ; for the final and momentous paying out. j Standing on the deck of the Great Eastern, ! a few yards from its stern, you see the cable slowly pass up the ship's side, and over a series of wheels and pulleys, all in geniously constructed and carefully watch ed, and follow it under its covered way un til it disappears into the large wooden hut erected for its reception. This hut is the size of a moderate barn, and is the deck covering of the aft tank. Entering by its doorway, you look into a yawning, dimly lighted circular gulf, the bottom of which 6eems to be composed of light oak sym- I metrically turned. The uniformity of the | slightly corrugated circles within circles— the mathematical exactitude with which j each appears to fit into, and be part of, its j neighbor—the seeming solidity and unity > of the great whole—all speak of the lathe : j and it is only when the eye has become, as | it were, acclimatized to the pale glimmer | jo the swinging lamps below, that the \ silent white figures squatted at regular ! j intervals, and moving noiselessly around, are seeu to be cable-men, and the apparent | wood carving to be the cable. The exter- j 1 nal distinction between last year's electric j ' rope and this is now seen to be very mark- j ed ; the absence of the tarry coating, and | the clean, substantial look of the manilla ' j stand, giving an impression of mingled j I strength and ductility, which is auspicious !in itself. It may be repeated that this I I year's galvanization of the outer protecting 1 | wires affords all the security against cor- j I rosion given by the final coat of tar former- j ! !y applied, while in the event of an unlucky i bit of wire defying precaution and finding | its way into the tank, the chances of its i sticking in the rope are sensibly diminished, ! through the latter being repellently yield-1 ing instead of glutinously adhesive. Very I 1 gradually and regularly are the circles in-; [creased. No word is spoken as the rope i slowly passes the officer on guard at what ; we may call the top story of the tank, and ! is received by two of the white figures be-1 low. These march slowly round, handling the gracefully descending coil as tenderly as if it were alive, and under the close and constant inspection of the officer on guard below pass it to other white figures, who, with equal tenderness, fit it into and steady it in its appointed place. Thus ring after ring is formed, each layer beginning with the large outer circle of the tank itself, and ending with the centre frame work of wood, which is its bull's-eye, and serves to "shore up" and keep all steady. Every man en tering the tank is searched before going in, puts on the nailless gutta percha shoes provided by the Company, and goes through his work of cabel-stowing under the con stant and watchful supervision of tried and experienced officers. Besides these precautions, tests both of insulation and continuity are being cease lessly put by the electricians. Nor are these confined to this year's venture. The old cable on board is for this purpose con nected with the new, and messages were transmitted on Saturday through a tota 1 distance of 1,506 nautical miles. There were then 485 of these miles in the after tank, 856 in the main tank, and 265 in the fore tank ; aud to make the test more searching and complete,communication has lately been established between all these and the shore. An end from each tank is brought into the testing-chamber on deck, is there joined together, so as to make for electrical purposes one cable, while another end is passed over the ship's side, laid in the mud and oozy bottom of the unsavory Sheerness waters, in which the Great East ern r'des, and landed on the stony slippery bank hedging on the shore. The portion thus running from ship to land has been re cently added for the sole purpose of proving Mr. WIIXOCGHBY SMITH'S improvements in process of testing ; and to do this it has not even been thought necessary to use the completed cable. This particular succursal leaves the ship without any other protection than its guta-percha covering, and runs to land, and into the cowherd's cottage,where a room has been borrowed, a mere string of slender piping, like a stick of chocolate. Yet, unfair as it seems to work this bit of core, without the jute, galvanized iron, and' Manilla strands, which are its proper pro tectors, the experiments tried have been eminently satisfactory. On Saturday, mes sages were sent from ship to shore, and from shore to ship, with neverfailing regu larity ; and, more interesting still, upon artificial faults being created, the life-like indicator betrayed them instautly and un erringly. This was tried several times, and in different ways ; for, through the ends of the different lengths passing up to and being joined in the testing chamber, it is easy to create a fault, now at a distance of a few hundred miles, now at a distance :of as many yards from the operator. In all [ cases the exquisitely delicate apparatus made instant and decided protest, and the i j result of the experiments proved that, as j ;in the forthcoming expedition insularity ! ■ and continuity will be tested concurrently j ' qnd pops tap tjy, instead of at intervals, as I heretofore, messages may aud probably i will pass to and from Valentia and the j Great Eastern during the whole voyage, BO that thorn) on shore will be as fully inform ed of the condition of the cable as those on board. It is estimated that in the event of a fault arising in the new cable, it will be j discovered instantly, and be localized, and the process of paying out reversed to that of picking up, within a very few minutes of its occurrence. It would be difficult to #3 per Annum, in Advance. speak too highly of the advance in the sci ence of cable-laying these facts imply; and it is impossible to inquire into the plans of this year's expedition without being impres sed with the care taken,not merely to guard against disaster but to prevent disaster af fecting result. The whole machinery for both paying out and picking up has been repeatedly tested ; the latter is entirely refitted with two high pressure boilers, and will now be of from five to seven and a half times the strength of the breaking weight. Whereas, too, the extreme break ing strain in paying out is ten tons, the large wheels employed will bear seven times and the smaller ones nine times that strain. The mishaps of last year were, it is useful to remember,attributed to the pos sibility of picking up a cable from the bot tom of the Atlantic never having been con templated. Neither ropes nor gear were provided for such a contingency, and thos. pressed into the service gave way when | put to a strain they were never made to i bear. Now, proficiency in picking up at great depths is recognized as a necessity in I suomarine telegraphy, and every provision j I is made to make such picking up easy ! i and safe on hoard the Great Eastern. Last ! 1 year it could only be done from the fore 1 i part of the ship ; this year matters will be 1 so arranged that the cable may be brought in as well as paid out at the stern ; and the saving of time and complications is ob vious. The whole of this machinery—ropes, wheels and gear—has been manufactured, as before, by the Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company, under the im : mediate superintendence of Mr. GLASS, his : Managing-Director, and of Mr. CANNING, its | Engineer-in-Chief, and the responsible head j of the cable layers, mechanists and engin i eers employed in the expedition. Passing from the Atlantic cable to the ! grand vessel which is to carry it, it is grat ifying to know that her keel and hull have I been thoroughly and carefully cleaned, and i that the divers' reports show them to be in good sailing order. Considerable time and | ingenuity have been expended on the con struction of huge brushes and scrapers to i effect this, for the immense mass of- shell- I fish, weeds and dirt which had accumula ; ted and hardened at the bottom of the great ! ship made her cleansing no easy matter. ! A strong implement something like an ag ; ricultural harrow, has been constructed, ! and by aid of this and other brushes con- I stantly applied, so much impedimenta has [ been removed that an addition of two knots an hour to her speed is counted on. This, it is hoped, will give a power of nine knots, when fully laden ; higher than is needed for cable laying, and calculated to insure the fullest speed necessary, even against a head of wind and an adverse sea. The directors of the Telegraph Construction Company have chartered the Medway, a ship of 1,813 tons, to accompany the Great East ern on her voyage out. The Medway will carry some hundreds of miles of the cable of last year, and in the event of the expe dition being successful, will ledisclurge this into the then empty tanks of the Great ! Eastern, at Newfoundland. The Medway 1 will then start to locate the spot where the ; broken end lies, to fix buoys, or it may be j to commence picking up. Capt. Anderson, to avoid taking the Great Eastern to the Xore this year, will go direct to Beerhaven from ShCerness, and will there supply him-! self with coal for the voyage. The length of time to be occupied iu an expedition du j ring which the double process of laying j down one cable and picking up another is ' to be gone through, is necessarily estima- ; ted at a much higher rate than the one of 1 last year, and some seventy days are spo- j ken of as the period the Great Eastern will j be away. Assuming her to leave Sheer- j ness from the 29th of .Tune to 3d July I next, three days will take her to Beerhaven, j where she will stay nine days to take in i coal. Allowing five days for waiting lor , favorable weather, for splicing with the shore end, and fifteen days for the passage | to Trinity bay, we may look for messages j from America about the beginning of Au- j gust next. The Great Eastern will again ! supply herself with coal at Trinity Bay,and ; at once follow the Medway to the grappling ground ; this will take three days, and I eight more are given for grappling, and ; five for returning to Trinity Bay and lay- j ing the remainder of the old cable. This j done, the return of the Great Eastern to England will take twelve days more, and bring her home about the second week in September. In each case a margin must j be given to the foregoing figures, but they j are based on present calculations, and may be taken as authentic. Itwill.be seen that! they assume success throughout, and it may [ be added that on an elaborate series of i problems having been drawn up by author- j ity, as to what would be the effect of diff erent calamities or casualties, should they arise, the responsible leaders of the com ing enterprise have answered every sup position satisfactorily in writing. The is- j sue time alone can solve ; but whatever may be its results, the more the prepara tions for the Atlantic expedition of 1866 are known the more they will be regarded as marvels of forethought, of precaution, of skilful analysis of cause and effect, and of logical deductions patiently, laboriously, and courageously worked out. How BODIES AKE EMBALMED. —By embalm-! ing, people generally are apt to imagine that the modern process consists of satur ating,filling and surrounding the dead body with spices, gums and other indestructible and preservative substances, as is under stood to have been the process practiced by the ancients. Such, however, is not the case. The modern process is about as fol lows ; The blood is drawn off through the jugular vein. An incision is then made up on the inside of the thigh, through which a chemical liquid is injected by a mechani cal means. This liquid permeates all the veins and arteries, taking the place befovo occupied by the blood, and in a short time renders tfie entire body as hard as stone, and as rigid as statue. A portion of the scalp is removed and the brain scooped out, The chest is opened aud the heart, lungs and viscera are abstracted. When the pro i oess is completed, the body is reduced to a ! mere empty shell, having only the outward : semblance of the departed individual. How long a body thus prepared will remain un changed we cannot say. The process has only been employed for a few years—sippo the war commenced, we believe —so that time sufficient has not elapsed to test the indestructibility of bodies thus prepared. OLDEST CITY IN THE WOKLD. —Damascus is the oldest city in the wo.ild : Tyre and Si don have crambled on the shore, Balbee is a ruin : Palmyra is buried in the sands of the desert: Nineveh and Babylon have dis appeared from the Tigrus'and Euphates. Damascus remains what it was before the days of Abraham—a centre of trade and travel—an island of verdure in a desert — "a presidential capital," with material and sacred associations extending through more than thirty centuries. It was "near Da mascus" that Saul of Tarsus saw the "light above the brightness of the sun." The street, which is called Strait, in which it was said. "He prayed," still runs through the city. The caravan comes and goes as it did a thousand years ago ; there is shiek, the ass, and the water-wheel : the mer chant of the Euphrates and of the Mediter ranean still occupy these "with the multi tude of their waters." The city which Mo hammed surveyed from a neighboring hight, and was afraid to enter "because it is giv en to man to have but one paradise,and for bis part he wan' r* solved not to have it in this world," is to ?his day what Julian cal led the "eve of the as il wati iu tliC time oflsiah, "the heau of Syria " From Damascus came the dams ali( * * e " licious apricot of Portugal damasco : damask, or beautiful fabric of silk, with vines and flowers raised tp° n a smoothe bright ground; the damask 1 ° Bo > which was introduced into England in the time of Henry VII : the Damascus blade, so famous the world over for its keen edge and wonderful elasticity,the secret of whose manufacture was lost when Tamerlane car lied oil the artists into Persia : and that beautitul art of inlaying wood ami steel with silver and gold, a kind of mosaic en graving and sculpture united—called da maskeening, with which boxes, and bu reaus, and swords, and guns are ornamen ted. It is still a city of flowers and bright waters : the stream from Lebanon, the "rivers of Damascus," the "rivers of gold," still murmer and sparkle in the wilderness of "Syrian gardens." NUMBER 1. CHRISTIAN CHARACTER. —It matters not if ! you cannot tell just when you become a | Christian. If we sow a handful of wheat in our garden, we could not toll though we watched it every so narrowly, the exact moment when it germinated. But when I we see the waving grain in the autumn, we know it did germinate, and that it is all we i care for. The young disciple should not | expect too much light at once. It will grow j brighter with every Christian duty he per | forms. The Christian life is a sort of ! mountain path ; and the higher one climbs the clearer the atmosphere, and the sooner ,he will see the morning sun. To the ad venturous traveler who has ascended to the summit of Mount Blanc, the sun rises ear lier and sets later, and the nights are shor i ter than to a peasant who lives down in the valley at its base. So it is in the I Christian life. Clearness of vision, and j lirmuess of foot, and beauty of prospect i came only to those who have struggled up the bights to the heavenly places in Christ Jesus. Conversion may be the work of a moment, but a saint is not made in an hour. Christian character, is not an act, but a process ; not a sudden creation, but a development. It grows and bears fruit like a tree, and like a tree it requires pa tient care and unwearied cultivation. A PEW in a Congregational meeting house is thus advertised lbr sale in the Amherst (Mass.) Express : " A pew in the meeting house of the first parish in Amherst is for sale. The man that owns the pew owns the right of a space as long and wide as the pew is from the bottom of the meeting house to the roof, and he can go as much higher as he can get. If a man will buy my pew and sit in it on Sundays, and re pent and be a good man, he will go to heav en, and my pew is as good a place to start from as any pew in the meetiu-house." " On) Cooper "is a Dutchman, and like many another man, of whatever national ity, has a wife that is "some." One day the old man got into some trouble with a neighbor, which resulted in a fight. The neighbor was getting the bet ter af the old man, which Cooper's wife was not slow to see. The old man was resist ing his enemy to the best of his ability, when his wife broke out with : " Die still, Cooper ! lie still ! If he kills you I'll sue him for damages." THREE WORDS I\ OXE. There are three lessons I would write— Three words as with a burning pen— In tracings of eternal light Upon the hearts of men. Have Hope. Though clouds environ now, And gladness hides her face in scorn, Put then the shadow from thy brow ; No niglit but hath its morn. Have Faith. Where'er thy bark is driven The claim's disport, the tempest's mirtlx— Know this : God rules the host of heavens, The. inhabitants of earth. Have Love : and not alone for one, Isut man, as man. thy brother call, And scatter, like the circling sun, Thy charities on all. Thus grave these lessons on thy soul,— Hope, Faith and Love, and thou shalt liml Strength wbcu life's surges cease to roll, Light where thou else were blind. FUN, FACTS AND FACETIJE. THE entire assets of a recent bankrupt were nine children. The creditors acted magnan imously, aud let him keep them. WHAT business ought Tom Thumb to go into ? Grocer {grow sir). THE CHEAPEST WAY WITH THE LAWYERS.— Keep one's own counsel. THE following is an Irishman's descrip tion of making a cannon ; "Take a long hole, and pour brass or iron all round it." A SCOTCHMAN asked an Irishman. "Why were half-fartliings coined in England ?" Pat's an swer was, "To give Scotchman an opportunity of subscribug to charitable institutions. " WHY is a mad bull an animal of a convi vial disposition ?—Because he offers a horn to ev ery one he meets. AN irascible gentleman recently iought a duel with liis intimate friend because he jocosely asserted that he was bom without a shirt to his back! THE following purports to be a model medical puff: "DEAR DOCTOR.—I shall be ono hundred and seventy-five years old next October. For over eighty-four years I have been an invalid, unable to | step except when moved with a lever. But a year | ago I heard of the Granicular Syrup. I bought a j bottle, smelt the cork, and found myself a man. I ' can now run twelve miles and a half an hour, and j throw thirteen somersaults without stopping." THE fellow who sat down ou a piu, got up on the spur of the moment, A deceased chief justice ouce addressed a jury iu the following model speech ; "Gentlemen of the jury, in the case the counsel on both sides are unintelligible ; the witnesses incredible; and the plaintiffs and defendents are both such bad j characters that to me it is indifferent way you give your verdict."
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers