AN ENCHANTED ISLAND.
A wonderful stream is the Direr Timo,
As It runs through the realms of Tears,
With a feultleu rhythm and a musical rhyme,
And a broader svWpand ft-snrge sublime, r
And blends with the Ocean of Years. \
There is ft musical Isle np the river Time, 1
Where the softest U airs are playing; '
There's & cloudless shy and a tropical clime,'
And a song as sweet m ft vesper chime,
And the tones with the rosea are straying^
And the name of this Isle is the “Long Ago,*
And we bury oar treasures there;
There are brows of boanty, and bosoms of snow,
There ore heaps of dust, bat w loved them Bo;
Thoro aro trinkets and tresses of hair.
There aro fragments of eengs that nobody sings,
And n part of an infant's prayer;
There’s a lute nnswopt and a harp without strings,
There are broken vows and nieces of rings,
And the garment ah© used to wear.
There ore hands that are wared, when tho fairy shore
By the mirage is lifted in air;
And wo sometimes hear, through the tnrbnlent roar,
Sweet voices wo beard in tho days gunc Iwforo;
When the wind down tho river is fair.
0, remembered for aye be the blessed Tale.
Ail the day of life HU night:
When the evening comes with its beautiful smile,
And our eyes ore closing to slumber awhile—
May that “Greenwood” of Bools bo in sight.
N. Y. Mirror.
& 3CbU Of tt)t Sea.
Front Ballou 9 t Dollar Magazine,
THE RUNAWAY SHIP.
BY CHARLES CASTLETOX.
I had command of ihe old ship “Ever
shot, ’’ a good ship, and one which had pm
much money into ihe hands of her owners.
She was built for (he India trade, and with
the exception of one voyage lo Smyrna, site
had sfucK (o the purpose for which she was
put logeiher. On the present occasion, I
was bound for India, and my cargo was
made up of a curious variety, I had for
passengers, an old gentleman, whose head
was white, and his form bent with years,
and his three sons, the youngest of whom
was about five and thirty, and the oldest not
far from fifty. Then there were several
women and some half dozen children.
We had doubled the southern copes of
Africa, and were just poking our nose into
the Indian Ocean, when a circumstance trans
pired which was destined to try our nerves
somewhat. One afternoon, one of the men
in the foretop reported a sail very near ahead
in the line of our course
“Some homeward bound Indiaman, prob
ably,” remarked Mr. Lee, my matt
1 nodded assent, and men went tn the
cabin and told my passengers that if they
had any letters to send home, they had bet
ter have them ready, for perhaps we were
about to meet a ship bound to Old England !
1 hev went to worn upon my suggestion ai
once, and in me course of ball an hour we
had a letter.pig neatly sewed up and direc
ts
The wind was now a little south of east,
so that we stood upon tour course northeast
with freedom, and me homing snip was head
ing very nearly upon us, though ns we came
nearer she kept away a little furt tier to west
wort
“is n an English shin?” asked my while
haired old passenac:
“1 think it is,” was my reply: and just
as i spone, mv second male came down from
me mreinp, where he tind been wilh a glass,
l nouced mat his face Inoked troubled, and
aiso mni ne kepi back some remark which
be was upon the point nf dropping, at the
same time regarding the old passenger with n
loot, which seemed to indicate I hat he was
in me w»\ 1 took the him, nn.l careless
it walked forward. Mr. Bucket, the mate
in question, followed me. At me gangway
1 stopne..
“Wnal is it i askec, now turning and
looking into his lac:
‘ Wtiv sir, lhai shin is the old Dorset.”
“The Dorset 1 replieo “Jmpossi
“Bui i nm sure ’ persisted Beckei.—
"There's no! another ship in hnglanu wiih
such a heure-hean Those two girls arn’l
lo be mistaken
“Bui are you sure that she has that figure'
head “
“Certainly. You'll be able lo sec it from
nere in a lew moments ’
“Bu;,” said 1, ‘The Dorset lias not yet
had lime lo reach Sydney, let alone gelling
back as far as this ’
"Of course not,” answered Becket, with a
Keen "lance nboul him ; “bul don’t vou think
o sum could run away without doing the er
rand she had in hand
"Eh ” That’s all 1 uttered a' the mo
ment, lor a strange thought was beginning to
worn ns way to my mina.
"lou remember what sort of a cargo the
Uor«e’ had, don’t you 1 ” mv mate remarked.
0- fours.- | remembered, for I met ihe
cnnia,r o' the Dorset the dav before she
sauce, ano had a quiet dinner wi'h him at
Eon levs He was an old friend of mine,
am, named Bumstead—Harrv Bumstesd—
ano a« siood a sailor as ever trod a deck at
se:
Now ihe (acts, as they came crowding
rn:ne: unpleasantly upon my mind, were
mese Tne Dorse'sailed just two weeks bo
lore i dm, and look oul Iweniv-Ihree con
victs wnn had been sentenced in transpor
tation. These, of course, he was to drop at
Sydney, or Port Jackson, and as be hod pan
oi a cargo for that place, he was to go there
(irs: So [ knew that the Dorse! “had no
Business running away from the Indian Ocean
nov
“What do vou think about it?” ashed
llcckp;, who had been watching me.
“Let me take the glass,” said I, without
seeming to notice this question.
lie b a nded me the glass, and I at once
lenped upon the horsc-block and set the fo-
CU:.
Tiic coming slop was now so near
itia. her hull was nearly all up, and my
hrsi look was upon (he figure-head. There
could be no mistake now. 1 could dislinct
lv sec the two female forms clasping each
oinet by the hands, which 1 knew to be the
adorning feature of the Dorset’s cut-water.
“Mr. Docket,” I said, nfler I hod satisfied
myself upon this point, “that is tire Dorset,
and no mistake.”
“y® B—hut 8 —hut what do you make of it ?”
“What do you make of h ” 1 asked ?”
He pondered a few moments, and then
said; “1 think the convicts have taken the
ship ”
“So do I,” was my rejoinder.
As I thus spoke, I walked aft to where
my first male stood by the wheel, and draw,
mg him on one side, I told him my fears.—
He leaped upon the rail, and gazed off upon
®ur neighbor, and when he reached the deck
a gain, he was of my opinion.
"It must be so,’’ ho said, “what shall we
do !'>
THE
mmtev to rn:Sjmytok' of tfce area ot &vee*m‘i*& m
COBB, STURROCK & CO.,
TOL. 2.
That was the question. What should we
do 7 The ship had now come to within half
a. mile, and all doubts respecting her identity
were at an end, I now knew that she was
the Dorset, and of course felt confident .that
the convicts must by some means have gained
possession.
“She didn’t have the best crew that ever
was,” remarked Leo, nervously. “I knew
some of her men, and they were as precious
a set of scamps as ever breathed.”
This made the matter worse still. Of my
whole crew, I could muster but thirty men,
counting the three able passengers, having set
five men on shore at Si. Helena sick with
fever, and being unable at the lime lo make
their places good. On board ihe Dorset, of
course, there would be ihe three-and-twenty
convicts, and, in all probability, a good part
of the crew —perhaps forty men in all.—
What should we do? To let the ship pass
on under such circumstances seemed hardly
the thing for an Englishman, and to engage
with such a renegade crew, seemed sheer
madness. I asked my officers what they
thought—and they thought just as I did. 1
explained the matter to my three passengers,
and they said they would help it they could
be assured there would be anv use.
Bui during all this lime the ship in ques
tion had been nearing us, we having steered
so as to speak her, and now she was not
more than two cables’ length distant upon
our lee bow,
“Ship ahoy !’’ I shouted through my
trumpet.
“Hallo !” came from the other ship
“ VVhat ship is that ?”
“The Ben Franklin answered the same
voice, the owner -of which wore a Scotch
can and red shirt.
“Where are you bound 7"
“To New York.”
“Belong there?”
“Yes.”
Al this moment she had ranged ahead far
enough so that I could see she had the Amer
ican flag at her peak, which had been before
hidden by her canvass. There were cer
tainly forty men leaning over her rail, and I
knew al once that we could not openly over
come them. Allhu momem, had my ship
been near enough, I could have jumped on
board and engaged with llui'e men single
handed. What had become of poor Harry
Bumstcad, thought I, and the few men who
might have remained faithful to him !
While these thoughts, and a thousand oilt
ers, were wildly rushing through my mind,
the D nroot Dll, 1 Kn«. _ :* ••j
old friend, fur all the lies they had told in
answer lo my questions. 1 had no thought
or conjectures on lh» subject; hut that ship
was ihe Dorset, [ knew jest as well as j
should have known my own brother. As
ihe ship passed on, 1 saw a face at one nf
the qunrier windows. I seized Ihe glass and
levelled it. It was Ihe face of Harry Rum
stead, as sure ns late I And he waved a
handkerchief towards me wilh the most fran
tic gesliculalions.
The sense of pain was just sinking into
my whole soul, when an idea flashed across
my mind that caused me lo fairly leap fr >m
mv feet. All was now hope and bustle in
my brain, and as soon ns possible I got
mV wits into working order.
“Put the ship upon her course again,” I
ordered.
“We can do nothing?” said Deckel, inter
rogatively.
“Wail,” said I in return. “It isn’t too
late yel.”
“But—”
“Slop. Wail uniil I have shaped out a
plan, and then you shall know it.”
Ii was now quite late, for just as poor Har
rv Bumstead waved his handkerchief at me
the last time, the sun was sinking into the
wes’ern waters. I watched the Dorset until
distance and gloom combined lo hide her
from me, andd knew that she was hound for
the Atlantic. I saw her take in her lofty
sails in preparation for the night, and I fell
mv hope increase. The last I could see, she
was steering southwest.
As soon ns it was dark, 1 had the helm up
and ordered the ship lo bo worn around upon
the other lack, and ns soon ns this was done,
I set the course due south, and crowded on
all sail. The officers and men gathered
round me and wished lo know wbal all this
meant.
“It means,’ answered I, “thatT will have
those villains in irons again, if I can.”
“But how?” came from half a dozen
“I’ll tell you. Our ship is by all odds the
best sailor, even with equal sail sol; but
now that the Dorset has only topgallant
sails over double reefed topsails, we can
shoot ahead fast. By midnight, 1 calculate
to be further south than she will be, so I’ll
keep on this course until I am‘sure, and
then I’ll run to the west’rd and lie in wailing
for her.”
“And what then ?”
“I can tell you better when the time
come". But be not afraid, for I wont fun
into dneger.”
The breeze held fair, npd we carried our
royals and studding-sails below and nlofi.—
At midnight, I knew wo must be considera
bly farther south than the Dorset, but in
stead of running directly west, I changed
the course to west-south-west, knowing that
thus we should come upon the other’s track
soon etfough. At three o’clock I made a
careful reckoning of our log for the last nine
hours, and also of the point the Dorset
must strike, if she kept her course southwest,
and 1 felt sure that we were just where
should be.
My first move was to heave to and lake
in sail; and then I sent the topgallant masts
on deck end housed the topmasts. Next, 1
had all our arms brought upon deck, and I
WELLSBOROUGH, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 6, 1855.
found we had more than enough for a brace
of pistols and a cutlass to each man. After
this I had the pumps rigged, and hardly had
this been accomplished before the lookout re
ported a sail. I hastened forward, and could
plainly see the outlines of the top-hamper of
a heavy ship looming up darkly against the
sky. I had the lanterns hoisted, and then
set the men at work at the pumps. Ere long,
the ship came near enough to hail. She pul
down her helm, and laid her course'to run
under our stern.
“Ship ahoy I” came from the Dorset—for
I could make-out the drapery of the figure
head."
I made my mate answer at my suggestion
for fear the villains should recognize my
voice.
“Hallo! send a boat onboard!” yelled,
Lee, just as the Dorset passed under our
stern. •
“We’ve sprung a leak, and our ship is
sinking.”
“What have ye got aboard ?”
“Furniture and provisions, and forty thou
sand pounds in money.”
The Dorset hove to, and lowered a boat,
which was soon alongside full of men. The
villains quickly began to come over the
side.
“Haven l settled much yer,” one of them
remarked, as he noticed how high we stood.
“We’ve kept the pumps going well,” 1
said.
“Where’s your gold? Let’s have that
firsi. ”
“This way,” said I, moving to the poop.
.When half way there, I motioned fur the
men to slop pumping.
[‘Down !” I tillered and as I spoke, I gave
the man nearest me a blow with my cutlass
across the head that knocked him down.
Only fifteen of the men had come from the
other ship, and as my crew were prepared,
these fifteen were down and gagged almost
before they could realize that anything was
out of the way. They were unprepared, and
nearly all of (hem were unarmed.
“Ship ahoy !” I cried, through mv I rum
pet, speaking ns gruinly ns possible, to imi
ta e the voice of the fellow I had knocked
down.
“Hallo 1 ” came in reply.
“Send another boat. Wo can’t bring
half. Send quickly, for the old thing is
sinking.”
The Dorset soon lowered one of her quar
ter-boats, and came alongside, with ten men
in it. They came hurrying over the side,
«•- - 1 , -
way, we fell upon them—not wildly, but with
regular system —and in a short lime they
were secure.
My course was now simple. I firsi saw
every man so firmly bound thal he could not
even move, and then 1 called Iwenlv-four
men inlo lhe Iwo boals, slill alongside, leav
ing only six men on board of my ship.—
We pulled for the Dorset ns smartly as pos
sible. When we came to her gangway, I
saw several heads peering over the rail, but
we had taken the precaution to put on the
Scotch caps of the convicts, and they had
no suspicions. Deckel was the first on her
fleck, and I followed nex'.
“Got the money 1” asked a coarse fellow.
“Most of it is in the boats now,” I replied.
“Rig a whip, and we'll have it aboard.”
The villain had nol noticed my weapons.
I recognized m him at once the boatswain of
the ship, a man who had been hired at Liv
erpool, and whose character was not among
the besi. As he turned to order the whip
rigged, [ saw that my men were all on board,
and drawing my weapon, I sprang upon him
and cut him down. At the first onset on
board my own ship, I hid been careful not
to kill any one, for fear I might be mistaken ;
but I was not doub'ful now, for some of the
prisoners had confessed the crime. There
were seventeen men aft on board the ship
for me to capture, and we captured them
without losing one of our own men, and only
killing lour of them. As soon as our pris
oners were safe, I made my way to the cab
in, and in one of the quarter galleries 1 found
Capl. Bumstcad.
In the hold of the Dorset we found fifteen
of the crew in irons. ijiimslcad explained
to me, in a few words, what had happened.
Only five days before, the boatswain, who
had shown much insubordination during the
the voyage, headed nineteen of the, crew,
who had joined him, and having set the con
victs free, they fell upon the rest of the cr&w
at night, and made an easy - victory. The
first and second mates they had killed, and
the boatswain would have killed all hands,
but the rest of the mutineers refused to have
it done. Soft had been arranged that the;
O J
captain and his friends should be confined,
and set on shore on the first out of the way
island they could find. J
It was soon arranged that Bumstead should'
proceed to Sydney wi'h his fifteen faithful
men, feeling sure' that the convicts could be
.so confined as to bo safe. So I saw his pris
oners faithfully ironed, and then look the
mutineers on board my own ship, intending
to carry them to Calcutta. There were 15
in number, four only having been killed in
the conflict.
That night the Dorset tacked and stood
away for Australia, while we kept on up the
ocean. We arrived safely at Calcutta, and
before ( left, Capl. Bumstead arrived, and
the mutineers soon alter paid for their crime
with their lives.
This life is too short for the indulgence of
many hopes, the chasing of many baubles,
or the seeking after riches which may take
to themselves wings. I
Ip you want an ignoramus to respect you,
“dross to death” and wear watch seals as
largo as brickbats.
M T A
rrM
“ THE AGITATION OP .THOUGHT IS THEBEGINNING OF WISDOM.”
v
em’
;u ;•
The following is sublimely benutiflil and
pathetic, and could only liovo been dictated
by a heart that has experienced all lire bitter
ness that is therein expressed. If any body
can rend it without moisture in the eyes, they
are worthy of marble.:—
Hush ! she is dying! The sun light streams
through the plate glass windows—the room
is fragrant with the sweet breath of the
Southern flowers—large milkwhhe African
lillies—roses a nightingale would stoop to
wjorship ; Cape jessamines and camllies with
their large glossy leaves.
Through the open casement steals the faint,
musical tinkle of playing fountains ; the light,
tempered pleasantly by rose curtains of em
broidered satin, kindles up gorgeous old paint
ings with a halo bright ns a rainbow. It is
as if fresher sunshine were fulling eastward
on the bower of beauty.
The canary sings in his gilded cage—her
canary ; and the mocking bird raises his clear
notes higher and higher on the perfumed air.
Why do you clench your hands until the
nails draw the rich, rosy blood through the
thin quivering skin? Why do you grind
your teeth together, and hiss between them,
that one word, hush? It’s a beautiful home,
I am sure, and that Indy with her hand upon
her bnsom, is as fair as any dream vision of
the painter.
/ Surely nothing could be purer than that
broad, high brow ; nothing brighter than these
golden curls.
And she loves you, too! Ah ! yes, any one
can read that in the deep violet eyes, raised
so tenderly to your own. Ah ! that is it;
your young wife loves you. ,
She linked to yours the existence of an
angel when she kheft beside you at the mar
riage ahar and placed her hand in yours.
For twelve long golden sunny months an
angel has walked or sat by your side, or slept
in your bosom.
You know it! No mortal woman ever
made your heart bow before a purity so di
vine I
No earthly embraqp ever filled your soul
wiih the glory beyond the stars; no earthly
smile ever shone so unchangingly above all
noisome things, ns you earthworms call care
and trouble. She is an angel, and other an
gels have been singing to her in the long days
of this pleasant June lime.
“Hush !” you say, but you cannot shut
the anthem notes of heaven from those un
sealed ears! Louder, lighter, swells the
1.--, ~ „r t i.« - !■» | bri'’hler grows the
smile on your young lips^
~She whispers, “Dearest, I’m almost home,
and you will come by and bv, and I am go
ing to ask God to bless you !” lint you can
not hear it—you turn away, and the big tears
gather in the violet eyes.
You had held her there on your bosom all
day—all night ; are you tired? But ycTucan
not answer. Closer—closer you clasp the
slight, fair figure; painfully you press your
lips to the cold brow—Carrie is dead I
What is it to you that the sunshine is
bright; what thal its cheerful rays fall on
the broad lands—our lands ? What is it—
nnw that she can walk on ihem no more?
And what is dealh—her death? Few people
knew her; no vice-president must be chosen
to fill her place ; no nation will raise a monu
ment to her memory I But she was yours;
great God of ours—your all I
No—yours and God's ; and your year of
joy is over, and she rests on His bosom now
in heaven.
They have dug a grave for her. Spring
flowe.is brighten over it, and the green grass
smiles wiih daises and violets. You go I here,
and ask God if you, ton, may come home I
and when no answer comes, your proud heart
ri«es up in bitterness, and with the bold,
wicked words upon your tongue, yon pause
for guardian angels lock down from heaven,
and whisper—“hush I”
The Virginia Washington Monument.
The casting of the horse for this monument
at Munich, is one of the great ferns nf mod
orn foundry, as fifteen tons of bronze had to
be melted and kept in a slate of fluidity.
For several days and nights previously a
large fire was at these huge masses, which
required to bo stirred at limes. When the
bronze was liquified, an ullimaie essay was
made in a small trial cast, arid (o heighten
the color some more copper was added. Suc
cessively all iho chambers through which the
melal had to flow in the form were cleared
of the coal with which they had been kepi
warm, and the master examined all the air
spiracles and the issues of the melal ; Ihe
props of ihe lubes were then placed, and every
man had his duty and place assigned to him.
Finally, Ihe master, amid ihe intense expec
laiion of ihe many art amateurs present, pro
nounced Ihe words, “In Iho name of God,”
and then three mighty strokes opened Ihe
fiery gulf, out of which the glowing metal
flowed in a circuit to the largo form. The
sight was magnificent; and in the little sen
of fire stood the master, and gave his com
mands about the successive opening of the
props. Hot vapor pooreifrotn the air spira
cles ; in the conduits Ihe metal boiled in wavesy
slill, no decision yet, as the influx of the
bronze in the very veins of ihe figure could
be but slow. At once flaming showers jumped
out of the air conduits, and the master pro
claimed the cast to have succeeded. A loud
cheer followed, when the master approached
Mr. Crawford, the artist of the Washington
Monument, to congratulate him on this suc
cess. Another cheer was giVen IoM, deMil
ler, (he chief of the royal foundry at Munich,
who had personally conducted the work.
Miss Fantadlino says if she ain’tdead,
she has lost, her vital, spark—the man who
used to “sit up” with her.
im
.<v
: ; s ; ‘"i
She Is Dying.
u'JKi V,
iu
•*V*v
-- i i
PUBLISHERS & PROPRIETORS.
Tit-Bits.
From Mra. Sleven’a “Old Ilomeatead.”
■ The maple-trees shook their'golden boughs,
as if they had been hoarding up sunshine for
months, and poured it in one rich deluge
over their billowy and restless leaves,
A man must possess Are - in himself before
he can kindle up the electricity that thrills
the great popular heart.
Home is emphatically the poor man’s para
dise. The rich, with their many resources,
too ofien live away from the hearth-stone, in
heart, if not in-person;'but to the virtuous
poor, domestic lies are the only legitimate and
positive source of happiness short of that ho
lier heaven which is the soul’s home.
There are moments in human life when
persons, linked together in a series of events,
may form tableaus, which stand out from or
dinary grouping, like an illustration stamped
in strong light and shadow on the book of
destiny.
The all-seeing One, who judges the thought
as well as the act, will make no distinction
between life drained drop by drop from the
soul, and that sent forth at a blow with the
red hand.
Neither men nor women become what they
were intended to bo, by carpeting their pro
gress with velvet; real strength is tested by
difficulties.
One night when it had been raining, in the
winter—while the great trees were dripping
wet —out came the moon and stars bright,
with a sharp Irosl, and (hen all the branches
were hung with ice, in the moonshine, glitter
ing and bending low towards the ground, just
as if the starlight had all settled on the limbs,
and was loading them down with brightness.
A light wind bad followed the frost, and
all (he mossy turf was carpeted with leaves,
crimson, green, russet and gold. Sometimes
a commingling of all these colors might be
found on one leaf; sometimes a commingling
of all these colors might be found on one
leaf; sometimes ns they looked upward, the
great branches of an oak stooped over their
heads, heavy with leaves of the deepest green,
fringed and malted with blood red, as if the
great heart of the tree were broken and
bleeding to death, through all the veins of its
foliage.
Could you have seen them slumbering be
neath the humble roof, smiling tranquilly on
their pillows, you might have fancied that
those little moms were swarming with invisi
ii- imm nnrailiip that had
come down to make a little heaven of the
poor man’s home. Indeed, I am not quite
sure lhol the idea would have been all fancy
—for Charity, that brightest spirit of heaven,
was there, and what a glorious troop she al
ways brings in her train ! Talk of flinging
your bread upon the waters, wailing for it to
be cast up after many days—why, the very
joy of casting the bread you have earned with
your own strength upon the bright waves of
humanity, is reward enough for the true heart.
The barn was a vast rustic bower thal
,night. One end was heaped with corn ready
for Husking ; ihe floor was neally swept; and,
overhead, the rafters were concealed by heavy
garlands of while pine, golden maple leaves,
and red oak branches, that swept from Ihe
roof downwards like a lent. Bullernul leaves
wreathed tJieir clustering gold among (he dark
green hemlock, while sumach cones, wiih
flame colored leaves, shot ihrough Ihe gor
geous forest branches. The rnslic chande
lier was in full blaze, while, now and then, a
candle gleamed out ihrough the garlands,
starring them to the roof. Still the illumina
tion was neither broad nor bold, but shed a
delicious slarlight ihrough the barn, that left
much to the imagination, and concealed a
thousand little signs of love making, (hat
would have been ventured on moreslily had
the light been broader.
Occupation I what a glorious thing it is
for ihe human heart. Those who work hard
seldom yield themselves up to fancied nr real
sorrow. When grief sits down, folds its
hands, and mournfully feeds upon its own
tears, weaving the dim shadows, that a little
exertion might sweep away, into a funeral
pall, the strong spirit is shorn of its might,
and sorrow becomes our master. When
troubles flow upon you, dark and heavy, toil
not wiih ihe waves—wrestle nol with the tor
rent I—rather seek, by occupation, to divert
the dark waters that threaten to overwhelm
you, into n thousand channels which Ihe du
ties of life always present. Before you dream
of it, those wa'ers will fertilize the present,
and give birth to fresh (lowers that may
brighten the future—flowers lhat will become
pure and holy, in the sunshine which pene
trates to the path of duly, in spite of evo;y
obstacle. Grief, after all, is but a selfish feel
ing; and most selfish is the man who yields
himself to the indulgence of any passion
which brings no joy to his fellow man.
Why is thirty-nine the number of lashes
which the Christian selects as the maximum
for Christian (loggingl" asked the Bramin
Poo of Old Roger.
Old Roger thought a moment. The ques
tion was a keen one, and conveyed a severe
reproof:
“I suppose" said ho, “it is to keep it with
in the limit of forty- lude.”
The Brahmin stroke/! his long beard, and
the tassel of his cap vibrated like a pendulum.
{£s” We reccdmrnend the following from
Harper, as the most decidedly original Of
anything we have yet seen :
.80" you be—A tub; 80 oh ! pba—A iop;
Be 80 —Baf; See 80 : —Cal; Pea 80—Pal;
See 0 double you—Cow ;' See you he—Cub;
See a bee—Cab; Be you double lea—Butt i
Do a double ell—Dali.
. Beiiidea whichpdopla de*
Uwre is a kinil : which springs
frtitf mgljgeiUto} histiness, t>j> ttwarm’it&agf
nation. Dr.- SamneVJobnson was of opinion
that most Irfrtg aritta from indiiTerenoe atwot
the truth,'rather thanfrom a wish to deceive.
People are not sufficiently anxious to be dot*
rect; they say anything that comes upper
moat,' Or what they think will please,"witboht
reflecting whether it be strictly true or non
It is a common error of tradesmen, from a
desire to please, or worse reasons, to promise
to have work done at a particular lime when
they are not sura of their ability to do so, or
know p'osi;ively they are not able.
Many persons, also, either from heedless
ness,' or design, say what they think will
create surprise, without supposing that they
are doing any harm. Perhaps (here is some
truth in what they eay, but it is so magnified
or exaggerated, with the view of exciting won
der, that it has the character and effect of
falsehood. Such people are in the habit of
using the words, “vast, immense, grand,-sub
lime, magnificent, tremendous,” and others of
that nature, when words of a more simple
meaning should be employed.
“Father,” said a boy one day, I saw an
immense number of dogs—five hundred I am
sure—in the street last night.” “Surely not
so many?" said his father. "Well, ihere
were one hundred, I’m quite sure.” “It could
not be,” said ihe father; I don’t think there
are a hundred dogs in the village.” Well,
sir, it could not be less than ten; this lam
quite certain of." “I will not believe that
you ever saw ten,’’ said the father f for you
spoke as confidently of seeing five hundred
as of seeing this smaller number. You have
contradicted yourself twice already, and now
:•!) ■; J
A t
" NO.-80;
Falsehoods of Exaggerations.
I cannot believe you.” “I saw at least our
Dash; and another one.”
This is on example of erroneons'reporting
through eagerness to make out a wonderful
case. For the same reason, an uneducated'
man, who had been in the West Indies, hear
ing some one speak of the sun rising at mid
summer about four in the morning, said, “O,
that is nothing to what he does in Jamaica.
I have seen him rise there between two and
three.” This man did not know that that was
impossible, and (hat .we must go towards the
poles, and not towards the tropics, in order
to see the sun rise very early.
It is common too, to hear people say that
they have not been so warm in all their lives ;
that some one’s gown is the prettiest they
ever saw ; or that they never were so happy
as at Mrs. Smith’s parly ; when it is obvious
that they are alleging what is utterly impos
sible for them to be quite sure of. A little
real respect for truth, and desire to follow it
at all times, aided by a little reflection on the
meaning of the words we are about to utter,
would save us from falsehoods of this kind.
There is yet another species of falsehood,
which consists in saying one thing but mean
ing another; this ought at all times to be
avoided, the same as positive lying. Pefsons
who resort to this mean practice think that,
because they do not lie in the words they use,
they do not commit any actual sin or crime.
But ihis is a mere delusion. The lie is com
mitted fay the attempt to convey a false or
wrong meaning, for the purpose of mislead
'." a ’.'j"' -h « mode of.speakinc is there
fore both deceitful and sinful.
In the whole business of ihe world, truth is
of great importance. We should not only
observe it in everyihing relating to ourselves
and our neighbors, but we should seek lo as
certain it, and hold fast by it, in all things.
If we study history, we should endeavor to
gel the books of best authority. If we.culti
vate science, we should make sure that we
receive nothing which is not satisfactorily
proved. Nothing but good testimony can
prove ihe truth of an event; and nothing but
experiment, and a careful observation of facts
can prove the truth of anything in science.
We should allow no. opinion to rest in our
mind-unless we are certain, and have taken
pains lo make ourselves conscientiously cer
tain, that it is right, and not founded in error.
Every wrong opinion, or supposition of what
is false, lends to do harm in the world j while
everything we know for truth, and every
opinion and sentiment that we know to be
rightly founded, tends to the good of man
kind.—Chambers.
The Law and the Constitution. —A
new, or as some say, an old reading of this
caption, is had as follows :
Judge Wiles, as he is called, was once
presiding in San Augustine, when a legal
bully attempted lo intimidate him.
Thompson having succeeded in packing a
jury to suit his purpose, turned his attention
to the Court, and remarked
“If your honor please, here is the law
which governs this case,” at the same time
drawing a Bowie knife of an unusual size,
and laying it before him across an open book,
“Forewarned, forearmed,” said the Judge,
and drawing from beneath his hunting shirt,
not a colt, but a horse pistol, he very calmly
rejoined—
This sir, is the constitution, and is para
mount to the law.”
Mr. Thompson, finding himself thus ably
matched, peaceub'y acquiesced. The “better
part of valor is discretion,” says F^alslaff.
We have heard of a cute trick by which
those wandering women called gipsies, prac
ticed often on young women. A number of
young ladies were out walking in the country,
who mol a gipsey woman who offered, for
half a dollar apiece, to show them their fu
ture husbands’ faces in a pool of water that
was near. In their frolic they agreed to it,
and paid her the money, the more readily as
she promised to refund it if she did not fulfil
her engagement. The girls were led to the
water, each anxious to get a sight of her in
tended, but instead of the form and face they
expected, they saw only their own rosy cheeks
and laughing eyes below.
“Surely, you are mistaken woman,” said
one of them, “we see nothing but our own
faces in the-waler.”
“Very true, Miss,” replied ilw gipsey, “but
will not these be your husbands' faces when
you are married 1"
A Gentibuan said he should like to seo
a boat full of girls set adrift png the ocean,
just to see which way they sheuld steer."
“Qh,” replied a lady present,
easily answered. They would stcef
Isle of Man, to be suit. - ’