STANZA S sr m. l. noun. Arise yo and depart, fot thld Irnot yoijr rettl In the !dna walchea*oT tfce silent-night, Wheu*U is stillaess inth# darkened raom,' A soothing whisper fraai>tli> wurld rf light Steals to roy heart and cheers me mid the glootp. Thai “still, small voice" to my • Arise ye and depart. forUilA is not your 1 Wsfl" Ob, to theppiritworn by; cpipleta pain, How blest the promise of that “Bu'ixa I/skd, IVbere sickness ricks no mote the heart apd brtin, Bet streams ate pore, and skies are ever bland. Who wopid nut leavo a life by aln oppressed And gladly seek thatworjd of ctevriless teall True, li<h is sweet and many epeUsare thrown-- Around the soul,'to bind-it here to earth, Yet, every evening marks some vision flown To which the morning gave a joyoos birth. These disappointments s'ay'to every breast— " Arise, ye, and depart 1 for this is not your rest!” Then, oh, my sonl, why wish to linger, here? Why longer Strive to prop this house ofclay T plume, plums thy wings for that unfading sphere Whose glory far outshines the brightest dsy! Ul not thy thought with worldly cares ho pressed. For here on earth thou shall not be at rest! Pleasant Valley, lowa. mt of ftraltu. From Che American Phrenological Journal, RESPIRATION, To man, no commodity, no article of val ue at all compares with air ; nor is any function of our being aa important as breath ing. Even food, so imperiously demanded in the animal economy, is only a noble, while mspiniiion is the sovereign king among ih our physical (unci ions, because it supplies a material more necessary to the life process than any other. That element is oxygen, and its offices are to thin and purify the blood, and, aided by food, to heat up the system. These two palpable facts should teach us its absolute importance und relative value, that for it nature has made such ample provision, and that we so soon die without it. What pains nature has taken to diffuse air wherever man can go, so that he may always and every, where find a full supply. Only wiih the ul mosi effort can it bo excluded. Nor but a lew minutes cun man survive its loss. Though lor some time can the lower animals do with out n, and slow, inert persons longer than un live ones, because ns consumption is less rap ic, and exhaustion less speedy, yet ihe tirsi minute of suspended respiration sinks the life power, while from five to eight minutes provesl Idtal even to ihe lowest in the human scale. Than this fact what could as effectually leach us ihe importance of its full and per petual supply. If ilie wanl of n so soon nrovef fulal, shall not its sparse supply be proportionally enfeebling and destructive of ihe life-power ? If to be wholly without air in a few minutes causes death, of course to only half breathe, from day to day, is to be only half alive, whereas to breathe abundant ly is to supply ourselves with a corresponding auundance of life-power. Oh, who of us nun prizes this instrumentality of life, or partakes of it as bounteously as nature re- ouiret in these three aspects would we consider tms subtect First in tha; of its office. — "’Oat cues n do’ it supplies oxygen.— breath, when inspired, contains over 20 per cen. oxygen; when expired, only 12 per cen... having lost one third o( Us element. Anc what does oxygen do’ It thins the hiuon—tins grand supporter of lie life-ele menu. As we suspend breathing, the heart Deals slower and still slower, till n soon stops altogether, because the blood becomes so thick as completely to stagnate and death soon supervenes. Death bv drowning is caused solely bv this siagnalior.. The obvious in lerence is, that imperfect or partial circulation, causing hot head and cold hands and feet, is to be obviated by more copious breathing, for inis will so thin the blood lhai it will flow more freely to the extremities and skin. Nor is anything more certain than (hut such orealhe 100 little. Second. And in what consists palpitation of Ihe heart hut in this same want of hreaih, tad consequent thickening of the blood, so Uixt it dams up about the heart ? Nor is any cure /or this complaint as effectual as the co pious breathing of fresh air, Excesq of food a nnoiner cause, yet only relative lo the Dreaming. Food ihickens, breath thins the Woo, so that hepatic patients require lo eat less, os well as breathe more. In these two minus consist the principal cures for this comiiiam. Ye who suffer from a throbbing, lanorint heart, remember and practice this curt knock about out of doors —Walk in iresn air all you can endure. Take deep and irequen; inspirations of this blood thinning Diemen., and put yourself'on a short allow ance of simple food, and you will rapidly con va ie.«ct Truro To remove watte matter from the svsip.rn is another office of breath. Every inspiration bo'h loads the blood with oxygen, *nicn sends it frothing and bounding through me system, and also unloads It of morbid mane- Tire life-process is one of perpetual ano rapid wasu. This leaves used-up or •Peru mnlier throughout the body, which un less removed, clogs, irritates, and engenders Disease. Ine sysiem must be kept up to a lemueralure far above surrounding objects. is done by the spontanebus combustion 0 me oxvgcn received from the lungs, and me carbon elalmraied by the stomach. Now *i combustion causes smoke and ashes, of "'hich carbonic acid gas forms no small part, «nd ihts is a deadly poison. All know how iatal lho burning ol charcoal m a tight room 15 to life. Why? Because u evolves (his »>me carbonic acid gas, which, when taken into the lungs, so soon causes death. Now l; |S obviously no worse to inhale a given “mount of this gas into the sysiem, than to kt the same amount, manufactured in the sys lenh remain there; for it is the presence of this gas which does the mischief. It is this gas which darkens and Ihickens the blood, and is •constitutionally hostile to life. Anxious to eject this poisonous enemy from the ays lem as fast as it is manufactured, Ihe life power pack it on to the blood, which carries ii to ihe lungs, and casts it out at every hteath. Of course if we breaiho but Utile, w e cast out but little, leaving a vast surplus 10 clog and disorder all the functions of life. Siace this gas darkens the blood, of course “ark or blue veins show that (his gas is qol ““tried off o* fast as il is manufactured, or “I the life-power is becoming slowly but “ “dually poisoned and killed. Beware there* ' ore ve who have blue veins, and ye mothers children have them. Remember that i-i&fe:: .I, li-U'U; "--r . -' 1 ‘ ' -ol ' *' ‘■-"/ ■■ ■ Sthoutr to m t6* aws ot JF««<Mm a«h l6t S»tead ot Wcktiiis COBB, STDRROOK & GO., VOL. %. a lingering death, actually in progress, Wher ever and as long as these veins appear,.is the certain consequence. Yet this slow decease is easily avoided by copious breathing.. Mothers, turn your blue-veined children into the open air, seeing to It, however that they play briskly, till their veins assume a. natural appearance. This principle expounds the true way of carrying off morbid matter, or. disease from the system. Instead ot taking physic to evacuate it by the bowels, we should, doctor with breath , and evacuate it through the, lungs, We may promptly open the pores, and expel it through the skin, yet only a part of disease can pass thaough that channel. The natural outlet of this poisonous gas is not through the skin, but the lungs. Do all we cao through skin, a balance remains, which refuses to leave the system unless, ex pelled- the lungs. We talk about Allopathic, Homeopathic, Thompsonian, Hy dropathic, Graham, and other methods of curing disease, yet the best of all remains to be developed, and that is, curing by breath. Copious respiration is as potent a means of expelling disease as of supporting life. I will cure a patient of disease (aster and more ef fectually by water und air than any or all ihe modes of doctoring. Water is the best remedial agent now in vogue, hut air is far belter—is the very best in nature. For dys. pepsia it has no equal. Nothing as effectually carries off superabundant food, or provokes stomachic or intestinal action. A large pro. portion of all we eat is carbon, ami this must be burned up by healing us. Noihing but the oxygen inhaled in breuth can consume it. Dyspepsia cdnsisls in taking more food into the system by eating than we burn out by breathing, and whatever miserable dyspeptic will simply restore proportion between his enling und breathing, will thereby cure him self. Hence, those who vacate counting room or study, and live for a time much oht of doors generally recover. But its magic power is over nervous pa lienis. Take a nervous woman, and secure the copious inspiration of fresh air, and in one month she can be completely regenerated, and put in a way permanently to recover. Nor is anything more promolive of nervous disease than close confinement in hot, ill ventilaled rooms. Oh, ye sad, sighing, for lorn, dissatisfied, peevish, Iretful and misera ble victims of ihis distressing complaint, be hold yoursalvalion in fresh air, freely inhaled, Why sutler from so torturing a complaint «hen your cure is all around you, and press ing on all sides for access to y.ou. And all ye who have any touch of the horrors, or even of ennui, or any kind of disconsolate, heavy, or had feeling, break ouc of doors and plunge into this nerve soothing element, and almost intoxicate yourselves with it, and in a shon lime you will dispel all mental vapors, be again satisfied with yourself and circum stances, and become as happy as you were just now miserable. These remarks show the absolute import ance of ventilating sick rooms. Keep the natienls warm bj clothes, and then throw windows up and doors open, and if anything will expel disease, or res'ore health, I his will, And those who are partially ailing—nol -down sick, but under the weather, here is your sov reign panancea. Partake and recover. To those suffering from colds it is most effica cious. This fact has been previously staled, and this article shows why it is so. To puny children these principles apply more effectually than to adults, because of their greater need of breath. Words are powerless lo tell the value of fresh air to pining infants and sickly children. Oh, how many mothers have buried choice dowers of humanity, one after another, by 100 tlose con finement. Give almost any child air enough, and ii will live, be its diseases what they may. And,how many mothers have bereaved them selves by curtailing the respiration of their children ! Nor is anything belter for children than hallooing. Hence their incessant and loud talking, and frolicsome screaming. Do, parents, indulge them in that for which na ture has given them so great a predisposition, These boisterous lung exercises not only en hance the life-power of to-day, but expand the lungs lo inhale still more to-morrow. Ho! invalids, come lo this fountain of health, and quaff Heaven’s life giving breezes till you are cured thereby, and ye who are healthy keep so by copious brealhing. But, lo develop neither the office nor im portance of breath is as much the object of this’ article us the modes of promoting it.— All must know, for they feel the absolute ne cessity of breath, and also that it enhances Ihe life-power I lie more the greater ils abun dance. Hence the necessity, not merely of brealhing, but of breathing fresh air, and also of breathing abundantly. > Brealhing pure air involves two points— being much oulof doors —and no human be ing should be content unless several boms daily are spent in the open air—as well as abundant ventilation. The vitality of air once breathed is nearly exhausted. Hence, for several persona to remain in a close, small room for hours, and perhaps boated at that, pains having been taken lo slop all its cracks—thus brealhing over and over again the same fetid air, loaded with carbonic poi son—is most ruinous to life-power, and will never be allowed by thosa who prize life and know its conditions. And then bow filthy ! For tho dog to re oat hia own vomit is most disgusting I—Then how much more so to eat that of another I Yet to breathe over and over again the cast off breath of others, is hardly less inherently filthy than to eat what they have cast off. And as. poisonous as disgusting. And dis gusting because poisonous. This disgust is nature’s way of preventing it.—She has ren dered u? naturally averse to eating on their WELLSBORi •TJGtt, TIOGA CODSTY. TA., THURSDAY 510R.N1S0, DECEMBER 27, 1866. dishes, and with spoons till 1 washed; then how much moreaoto re-breathetheir spent bresifil in all small ioorftd, therefore,"the air should be changed every Tew minutes, according to the size And occupants, and the oftetier the belter. Thao this need of abundant breathing ma terial, what, can as effectually, expose the ful ly of small rooms and houses, or demonstrate the utility of large ones, Dow many limes must readers have felt half elided on going into small, hot, and occupied rooms 1 At first they felt, that they could hardly live a minute in theip, but soon became reconciled to them. Nature revolts at i|iem, and her. remonstrance should be heeded. Deliver me Horn small rooms; or if I myst occupy them, I roust keep a window up, or dour open, or both. And in the bouse I am building, my main Jiving rooms take StJ'yaxda of carpel, and my sleeping rooms over forty, besides being a third higher than usual. I construct them ihus because, obliged to spend much of my life in them, I mean to provide as amply for fresh air—that great renovator of life— as for Ihe “staff of life.’’ Warm rooms are also correspondingly in jurious ; for heat both rarefies the air, so that a given bulk contains but little comparatively of oxygen. . Above all things, we should avoid the use of tight drum ptoves, or those that heal apart ments above with fires made below. Money would not tempt me to sit by one, unless I could open window or door, or both. But furnaces, into the air chamber of which fresh air is admitted, furnish artificial heal in its least objectionable form. Fires should be put off till late in the fall, and laid aside early in the spring, and be used but little except in severe cold wealher. O when wilt men learn to keep warm by exercise, instead of fire. Especially should young and old sleep in large and weli-aired apartments. Here cer tainly can we keep ourselves warm by cloth ing, and enjoy all the advantages of fresh air. I care not if windows and doors are both open—and (his is my own usual manner of sleeping, both summer and winter—the more the belter. Nor should any one sleep in rooms where there are fires. But the thought we jien this article to de velop is the true mode of breathing. Most persons breathe with only the upper part of Ihe lungs. Having small lunge at best, they do not breathe wilh half ihe lungs they do possess. This is panly owing to their pos ture. Most persons stoop forward too much to inflate half their lungs; for it is obvious this position cramps ifnd doubles up the lungs, especially their lower portion, besides pre venting the free expansion of the ribs. This is rendered obvious by the philosophy of breathing. It is performed by mean?of a fiat muscle, called the diaphragm or midriff, stretched across below the heart and lungs, which, by contracting, draws down the or gans in the abdomen, while muscles between the ribs, called the intercostal, draw them up, ihus producing a vacuum into which the air rushes, and from which it is expelled by (he relaxing of these muscles, which lets the vis cera rise to their place and ihe ribs fall to theirs. By noticing (he way we breathe, it will be seen that the chest heaves and the abdomen swells as we inhale air, but shrinks as we expel it. It is thus obvious that the bending posture prevents the bewels from giving way before the diaphragm, and thus lessen the vacuum, and of course, amount of air inhaled. Hence, no one should bend the small of the back outwardly, but always inwardly, so ap to throw the abdominal organs forward in order to give them room to retire before the contracting diaphragm. Very few people know how to sit. Rarely ever should the back of the chair be touched, and when so, keep the spine straight. Henceoltomons are far preferable to chairs, and all should learn to sit independently of the chair back—that is, to sit straight upon themselves—bending only at the hip joint. : Throwing the shoulders forward is also most pernicious health, by preventing the rising of the ribs which inflates the lungs. Bend yourshouldars forward, and try to draw in a long breath, and then bend them.back and do the same, and you will perceive the difference to be about one-half. And then, both the warping posture, and throwing the shoulders forward, is so insignificant in ap pearance, so small and mean in its natural, language, as though the subject would double up and slink away out of sight, as if he hud done some low lived thing; while to throw out the chest and abdomen, gives a noble com manding, attractive posture. Among the bankrupt petitions recently granted by the Supreme Court of Rhode Island, was the following petition of Nathan L, Miller, of Providence, whose inventory attached to his petition as correct and true, comprised these items: 9 hens and 1 rooster, valued at $5 00 I pig, 1 cal, and 1 dog, 5 00 1 bureau and 1 Family Bible, 4 00 2 small babies and 1 wood saw, 0 75 I Sheab a piece of flannel with common whileing, mixed to the consistency of com man paste, in warm water. Rub the surface to be cleaned qnite briskly, and wash off with pure cold water. Grease-spots will in this way be almost instantly removed, as well as other filth, and (he paint will retain its bril liancy and beauty unimpaired A Ladt, walking with her husband on the beach, inquired the difference between expor tation and transportation. “Why, my dear, if you were on board of yonder vessel you would be exported, and I should be transpor ted.” t r 'W r .. .-.v'j Km,/ 'fUlv i TsV) /i!" o l- “.THB, AfIITATJON OF THOBGHF JS.THJJ BEGINNING Of WiSDOH^’ An Inventory. T f r i' ||i *r;( 6; tei A THRILLING* scene. The Journal ofGdmmerce relates the fol lowing. thrilling account of an adventure which occured to Dr. Kane’s party, in the frozen fields of the North: Ai one time it became necessary- to send a fatigue parly with provisions; to assist the main parly under Dr. Kane, in an attempted passage across Smith’s Sound. This party was under ihe command of Mr, Brooks, first officer &f the expedition. He was accompa nied by Mr. Wilson and other volunteers.—• During their travel they found the ice com pletely impenetrable, and a Show drift at last swept wildly over (he floes and in the midst of a heavy gale from the north, the thermom eter, to their dismay sank to fifty-seven de grees below zero. Human nature could not support the terrible cold. Four of the par ty, including Mr, Brooks and Mr. Wilson, were prostrated with frozen feel, and with great difficulty three of their companions, after encountering great suffering, reached the ship and announced the condition of their camradea. Their' chances of being rescued extremely small. They were in the midst of a wilderness of snow, incapable of motion, protected only by a canvass lent, and with no land-marks by which their position could be known. Even to drag these maimed men would have been under ordinary circumstan ces a work of difficulty, but to the slender parly left at the ship, it seemed to be imposs ible. Dr. Kane, with the boldness and cour age which justified the warm attachment felt towards him by all under his command, in less than one hour organized a recruiting party, leaving on board only those who were necessary to receive the sick, and started off in the teeth of a terrific gale, steering by compass, to rescue iho sufferers. After nine teen hours’ constant travel, during which two of the parly fainted, and others required to be kept from sleep by force, they struck the trail of the’lost party, and finally, staggering under their burdens, one by one reached the lent, which was almost hidden by the snow. The scene as Dr. Kane entered the tent, was affecting beyond description. The parly burst out into tears. A blubber fire was im mediately built, pemmican cooked, and the parly ate for the first time after leaving (he vessel.- Ice was also melted, they having been to this time without drink. "Worn out as they were, but four hours were allowed for the hall. The- maimed of the Irozen a were sewed up iaJJtjfiblfl robes, placed tdgee, and dragged along by their com panions. Dr. Kane walking in advance, picking the.lrack. Cold of the utmost se venty again overlook them. Bousall and Morton and even the Esquimaux boy'.— Hence, sunk upon the snow with sleep. It was only by force that they were aroused and made to proceed, as the cold seemed to have destroyed all conception of danger.— A large hear, met on their way, was fortu nately scared off by Dr. Kane, by the sim ple waving of his hand. They reached the ship after a walk of sixty-two hours, still dragging their companions behind them, but insensible. Dr. Hayes, the intelligent sur geon of the ship, from whom we obtained the particulars of this fearful adventure, re-, ceived the returning party. Two of the number died of their injuries and two others underwent amputation, who are now restored to perfect health. The condition of those who dragged the sick, was most lamentable. Their memory fur a time was entirely gone, and the ship, in the midsi of muttering delirium, resem bled an hiispiiul. The surgeon and one re maining attendant, were in sole charge of the ship. In this stale of semi-madness Ihe sitik remained fur two or three days, hut after wards they entirely recovered, and the party under Dr. Kane started three weeks after wards and resumed their labors in the field. Intrepidity like this has never been sur passed. It is spoken of with emotion, even now, by the stoutest hearts in the expedi tion. - Disconcerting an Orator. —lt is at) astonishing thing how little a matter will sotitplimes disconcert a man who is accus tomed to speak in public, and to have, bis thoughts about him, and ready at command on almost all occasions. “1 was once opening a speech from the stump,” said 'a distinguished western politi cal orator to us recently, “and was just be ginning to warm with *my subject, when a remarkably clear and deliberate voice spoke out behind me, saying : “‘Guess he wouldn’t talk guile so hifalu tin’ if he knew that his trowsers was bu’sl clean out behind I” “From that moment I couldn’t “get on.” The people in front began to laugh, and there was a loud roar in my rear, and I dared not reverse my position for fear of having a new audience of my condition. I made, or rath er invented an excuse for delay, and sal down. The malicious scoundrel I” continu ed the orator; “it was only a mean trick after all. There was nothing under heaven the matter with my unmentionables I” Sahhv weVu to see his grandfather, a pi ous old gentleman, who was wont to dis course much to young Samuel upon divine things. The lad, while taking' a ride one dn\ in his grandfather’s carriage, after silting for a moment in silence, inquired: “ Is God every where?” “Yes, my child. 1 ’ “Is ho in tho carriage? “Certainly, he is." “Then ail I’ve got to say, he’s having a splendid ride.” The grandfather lifted his spectacles, looked at Sammy, touched up the horse and said not a word. If a body qee a body carrying off cabbage, should a body whale a body while a body's savage? iim.. V •' •' * T »u,« k- .V\ ! ,’nf‘l'l.-f-.i.' PUBLISHERS & PROPRIETORS. OLD DOG TRAY. M. Charles R , a poor author liv ing the outskirts of Paris, had owing to him a debt of five hundred and twenty francs, which he never expected to get, so long had it been due, so often had be applied in vain. However, finding himself without money, a situation by no means uncommon among authors, he resolved to try,the non-paying debtor once more. What was bis amaze ment and delight, when a note for five hun dred francs and a iwfcmy franc piece were promptly placed in his hand, Regarding it as an absolute god-send, he resolved to change the gold piece and to testify bis gratitude to Heaven by giving it in alms on his way home. Placing his note in his pocketbook, he ful filled his benevolent desire, and no beggar applied m vain during his long walk. As he drew near home, a wretched little dog came to him and besought his attention to its starving condition. At any other lime he might have rudely driven it away ; but this evening his heart was open and -he conclu ded to take the poor brute with him. True his wife hated dogs, but he trusted to his good fortune to soften her heart as it bad his. Ii was quite dark when he reached home, and he entered the house with the dog close to his heels. “What is that V' cried the lady preparing to drive the intruder out the door. “Only a poor little dog I have made bold to bring home with me. But listen wife, to our good fortune. As he related the story, the good lady be came mollified, and the little dog was almost forgotten. “See, here is the money safe in my pock et book, 1 ' concluded the husband, putting his hand into his pocket to furnish proof of his story. But no pocket book was there! It was gone ! And despair seized the poor author's heart. Rage again rose in the good wife, and the dog was an admirable scapegoat. Seizing a stick— “Get out of my house !” she cried. “Bui for attending to you, that stupid man would not hove lost his money I” But the' dog would not move, and cowered closer to the feet of his friend, who had now the heart to save him ; so lifting him in his arms, when, lo ! there tightly grasped in his mouth, was the missing pocket-book, which the obscurity had prevented their seeing be fore. It had fallen through a rent in the master’s pocket, and the grateful creature had picked it up and kept it safe until discov ered. There is at this day no more honored member of the author’s family than the now fat and sleek dog, which ever occupies the warmest corner on the hearth. Signs and Wonders.-*- When will signs and wonders cease 1 Not nil the destroy ing angel shall clip the wing of time, and the heavens shall be rolled together as a scroll. Not a day passes but we see good and bad signs, as the following will show ; It is a good sign to have a man enter your office with a friendly greeting. “Here’s two dollars to pay for my paper.” It is a bad sign to hear a man say he is 100 pour to lake a paper—lento one he car ries home a jug of “red eye" that coats him half a dollar. It is a good sign to sco a man doing an act of charity to his fellows. It is a bad sign to hear him bAasling of it. It is a good sign to see the color of health in a man’s face. It is a bad sign to see it u|l concentrated in his nose, It is a good sign to see an honest man wearing old clothes. It is a bad sign to see them filling holes in his windows. • It is a good sign to see a man wipe the perspiration from his face. It is a bad sign to see a man wipe his chops when he comes out of a saloon. It is a good sign to 1 see a woman dressed with taste and neatness. It is a bad sign to see her husband sued for her feathers and foolery, gems and jew elry. It is a good sign for a man or woman to advertise papers. It is a bad sign to see the sheriff advertise for them. <. Pat’s Dream.—Two sons of the green and glorious Isle met a day or two since, and s lhus eolloquised : “Good morning, Pal.” “Guud morning, Dennis.” Dennis—How is it »id yc, Pat ? ye seems in a quunlbary. Pnt—Bedad, but its all right ye are wiih oul knowing it, for I’m in that same. It's a provoking drnme I've had. Dennis—A drame ? Patrick, was it a good or a. bad wan ! Pal—Bad luck, but it was a little of both, I drained I was wid the Pope, who was as great u gentleman ns any bye in the district; in' he axed me would I drink ? Thinks 1, would a duck swim ? an' seein the lunisbown in’ the sugar an the sideboard, 1 tould him 1 didn’t care if I took a wee dhrap of punch. Cow Id or hot? asked the Pope. Hal yer Holiness, I replied, an’ be that be stepped down m the kitchen for hot water, but before he got back 1 woke right .straight up, and "us now distressing me that 1 didn’t take the punch cowld IN A down-east militia captain, receiving a note from a lady, requesting the pleasure of his company, understood it as a compliment to those under his command, and marched the/n all-to the lady's huoaie. They Shall not Slosh for thelr f other. Two meo.had colored into an engagement to rob. one of. tbeif ; neighbor*. : Everything was planned. They, were to enter the. house at midnight, break open bis chests and draw* ers, and carry off all the silver and gold, they cou|d find/ ! ' “He is rich and wo are poor, said they to each other, by the way of encouragement in (lie evil they were about to. perform/ “Ho will never miss a little gold, while is possess, inn will make us happy. Besides what right has one man to all this world’s goods.” Thus they talked together. One of these men had a wife and children, but the other bad none in the world to care for himself.— The man who had children went home and joined his family after agreeing*bpon a place of meeting wiih the other at the darkest hour of the coming nigljt. “Dear father,” said one of the children, climbing upon his knee, “I am so glad you have come home,” The presence of the child troubled tho man, and he tried to push him away ; but his arms clung tightly about his neck, and he laid his face against his cheek, and said in a sweet and gentle voice— -11 I love you father! Involuntarily the man drew the innocent and loving one to his bosotn and kissed him. There were two elder children in the man’s dwelling, a boy and a girl. They were poor and these children worked daily to keep up the supply of bread, made deficient more through idleness in the father than from lack of employment. These children came home soon after their fathers return, and b.ought him their oarnings for the day. “Oh, father,” said the boy, “such a dread ful thing has happened ! Henry Lee’s father was arrested to-day for robbing; they took him out of our shop when Henry was there, and carried him off to prison. And he hung his head for shame of hia own father ! Only think of that.” "Ashamed of his father,” thought he.— “And will my children hang their heads also, in shame 1 No, no, that shall never be! At tho hour of midnight, the man who had no children to throw around him a sphere of belter influence, was sitting at the place of rendezvous waiting lor him whose chil dren had saved him, but he wailed long in vain. Then he said : “It will do the deed myself and lake tho reward.” And he did according to his word. When ■ the other man went forth, to his labor on the . next day, he learned that his accomplice had been taken in an act of robbery and was already in prison. “Thank heaven for virtuous children said he with fervor. “They have saved me.— j Never will I do an act that will cause them to blush for their father.” NO. 23. HOW JED MISSED IT. Some folks are id ihe habit, of talking in their sleep, and Miss Betsey Wilson was of the number. This peculiarity she accident ally revealed lo Jediuh Jenkins, in a careless, conversational way. Jediah had just finish ed the recital of a malrimonal dream, in which the young lady and himself figured as hero and heroine, he having invented the same, for the sake of saying at ihe conclu sion, ibal it was “100 good lo be true,” and thus, by speaking in parables assuring lha damsel of what he dared not speak plainly. , “1 never dream said Betsey, “but I some limes talk half the night, and tell everything I know, in my sleep." “You don't Say so." ■‘Yes; I can never have a secret from mother. If she wants to know any thing she pumps me after I've gone to bed, and I answer her questions as honestly as if my life depended on it. That was the reason { would’nt go to ride the other night; 1 knew she would fipd it out. It’s awful provo king.” Some days after this, Jed called at the house, and entering the parlor unannounced, found that Mias Betsey, probably overcome by the heal of the weather, had fallen asleep on the sofa. Now, Jed, as the reader has surmised, had long felt an overweening partiality for the young lady, and yearned to know if it was returned ; but though possessed of suffi cn n' courage to mount “the imminent deadly breach,” he could not muster spunk enough to inquire into the state of her heart. But now he bethought himself of her confessed somnanibulous loquacity, and felt that the lime to ascertain Ins fate had come. Ap proaching the sofa softly, he whispered— “M\ dearest Betsey, tell me; oh! tell me ihe object of your fondest affections.” The fair sleeper gave a faint sigh, and res ponded : “1 love—let mo lhiuk--(here you might have heard the beating of Jed’s heart through a brick wall,) I love heaven, my country, and baked beans ; but if 1 have one passion above all others, it is for roait anions !'' The indignanl lover did’nl wake her, but sloped al once, a “sadder, if not a wiser man." Al last nccoums, Jed was “shinning up” lo another young lady. Notkiment in the Apple. —With us (says the editor of the Albany Journal) the value of the apple as an article of food, is far underrated. Besides containing sugar, mu cilage and other nutriment matter, apples con tain vegetable acids, aromatic qualities, dec., which act powerfully in the capacity of re frigerants, tonics and antiseptics; and when freely used at the season of mellow ripeness, they prevent debility, indigestion, and avert without doubt many of the “ilia that flesh is heir to.” The operators of Cornwall, Eng land, consider ripe apples nearly as nourish ing as bread and far more so than potatoes. In the year 1801-r-which was a year of much scarcity—apples, instead of being converted into cider, were sold to the poor; and the la borers asserted that they could “stand their work” on baked apples, without meal, where as a potato diet required meat or some other substantial nutriment. The French and Ger mans use apples extensively, as do the inhabi tants of all European nations. The laborers depend upon them as an article of (bod, and frequently make a dinner of sliced apples and bread. There is no fruit cooked in as many different ways in our country as the apple, nor is there any fruit whose talue as an ar ticle of nutriment, is as great, and so Itltlq appreciated.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers