AUTUBUf. Tint field* m White,fith utdmn font, And anUupq arenas i . . Andbodjnrciond* by vtorro-wlnds based, fVom Sol’ewarm glshces ©over us. The wood hath loetitssammer haee— ■' Itsleaves in showers *re Ailing bow,i‘ And flnwer*,.nqpwre the genisl dew* - r , 5 , Into new file ate calling now... Wo fpeino longer Sommer's hrpath— : • 'vWassa&syat«A • On every hand isgrieving ns ( Entail the joythat Semmarbroaght— Fond Memory i* keeping H i, The increase of »U quickened Thojighl— In winter we’ll be reaping it. And when our heart* bare felt Spring’* glow, The contract willhave bettered them With thought* they ne’er had come to know, Had summer sameness fettered them. We prize the heart unskilled in guile, And better grow by loving it; Nor can we love it less, the while Adversity is proving it. AU that is cast in Besnty’s mould, Like Truth, with time shall perish not; And they ate hard of heart and cold, The beautiftil who cherish not. The tints that deck tha humblest flower May vanish with the antuiqn frost; But wedded to a Thought, its dower, Its beauty, neter can be lost. M. H. Com. THRILLING NI&MTIVE. AN ADVENTURE IN A TUNNEL. A PERILOUS POSITION. A frightful incident which occurred a few weeks since to some of the workmen employ ed in the Halohaw Moor Tunnel, on the Lancashire & Yorkshire Railway, England, reminds us of an adventure, as related to the editor of Eliza Cook’s Journal, not long ago, by a person in the employment of the tele graph company. He had been engaged in the inspection and repair of the telegraph wires and fixings, which are subject to many accidents, and require constant looking after to insure their integrity and efficiency.— Even when carried through tunnels in gutta percha casings, imbedded in leaded lubes, they are liable to accidents from passing wa gons, or, in winter, from lumps of ice falling down the sides of the shafts, and damaging the tubes. It appears that one day the door of a coal wagon had got loose in the long tunnel of the railway, and dashing back against the sides of it, had torn the lube, and even cut across the wires in many places The telegraph was therefore broken; i! could not be worked, and several work men were sent into the tunnel to execute the necessary repairs. The person who related the following adventure acted in the capacity of Inspector, and it was necessary for'him to visit the workmen, ascertain the nature of the damage that had been done, and give di rections on the spot as to the repairs, the ne cessity for completing which was of the greatest urgency “ I knew very well,” said he, “ that the tunhel was of great length—rather more than two miles long—apd that the workmen, who had set out in tjTe morning from the station nearest, had ehtered it by its south end ; so I determined to fallow and overtake them, which t would doubtless be able to do somewhere in the tunnel, where they would be at work. I was accompanied by a little dog, Which (rotted behind at my feet. After walking about a mile, I reached the entrance over which frowned the effigy of a grim lion’s head, cut in stone. “ There were as usual, two lines of rails the up line and the down line; and 1 deter mined to walk along the former, that I might see before the approaching lights on any ad vancing train, which I would take care to avoid by stepping on to the opposite line of rails, at the same time that 1 should thus avoid being run over by any train coming up behind from the opposite direction, and which I might not see in time to avoid. I had, however, taken the precaution to ascer tain that no train was expected to pass along the up line, over which I was proceeding for about two hours: but I was aware that they could not be depended upon, and therefore I resolved to keep a good lookout ahead.— Along the down line, I knew that a passen ger train was shortly to pass—indeed, it was even now due; but by keeping the opposite line of rails I felt I was safe, so far as that was concerned. 11 1 had never been in a tunnel of such length as fhjs before, and I confess I felt somewhat dismayed when the light which had accompanied me so far into the entrance began to grow fainter and fainter, After walking for a short distance, I proceeded on in almost total darkness. Behind me there was the distant light streaming at the tunnel mouth ; before me almost impenetrable dark ness. But by walking in a straight line, I knew that I couldn’t miss my way, and the rails between which I walked, and which I occasionally touched with my feet, served to keep me in the road. In a short time I was able to discern a seeming spot of light, which gradually swelled in a broader gleam, though still at a great distance before me; and I knew it to be the opening of the nearest shaft, it was a mere glimmer and the thick and al most pnlpqble darkness which enveloped me. As i walked on, I heard ray little dog pant ing at my heels, and the sound of my tread re-echoed from the vaulted roof. Save these sounds, perfect silence reigned. When I siood still to listen, 1 heard distinctly the mud beating of my heart, '■ A startling thought suddenly occurred to me. What aif goods train should suddenly snoot through the tunnel, along the line on which 1 was proceeding, while the passenger tram, now due came on in the opposite di rection ! I had not thought of this before, and yet I was aware that a number of casaal trams on a well-frequented railway is very considerable at particular seasons. Should I 'urn back, reach the mouth of the tunnel again, and wait until the passenger (rain had passed, I could then follow along the down line of tails knowing that no other train was likely io follow it for at least a full quarter of an hour. “ But the shaft, down which Ihe light faint* 17 streamed, was nearer to me than the mouth of the tunnel, and i resolved therefore, io, make for that point, where there was, I knew, ample room outside of both lines of 'he rail to enable me to stand in safely until 'ho down train passed. So I strode on. But * low . hollow murmur, as if remote thunder, and then a distant scream, which seemed to For lit Agitator. ' i ' -j • r** ■itt—uftvv-'s !sti ' • 1 l.Ti; !• i' .1 - ■ '-■v; ~ , ul Il'u .iJu. ij.! iTO=r=^ff=^frS : ?r=Ofrlr l^^f=^=sao=s==^=^f^s^^^=fgfs^saaKr7‘^= M. Hi COBB^fiDITOR.: < i "" T 11 >! * «TB* J Aolffirioir 6r Thousht is tbibeoinbibo x'v ' N '' ■> r ij-ihAririnrl"'-- l_ £_»L : IL li LI xSil >. IJ-iI _ . ‘ .'! t*’- .; i-«i ! VOL. - tMMYMOROTG.N&VE; I! ~ S\U <L'. UjiihiUira oo' i:sn i:oit!l *v:l{ i-izd-rA • • ,-.f >- - • -• -ri , 1 rf 'l tubn'el, fell ujjpn^niy ears— Uje passenger I. had been espeojog,!: icnteri eg tunnel Mouth. But loiAfog ahead at I discerned the gleam of ddyt&fjj at (be bottom of ifhtjahalt towards whrph.T was approaching, what seemed a .spark of fire.—’ It moved; cotlldlit be one of-the laborers 6f whom I was lt increased! 1 for an instant I loifitit. Again'! TBis time it looked brighter.; ;vA moaning, tinkling noise crept along thd ft»r df the ■ vault. I itdiod! still with fear. fethoteaißO of the trtin.be hind me was tdpidly Increasing; and ing for an instant ih that direction,.! observed that it was in follt sight. I could bo longer disguise from nfyfelf that I siood full irt' tbe way of another train advancing from (hoop posile direction..: The light .before me was the engine lump..t lt was now brilliant as a glowing star, and ft he roar of the wheels of (he (rain was no* fully heard amidst the gloom. It came on with a velocity which seemed to me terrific.' , “ A thousand - Ihoughls coursed through my brain on the dnslant. ' I was In the way of the monster, qltd the nqxt moment might be crushed into bleeding fragments. The engine was almost upon met I saw the gleaming face of llje driver, add the glow of the furnace flashing its lurid light far along the lower edge of (he dense volumes of steam blown from the engine-chimney. In an in stant I prostrated myself on my face, and lay there without the power of breathing, as I felt the engine and train thundering over me. The long-hung ash-box swept across my back ; 1 fell the heal of the furnace as it flashed over me, and a glowing cinder drop ped near my hand ; but 1 durst not move. I felt as if the train was crushing over me.— The Carlh vibrated and shook, and the roar of the wagon-wheels smote into my ears with the thunder which made me fear their drums would crack. 1 clutched the earth, and would have cowered and shrunk into it if I could. There was not a fibre of my body that I did not feel the horrors of the moment and the dreadfulnesa of the situation. But it passed. With a swoop and a roar of (he break van, the last in the train flew over me. The noise of (he (rain was still io my ears, and the awful terror of my situation lay still heavy on me. When I raised my head and looked behind, the right light at (he tail of the train was already far in the distance. — As for the passenger train, it had also pas sed ; but I had not heeded it, though u bad doubtless added to the terrific noise which for some time sunned me. “ 1 rose up and walked on, calling upon my dog. But no answer—not «o much as a whine. I remembered its sudden howl. It must have been crushed under the wheels of some part of the train. It was no use search ing for my little companion ; so I proceeded anxious lo escape from the perils of my situ ation. I shortly reached the shaft, which I had before observed. There was ample room at either side of the rails, lo enable me lo rest there in safety. But the place was cold and damp, and streams of water trickled down the sides of it. I resojved, therefore, to go on upon the down line; but the tunnel being now almost filled with the smoke and steam of the two engines, which had just passed, I deemed it prudent to wail for a short lime, until the road had become more clear, in case of any other (rain encountering me in my further progress. The smoke slowly eddied up (he shaft, and (he steam gradually condensed, until I considered the road sufficiently clear to enable me to pro ceed in comparative safety. I once more, therefore, plunged into the darkness. 11 1 walked on for nearly half an hour, groping my way; my head had become confused, and my limbs trembled under me. I passed two other shafts, but the light which they emitted was so slight, that they scarce seemed lo do more than make the 1 darkness visible.’ I now supposed that I must have walked nearly the whole length of the tunnel; and yet it appeared afterwards that I 1 was only about half way through it. It seemed like a long day since I had entered. Buf'by and by a faint glimmer of lights danced be fore my eyes; and as I advanced I saw it was the torches of the workmen, and I soon heard their voices. Never were sight and sound more welcome. In a few minutes more I had joined the party. But felt quite unmanned for the moment; and I believe, sitting down on one of the workmen’s tool boxes, I put my hands over my eyes—l really could not help it—and burst into tears. “ I never ventured into a tunnel again without an involuntary thrill of terror coming over me.” The accident which occurred to the work men in the Halshaw Moors Munnel, was of a similar nature to that above recitpd. The men employed wore plate-layers, engaged id the repair of the permanent way; In long tunnels there are men belonging to some ‘gang’ who are almost constantly employed there, and who see little or n 6 daylight ex cept from what passes down the shafts.— Sometimes, when busy at their work, and their ears are deafened by the noise made by the hammers, picks and spades of the ‘gang,’ engaged in driving in a spike, or lightning a key, or packing the ballast under a sleeper, a train comes suddenly upon them; -and if close at hand, the men hra sometitpes only able to escape by throwing themselves flat upon their faoes and letting the .trains pass over them. Two mien in the Hglshaw tunnel were engaged at tneilr W'otk when two trains entered at the same time, pnd from each 1 direction. One of the men threw him self down by the side of the tOnbel, add call ed upon his fellow workman ,ta do the same. But it had been too late. The ’.trains had come upon the unforjjjnate workman with, such velocity, that he Had not even lime to liß ’olfcuiMiivj "18-'I t'l i ■ >! .iaa _ •j-Oi ‘ta riii liJ .; Ms oi Pt;aliili)!t I • < i t P- i ‘l Uwilasiv,;/,. vli fc>4i;w v* vJaitofi ui.ii ... v, Mr hu,, I :najgiw.TU'nid jarsfi. '.‘.v-- proa.lrulo for (|i» mon)ent *u«pended by the Wydrds him .from oppoaile direclipOT, ( «wCminn «?uch 'WBs paused -through rhd lunt^lti^^uh4lK»t : *)iMlbf ihemhad rpn qve’rtfiepqdr *orkmko %ttd cut'tint, ■ ffitb pieces. ' •' TOBCIIM ST d Br, . !Morgaw. ' ■' Puttie Sqsjr earikstvpiirebfMa ry was heard t .£all|og Vi i , “ I'm comius, dear.” answered Morgan. “ Ctam tjuk&i 'lklher, won’t you - “ Yea, love.” And Morgan got up and dressed himself—but with unsteady hands and every sigh of nervous prostration. Jo a little while, with the assistance of his’ Wife, he was ready, qnd supposed hy :her, came tottering into the room where Mary was ly ing. . • “ Oh! father!”—What at light- broke over lier countenance—“ I’ve been waiting for you so long, I thought you were never, going to wake up. Kiss, me father.” “ What can 1.-do for you, Mary ?” asked Morgan, tenderly,'as he laid his face down upon the pillow beside her. “ Nothing, father. I don’t wish for any thing. I only wanted to see you.” “ I’m here, noy; love.” “ Dear falhfer.l” How earnestly, yet ten derly, she spoke, lying her small hand upon his face. “ You’ve always been good to me, father— “Oh ! no. I’ve never been good to any body,” sobbed fhe wfeak, broken-spirited man as he raised himself from the pillow. How deeply touched was Mrs. Blade, as she sal the silent witness of this scene. “ You haven't been good to yourself, fath er, but you have always been good to us.” “ Don’t Mary ! dotft say anything about that,” interposed Morgan. “Say that I’ve been very bad—very wioked. Oh ! Mary, dear ! I only wish that I was as good as you are ; I’d like to die, then, and go right away from this evil world. 1 wish there was no liquor to drink—no taverns—no bar rooms. Oh ! dear ! I wish I was dead ! And the weak, trembling, half-palsied (dan laid his face again upon the pillow beside bis child, and sobbed aloud. What an oppressive silence reigned for a lima through Iha room I “ Father.” The stillness was broken by Mary. Her voice was clear and even.— “ Father, I want to toll you something.” “ What is it, Mary 7” “ There’ll be nobody to go for you, father.” The child’s lips now quivered, and tears filled her eyes. “ Don’t talk about that, Mary I’m not going out in the evening any more until you get well. Don’t you remember, I prom ised “ But, father—"she hesitated. “ What, dear T” “ I’m going away to leave you and mother.” “Oh T no—no —no, Mary ! Don’t say that”—the poor man’s voice was broken— “ don’t say that! We can’t let you go, dear.” “ God has called me." The child’s voice had a solemn tone, and her eyes turned reverently upward. “ I wish He would call me ! Oh 11 wish He would call me I” groaned Morgan, hiding his face in his hands. “ What shall I do when you are gone 7 r>h I dear! Oh, dear !” “ Father !” Mary spoke camly again.— “You are not ready to go yet. God'will let yob live here longer, that you inay get ready.” “ How can I get ready without you to help me, Mary 1 My angel child I” “ Havn’t I tried to help you, father, oh ! so many times 1” said Mary. “ Yea—yea—you’ve always tried.” 11 But it wasn’t any use. You would go to the tavern. It seemed almost os if you couldn’t help it.” Morgan groaned in spirit. “ May be I can help you better, father, af ter I die. I love you so much, that I am sure God will let me come to you, and stay with you always, and be your angel. Don’t you think he will, mother I” But Mrs. Morgan’s heart was too full.— She did not even try to answer, but sal with streaming eyes, gazing upon her child’s face “ Father, I dreamed something about you while I step to day.” Mary again turned to her father. “ What was it, dear ? “ I thought it was night, and that I was still sick. You ptdmised not to go out again until I was well. But you did gofout, and I thought you went over to Mr. Slade's tav ern, When I knew this, I felt ns] strong as when I was well, and I got up, dressed my self, and started out after you. But I hadn’t gone far before I met Mr. Slade’s great bull dog, Nero : and he growled at me so dread fully that! was frightened, and ran .back home. Then 1 started again, and went away round by Mr. Mason’s. But there was Nero in (he road, and this time he caught my dress in his mouth and tore a great piece out of the skirt. I ran back again; and he chased me all the way home.. Just as I got to the door. 1 looked around, and there was Mr. Slade setting Nero' pit me. As'soon, as I saw Mr. Slade; though ha looked at me very wicked, I lost all my fear, aodturning a/pund, I pass ed Niro, who showed bis teeth,,.and. grptyfpd. as (fetcely s| didq\ touch, Than 1 Mr;; Slade tried. itpeJ But I didn’t friind hjm. add kept tight en .until I came Ip tbs laV)S«j,aDdihewjmusfpodin the ijooih jgnd 'jfetif WeM'd^^io,’ nicer 1 ,Tbu hod on a hew hat add a new coat; and your, bools Were new and polished just like ludgo 7 r O7 I yui -yu>T:L -’ B:!: ~'. UslMp ■«••;! • n|tK ,^lHv ,<: 'H .«; v.:„ f ß l t*»j .■,/■>;,sfts W«!l Oj <ii!> ul '{ < O' -» O /ltl Lsiwit f. h ’.yn'Vfc :M*i * H(i m n)ond». Isaid.C), father is. this jpu 1 Addition you took roenpiq yotirarras.and kjiited me, andBaid,.;‘yes,Mary I aroyour real father—notold JooMarganbul Mr. Mor. gm« now.” It Baeaied-aJI ao aUaDge,, and l looked into the bar-rooratD„eee. who was. there. But it wasn’t a bar-room any longer, but a siore iiillof. goodsi .-u.',. The sign of the Sifckle and Sheaf was taken down 5 and over the door I' now read yoijr name, father. - •bko: and then I cried all tomyeelf, Tor it. •wits only a’dream/ 1 . •• > ‘The last Words were 1 said very motttt/bl lyj and with a drooping-of Miry’s Sye-lids,, until the tear-gemmed lash lay close 1 Upon her cheeks. Anolhei‘period of dcSj) silence followed ; for the oppressed' Hstenbhi gave no Wteranec to what was in tjteir hearts. Febl tn£ was too strong for' speech. : Nearly' five minutes glided away, and. then' Mary' whis kered the name of her father, but without Opening her eyes. ' Morgan answered, and bent down.his ear. I “You will only have mother led,”she said—” only mothei;. And she cries so much when you are away.” “I won’t leave her, Mary, only when I go to work," said Morgan, whispering back to the child; and I’il never go out at night any more.” “ Yes, you promised the that.” “ And I’ll promise more.” “What, father 7" “ Never to go into a tavern again.” “ Never 7” “ No, never. And I’ll promise still more.” “Father]” “ Never to drink a drop of liquor as l loD£ as I live.” “ O, father ! dear, dear father!” And with a cry of joy, Mary started up, and filing herself upon' his breast.' Morgan drew his arms tightly around her, and set for a long time with his lips pressed to her cheek, whilstshe lay against bis bosom as still as death. As death 7 Yes; for when the fath er unclasped hie the spirit of bis child was with the angels of the resurrection, Arthur ’* ten nights in a bar-room. SELECT MISCELLANY. THE JAPAN EXPEDITION. A MONTH LATER INTELLIGENCE. From our Oum Corrtipotdenl. St*ona. Friday, June 16, 1864. ' On the 16th of May, at noojj), we were off Cape Toricoi-saki, the north-eastern point of Niphon, and entered soon after the Straits of Sangar. Several groups of rooks, partly un* dcr water, as well as very strong currents, caused softie precautions to be taken, especi ally as toward sunset a heavy fog obscured the atmosphere. Wo lay to for the night, and signals with the steam-whistle and fog-bells were given to and answered by the Mississip pi. On the 11th, at about 6 o’clock A. M., the weather cleared up ; we got under way again, and at 9 o’clock A. M. we got sight of the Macedonian, Southampton and Tandalia, which bad ail sailed eight days before, and anchored now in the harbor of Hahtrotade. Like Gibraltar, to which it has a very stri king resemblance, Hatrolade lies on the foot of a high rock, accessible from all ■ sides but one, toward the land, with which it is connected by a narrow isthmus. North of this extends a spacious bay about five to sis. miles wide, containing sufficient depth of wa ter and good anchorage for the largest ships, and becoming gradually shoaler toward the town, allowing, however, (he native vessels to a quarter of a mile from the shore. A sand-bank of unequal depth extends from the town northward, and oilers a natural breakwater, so that, under ordinary circum stances, vessels may safely ride at single an chor. A large valley, or rather plain, stretch es along the base of the bay, and is in its turn on three sides surrounded by mountains, varying from 1,000 to 3,000 feet high. Sev eral large and fine brooks and rivers falling into the bay offer good convenienceces for manufacturing ships. Along the shore lay several large and small fishing villages; along the borders of the rivers and brooks are habitations, fields and gardens. The mountains are mostly cov ered with dense woods, and the peaks covered with snow, which rendered the atmosphere raw and chilly, especially in the morning and the evening, when a pea-jacket was of some service. The town of Hatroiade is situated, as I mentioned, on the eastern declivity of (he bill about 1,200 feet above tide, and contains, I should guess about 5,000. houses and from 25,000 to 80,000 inhabitants. The two prin cipal streets run. parallel to the ahore, one more than a mile in length, and the farther one from the water about thirty feet higher than the other. Most of the rectangular in tersecting streets are on account pf the terrain, ascending. The houses are, like all in Ja pan, of wood, but many of them contain two stories, the lower one being generally used as. stores and shops,-which, as our arrival was somewhat unexpected, we found in the begin-' Ding well stocked with articles of merchan dise, but gradually these vanished, «a the people, from fear of hostile intentions, exci ted by the presence of <a powerful* fleet; re moved their best property to aspfer refuge. It wilt be remembered that Gapt. Golowin, of the Russian Nary, vri taken jnrisoner at Canasbien, about 100 tniles fliriW north, 1 pud Was Velpated and pot on 1 boil'd his shift of.waf in the very eattte spot wapiti atichof iog in; that aunpg"the IWhOiiljrho'pfhisim prisbttment the JapaptiM this Sods of the RusftinijhM ihitax Iha'uilpiii 1 raleoied in" jSiO hy Jhi; U.’ B, shs|i TwMt’ were taken atMatoroly), scarcely thirty muds off, the people of mitotade might surely he-' r™ WI is**® s " a®: 'B' f >S' ; / '>•(■; 1, ■ W I <,“■ y>W-'-X\o.: i H aws f Aihal mrST o 3 \\y wj'ta’ i ♦ i .?• •> t' ■r.K. f ... -w_ ' _ . ” _ = I « Ndi'47.' I liSvb''pDrpresehcB caused I>y similar 1 reasons;’ However.our frtendly Whdvior quieted 1 their feats' somewhat, and. aUhbugh slowly, their bonddeacereiuroOd. . Aiftbb 'roofs oftho houses an covbred.witb shingles, whitfh are sefcurbd 1 against ' Hid fre-* qdenl gales herb, blowing heavily, biling" stpnes qver ibetn after the 'fashion'orSwitb houees. to which they have a great resem blance.'- "' 11 ’ , \ ■ .„ Many temples, fotirofthem very Targe,“are situated ip ,|tiifferent parts ,of the town, and, , jifee pearly a|l buildings forreliglous purpose* in Japan, richly ornatnentpfj wuh eanrod' wort. Here, es everywhere, great neatness in,the bouses was displayed; alBo,piany pre cautions against damage from Ape, such as targe tubs full of water placed in the Streets or on the.lops oil the houses: bead-quarters of dire companies, militarily organized, and; well equipped with engines, ladders, hooka and buckels,siiof wjbiohare often put in use, as many traces of recent -fires demonstrated. . - 1 - Commerce snd trade in this town, the sec ond of thu Island of Fezzoj must be in a flour ishing condition] During our stay, tfaisre were always from 150 to 200 Turks in the harbor, but as, at our arrival, a great many had Idftin a hurry, I believe double that num ber will give about the right proportion.— r Freight, so far as we could ascertain, consists chiefly of rice, (very scarce in Fezzo,) cotton and silk Bluffs, China and lackered ware.— Exports consist chiefly of fish, In which Fez zo abounds, seaweeds, skins and Airs, and perhaps some wood, of which there is a great abundance, and of superior quality. We fished very frequently, and even in (bis early season of the yeer, the result was a very good one, salmons of from 12 to 16 pounds not unfrequently Caught. Fine game troust be, at the proper season, in great abundance. Even npw, flocks of ducks, fat and plump, covered (be bay; snipe of a very large size, and quails were in the large plain in great numbers; in the mountains, (racks of deer .and even bears are not unfrequently met with. After the description of the natives, it must bo the large black bear. The natives of Jeddo are in their appear ance less effeminate than the inhabitants of Niphon, especially the working classes, where 1 met with many a strong built, well formed fellow. The higher classes, although in sp pesrance and manner much like all Japanese, seemed to mO of somewhat lighter skin, and, , notwithstanding their national cunning, many of them had very frank and handsome coon tenances, especially the chief delegate of the Prince of Mats may, a most accomplished, fine looking, gentlemanly fel.low of about thirty years. The climate must be very salubrious, as the presence of many healthy looking old peo ple testifies. What a fine refuge would this region be for home squadrons in the Pacific and China Seas during the months of July, August and September, when the typhoons drive ships into harbors where fevers and other diseases by turns attack the crow, and demand a large tribute of health, life and mon ey, not to speak of the vast advantage for our whalers to find within a few days Sail, or dlose by the best fishing ground, an ample supply of wood, water and provosions, in a safer harbor, where damages may beesily repaired, and when perhaps a market for the oil or oth er articles of trade may- bo found. Indeed, the ultimate result of this expedition is a great deal above the finest expeditions, and still greater advantages may be derived by a prop er management of affairs. I think Commodore Perry has well 'deserv ed the applause of his country and the whole civilized world, by the abiliily and firmness with which he prought this difficult affair to a happy conclusion. I expect our fleet.will return within a short time to China, and then I will have, perhaps, a little more lime to write you in detail. P. S.—U, S. S. Southampton, Capt. Boylo, will sail within a few daya, direct to Wash ington, to convey the Eemperor’s presents to our country. I cannot entei in a specified description of them, but I am sure they will make a nice show. The ship is deeply loaded with boxes.— N. Y. Tribune. At a show down east, the audience were suddenly involved in total darkness byan oc cidental putting out of the lights. Among the rest was a newly married country bump kin and bis pretty bride ; and on the same bench —a stranger to both— i aata city gentle man who, profiting by the darkness, fell to kissing the bride. She whiskered to her hus band—" John, John f this'ere feller’s a kis sin’pn me 1”' “ Tell him to quit,” said,John j for John, it seems probable, stood a little in awe of the philosopher from the city, and found himself therefore, in perplexing cir cumstances. “ No, I can’t.” whispered the bride; "yon tell him.” 11 Make him quit!” said John, now getting quite excited. “ 1 don’t like to,” whispered the bride, “ he't a perfect ttrangerio me /” , Upright Mbit-’—We have upright men. Pull them thiaiway and (he other way, and (hey only bend but never break. Trip jbero down, and in a trice they ire on their feet again, Bnry them in the mad, and in an boor they would Be out aid bright. You cannot keep thenl down—you cannot destroy them. They ire the salt of thieirth. Who hut they start any, noble Jtrojeof V ‘ They build our cities, whiten (hi ocearr with our sails, and blacken the "heavens with (be pmOke'of their Cars." took to them, young endcatch ihisparkhf tbejr energy. , -Tq ,9W>y .‘bis tife, of Metyipe, he careful what you* oatr and drink, bathe (jailyind obey thwlaws.of Nature. To, etnpty s Ihoustr'of NockhsailB.--Set tjvo dogs to lighting in the' street. y no- ,i | .it N^s' feii; !• O'. a- _ ii 1 Bathing Children In Cold Walefi But if parents mil use cold water on their own persons, let me entreat them .to have mercy on theit helpless children. Do heed their cries and entreaties (o UKim it ct little ! Nothing is more heathenish and bar* barous than to bathe children in cold or near ly cold water. I believe it is injurious to wash our hands , and faces in cold winter* water. Those who do It, wilt find thatithey have rough and cracked skins. ’ The suffering of children white being washed is but small compared with the evil effects that often follow the application of cold water, tp' the !S head, viz.: congestion of the head or especially the falter. — True, coft water so applied, will make pre cocious children, and it, will also fill the> grave yard with the opening bud of infancy. J think, it will be found (bat, inure children die. with head diseases, alnoe the use of water has been.in vogue, than before, and for. the reason already given. (1 The fact is, the brain requires and receives more blond than any other.org* n of tem.. The applioation of oold, ws l °r to the head bicroasedthe amount, and hence it.ig do uncommon thipg.that childreo.aspeojaliy, “ bruit oDee,.dioae above nWd»;*ith-.haag disease. '. Indeed, it has become a P»«rerh, artong .our at ilbwj' that .enph Children are 100 grovt to live.^gnd By such treatment the brain becomM tpo active and large for the body, and, like a powerful engine in a small boat, soon shat- Octtrmiaed t* Bin » e«L .The foilowtngtoeidenr, aaya thrßoehester W&rtbnt illiWretitro OfansrMralywlidDal M difnftdidttM’ep oOTiChy f CWhdio«huruhea IbO public of ■*}?. . .- •■• v-ii Tfcljf'i'iiirytaMfi hadat ready commenoad) f % teia 1 rUrghtbe k4en ■>* teltcarniTefOUg fapeci humanily, Mchlflg' bis Mar-farm l h&rdst ! bw; ihatiedtanliah< WrfiaktfhWwafmio ifn fail Oraniofn jahUga ftieK'ttt cwoSwNI thi»‘‘Old’*erpeht,*i*heid with a Tiifmgtßfctinnderhti arm i Andloha« ihon oniho tookoM’fbr tbedoußlepbrptWWof btt«i* inert add UpeW; ; Byf MatlniO they the whole oongregaiion were .gazing at the stringer) ‘blit, 11 Nothing dann(od,beopena iOdWat* himrtlf beside twe isdies,-WhObap pebedto bd the dHijr'OccflpShta-pf rtrdpew, whin after drawing a 'ldhd'btedh OrtWOjhe unburdeDs al follow* : ■'- f " “Bay,*’ ! attl»erttne time-giving' the Beta eat lady a nUdge and asignificant any galls here Winta places 1 Want a good’uil --one that can -wash, iron, cook; and dogen* efai house fisingi,—two dollars’ a Week. The response to this appeal, as, Might be supposed, was’entirely blegative'in iMtesblti bat our Yankee friend was not going to* 1 give HR ,&l?J3»'het pew, propitiously .sprinkled with feminine gender, and repeats'the aame'atory, ami. with me same result.,' Nothing daunted' bbWever be baa evidently made up his mind that if’is not “unlawful to do good ontbe Sabfaalh day,’ 1 and be is determined to accomplish, at least soipe temporal benefit on some of the worships era there assembled j so, standing erect Jn the aisle, with the. aforesaid tightly hug* ged under his arm, but by this time, hat (rt hand, he proceeds to answer, —in a, stentori an voice that could be heard in every pert of the house —the question that was evidently agitating the breasts .of every one then and there assembled. “J’m come here to get a gal—a first ra(e ’ud—one that can wash, Iron, cook, add do up brown all kinds of fixings ’round a house and I'll give two dollars a week--—team* out side now ready." It is, perhaps, needless to say that the ef fect was electrical on all—congregation, priests, officials, Jonathan ; for without etjr further ceremony the latter personage was rather roughly caused to make a rapid exis, with the broad intimation that be had " mis taken his calling," or at least the building, for that was not an “Intelligence Office,” Carious Prediction- Mrs. Swisshelm, writing about some pre dictions in reference to the Beastern War, makes the following remarks. Dr, Wilson, of whom she speaks, was a learned and wor thy man, who never spoke from mere impulse, or enthusiasm, bat always from 'deliberate and intelligent convictions of tho truth of what he uttered. “ Six years ago we heard Rev. Dr. Wil son, (hen of Allegheny-city', and Professor of Theology in the Reformed Presbyterian Church, say that in Ins than ten years a wat would break out in Europe, between Russia and the Western Powers—a war which would, be one of the most terrible ever re corded on the annals of history, and which by its wholesale slaughters wonld Carry the name of Christendom with a thrill of wonder to the most remote and barbarous nations, awaken a curiosity about civilisation that would prepare the way for thedntroduction of the Bible and Christianity into (hose benigh ted lands, whose people wonld bo taught by the rumors of this war, to respect the arts of civilization. This declaration was 1 made' again and again in public, (h>m the pulpir, and was th'e result of a life-time study of the prophecies of the Bible. The war than (in thought of, is now begun, and the aged prea cher always said the Western Powers Would be victorious —that the teeth of the great Beat would be forever broken, and with them the powers of the Pope: We,heard this- same man predict the Mexican war years before ft begun, and tell what its end would be. He also predicted the great fire of ’49 in Pitts burg ; and we incline to think his gift ofsec ond sight was more reliable than of the ma ker of this old statute, and that the Russians will not be master of Constantinople. From the first word about proposed hostilities be tween Russia and Turkey, we have beetr "ftt the habit of telling onr friends to boy tfacfr flour, for it would be $l9 or $2O per barrel before it would be $5 again, so we still think It will be, for.we are of opinion onr preacher saw far into the prophesies already Written. He sa'id this war would take place—would be rery terrible-end general, and that it was the last war before the universal peace of the Mil lennium.
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