FRAZIER, Publisher.
VOLUME li.
uriiittoo givectorg.
DB. E. L BLAKESTYP.,
71:11 . SICIAN AND SITILGEpr i
U Im..na ecunty, L. D •
mch be my be tsvoretl. Offlce et L. M. itafeilmic
1 , •.•1cn. July 10, 18e.5.—ri•
Du. E. L. GARDNER,
- D B YSIOILN AND SITROtON Montrone, Pa. °Mee over
L Webb'. More. Boar& at Searle ' . Rotel.
~s trose , June I. 1846.-tf
GROVES REYNOLDS,
EmSIIIONARLE TAILORS. Shop over etioullerl
more, Yohlk Avenua,
Mourne., June I. 1863.
Da. CHARLES DECKER,
r , Pail arenatoalltL.
which he mar be favored art tio promptnenaand attention.
d rv-idence near orange liott'a, Esp.
ardvnle, Snag. Co.. Ps, Mn! 29.1565.—tf.
JOHN BEAUMONT,
CARti Eli, Cloth Itresser, and Itanntacturec, .t the otd
tuna, it" Smith's Cardin, Machine. Terms made
.n the work 3 brough t,
...I.lar"b in 63.
DR. G. Z. DIAIOCS,
Fi sald SURGEON, MONTROSE. Pc Office o
• . nreeC opposith th e R,ffinu.docle OIDn. Bra.-da
Fk.ruarT 6th. 166.5.-Irp
C. 3L CRANDALL,
)[ L'FACTUR. Ell of Linen-wheels, Woot.evberle, Wheel
!Pc, Wooldturnlng done to order, and
• . • eat , . 'usenet . . Tnerdree Shop and Factory Sayres .
.• ststrs.
January 5011, ISen.-t1
BENTLEY, JR., NOTARY PUBLIC,
3.10. N TFLOSIG. YA..,,
rlt • KES Act n .aledgroent of Ikeda, Mortgages, Sc., for any
l' lied States. Pension Vouchers and Pay Cer
• -s• ..tard t•efore him do pot rt,ulre Una certlll=te of the
Montrose, Jan. 2, 10t.5.--M,
CHARLES HOLES,
npc..ER IN CLOCKS, WATCHEN. AND JEWELRY
ural, on abort notice and 14:151311PWO WM.
• ...1r %el.° ba F. L. Chandler's Stem.
7.1E44.
Du. E. L. ELAIII3RICK,
, SU ISO .4.0 N, rgfocctfinly tendery Ids pron.
,r —rvic" t.O citizen of Friendaville and vicinity. UI
• 1 Dr. Lai , . Boa.vda .t J. Hotifotea.
Ju:T IT. 1.564—tf
E. W. SMITH,
i s OUNI3ELLOS AT LAW and Lleenned
A., tiff re ,mr Drug clout.
41Lca DepOt Jan.nry SS, 18b4.
H. BURRITT,
D LL
D" ?
• - .1.1,u 'Lobe. Gmeeries, 1 .- covislots, '" 4Lc bh . "L
I•t.. A,,,111.1,1564.-tf
S. LI. SAYRE & BROTHERS,
yr!.! , FacITILELLS of MlllOssilnCeathage of all kind:-
f,r 0,1 Satei Iron Wary. icaltoral Implement..
(f+oeia,Grocerles, ery, dec.
a . kearnary
BILLINGS STROUD,
OS AN LIFE INIAVILANCE AUE_NT. UT.cte LAI ,
r • • LL, tod 11-td Block. / MA aboent-e,
,A• r iretrumxted by C. L. Breum.
F , bruory 1,1.44.—1 f
J. D. VAIL, M. D.,
. • ! .! tt diet
wlth which be ma) ru: favortd. to b
e.st the c,..nn Howe. near Bentley &Fitch•a
:.uury 1. 1i14.-oct. 21. 1861.
A. 0. WARREN,
ET AT LAW, BOUNTY, BACK PAT and F
1 , 1%.1.41 AOENT. All Pension Claims carefully ort
.P11..a room formerly occupied by Dr. Va ix W.
belote Searle'. Hotel.
~t,Se. Feb.l,lB6c-febl7yllB63.
LEWIS KIRBY & E. BACON,
• full supply of every realer., of
.F.H.16.1 add CoNYECTIOWERISS. Sly attic* uttet
....Pees and fairness in dchl, they hope to merit the literu.
of the public. Lt. °SSTER. and IATI'G 86.1.001 1,
. the Groeel7. where hicslves. in Beason. are eerved in cm
. .
- that the taster or the public demand. Remember ite place.
• •ft 41 Grocery stand, at. Main Street, below the POSSODRX.
_ Nov. 17, 1363.—mc/117,6L-41
DE. CALVIN C. HALSEY, •
:I , :CIAN AND sURGEOIi, AD EXAALUVINU 6IIR
I'ENSIONEDN.EIcv , over tte .tore of J. LT , vu
a••. I . ..c A :vb. kk,ards at Air. Etllerld,tv'a.
V 1, 1559.-tf
D. A. BALDWLN,
i. AT LAW. End Pen Alon, Bouti, Aral But PAy
A. • • ; -. At Bend. Sap ()Aunty. Pa..
.AA,Aust 10, I..ftt.-ly
BOYD t WEBSTER,
S.CVER, Stove Pipe ;Tla. Copper. and Rbee
I - /re. Wledoer Sur, P.el Doom, Selheerr
m ,..,„ ,l' : relu.ftetrhielllands of lellfldate
Car
erk u pn M
ur,
r . Jaunary 1,1564-1 f
Da. WILLIAM W. SILITII,
S' , ltGlf ; Oti DENTI , ST. Office 00. the Sankt,.
_ q .
(,orll rr. or ( i , n o. hu All I.Ze g t , ft o t d 7;r l :t.l:er d
°Mee formerly 01 L Smith lc Ban.
er• Jac x.-11, 1664—if
E. J. ROGERS,
114 - e.rn.t detenlytione et WAG
- • in, SLEIGHS, Am.: In the .11. , e"
• Z
"r and of the be..-et materials,
of E. R. ROGERS, a fear rale a..e.
• .St.ctrnee. where he twill he hnppy to re.
• -• : ' e. , 0
want anything in hie line.
' .`ls 49`u
Dit. JOHN W. COBB,
Ry • : _ T. • 'RO SUN. M - poethilly tenders MI senkes
• fecezetfaans County. He .111 sire erpecla ,
' --DO mcdical treatment of diseases of the
„ • P-.• 1.• .• •K• c•, , nen'ted relative to forglcal operations
... •, • m et over W J.& B H. Hulford'i , fitore.
• • • • met. ear of J.B. Torben% Hotel_
- out.ty. Ys. . Ju1.:1.1/353.-U
BALDWIN & ALLEN,
EC_ Et.- LJ. . L bait. Pork. nab, Lard. Orals, Feed
U,Jeer aLI TumotLy bred. Also CIROWCHIEB.
11.,Lamea, Nyrnpa, Tea and entree. Weal aide
:.. nue dr,or below J. ILLl.eridate.
•tut• Juuary 1. 1864.-tf
D. G. W. BEACH,
-".•
-• r ' r . ,, herrathar-te rrrhetT.h. Wt.
' • . • ..u?te the °Mx of the late Dr. B. Dtchrot
et M., R.hbardeon
E Vl_ Jane 6.12h4.-Iv
F. B. WEEKS,
BOOT AND SHOE MAILER; also Dealer Ir.
Leather,and Shoe rattling, iiepalling dual
• napatch. Tlvo door above Searle. HoteL
etnE.ry 1, ,1554-1
& WM. H. JESSUP,
7r ";NETS AT LAW, Montrose, Ps. Practice In Sumps
a. Bradford, Wayne„ Wyoming and Lucerne Courtin.
t'a_ January 1 t IE4I.
ALBERT CHAMBERLIN,
Te.:f - r ATTORNEY AND ATTORNEY AT LAW.—
" •of t Store formerly occupied by Yost Brothers.
P.. J.=. 4 .7 I. DM.
J. LYONS & SON,
n L i,E h 5 11l BUY GOODS. GrousuLeaCroulmry.
Boo:a, Ileiodrons, YL.non ate land. of
'rots. Soot-% Muni, au. !duo cam oo Min Book Bind
it- i.ess In all it, bnurielest J. LIIMS.
X January 1, lfal. T. A.. LAVAS
ABEL TURRELL.
I . IC Elt IN DROGS. MILDICINES, GITEI.IIOA.LS.
v.., oil, Vorulialma, 11'm.dow Glam.
, f- Grockery.Glammmm,Wall.Papm, Jr..
P•rflaarly, SUrgiCal 1,,e-rUfnttllA. Tr
Agent for of the mom
Nlontruse, Janot... 7 1. Mit
C. 0. FORDEL9.3I.
-,- ITA(7 r: KEIL of BOOTS & SHOES, Montrone, P . :2
n:er WnCe Store. All kinds of work made
• repairing done gently. Work done wten.prono
-11.01111.,....
CHARLES N. STODDARD,
!AEA LES to BOCYI'B Q SROES. I.e.sher and Md.
Main at. third door bettor Searle 's Elote. klEk.
•rk tus•te to order, and repairing clone neatly.
I'a- !toren:Ater li t ISM
L H. BURNS.
ENEY AT LAW. (Vice with W 11119.1 J r.q.
•• , limd. Pension sod Bounty Clu:nzu er.r.ful•
' Co , lettx.,prompqy max
•
B. R. LYONS & CO..
j In DR Y GOODS.GROCERIES. BOOTR,StIOES.
Y. • , rzatr.. Carpet., Oil Clotho, Wall and Window I's
&c. !Sun* on the can ride or Public Arcane.
January 1. 1864.4 f
READ, WATROUS & FOSTER,
E, L.k.:115 IN WIT GOODS. Drna, itettletnei. 'Wats. On.
V.l liardwsre. Crockery, Iron, clocks, larstaca, Jaw.
' = •ec , Yezfinsery. Itrkk Black. Ilorttroisc.
0 . 10113:11
/atmAsy 1. 1814:
WILLIAM W. SMITH,
VA_BIZIET AND CRAW. KANT.
Tamara. Keeps conbto.r.l4 Cu baud al
&tort uorle ' 2 4. 4.l , p C.'" Ware Koons clirrivi tCf:g f Malo 8i
Ds.. ?dud:, S. lECL-U
PHILANDER LINES,
IiU•aIUNAULS TAILOR, Brkk Block. over Eta.
P..
•
•
N •
:\ -:;•71111t-, _
n, Ept bet 1
vmejtl - ; - .3:T.sys:nul:(iNt
The harp that tong In Tara's halls
Ilath sad and silent lain,
Shall sound again within those walls
To freedom's lofty strain.
And grand and clear the notes shall swell
In music on the gals,
To greet the green flag loved so well,
With songs of InnisfalL
O Erie! thou loved Land of Song!
Thy sun Is veiled, not set I
The spirit that bath slept so long,
Shall wake in thunders yet!
And round thy loved shores, Loeb Lein,
And by the silvery Lee,
True Irish swords shall flash again—
And Ireland shall be free!
A spirit stirs within thy blood—
It shall not a:rike amiss!
It feels the strife beyond the flood
That pails the shore from this.
Columbia sows War's dragon teeth
By many a hill and fen
Nor reeks how on the Irish heath
They spring up armed men I
From Antrim to the Southern lakes,
From Trslee to Kildare,
One silent spirit walks, and wakes
The lion in his lair!
From Arraglimore's far stormy steep,
To Carlow and Kinsale,
Thou rises', giant-like, from sleep—
Arias I—strike home!—prevall!
irtill%EreSciawssilo):lm;
Calling them "Freddy," and "John," and "Pant!"
As only a mother her children can call
Musical cadences all through her speech,
That a love so tender , alone can teach,
Soniething so loving, and lingering too,
In the "John," and ''Freddy," and "Paul," come do,
An bidding to her fordinner or rest,
Each one Is gathered in turn to her breast. •
Then looking them over, as divers do pearls,
Smoothing one's cheeks end another one's curls,
Taking the brown, soiled hands in her own,
A whip out of this palm, from that one a stone,
Drawing from pockets of corpulent girth,
With outward remonstrance, with inward mirth,
Potatoes for pop-guns—a bottle of tiles—
Twine, halls and whistles, and two dirt plus.
Redeemed from the soil of the street and the snow
Clothed in fresh aprons, and t. - owsers too!
Tangles brushed out of the tangled floss,
That rings and ripples in golden gloss;
Striving with cagey and innocent heed
For mother's approval, `•Well done, indeed!"
Mother, and Freddy, and Paul, and John,
Make the sweet picture to look upon.
EGYPTIAN
Di GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS.
Sing again the Song you sung
When we were together young—
When them were Mat you end I
Underneath the summer sky.
Sing the EA me song o'er and o'er
Though I know that never more
Will it acem the song you sung
When we were together young.
THE TABLES TIMED
One evening, not long since, a number of old ship
masters chanced to meet at a &Octal supper, and
after the cloth was removed we went In for yarn
spinning. And among our number was Captain
Richard Nutter, and a finer man or better sailor,
never trod a deck. At length it came his torn to
tell a story, or, what we preferred—and what the
rest of ns had done—relate some incident of cape
ri,nce In his own life.
bove," be eald, es he rejected the wine,
which was at thatmoment paseed to him for the Ara'
time, "I will glee you a bit of the early part of my
ocean life, end it is a very important bit, too, for
upon it I have built the whole of my subsequent
manhood.
We prepared to listen to Captain Nutter with the
most profound attention, for he was not only an
old seaman, but one of the most successful com
manders In our mercantile marine. We listened,
and his story was as follows:
"I was very young when I first entered on ship
board, and at th es e age of fourteen I considered my-,
self quite a sailor. When I was eighteen I was
shipped on board an East Indiaman, for a long
voyage. There were six of us on board of about the
same age, and we had shout the same duties to per
form. The ship—the old Lady Dunlap—was &large
one, and our crew was large in proportion,
there being fifty-two, all told. We ' boys,' as we
were called, messed together, and in all other re
speets were separate from the rest of the crew, just
as much as the carers were. Oar captain was a
noble hearted, honorable man, kind and generous,
but vet very strict. 01 course we youngsters found
plenty of occasion In find fault with him, and very I
often were his decisions arraigned before our mess
and decidedly condemned. In riot, we should have I
reversed many of his judgmenta if we had had the
power; but ss ho was the commander, and we only
foremast hands—end boys at that—he had his own
way, and the luminous decisions we came to were
consequently of no avail, and lost to the world.
" Now we boys had learned, to the course of our
travels, to drink our grog as well as any sailors.
We could toss off a glass of rum and water with as
much grace as any one, and we claimed the right
so to do, not only as a privilege, but as an honor to
which a life upon the ocean entitled us. But even
in this respect our captain pretended to differ from
us When we could get on shore, we would in
variably indulge In our cups, and not =frequently
would we come off, or be brought off, in a state any
thing Ina sober. I mid 'we,' but there was one of
our number who could not be induced to touch a
drop of anything Intoxicating. His name was John
Small. and he belonged in one of the back towns of
New Jersey. -
"Now Jack Small not only refrained entirely
from drinking himself, but he used sometimes to
ask us to let the stuff alone. He gave that job up,
however, for we made such sport of him that he
seas glad to let us alone.
.But our captain had
sharp eyes, and it was not long before he began to
show Jack Small favors which he did not show to
ns. He would often take Jack on shore with him
to spend the night, and such things es that, whir
we were kept on board the ship. Of course this
created a sort of envy on our part, and it ended in a
decided ill-will towards poor Jack.
"Now in truth, Jack was one of the best fellows
in the world. He was kind, obliging, honest, al
ways willing to lend a helping hand in case of dis
tress, and as true a friend as ever lived—only he
wouldn't drink with us, that wan all. No—that
wasn't all. He learned faster than we did—he was
a better sailor and had learned more of naviption.
But this we tried to lay to the captain's pay
ing him the most attention, though we knew better
at the time, for we had the privilege of learning just
as much as we had a mind to. The truth of the
matter was, we ,five loved the Idea of being ' old
salts,' better than we did anything else, and we
spent more time in watching for opportunities to
have a spree than we did in learning to perfect our
selves in the profession we had chosen_
"It even got so at length, that Jack Small was
called upon to take the deck sometimes, when the
officers were bogy, and be used to work out the
reckonings at noon as regularly as did the captaim
Yet Jack was In oar mess, and be was a constant
e3c-sore. We saw that he was , reaching rapidly
ahead of us in every useful particular, and yet we
wouldn't open our eyes. We were envious of his
good fortune, as we called it, and used to seize
every opportunity to tease and run him. But he
never got angry In return. He sometimes would
laugh at us, and at others he would so feelingly
chide us that we would remain silent for awhile
"At length the Idea entered our heads that Jack
should drink with us. We talked the matter over
In the mess When Jack was absent, and we mutually
ph-di:en each other that we would make him drink
at the first opportunity. After this determination
was taken. we treated Jack more kindly, and he was
happier than be had been for some time. Once
more we laughed ind joked him in the mess,
and he In return helped us our navigation. We
were on our homeward baud passage, by the way
of Brazil, and our ship stopped at Rio Janeiro,
where we remain II week Or W. One pleasant morn
ing we six youngsters received permission to go on
ntiore and apend the whole day; and according we
rigged op in our best togs and were carried to the
landing.
" *low was our chance, and we put our heads to
gether to see how it should be done. Jack's very
first de ire, as soon- as he got ashore, was to gm up
and examine the various things of interest In the
c ity. He wanted to visit the churches and such
like places, and to please him we agreed to go with
him if he would go and take dinner with W. He
agreed to this at once, and we thought we had him
sore.- We planned that alter dinner was eaten we
would have some light sweet wine brought on, and
that we would contrive to get rum enough into
what he drank,to upset him, for nothing ou earth
could please us more than to get Jack Small drunk,
and carry biro on board in that "asps, In then we
fancied thst - ths captain's Etruria= would bo St an
MONTROSE, SUSQ. CO., PA., TUESDAY, AUGUST 15, 1865.
MEE
" Freedom and Right against Slavery and Wrong."
end, and that he would no longer look upon our ri
val with preference over ourselves. We had
the matter all arranged, and In the mean time
we paid Jack all the attention in our power—so
much so that be at length signified a willingness to
go. anywhere to please us, provided we would not
go into any had place.
" Dinner time came, and a most capital dinner we
had. We had selected one of the beat hotels, for the
prices were no higher there than at places of lower
rcpnte, and, to fart, not so high, for these low pla
ces fleece a sailor most unmercifully. The eatables
were dispatched with becoming gusto, and then the
wine waa brought On.
" 'Ah ! whet have you here?' asked Jack, betray.
ing some uneasiness at the appearance of the glasses
and bottles
"' Only a little new wine,' I replied, 11/3 carelessly
as I could. ' Mere Juice of the gv;ape.'
"' But It Is wine, nevertheless, pursued he.
" ' It isn't wine,' cried Sam Pratt, who was one of
the hardest nuts old Neptune ever cracked.
" ' No,' chimed In Tim Black, another of about
the same stamp. ' It's only a little simple Juice.
Come, boys, fill up.' . .
" The glasses were accordingly fined, Sam Pratt
performing that duty, and he took good care that
Jack's glass had a good quantity of sweetened rum
In it
" ' No,' said Jark, as the glass was moved towards
him ; "If yon are going to commence thne, I will
keep your company with water while yon remain
orderly, but I will not touch wine.'
"This waa spoked very mildly, and with a kind
smile, but yet it was spoked firmly, aed we could
see that our plan was about being knocked In the
head. We urged him to drink with as—only one
glue, If no more. We told him how innocent it
was, and how happy his social glass would make on;
but we could not move him.
" 'Then let him go!' cried Tim, who had already
drank 801110. In fact, all of us but Jack had drank
more or less daring tha forenoon. 'Let him go.
We don't want the mean fellow with us!'
" 'That's It' added Sam, with a hitter he
goes.' If he 'he's too good to drink with his ship
mates, we don't want him.'
" You misunderstand me,' said Jack, In a tone
of pain. lam not too good to drink with Ton, In
the acme In which you would take It. But Ido not
wish to drink at all.'
"Too stingy—that's all,' said I, determined to
make him drink 111 could. But Jack looked at me
so reproaching as I said this that I wished I had
not spoken as did.
"If you wiah to enjoy your wine, mesamates,'
Bald Small, at the same time rising from his chair,
' you can do so, but I beg you will excuse me. I
will pay my share of the expenses for the dinner'
"' And for your share of the wine,' said Thu, ' for
we ordered it for yon.'
' No,' returned Jack, ' I cannot pay (or any of
the wine—'
" ' .31“ 1 / 1 .^ cried two or three at a breath.
" 'No, no, measmatea, not mean. I will pay for
the whole of the dinner—for every article you and I
have had in the house, 'MVO the wine.'
" And as he spoke he rang the bell. He asked the
Walter whn entered what the bill was for the com
pany, without the wine, and alter the amount bad
been stated, he took out his purse to pay it, when
Sam Pratt, who was our acknowledged leader,
caught his arm.
•
"'No—not so,' said Bam. ' You shall not pay for
It, for we will not eat at the expense of one who will
sneak not of a wraps in.this was. We want noth
ing more to do with you unless you take a glass of
wine with us.'
" Very well,' said Jack ; and as be spoke I could
see that his lip quivered, and that be dared not
speak more.
" He turned towards the door then, but before
he reached It Tim black ran and caught him, at the
same time exclaiming:
" • May I be blenaed If you go off so, any war.
You've comruaneed and now you've got to stick it
out.'
" This was the signal for us to commence again,
and once more we tried to urged Jack to drink the
wine; and when we found that urging would not
do we commenced to abuse and scoff. tFe accused
him of trying to step over as on board the ship, and
of all other bad things of which we could think.
For a while the poor fellow seemed Inclined to let
his anger get the upper hands; I.nt at length he
calmed hitnscit and stepping back to his chair, be
said.
"'Shipmates, win you listen to me for tt mu
meta r
"Silence gave coneent, and in a moment more be
resumed:
"'Since matters Lave come to this pass, I have
resolved to tell you what I had meant to keep locked
up In my bosom.'
• We had always thought, from Jack's manner,
that there was something peculiar eonneeed with
his early life, and we were ail attention In a mo
ment.
" ' My story is but a very short one,' he continued,
' and I can tell it in a very few words. From tLe
time of my earliest childhood I never knew what it
was to have a happy home. My father was a drunk
ard! Onee he bad been a gond man and a good
husband, btu ram ruined all his manhood and made
a brute of him. I can remember how cold and
cheerless was the first winter of my life to which
my memory leads my mind. We had no fire—no
food—no clothes—no Joy—no nothing, nothing but
misery and woe! My poor mother used to clasp
me to her bosom to keep me warm, and once—once
I remember—when her very tears froze on my
cheek ! 0, how my mother prayed to God for her hus
band; and I, who could but just prattle, learned to
pray, too. And I used to see that husband and hi
ther return to his home, and I remember how ray
poor mother cried and rembled.
When I grew older I had to go out and beg
for bread. All cold and shivering I waded through
the deep snow, with my clothes in tatters and my
freezing feet - almost bare. And I saw other chil
dren dressed warm and comfortable, and I knew
they were happy, for they laughed and sang as they
bounded along towards shcool. Those boys had FO
her fathers. I knew that their fathers were no bet
ter than mine had been once, for my mother had
told me how noble my own' father could be if the
accursed demon rum were not In his way ; but the
fatal power was upon him, and though he often
promised, and though he often tried, yet be could
not escape
" Time passed on and I was eight years old,
and those eight y ears bad been years of such sorrow
and su ff ering as I pray God I may never see another
experience. At length, ono cold morning in the
dead of winter, my lather was not at home. Ile
had not been at home through the night My moth
er sent Me to the tavern to see If I could find him.
I had gone half the way when I paw something iu
the snow by the side of the road. I stopped, and a
shudder ran through me, for it looked like a human
form. I went up to it, and turned the head
over and brushed the snow from the face. It was
my lather—and hc was stiff and cold! I laid my
hand upon his rile brow, and it was like solid mar
ble. He was dead
" Poor Jack stopped a moment and wiped his
eyes. Not one of us spoke, for we bad become too
deeply moved. But he anon went on.
'" I went to the tavern and told the people there
what I had found, and the landlord sent two of his
men to carry the frozen body of my father home.
0, shipmates, I cannot tell you how my mother
wept and groaned. She sank down upon her knees
and clasped the icy corpse to her beating bosom, as
though elm would have given it life from the warmth
of her own breast. She loved her husband through
all his errors, and her love was all powerful now.
The two men went away and left the body still on
the floor. M 5 mother wished meth come and kneel
by her side. I did so.' My child,' she said to me,
and the big tears were rolling down her cheeks,
'you know what has caused alt this. This man was
once as noble and happy and true as man can he,
but 0, see bow he has been stricken down. Promise
me. my child, Opromise, here, before God
and your
dead father, and your broken-hearted mother, that
you will never, never, touch a single drop IA the fa
tal poison plat has wrought for us all this misery.'
"'O, shipmates I did promise, then and there, all
that my mother asked, and God knows that to this
moment that promise has never been broken. My
father was burled, and some good kind neighbors
helped us Wrong the winter. 'When the next
spring came I could work, and I earned something
for my mother. At length I found a chance to ship,
and I did so, and every time I go home I have some
money for my mother. Not for the wealth of the
whole world would I break the pledge I MIST my
mother and my God on that dark, cold morning.
And even had I made no such pledge I would not
touch the fatal cup, for I know that I have a fond,
doting mother who would be made miserable by my
dishonor, and I would rather die than bring more
sorrow upon her head. Perhaps you have no moth
ers ; and If you have perhaps they do not look to
you for support, for I know you too well to believe
that either of you would ever bring down a loving
mother's gray hairs in sorrow to the grave. That is
all, shipmates. Let me go now, and you may enjoy
yourselves alone, for I do noebelieve that you will
again urge the wine cop upon me.'
" As Jack thus spoke he tamed towards the door,
but Tim Black stopped- him.
Hold ou, Jack, cried Tim, wiping his eyes and
starting up from his chair. You shan't go alone.
I hate got a mother, and I love her as well as you
love yours, and your mother shall not be happier
than fulne,-for by the love I bon' her, I here swear
that she shall never have a drunken son. I will
drink no more.'
Give us your hand, Tiro,' cried Sam Pratt. I'll
go with you.'
"I waited no more, but quickly starting from
my chair I joined the other two, and era long the
whole Live of nsiolued with Jack flmall in his noble
life-plan. We caned for pen, ink and piper, wd
made Jack draw up a pledge. He signed It first and
we followed him, and when the deed was done I
know we were tar happier than we had been before
for years. The wine upon the table was un
touched, and the liquor we had drank during the
forenoon was now all gone In Its effect
"Towards evening we returned to the • ship.
There was a frown upon the captain's brow es we
came over the side, for he had never known us to
come off from a day's liberty sober. But when w e
had all come over the side and reported ourselves
to him his countenance chanced. He could hardly
give credit to the evidence of his own senses.
"'Look here, boys,' he said, after he had examin
ed us thoroughly, ' what does this mean r
Show him the paper,' whispered L
"Jack had our pledge and without speaking he
handed it to the captain. He took it and read it,
and his face changed Its expression several times.
At length I sew a tear start to his eye,
" ' Soya,' he said, as he folded up the paper, ' let
me keep this and If you stick to your noble resolu
tion you shall never want a friend while I live.'
" We let the captain keep the paper, and when he
had put It In his pocket he came and took us each
In turn by the hand. He was much affected, and I
knew the circumstance made him happy. From
that day our prospects brightened. Jack Small no
longer had our envy, for he took hold and taught
U 9 navigation, and we were proud of him. On the
next voyage we all six were rated as able seamen,
and received full wages, and we leg not that noble
hearted captain until we left to become officers on
board other ships.
"Jack Small Is now one of the best matters In the
world, and I believe the rest of our party are still
living, honored and respected men. Three years
ago we all met—the whole six of us—at the Astor
House in New York, and not one of us had broken
the pledge which we made in the hotel at Rio. Four
of us were then commanders of good ships, one was
a merchant in New York, and the other was just
going out as American consul to one of the Italian
cities on the Mediterranean.
" You know why I do not drink wine with you,
and of course you wilt not urge It upon me, nor
take my refusal as a mark of coldness or disre
spect.
THE DOGS AND THE ROBBERS.
A tragical story Is told of an adventure that hap
pened to the monks of St. Bernard, In the dats
when their celebrated does were in their fullest
perfection. No less than thirty men, to whom the
supposed possessions of the monastery offered a rich
booty, had by degrees introduced themselves into
the retreat, arriving in parties at Intervals, and were
always received In the most friendly manner. At•
soon as the whole party were assembled, they threw
off their concealment, and summoned the abbot to
produce the keys of the treasury. The monk was
fortunately a man of more resolute character linen
usually occurred in these places of seclusion, and
did not lose his presence of mind. He observed to
them mildly that their conduct was unworthy, and
an 111 return for the hospitable attention they had
received. The robbers, as may be supposed, were
deaf to his appeal, and continued their demand.
" If it must be so," said the superior, " as we
have no means of defending ourselves, I must sub
mit ; follow me, therefore, to the spot where one
treasure is kept."
He lead the way and was tumultuously attended
by the eager band. He placed his hand on a door,
but before he turned the key, he turned back and
made another appeal ; he was answered with ewers
flans, and no chance being left him, he threw the
door wide open. He raised Ida voice, to which a
loud yell responded, then gave a rapid signal, and
in an instant the powerful animals bounded fort:.
upon their prey, tearing some, strangling others,
and sending the few who escaped their attack, ay
fug for their lives;beadiong down the monntain In
frantic terror, to be dashed in pieces over the preci
pice that yawned before them.
PATRIOTIC TO TUE LAST.—While the battle of
South Mountain was raging fiercely, among the
many wounded who were brought off was a man
who bad received a mortal wound, and was evident
ly in a dying condition. As noon as he was laid
down on the grass, I went to him to see what could
be done for him. Life's crimson current was ebbing
fast away; his face was ghastly pale, and his eyes
were alread dim. "Attlee me rap — raise me up
once more ! ' said the dying man, earnestly but
feebly. Now—there--that will do Give me wa
ter—water—water!" Water was put to his lips,
but be could not drink. "Stop!" said he, seizing
the tin cup will great earnestness. " Here's to ms
country! Here's to the glorious stars and stripes!
I die for my county! Boys, never eive up!" His
lips quivered, and he fell back exhausted. That
scene will never be forgotten by those who beheld
it There was something about it so thrillingly pa
thetie, so truly noble and grand, and yet so natural,
earnest and honest, that it seemed more a scene
than an event on the battle-field. He was buried.
along with others, In the orchard near which he tell.
Over his honored grave will the apple blossom fall
In fragrant showers of beant/y, and the summer
birds will warble the notes of a holy requiem. —
Lights and .Shadow of Army /Alp.
SSA-SOUNDINGEL—Various sea-soundings, made by
the new telegraph company to England, In prepare
Lion for laying the Athletic aub-marine cable tills
summer, reveal the following results: The Baltic
Sea, between Germany and Sweeden, is only a bun-
Bred and twenty feet deep, and the Adriatic, between
Venice and Mate, one hundred and thirty. The
greatest depth of the channel between France and
England dory not exceed 310, whilst to the south
west of Ireland, a here the AEA Is open, the dept h
Is more than 2,000 feet. The Sees to the. south of
Europe are touch deeper than those in the interior.
In the narrowest part of the Strait of Gibraltar the
depth is only 1,000 feet, while a little more to the
east it is 3,000. On the coast of Spain the depth is
nearly 6,000 feet. At 250 miles south of Hantucki
(south of Cape Cod) no bottom was found at 7,500
feet. The greatest deptbs - bf all ore to he met with In
the Southern Ocean. To the west of the Cape of
Good Hope 16.000 feet have been measured, and to
the west of St. Helena, 97,000 feet, Dr. Young es
timates the average depth of the Atlantic at 26,000
feet, and of the Pacific at 20.000.
FITNEILAI. OF A BEM —A correspondent of t 4
Glasgow Herald is the voucher for the following:
"nn Sunday morning last while walking with a
friend in a garden near Falkirk, we observed two
bees lAsaing from one of the hives, bearing betwixt
them the body of a defunct comrade, with which
they flew for a distance of ten yards. We followed
them closely and noted the care with which they
selected a convenient hole at the side of the gravel
walk, the tenderness with which they committed
the body, head downwards, to the earth, and the
solicitude with which they afterwards pushed apinst
it two Little stones. doubtless 'ln manfortam.' rheir
task being ended, they paused for about a minute,
perhaps to drop over the grave of their friend a
sympathizing tear, and then they flew away."
pir On the day of the President's fuueral a
bronzed and weather-beaten soldier, anxious to ob
tain a better view of the procession, happened to
step before a party of ladles and gentlemen. One of
the gentlemen nudged him on the elbow, at the
same time observing, " Excuse me, sir, you are
right In front of us." Bowing handsomely in re
turn, the soldier replied, "That is nothing remarka
ble for me, sir; I've been in front of you for four
years."
How TO Barran a Loss.—A young city .lerk who
felt inclined for a trip to the sea-side, called upon a
friend " Hal. my dear boy," said he, " I'm off fur
a holiday, and I find I'm a trifle short—lend me a
ten, will you T" Hal, after a pause, which apparent
ly included a mental examination of his financial ar
rangements, replied—" Well—Phil—to tell you the
truth—Ldo not feel—dispose—at present—to make
any—permanent inyestruenta."
Mr A gentleman, about whose Teutonic origin
there could be but nne opinion, was passing along
the street, a few days since, when he came to a
halt before one of the tinge posters announcing the
coming of Paradise Loat. He read this Rue: "A
Rebellion in Heaven," when he broke forth as fnl
lowa : "A Rebellion In Heaven 1 mine Got l that
lasts not long now—Onkel Abe ish tare."
KEEP MEM Otrr.—" I don't want to bear naughty
words," said a little boy. "We no matter," sold
another boy, " what Joe Town sar •, It's Ire at one
ear and out, at the. other." " ho," rejoined the
other little boy, "the worst or It Is, when naughty
words get In, they stick; so I mean to &trey best to
keep them out" That Is right. Keep them out,
for it is sometimes hard work to turn them out
when they once get in.
lir The printer la the master of all trade.. lie
beam the carpenter with the rule, and the mass= In
setting up columns ; he aurpaaaea the lawyer ha at
tending to Ma ease, and beats the parson In the
management of the dPvti-
tar C. & A., Um boasted hlltlals of the late bo
mbed "Confederate - States of America," according
tot' late translatlon,mean, " Skirtoni AD
squatulatwn."
Ur It Is now evident that "C. 8. A.," the name
of detr. &Mee wirbed-for Confederacy, means
Can't Secede Again.
CASUALTIES OF THE WAIL
Official statement• at the War Department com
pute the number of deaths In the Union mulles since
the commencement of the war, Including the starv
ing prisoners, at three hundred and twenty-five
thousand. There has doubtless been fully two hun
dred thousand Southern .oldlers removed by disease
and the casualties of battle, no that not less than
Ave hundred and twenty-five thousand hem have
been !Lac:liked in this unholy contest, begun and
prolonged by the South In their vain effort to build
up a new republic and strengthen the slave power.
Our greatest losses during any one campaign oc
curred at Gettysburg, when M,IM7 Union soldiers
were killed, wounded, and taken prisoners. Hook
er's campaign of 1863 in the Wilderness ranks next
to Gettysburg as far as regards Union lasses; they
amount to about twenty thousand, though general
ly reported at only ten. Bunielde lost 10;330 In the
battle of Fredericksburg, McClellan 11,473 at AntLa
tam, Porter 9,000 at Galne's Mills, Rosecrans 12,-
085 at Murfreesboro and 16,831 at Chickamauga,
and Sherman 9,01 X) In the two days battle around
Atlanta.
The official reports of General Grant's losses from
the time he crossed the Rapidan until he received
the surrender of Lee compute them at ninety thou
sand. In the various engagements fought by Gen
eral Grunt in the West he lost 13,573 men at Pitts
burg Landing, 9,875 In the severe contests around
Vicksburg, and in the attack on Missionary Ridge
Though oar losses In many of the campaigns have
been heavy, they yet fell below those incurred in
some of the European wars. This has been due, to
a considerable extent, to the efficiency of the medi•
cal department and the lavish amount of supplies,
at !mat one-third greater than those furnished to
any European army. A report recently made to
the Imperial Academy of medicine, by Chenu, Phy
sician of the French army, estimates the less of that
army, In the Crithean war as follows: killed on the
field of battle or missing, 10 410 : lost in the Semi.
tante, 702; died of various diseases at Alma, 8,084;
died of cold, apoplexy, Sm., before Sebastopol,
4, 8 42; died In the field and general hospitals,
T2,-
247; total 97,615. Thus, 01 309,264 men sent by
France to the Crimea, about one-third found a sol
dier's grave.
The siege and reduction of Jerusalem resulted,
says Josephus, In the loss of 1,000,000 lives. Nine
ty thousand Persians were placed hers de combat at
the battle of Arhela, and 100,000 Carthagenians in
the engagement of Palermo. Twelve thousand in
fantry and 10,000 cavalry perished on the fatal field
of Issue. Spain lost 2,600,000 lives during the per
secution or the Arabians, and 800,000 in expelling
the Jews. Frederick the Great inflicted a loss 01
40,000 on the Austrians In the eoollicts of Leuthen
and Leignitz.. The battle of Jena and the lesser en
gagements immediately folios ir g cost the Prussian
army over eighty thousand men. At the battle of
ipsie, the eighty
suffered casualties to the onto
ber of 60.000, and the Swedes and their allies 40,000
more. Fifty thousand French and Russian sol
diers lay dead and dying on the field alter the bat
tle of Moskowa, and Napoleon again lost 47,000
men at Waterloo, and the Duke of Wellington 15,-
000 more.
There is a strong feeling of hostility entertained
among the rank and file of our armies toward the
medical profession, for which there is undoubtedly
some grounds. The sudden and pressing demand
for army surgeons called a large number of inex
perienced Eacuiapians into the field, and no doubt
hundreds or soldiers have been deprived of their
limbs when amputation was unnecessary. Yet,
when we compare the general sanitary condition of
our armies with that of other military organizations,
and consider the care of the Government for its
troops, and the comparatively small number of
deaths from sickness, there is certainly occasion for
thanksgiving . As we have seen above, seventy
four thousand French soldiers, or one-rourth of the
whole number perished from sickness In the Crime
an war. Thirty thousand Russian troops also died
in the Crimea during a few weeks time from camp
disease, and if we mistake not, thirty-live per cent.
of the Englt•h tro,ps were prostrated with,sickness
when Florence Nightingale entered on her mission
of mercy, Of thirty thousand troops that eon),
Posed the English army under Wellington, within
9 hours, six thousand were nick In the hospital.—
In IRII, the Portugese army. numbering forty
four thousand, had nine thousand on the sick list.
Nearly one-half of our entire forces of the Revolu
lion (forty-seven per cent) were at one time until
for dnty.
There have been no full tables pnbli , hed of the
sanitary condition of our armies during the four
years struggle, but separate re ports show that the
losses from sickness hear no comparison with those
above. Of the entire army of the l'otomac there
were only five per cent. on the sick list during the
first months of 115C53.
CHOOSING A PHYSICIAN.
There Is an Eastern story of A certain prince who
bad recel•ed item a fairy the Lenity of not only as
earning whatever appearance he thought proper,
but of discerning the wandering spirits of the de
parted. He had long labored under a painful chron
Ic disease, that none of the court physicians, ordina
ry or extraordinary, could relieve ; and he resolved
to wander about the streets of his capital until he
could find some one, regular or irregular, who
could alleviate his sufferings. For this purpose he
donned the garb of a dervish. Ac he was passing
through one of the principal streets, he waseur.
prised to see it so thronged with ghosts that, had
they been still inhabitants of their former earthly
tenements they must have obstructed the thorough
fare. But what was his amazement and dismay
when he saw that they were ap grouped with anx
ious look round the door of his royal father's physi •
clan, haunting, no doubt, the man to whom they
attributed their untimely doom.
Shocked with the eight be hurried to another
part of the city, where resided another physician of
the court holding the second rank in fashionable
estimation. Alas , ! his gateway was also surround
ed with reproachful departed patients. Thunder
struck at such a discovery, and returning thanks to
the prophet that he was in being, despite the prae
lice of there great men, he resolved to submit
all the other renowned practitioners too similar
visit; and he was grieved to find that the scale of
ghosts kept pace with the scale of their medical
rank. Heart broken and despairing of a cure, he
wan slowly sauntering back to the palace, when, in
en obscure straet, and on the door of au humble
dwelling he rend a doctor's name. One single soli
tary ghost, leaning hi, despondent cheek upon his
fleshless hand, was seated on the doctor's steps.—
"Alas!" exclaimed therince, "it 6, then, too
true that humble merit withers in the shade, while
ignorance inhabits golden mansions. This poor
neglected doctor who has but one unlucky case to
lament, is then the only man in whom I can place
confidence." He rapped ; the door was opened by
the doctor himself, a venerable old man, not rich
enough, perhaps, to keep a domestic to answer 66
unfrequent tails. His white locks and flowing heard
added to the confidence which his situation had In
spired. The elated youth then related at full length
all his complicated ailments, and the still more com
plicated treatments, to which he had In vain been
submitted. The sapient physician was not liberal
enough to say that the prince's attendants had all
been in error, since all mankind may err; hut his
sarcastic smile, the curl of his lips, and the dubious
shake of his hoary head, most eloquently-told his
tuitions patient that he considered his former phy
sicians an ignorant murderous set of upstarts, only
fit to depopulate a community. With a trinmphant
look he promised a cure, and gave his overjoyed
patient a much valued prescription, which he care
fully confided to his bosom; after which be express
ed his gratitnde brpottring upon the doctor's table
a purse of golden sequins, which made the old
man's blinking eyes shine as brightly as the coin he
beheld In wondrous delight.
His joy gave suppleness to his rigid spine, and of
ter bowing the prince out in the most obsequious
manner, be ventured to ask him one humble ques
tion: "By what good luck, by what kind planet,
had he been reccommeuded to seek his advice?"—
The prince naturally asked the reason of so strange
a question ; to which the worthy doctor replied :
"Oh sir, because I considered myself the moat un
fortunate num In Bagdad until this happy moment;
for I have been settled in this noble and wealthy
city for the lust fifteen years and have only been
able to obtain one single patient." "Ah l" cried
the prince in despair " then it must be that poor
solitary, unhappy looking ghost, that is now sitting
on your steps."
Gunnar - R.—Dr. 810 Lewis has the following sug
gestion In relation to preserving the hair:
God covered the skull with bale. Some people
shave It off. Mischievous practice. It exposes the
throat and lungs—the eyes likewise, say wise
phyalologista. Men become bald. Why? Because
they wear close hats and cap& Women are never
bald except by disease. They do not wear close
hate and caps. Men never lose a hair below where
the bat touches the head, not If they have been
bald twenty years. The close hat holds the heat
and perspiration. Thereby the sir glands become
weak; the heir falls off. What will restore It? Noth
ing after the sealp : becomes shiny. Bat In process
orialling out, or recently lost, the following Is the
best: Wash theced with soft cold water freely
once or twice a dat. Wear a thoroughly ventilated
hat. This is the best means to arrest the loss, and
restore what Is susceptible of rmtoratien.
(Aug olditoper soya tho two moat precious
thAnisoow included In hoops aro girls and kegs of
Mani.
NATIONAL JUBILEE SONG.
Fling out the nation's starry flag
In glory on the air !
The ancient flag of freedom still ;
No star is missing there.
The Lord of Hosts has given the word,
The people all are free;
The Jubilee nth sounded forth
The nation's liberty.
Chorus.-43hont ! our redemption's come,
Our nation now is free;
Echo the chorus wide,
Prorlaim the Jubilee.
The dove of Peace is brooding o'er
The desolated mirth,
And flowers are springing In the light
Of Freedom's second birth.
Then from the field of battle call
Our noble veterans home;
Ring out the Joyous bells, and greet
The heroes as they come.
Chorus—Shout! etc.
The host of proud oppressors now
Are whelmed In endless night;
Atd dusky brows of millions wear
The crown of Freedom's light,
-Proclaim the triumph through the world,
And shout from pole to pole ;
Eternal be the boon for all,
The birthright of the soul.
Chorwa--t3hout I etc.
Then fling the nation's banner out
In glory on the air;
The spotless Flag of Freedom now—
No star is missing there;
While Justice and eternal truth
Mankind exulting err,
We'll shout fur country's joyous song.;
The nation's Jubilee.
Chores.—Shout ! etc.
ELI WHITNEY
One day in the fall of 1792, when General Wash
ington was President of the United States, a compa
ny of Georgia planters happened to ha assembled at
the house, neer Savannah, of Mrs. Nathaniel Greene,
widow of the famous General Greene of the Revolu
tion. Several of these planters had been officers un
der the command of General, and they had call
ed, naturally enough, to pay their respects to his
widow.
The conversation turned upon the depressed con
dition of the Southern States since the dose of the
war. The planters were generally lu debt, their
lands were mortgaged, their products afforded little
profit, and many of the vonncer and more mitcrpris.
leg people were moving away. The cause of this
state of things, these planters agreed, was the diffi
culty of raising cotton with profit, owing to the
great labor required In separating the fibres of the
cotton from the Bevis.
Many of our readers, we presume, have never seen
cotton growing, nor even a ball, or pod„ of cotton.
This pod, which is about as large as a hen's egg,
bursts when it is ripe, and the cotton gushes out at
the top in a beautiful white flock. If you exam
ine this flock closely, yon discover It contains eight
or ten large seeds, much resembling, in size and
shape, the seeds of a melon. The fibres of the cot
ton adhere so tightly to the seeds, that to get one
pound of clean cotton, without wasting any, used to
regnlre a whole day's labor It was this fact that
rendered the raising of cotton so little proUtable,
and kept the Southern States from sharing in the
prosperity enjoyed by the States of the North, after
the close of the Revolutionary war.
When the gentlemen had been conversing some
time, the idea was started, that perhaps this work
could be done by a machine. Mrs. Greene then re
marked :
" Gentlemen, apply to my young friend, Mr
Whitney ; he can make anything."
Few words have ever been spoken on this globe
that have had such important and memorable con
sequences as this elmpie observation of Mts. Na
thaniel Greene.
Eli Whitney, of whom she spoke, was a young
Massachusetts Yankees, who bad came to Georgia to
teach and, having been taken sick, had been Invited
by this hospitable lady to reside In her house till be
should recover. He was the son of a poor farmer,
and had worked his way throneh college without
assistance—as Yankee boys often do. From early
boyhood he had exhibited wonderful skill In me
cheeks, and in college he used to repair the philo
eophical apparatus with remarkable nicety, to the
great admiration of professors and students. During
his residence with Mrs. Greene he haul made for Ler
an ingenious tambour-frame, on a new principle,
as well as many curious toys for her children.—
Hence her advice: "Apply to my friend, Mr. Whit
ney; Ac can make anything."
She now Introduced Mr. Whitney to her friends,
who described to him the difficulty under which
they labored. He told them he had never seen e
poel of cotton In his life. Without giving them any
promises, he resolved to procure some raw cotton
forthwith, and see what he could do with it. Search
leg about the wharves of Savannah, he tnund, at
length, some unclean cotton, end, taking borne a
bundle of it in his bands, he shat himself nei in a
room in the basement, and set to work to invent
the machine required.
All the winter lee labored in his solitary cell.—
There were no proper tools to be had in Savannah.
He. therefore, made hie own tools. There was no
wire. He also made his own wire. The children,
the servants, the visitor, to the home, wondered
what he could be doing In the basement all alone;
hut he said nothing, and kept on tinkering, ham
mering, and thinking, till, early in the spring of
Mei, he had completed hie work.
Having act up the mysterious machine In a shed,
he Invited a number of planters to come and settees..
its operation. Ito PUCCI:SS seas complete. The gee .
Gernert saw, with unbounded delight, that one man,
with this young Yankee engine, could clean as
much cotton in a day as a man could chew by hand
in a whole winter. The cotton grown on a tare
plantation could be separated from the seed in a few
days, which before required the constant labor of a
hundred hands for several months.
Thus was the cotton-gin Invented. The principle
was so simple, that the wonder was, that no one hail
thought of it before. The cotton was put Into a
large trough, the bnttnm of which was formed of
wires placed in parallel rows, so closely together
that the seeds could not pass through. under this
trough saws revolved, the teeth of which thrust
themselves between the wires, leaving the seed be
hind, which ran out in a stream at one end of the
trough.
The simplicity of the cotton-gin had two effects;
one good, the other bad. The good effect was that.
la the course of a very few years, it was introduced
all over the cotton States, increased the value
of the cotton lands, doubted and trebled the
production of cotton, and raised the Southern States
from hopeless depression to the greatest prosperity
The effect was as lasting as it was sudden. In 17113,
the whole export of (eaten from the United States
was ten thousand bales. Men acquainted with the
subject are of opinion, that this single Invention has
been worth to the South one thousand million dnl
tars. How moch did the inventor gain by it? Not
one dollar! Associating himself with a man of cap
ital, he went to Connecticut to set up a inanutaetory
of cotton-gins. But the simplicity of the machine
was such that any good mechanic who saw it could
make one; and long before Whitney was ready to
snpply mechirres of his sawn making there were a
'crwit number in operation all neer the Cotton States.
Hie patent proved to he no protection to him. II
he brought suit for Its infringement, no Southern
jury would give him a verdict. He struggled on un
der adverse influences for enemy years. In 150,5.
when his patent expired, be gave up the contest,
and withdrew from the business, a poorer man than
he was on the day that he went, with his hand fell
of cotton-pods, Into Mrs. Greene's basement.—
Thousands of men were rich, who but for his Inge
' unity and labor would have remained poor to the
end of their days. The levees of the Southern ports
were heaped high with cotton,. which, but for him,
would never have beenro
wn. Fleets of cotton
ships sailed the seas, which, but for him, would nev
er have been built He, the creator of so much
wealth, returned to hie native State, at the age of
forty-two, to begin the world anew.
But Ell Whitney was a thorough-bred Yankee—
one of those unconquerable men who, balked In one
direction, try another, and keep trying till they the
ceed. He turned his attention -to the improvement
of firearms, particularly the old-fashioned musket.
Having_ established a mauufactory of firearms at
New Haven, he prospered in business, and was
enabled at length to gratify his domestic tastes by
marrying the daughter of Judge Edwards, with
whom he lived in happiness the rest of his We.
Some of the improvements which he invented are
preserved in the Springfield musket, with - which our
soldiers In the field were chiefly armed. It was he
who began the improvements In firearms which Colt
and many others have continued, and which have
given the United States the best musket., the hest
pistols, the best rifles, and the beet cannon In the
world.
It le a euriona fact, that the same man should
have supplied the South with the wealth that tempt
ed It to rebel, and the United States with the weap
ons with which It enforced its Jost authority.
The time Is at hind when Yankee ingenuity win
again be employed In developing the vast resources
or the Southern States. There are Whltneye still
among us. When at length the opportunity shall be
afforded them, they will commence tinkering and
cogitating, inventing new mschines and pew meth
ods, moaner the worn •delds to wale with
abundant harvests, and the dilapidated 0 11 towns to
renew their youth.
tioa.oo per annum, in actvanco
NITAMER 33.
WHY TEE WIND BLOWS
What, then Is the cause of the wind ? The
ple answer 11 2 —the sun. If you light afire in arhomr
and afterwards stop up every chink by which air can
gain access to the fire, except the chimney, the fire
will go out In a short time. Again, II s Imp is
burning on the table and yon stop up the chimney
at the top, the flame wilLiro out at once. The reas
on of this Is, that the dame, in each cue, attracts
the air, and If either the supply of air be cut off be
low or Its escape above is checked, the dates cannot
continuo to burn. This explanation, however, does
not bear to be pushed too far. The reason that the
Bre goes out If the supply of air Is cut off, is, that
the flame, Is not fed; While the sun cannot be
odd, In any sense, to be dependent - ..tnt the earth's
atmosphere for the fuel for Its ere. WO have chosen
the illustration of the name because the facts are so
well known. If, instead of a Barre in the middle of
the room, we were to hang up a large name of heat
ed Iron, we should Bed cements of air set in from all
sides, rise up above It, and spread out when they
reachedi the ceiling, descending again along the
walls. The existence of these currents may be easi
ly proved by sprinkling a handful of fine chaff about
In the room. What Ls the reason of the circulation
thus produced ? The iron, orders it be extremely
hot, as it is when melted by Mr. Bessemer's process,
dues not require the air to keep up its hest• and, In
f a ct, the constant supply of fresh air cools It, as the
metal gives sway its own heat to the air as fast as
the particles of the latter come in contact with it—
M , by, then, do the currenm rise? Because the ale
when heated, expands or gets lighter, and rises:
leaving an empty space or vacuum where It was be
fore. Then the surrounding cold air, being . elastic,
fortes itself into the open space andgets heated In
Its turn. From this we ran see that there will be a
constant tendency In the air to flow towards that
point on the earth's surface where the temperature
I. highest—or, other things being equal, to that
point where the sun may be at that moment In the
zenith. Accordingly If the earth's surface were
either entirely dry land or entirely water, and the
sun were continently in the plane of the equator, we
shnuid expect to end the direction of the great wind
currents permanent and unchanged throughout the
year. The true Mote of the ease Is, however, that
these conditions are very far from being Walled.—
Every one knows that the sun is not always Immo•
diately over the equator, bet that he is at the tropic
of Cancer In June sea at the tropic of Capricorn In
December, passing the equator twice a year at the
equinoxes. Here, then, we have one cause which
disturbs the regular flow of the wind currents. The
t &et of this is materially increased by the extreme
ly arbitrary way in which the dry land has been dis
tributed over the globe. The Northern hemisphere
i.entaites the whole of iturope, Asia, and North
America, the greater part of Africa, and a portion of
South America; while In the Southern hemisphere
we only tied the remaining portions of the two last
named continents, with Australia and some of the
large islands In the vicinity. Accordingly, during
our summer there is a much greater area of dry land
exposed to the nearly vertical rays of the sun than
is the case during oar winter.
BRIGHAM YOUNG.
The President of the Mormon Church Is six feet
high, portly, and weighs about 200 pounds. He Is
wonderfully well-preserved fora man who has past
his sixtv-tourth birth-day. His`faca Is fresh and un
wrinkled, his step agile and elaallc. I can hardly
4eleet a single gray hair in his curling auburn locks,
or the whiskers of the same hue, which lu smooth,
crescent line fringe his cheek and chin. Is Brigham
Young Indeed a new Ponco de Leon, who has dis
covered in Polygamy the fountain of Perpetual
Youth ?
His eyes are of a grayish blue. They do not . im
press me as frank and open, but have a secretive
expression. He has an eagle nose, and a month
that shuts like a vice, Indicating tremendous firm
ness. His manner Is dignified le and affable
rather than cordial; and ho carri ea the unmistaka
ble air of one having authority. Ordinarily cold In
conversation, he luta little ebullitions of earnestness
In which be sp.aks right at people, tusing'his dexter
tore-anger with great force to point a moral. He
treats the brethren with warmth, throwing his arm
caressingly about them, and asking carefully after
the wives and babies.
He has observed much, thought much, mingled
much with practical men ; but seems a little unfa
miliar with cultivated society. He is abstemious
and temperate, using neither tea nor coffee, spirits
norjtobacco. Provincialisms of his Vermont boyhoerd
and his Western manhood still cling to him. He says
" leetie," " beyend," and " disremember." An Ir
repressible conflict between his nominatives and
verbs now and then crops out In expressions like
"they was," etc.
Yet those who hold Brigham Youngs cheap char
latmt, are wilder it possible than the Saints who re
ceive him as an angel of light, or those Gentiles who
denounce him as a goblin damned. A moat striking
embodiment of the One Man Power, he holds& hun
dred thousand people In ths hollow of his hand.—
Gathered from every nation, always poor, sanally
ignorant, sometimes vicious, he has molded thus
Ist. an industrious, productive, honest, and hcreno
ceneons community. He has grown very rich; tha
Gentiles charge him with extortion among his own
people. He certainly owns much of the most desir
able property in Utah. But his adherents as a clan
have vastly Improved their condition by coming
-here. I believe that all admit that his large com
mercial dealings arc characterized by integrity; and
that be possc•eca great kindness of heart. He is a
man of brains, quick intulon.„ good judgment and
untiring Industry - . He would doubtless have
achieved great suet:mein politics, trade, manalactur
lag, or almost any other walk of D. Rich
anion, in N. Y. Tribune.
A Nashville correspondent or the Cincinnati Oa
zet e writes:
At the corner of Cherry and Broad streets is •
,mall, but comfortable and popular theatre, called
Poland's Varieties. There is no heavy tragedy, or
even standard comedy, ever performed there; but
the manager understand., nevertheless, how to draw
a crowd ; and with the aid of pretty dancing-girls
and extravagant farces, he manages to attract a very
conaiderabte audience every night. This audience
consists generally of soldiers, although there are
litany others who go to enjoy the laugh which may
almost always be obtained there.
Two or three nights since I happened to be present
at one of these exhibitions. There was the
usual
quantity of
singing, dancing, light comedy, and
broad tarce. le one of the extravaganzas a theatri
cal manager is represented as having advertised for
a company of performers. Soon after, a negro, dir
ty, ragged, old, and dilapidated, presents himself,
and proposes to play an engagement The manager
asks him what he can play. With much asattinee,
he answers that be can perform most anyth.ng.—
The manager then tries him on various parts, lad of
course the darkoy very ludicrously breaks down in
each, to the infinite amusement of the lookers-on.
The applause of the audience was redo bled at each
successive failure.
At last the manager proposes to him to try a part
In which he will not have much to say.
Why won't 1 have much to say ?" inquired Sam-
" Well," says the manager, "your part Is inch •
one that you won't be allowed to say mech."
" d. reason I won't beallowed to speak I"
says the Indignant darkey.
'• Because you're to be my slave," reviles the
manager.
" No, no; you can't come dat on die child."
" Well, but you see It's only In the play."
" Yes," says Bambo, "I know It's in the play;
but I tell you dat played out."
No sooner had this sentence been uttered, than
from pit to (tome, the little theatre was filled with a
perfect thunder-storm of applause. It commenced
with a loud laugh and a universal hand-clapping and
stamping of feet ; it progressed to a tremendous yell;
and it ended with a vast combination Vali the signs
and noises by which an audience testifies Its excite
inept and delight.
It was an unmtatakabie indication of the feeling
and determination of the people, especially of the
vatrfotic and liberty-loving soldiers.
rar (Inc of the curious facts noticed by natural
ists is, that that the animals and vegetables of the
Old World supplant those of the New. According
to Darwin's theory, this is to be attributed to the
long period dating which the denizens of the Old
World have been engaged in the struggle for life,
and the consequent rigor acquired by them. Euro
pean weeds bare established themselves abundantly
in North America and Australia. The rapid propa
gation of European animals is no lest rernarloble„
The nig which Captaln Cook left at New Zealand
have increased so largely that they monopolize vast
tracts of the country, and are killed at six centsper
tall. Not only are they obnoxious by occupy
the ground which the sheep farmer needs for his
flock, but they assiduously follow the ewes when
lambing, and devour the poor lambs as soon as they
make their appearance. Another Interesting het h
the appearanceof the Norwegian rat. It has thor
oughly extirpated the native rat, and Is to be found
everywhere growing toe Tary largo size. The Eu
ropean mouse follows closely, and, what is more
surprising, where It makes its appearance, It drives,
to a great degree, the Norwegian rat away. The
European house-fly is another Importation—repels
the blue bottle of New Zealand, which seam to
shun Its company.
lgr• "Jake," said a mother to her eon who was
thisi'atisehiet, "get out of thaw sweetmeata."—
" Mama, I'm not In 'ear, but theereto =though."
" PLAYED our. •