Ui» -\cit.il.
APHAYER J'OH HLMUMRRANCL
T.. .hr und lx* inrirnt!'
IVlth fho v.illpvh h*t >i. n*s
I’lnreU «n lh<* frozen heart which thfnbheo
With JhJtlCeful joi nf oi
1l»v« for mir inonrn»‘n fragile ftoim>
Wilh Mahuv't* u-ar-drup» fruuuiu.
While wild hlrd« clmut a rooulem—
Oh, sad aQd mournful thought
To die nnd be finrroH'"-
Wien th« heart u yetiup ami warn.
F.re U has felt the rbillint Ma-m
Of TATth’d cold. IdlpWlnu Mump
To feel tho supple Jinit'* tffvw slif.
The warm Up 4 turn t°
And all the hope- of other year*
v,. s«mn n '.wTiht
Oh. m» "h Uo not quin loffp
IlTieu ".ire* the irnt*- »bm
The iDonnd that marks my rating
Til'* olio v«*n used !«• no
UuV u»t when the \,i*t snt*h t>f «M>np
Flour* forth hj-dit and In*.
Not when Mirth ♦ inmdi-d g«nMe«* nd'-'ii-
Mould 1 teiui labored Ik.
Tint wh*n the t'vHjj'ht hmr
Fling* 'round multi'hing *|*U,
And far o'«r full and wtnnl amt van
King* out the vesper bell*
Then rronoand nit be*idr mr grave.
And lot the bluiblnji hoir
Avrufeen kindly thoughts of mo
With it* wiuYoutraucuig j*owc.
yiirtfuunbrTUuui, rtf
Aseent of Bioant Ararat
No mountain has a name so famous as Ara
rat. To the Jewish and the Christian races
Ji is a type ana a symbol, the second birth
place of humanity. There rested the ark ;
thither flew the dove wilh the olive branch.
And to this nour, reared in stupendous bulk
at a point where three empires meet —Russia,
Persia, and Turttey—it is an object of pilgrim
age and wonae..
The great ridge crowned by Ararat rises
from a plain about three thousand feet above
the level of me sea, Great Ararat, on the
north west, and little Ararat on the south east
stand like giants of the hills, about seven
mites apart, with an elevated table land be
tween men.. The loftiest summit is 17,320
feet auove the level of the sea. and 11,300
feel above that of the A raxes, an important
river of Armenia, while the principal cone is
not less than 6,000 feet in height. Its outline
is more smooth and domelike than that of the
Aips, but the eliect is very majestic, upwards
of 3.000 test in vertical, or a sloping ascent
of three mites, ucmg covered with eternal
snow, icc, and glaciers, forming what is called
the Silver Crest of Ararat. Theie is a second
summit, little lower, at a distance of about
400 yards, joined to the highest by a flat de
pression.
On the north side the mountain is deeply
cut by a vast chasm, ascending almost to the
summit, and so black and gloomy that it can
be distinguished from the bright slopes ad
joining at a distance of more than thirty
miles, in a valley upon the plain, near this
dreary rift, was once situated the village of
Arguri, upwards of 5,000 feel above the plain,
with nearly two thousand inhabitants. Con
siderably above it, on a lawn-like terrace,
stood an ancient monastery Fifteen years
have passed since monastery and village dis
appeared. Mount Ararat was convulsed to
its foundation by an earthquake, which caused
the whole plain of Armenia to tremble. Pro
digious masses of ice and snow, earth and
rock, shaken from the dim and distant sum
milk, came thundering down, sweeping away
the monastery, burying the village, with
nearly all the villagers, and swallowing up a
tribe of poor wandering Kurds who had
pitched their tents near at hand. All at once
the bosom of the mountain seemed to be rent
as by some gieatngonv of nature, and fivers
of .water came down like a deluge, sweeping
«wky (he ruins, and bursting upon the plain
to » flood eighty feet deep and seven miles
wide. Only the common hare dwells upon
these formidable slopes, many a beau
tiful bird finds its habitation among the pop
lars and willows and walnut trees of Ararat,
which flourish at an elevation of 0,000 feet,
stunted birches 1,800 feet high, and a few
glittering wild flowers 10,000 feet above the
sec
Among the credulous nations of the East
it has been believed that human beings were
divinely prohibited from attempting to scale
the frozen heights of Ararat. Even in Europe
(he ascent was long considered as impossible,
though we believe that the recent successful
expedition of Major Stuart and his friends
was not the first. Professor Parrot of Dor
pat, ascended, if we mistake not, to the sum
mit in October, 1823 ; and M. Abich, the
Russian traveller, ia said to have performed
(he same feat without much difficulty, in Jan
uary, 1845. He certainty reached within
1,900 feet of the (op, but his complete ascent
ia disputed.
However, on the 11th of last July, Major
Allck Fraser, Major Robert Stuart, the Rev.
W. Thursby, Mr, J, Theobold, and Mr. J.
Evans, started from Bayazid, in Turkish Ar
menia, ten miles from Ararat, with the design
ol ascending the mountain. They had with
them two servants and an Ottoman officer,
were recommended to the protection of the
Kurds, and being provided wiih stoat poles,
hooked at one end and pointed at the other,
had little to apprehend from robbers, or from
the difficulties of the route.
Crossing the plain they began the oscent,
through a ravine sloping upwards, and walled
on both sides with vast ridges of volcanic
rock. For three hours the route lay through
similar defiles, occasionally varied by bright
little table lands, on which were corn and bar
ley, rustling and ripe, to tempt the sure fooled
little horses as they picked their way along.
They were now about 8,000 feet above the
sea, hnd a welcome sight presented ilseif.-*-
Thei’e wat an open pasture, doited with tents
of Mack goat’s hair, and Kurdish chiefs and
shepherds were at the doors, with ready hos
pitaiily inviting the strangers in, A floor,
Covered with brilliant carpels, a fat sheep
roasted, milk, and pure spring water, formed
a pleasant change from the long tramp
pver a rislpg rocky ground, and the parly
spent (he night in this home of pastoral sim
plicity. ’■
Next morning all were early on foot, but
Mr. Tti'ureby bad broken down, and was tbo
ill to proceed, |3onbr be to him, however,
be made the attempt. It would hive been
madness for any one not in good health to
have climbed the next slagd oil thpt
Evep the bihers separated. Major Fraser,
not being accustomed to snow, turned 1 off to
the south east, that he might keefi lo a line of
tocjft ; while Major Stuart with his two corb,
panions.'advaboed plbng the fro*Cp slopes
straight on. Major Stuart sajrs i
“To piy friends, who ate experienced I\l
pme climbers, this was easy work, but it soon
began to tell unfavoratßy op my uunccus.
THE
COBB, STURROCK & CO.,
YOL. 3.
AGITATOR.
“THE AGITATION OF THOUGHT IS THE BEGZNNINU OF WISDOM."'
WELLSBOROEGH, TIOGA COEETY* PA., T
lomod limbs. For a lime we kept pretty well
together; by degrees, however, Mr. Theo
bold began to forge ahead, followed by Mr.
Evans, while 1 brought up the rear as well os
I could. But my strength was fast: giving
way, and when about half way up the cone
1 found myself utterly unable to proceed any
farther. Accordingly, there being no alter
native but to descend, 1 sat on the snow and
shot down with (he velocity of an arrow,
undoing in a few minutes the laborious tail
of nearly three hours. This was a keen dis
appointment, amply repaid to me however,
as will appear by-and-liy.
At ihe ftJot of (he cone I found Isaak Bey,
who with a couple of his people had come out
to watch our progress, fie looked on my
failure ns a matter of course, and seemed
to think the others, 100, must soon give in ;
but no, up they went, higher and higher, his
interest and surprise keeping pace with their
ascent."
The Sandhillers.
There he stayed, watching his more suc
cessful friends, the keen, naked eye of the
Turkish chief following their movements ns
accurately as Major Stuart could follow them
with his telescope. In about eleven hours
from thautime of starling, Mr. Theobald had
toiled up to the hoary pinnacle of Ararat.—
Nothing could exceed the astonishment of
the barbaric patriarch. .“In the name of the
Merciful I” he exclaimed, “God is great!
What wonderful people these English are I a
few of them come here, and without any diffi
culty walk to the top of that holy mountain,
a thing that never was done by man before.
Wonderful! wonderful!”
About an hour afterwards, Mr. Evanaalao
reached the ascent, both returning by the
same track, and reaching the tents at sunset.
Meanwhile, Major Fraser, keeping to his path
of stone which led up about two thirds of the
way, was at last comoellethOo Jgke to the
snow, and, plodding 'patiently on, was much
exhilarated by perceiving that he was within
a few hundred feet of the summit. Here, in
attempting (says (he narrator) to cross over
to what appeared a more practicable line, he
stepped on some thinly covered ice, and,
losing all control over himself, shot down,
with fearfal irelocity, now head, now foremost,
over a space of about a thousand feet. By
extraordinary exertions and presence of mind
he succeeded, at length, in arresting his formi
dable progress, and, gaining his> feet,‘deter
mined to start again. By dint of immense
labor, the summit was reached about half-past
three, three full hours having been lost by
the accident. Major Fruser was careful to
search out the traces of his predecessor's path,
and to return by the way that had been cho
-BCO by Mcatr*. Thuobold anti KvDD3,
Upon the third day. Major Stuart and Mr:
Thuriby—the one not daunted by hismis'hip
or the other by his indisposition—determined
to perform their part in the expedition. They
ttarted at two in the afternoon, two Kurds ac
companying them with rugs, great coats, and
a small supply of provisions, but a third of
the way up they were obliged to dismiss these
attendants, who, from religions scruples re
fused to proceed further, or to pass the night
on the mountain. The Englishmen, there
fore, proceeded alone over a rocky surface,
from which the wind had blown away the
snow, and encamped about half way up, with
a pile of stones to shelter them, rugs envel
oping their bodies, and a hearty dinner to pre
pare them for sleep. Says Major Stuart,
“We saw the sun set in indescribable glory,
throwing the shadow of the vast mountain
far away over Georgia and Aperbijau, and
evert darkening the distant haze of the East
ern horizon."
After a short night’s rest, they travelled on
at dawn, and saw sunrise from the top of Ar
arat lighting up at once vast tracts of the Per
sian, Turkish, and Russian empires. By nine
o’clock they had reached the highest peak,,
stock a sword up to the hilt in the snow as a
memorial, and drank a loyal toast ip brandy.
The summit is nearly level, and of a triangu
lar shape about three hundred feet one way,
and two hundred feet the other. The snow
is as fine and as dry as powder.
Thus was accomplished the perilous ascent
of Mount Ararat, by some, considered unpre
cedented.
Be Systematic. —A coiemporitry truly
says (his will add more to yOur convenience
than you can imngine. It stives time, saves
temper, saves patience and saves money.—
It will Soon be found easier to act by rule than
without one. Be systematic in everything;
let it extend to the most minute trifles. It is
not beneath you. ' Whitfield criuld not go to
sleep at night, if, afler retiring, he remem
bered that his gloves and riding whip were
not in thetr'dsunl place, where/he could lay
his hand on them in the dark' In any 'emer
gency. Such men leave their marie on the
world's history. Systematic irnen tire ijie
rridsl reliable men; they are those who' Com
ply with their engagement. They are nrtiri
ule (nen. The man who has nothing to do
is the man who does nmhiiig. The syste
matic man is soon known to do 'whaf hd en
gages to do j to do it well, and lo'do if well,
and to db it at the same timd prdmiscd, edn
seqoeriily hd hoV his hands full." : ~ ’ 1
Twtsxixoj^ThtPChicago, firffs jells a
good story by way of illustrating the follies
of grown up people, t ~
Two girls pf twelve or, fourteen years re
centUi passed, aiopg Eake.sitreel. surreppded
by hoops-apd trailing' (ong^dressefi,oypr flip
(dirty pavement. Tijey were novice? .in, (be,
m .®9?jS e j n ? n l of such
iip acquire die ip. Inn aUpmpt-, . “fift
if twist too much ?” asked pne, pfitpeonxipus
couple, f as she wriggled, aldiig,, “Oh no,”
said the other, dropping a flute behind Ip.obr
perve the effect, “but'iJ you could rise « /ijttld
on your toes as you sijulrm, it would thrqw
Jour dress better.” , ,;
WHAT BLAVERT DOES FOR THK.J*OOR WHITE HAS,
A correspondent of Life Illustrated, trav
elling in South Carolina, thus describes the
condition of that miserable class of whites,
Sandhillers, whom the employment of slave
labor, by the wealthier class, has driven into
vagabondage. Shall anothei such communi
ty be raised up in Kansas 1 .
Between the “low country,’’ as it is termed
and the “upper country,” of South Carolina,
lies the middle of the Sandhill region. A
large portion of this tract, which varies from
ten to thirty miles, is covered with forests of
pines, interspersed here and there with a va
riety of other trees. Where it is under cul
tivation, the principal crop is cotton. But the
land is not generally fertile, and much of it
is likely to remain for a long lime a partial
wilderness.
Tho counlry itself presents few interesting
features, but it is the home of an interesting
race of people, to whom I may profitably de
vote a few paragraphs of description.
In travelling through the “middlecountry,’
I ofien passed thq ru'de, squalid cabini of the’
Sandhillers, All the inmates flocked to the
door of their windowless domicils to stare
at me. And such a lank, scrawny, filthy set
of beings 1 never beheld elsewhere—not even
within the purlieus of the “Five points.”
Their complexion is a ghastly yellowish
while, without the faintest tinge of wholesome
red. The hair of the adults is generally
Sandy, and that of the children nearly as
white ns cotton. The children even paler if
possible, than the adults, and often painfully
haggard and sickly looking.
They are entirely uneducated and semi
barbarous in all their habits very dull and
stupid, and, in general social position, far be
low the slave population around them. In
fact, the negroes look - down upon them -with
mingled feelings of pity and contempt.—
They are “squatters” on land belonging to
others, either with or without their consent.
They sometimes cultivate, or rather plant a
small patch of ground near their cabins, on
which they raise a little corn, and a few cab
bages, melons, arid sweet" potatoes. Their
agricultural operations netfer extend beyond
this.
Corn bread, pork artd cabbage, (fried in
lard,) seem to be their principal artidlea of
diet. To procure the latter, end what fdw
clothes they require, they make shingles* or
basket or gather pine knots' and wild 1 ter
ries, which they sell in the villages; but be
yond what is required to slipply their very
limited actual necessities,ithey will not work.
Their principal employments are hunting
ana-itaMng, .u.;, amusements,
drinking whiskey and fighting.
Their dress is as primitive as their habits.
The women and children invariably-go bare
headed and bhre*footed, and bare-legged, their
only garments apparently being a coarse cali
co. The men wear a cotton shirt, and trou
sers of the coarse, home spun cloth of the
country, with the addition, sometimes, of an
upper garment, too rude and shapeless to be
named or described.
I one day met a migrating family of these
miserable people. On a most sorry, lank,
and almost fleshless substitute fora horse were
packed the entire household effects of the
family, consisting of a bed and a few cooking
utensils. Two small children occupied the
lop of the pack. Two larger ones, each
loaded with a bundle, trudged behind with
mother, who appeared hot more than seven
teen years of age. The father, a wild, sinis
ter looking fellow, walked a iittlo in advance
of the rest, with his long rifle on his shoulder,
and his hunting pouch by his side.
A correspondent of one of the city dailies
thus describes an encounter with a Sandhill
family:
Here, on, the road, we meet a family who
have been in town. A little girf of ten years
old, with a coarse old fragment of a dress on,
is sitting on (he backbone of n moving skele
ton of a horse, which has the additional task
of trailing along a rickety specithen of a*wag
on, in which is seated a man—a real outside,
squalid barbarian, maudlin and bbfusticqted
with baldfuced whiskey, with a child four or
five years old, by his side. Behind this, a
haggard-looking boy upon another skeleton
of a horse is cdmlng.
What an old, outlandish, low wheeled cart
the horse is pulling! There.sits the old wo
man and Iter grown up daughter, will) nothing
on, apparently, except a dirty bpnnet, and a
coarse and dirty gown, Thp daughter has a
basket by her side, and the old woman, holds
fast to suspicious looking stone jug, of half a
gallon measure, corked with a.-corn cob.—
Your life on it, that it is a jug of whiskey.—
The family have been' to the village with a
couple o( one-horse loads of (tide knots’, used
for light wood, They have probably sold
them for a dollar, half of which has probably
gone for whiskey, and now they are getting
home. Degraded as they arc, you see it is
the man who is helpless; and the woman whu
has the-care of the jug, andcbnducts the im
portant expedition, There ate hundredssuch
people dispersed-through these sind hillsl—
You see (he whole of this''parly nrd bare
legged and bara.fooled. And how bony and
brown they >arel Anditis a curious , fact,
that in. terofterate countries, the children of
all semi-barbarous people,nod all Anglo Sax
on hack-woods,,or, mountain, on prairie.peo
pie, have cotton,-headed, jei. flaxen-headed
cbildfee, .... - . I
Low indeed is the lowest class of (he white
people,in the. Southern-Stales,, lhoUgh> no
where else hayc ( {bund,(hem quite bo degra
ded, as in SoqthCarolin.a., ; yv\»ito
folks,l* ore, tljo, terms, by. which the negroes
designatey J hero, and jn tlje -jyord “p°9f” Q ,
great deal is meant in tins"' connection,,
lERSDAY MORKIXG, KOYEM
includes not only pecuniary poverty, but ig
norance, boorishness, and general social deg
radation. The Southern negro never applies
the word “poor” to any one wfio has the
manners and bearing of a gentleman, how
ever light his purse. “Poor while man” is
an object he looks down upon—an object of
pity or contempt
3ER 11, K)(j.
Speaking Evil of my Neighbor.
Has he done me an injury 7 If so, will
backbiting mend the matter I Will it make
him cease trying to injure me 7 Will it prof
it me in any way 7 If not, why should Ido
80? If my neighbor has been injurious,
would it not be better to tell him his fault in
stead of telling it to everybody else? But
perhaps my neighbor has never tried to in
jure me; perhaps we have even been on
terms of friendship, and he faithful, /s it
not wrong then for me to profess friendship
and act the part of an enemy 7 Have I seen
days of adversity ; did the dark clouds of
sorrow gather thick and black over my head
and did my neighbor then sympathize with
me, and shall I now do him an injury 7 Per
haps he has admonished me and prays for
me. Well, as he fH'u Christian, he will not
cease to pfay for me. Christ says, “pray
for them which despilefully use you and per
secute you.” I am a Christian, or at least
would be thought so. I then profess to study
the peace and unity of the church, but in
stead of this, my conduct tends to destroy
Zion’s peace and harmony. Is this right 7
Let conscience answer. I retire to my clos
et and bow my knee before my Maker and
say, “Lord, I have near and dear friends
who are strangers to religion; bring them in
to thy house and save them from sin.” But
But can t pray in faith while I slander those
that are in the church 7 Will not my uncon
verted friends think that there are evil pas
sions, and discords and alienations among
professing Christians and so avoid thoir con
nection 7 Is it not my duly as a professing
Christian, when I hear an evil report of a
neighbor, to smother it, until 1 find out if it
be .true or not, and even then not to spread it
over the land, Unless urged by imperative du
ly-;7 My own conscience knows how to an
swer. If I hear noevil reportsof my neigh
bors, is it right for me while living in appa
rent peace and good will, so to speak of them
as io leave the impression (hat (bey have not
the beat character.
,In short, is it right forme toaett the part
iirVJllrfoa. poking m'y hatred by deceit 7
Let nte look over this again and answer these
questions sincerely and honestly, as in the
sight of God, remembering that 1 must ren
der an account to God for all my thoughts,
«w/U.jam] actions. Lei me henceforward
not speak, nor even mv ne i„ h bors.
they have their own sinq to answer for ana
I have mine. —panner and Advocate.
Freemasons in Turkey.
The London Daily Neics states that, al
though Freemasonry has more than thirty
years been generally supposed to exist among
the Mahometans, and traces of it were found
in Turkey by the Russian officers after .the
campaign of 1829, yet they were too slight to
prove the fact, and it is only within the last
few years that it was salifaclorily demonstra
ted by a German Freemason chancing to pass
through Belgrade, where ho discovered a Ma
sonic Lodge, to which he was invited and
where he received a hospitable reception. It
appears now to be proved beyond all doubt,
that the Turkish brothers-who exerciee their
Masonic duties under the name of Dervishes,
are, to all intents and purposes) the same as
our own order of Freemasons, with but very
little difference in their ouslotfas and ceremo
nies, and making use of exactly (he same
signs; words and grips, to recognize each
other. The Turkish Freemasons appear to
be in a more elevated ’ state of civilization
than is usual amongst the Orientals generally;
their views of religion are far higher then
those imposed by Islatnism ; they rejected po
lygamy, contenting themselves with one sin
gle wife, ad at (he Masonic banquets the
women appear unveiled-—a striking proof of
the mutual confidence the Masonid brethren
repose in each other.
The Belgrade Lodge, called Alikotsch, is
composed of about seventy members. The
master of the Lodge, whose name is Djnni
Ismail Mohamcd Saodo, is at the same time
grand master of all the Lodges in European
Turkey, and -is directly connected-with nil
those of the whole of the Ottoman Empire,
Arabia and Persia, in which latter the Free
masons amount to more, than fifty thousand
members. In Constantinople there are no
less than nine lodges, the most numerous hnd
important of which is that of the dancing
dervishes, Called Sirkedeshi Teckar. The
Turkish Freemasons wear.hs Symbols of the
brotherhood, besides a small brown shawl em=
broidered with mystical figures, n flat, pol
ished, twelve-cornered piece of marble, with
reddish .brown spots about two inches in di
ameter, suspended by a white silken cord
around tile, nepk. These, .spots. represopted
they drops of bipod, and are symbolic of the
death tjio founder of lltQ.ptdey in Tur
key, yvho„pm», .barbpriously , pullQ .death by
ihe-lhcpSultan, for refusing to reveal those
crgls. Tho-above-mentjoned Djani Ismail,
grand master of the,lodge of Belgrade, a ven
erable Turk- of the old school, is- honorary
member of.-W,Baldwin -under -the lime-tree’’
at Liepsitrrsovcrar members of which Lodge
(mve been received troip the Alikoisch'at
Belgrade; " ’ „ ‘
X lifilo chiitflllanpgia sermon, hnd ob-
the very vehement fn nis
wbrda.ahtf gesiujrca, cried out, why
don’t the’pcop[c 10l thie man oat of thp,box.”
BtUottH to t!j* 25jctt«fltou of tfcc gtvez of JFm&om au& tfjc Spicact of ftralt&g iUfom
PHBLISHKKS & PKOPRIKTOHS
>:o.
How they Make Gunpowder.
A correspondent of the New York Tribunt (
in a letter from Wilmington, Delaware, gives I
the following i itcresling account of the pro- 1
cess by which powder is made at the celebra-1
led mills of Du Pont in that city : i
Of course, of the details of the business |
of the Messrs. Du Pont, even if known to
me, I could not make mention, unless by their (
consent; but' the process of manufacture is I
in reality no secret; every book of ohemis- (
try trcatihg of it to some extent, Ml know I
that gunpowder is composed of saltpetre, sul-1
phur and charcoal, though but few have anv |
idea of the trouble and labor gone through to I
have these materials of a proper quality.— i
The saltpetre as received at the yards, has \
the appearance of dirty coarse salt, tilled I
with a short fibrous matter ; by a process of 1
refining, two or three limes repealed, it as- i
sumes the appearance somewhat of fine table ;
salt, in which state it is fit for the powder- i
mill. Great care is also taken to fiuvc the i
sulphur pure. But the most labor and fore- 1
thought seem to be necessarry in procuring j
the charcoal, which is made of willow and I
poplar, the former being used for the best I
kinds of powder. To procure supplies of I
these woods, the proprietors set out yearly, |
in every nook and corner, trees, which are I
hewn down every three years, and the branch-1
es are converted into charcoal. This method i
of procuring the wood gives a singular an- |
pearance to the country ; for in many places I
along side the roads, or by the streams, may
be seen old tree trunks, standing but little
higher than a man’s head, and topped only
■with a bunch of small branches. I saw some
Irunks that appeared to be forty or fifty years
old, without a limb bigger than my wrist,- i
Tha mill buildings, in which the materials |
a're ground and mixed, are scattered along the
banks of the stream, each one containing a
mill. They are built of stortoon three sides,
with heavy walls, strengthened with piers;
the other side, facing the stream is of wood,
and the roof also slopes toward the stream.
The plan of construction is to lessen the
damage from explosions; for should an ex
plosion take place, the force would be divert- 1
ed toward the stieam. The mills consist of
two heavy iron rollers on wheels, moving in
a trough. I saw one pair, each of which
weighed 15,000 pounds—about seven tons.
The materials beiog well mixed up and pul
verized in these mills, is slightly moistened,
when it is pressed into cakes, till it becomes
almost as hard as plaster of pans. These
cakes are then broken up into small pieces,
and taken to the granulation mill, an opera
tion which on account of its danger, I was
not permitted to see. After granulation, the
powder is taken to the glazing mill. Here
COO or 700 pounds are put into a wooden
Cush-, —- Q i.,; n f, mo( ierately fast for twenty
four hours, there being sin ... Qf rhese
casks, and close bv each were 700 pounds
more, ready for another charge. From the
glazing mill the powder is taken to the dry-l
ing house. Here at the time of my visit,,
were nearly four tons of powder, spread out
on trays, while close by were two furnaces
roaring away at the rate of a ton of coal
each, in twenty-four hours. Danger there
was not, yet I could not but think ol Sebas
topol and the story of its mines. From the
drying house the powder is taken to the
packing house, where it is put into barrels
or canisters, and thence taken to a magazine,
of which there are several, built with the
same regard to non-damage in the case of an
explosion as the grinding mills. While stand
ing in one of (he packing houses, and just as
I had given a kick to a hundred pound keg of
powder, intended for bis excellency Santa
Anna, Mr.<Du Pont called to a man to bring
him some powder in a scoop-shovel, and
therein 1 inspected about half a peck of pow
der, destined to knock out ol this world some
enemy of his excellency. Great care is ex
ercised, the yards and various buildings be.
ing under the direct and constant supervision
of some of the firms ; and to such an extent
is this supervision carried, that one of them I
visits the yard every night at one o'clock ; j
the discipline is more efficient than in the
army or navy,
Beautifv Youn Home. —lt is the duly of j
every man to beautify his home. The first I
money he can spare ought to bo invested in |
a dwelling, where bis family can live perma
nently. Viewed as a mailer of economy,
this is important, not only, because be can
ordinarily build more cheaply than ho can
rent, but because of tho expense caused by |
frequehl change of residence. A man who j
early in life builds a home for himself and
family, will save some thousands of dollars
in tho course of twenty-years, besides avoid
ing the inconvenience of removals. Apart
from this, there is something agreeable to our
belter nature -irt having a house that we con
call our own. It is a form of-properly that
is more than property. It speaks to tlie|ieari,
enlists tho sentiments, and ennobles the pos
sessors. The associations that spring up
around if, as the birth-place of children—
as the scone of life's holiest emotions—as
tho sanctuary where the spirit cherishes its
purest thoughts, are such as nil valuer and
whenever their influenceis exerted, the moral
sensibilities ore improved and exalted. The
greater'pair bf our hoppiness in this world is
found nt hotdb;. but how few recollect that
(Hehappincss of to-day is increased by the
place where we were happy yesterday j and
lhai, insensibly, scenes nhd circumstances
gathpr up a store of blessedness for lho weary
(tours pf the future,.
'' A country 1 girl, Vriting lo her friends,
says of the pollrn, indt 11 (tie dansin’does
not amount lo much, but the hoggin’ is heav
enly.”
A1.1.1E.
"ho Press
low cu-iomarv .1 ,s ;o call iho Dress no
■loulcsl bulwark of our nuhis. iho palladium
xi our hbcrtv, ele; ana a certainly deserves
■ nese tules. I!ut Die besMhmos are 100 mien
iuuscU, and tl.e press is perverted irom Uicso
D'orious muons 10 become Die onernc ol nml
;me mul Die disseminator 01 falsehood. .’oil-
heal nniiosilifin eniroiiders personal onimiv
1 and reseiiUnenl leads 10 Die oase roson ol eai-
lias been pisiiv said Dial ho «110
•isniroa to n public nlfloe must endure a norv
■ irocal; every aclion 01 ins mb Dial will ad
mu ol censure is arraved against linn : and
d his conduct has been so unexceptionable as
to disappoint this arrav, misrepresentation
and slander are employed in us stead. The
common infirmities 01' human nature are made
in him particular objects of ridicule—his clos
et and fireside are invaded, and his private
feelings tortured txv the scurniilv ol his op
ponent. These efibets do not arise from the
liberty of the Press, but from us licentious
ness; it is a serious evil, and that man wtia
would devise q remedy, would bo truly a
benefactor to his country. The virtues ol a
saint and the talents of an angel cannot se
cure a man l>om calumny ; the best of our
countrymen, Washington, Franklin, Jeffer
son. and others innumerable, have suffered
by vile and cowardly detraction. The effect
of this universal censure ts to make many
good and able men stand aloof from nolilicat
contests, and withhold their talents that might
otherwise be beneficial 10 Die community ; it
renders some men in office obdurate and al
most indilierent to public opinion, and thus
one of the best effects of the Dress, Us re
straint on public officer.-, is destroyed. The
eonduetois of the Dress should be men of
liberal principles and strict inieamy, firm in
a good cause, and unwilling 10 undertake a
bad one ; such men are a real credit and ad,
vantage 10 Dicir country .- Typographic llee ,
isler.
A Picture of Moscow.
"There is nothing in the world.” says Mr.
llussel, the London Times correspondent,
“like Moscow bm .(self. Perhaps some of
ihnse vast Chinese cilies in the interior ol - the
Flowery Kingdom, ol* whose exient and popu,
lation one hears such wondrous stones, may
resemble the enormous metropolis, wnich
with miraculous patience, perseverance, and
celerity, (he Russians have erected, in less
than half a century, on the rums and amid
the ashes of their ancient capital. When tho
blackened and shattered walls of the Krem
lin, a few stone houses, and the shells of dese
crated churches were all that was left of
Moscow, the popular will, guided by the Czar
and tho nobility, resolved that a fairer and
nobler city should spring up m the mid-d of
the waste, on the identical spot where Napo
leon had imagined he had struck Russia to
the heart. And thus, with loftier spires and
ampler cupolas, in larger proportions and
more profuse, elaboration, churches, palaces,
royal and princely mansions—this miracu
lous capital, the centre of the Russian's faith,
of his history, again stood on the plains of
Moska. Following their instinct and their
national characteristics, they scarcely sought
to improve on the ways of their ancestors,
and the forms and directions of the old streets
were preserved almost intact; so that the tor
tuous Tartar thoroughfares are still visible in
their type in the best quarters of the new
city. All the ecoentnellies of Bvzanimo
architecture are here developed and varied
with extraordinary skill. The wild Tartars
who could not perpetuate (heir faith, at least
to tha church of Russia, some outward and
visible signs of their religion, and the mosquo
and Greek chapel are here present, as it were,
in perpetual silent conflict.”
Absence op Mind. —Talking of absence
of mind, the oddest instance of this sort hap.
pened lo me once in forgetting my own name.
I knocked at a door in London, and asked;
“(s Mr. 8., at home ?”
'•Yes, sir, pray what name shall I say I"
I looked in the man’s face astonished.
“What name? what name? aye, that’s
the question—what is my name?”
I believe the man though*, me mad; but it
is literally true that, during the space of two
or three minutes, I had no more idea of who
I was than if I had never existed. I did not
know whether I was a dissenter ora layman,
I felt as dull as Sternhold and Hopkins. At
last, lo my great relief, it flashed across my
mind that I was Sidney Smith.
I heard of a clergyman who went jogging
along the road till he came to a turnpike,
"What is lo pay ?”
“Bray, sir, for what?” asked the turnpike
man.
“Why, for my horse lo be sure.”
“Your horse, sir, whut horse? Here is no
horse, sir.”
“No horse?” said he, suddenly looking
down between his legs, “God bless me! I
thought 1 was on horseback !”Sidney Smith.
One of the Beaux. —The Cincinnati!
Commercial (ells (he following good glory :
A young-man from the town of S , in
Richland county, Ohio, lately visited Clove
land accompanied by a fair damsel. Thfr
young man never having been much fcopß
“hum,” was somewhat unaccustomed V) the.
“ways of the world.” Ho put up at tu.e Wed
dell, and ordered dinner, which indite tima
being announced, the young gallant bpltfly
walked into a sumptuous repast, leaving tha
young lady alone in the sitting room. After
partaking of a meal that “astonished his
stomach," he returned to his companion—
who was rather surprised at this proceeding—
and remarked—
■ “The dinner was darped good—why djdp’\
you huy some I’ 1
The above is an actual fact, which wo can
vouch for. The young lady wag sixteen
hours-without anything to cat.
A. minister approached a mischievous ur
chin about twelve years old and laying hig
hunt) upon his shoulder, thus addressed him :
, “My son.il believe the devil has g«t hold
of you,"
..“I believe he has too," was the significant
reply of the urchin.
Thtfindividual who tried to clear hi? PPP:
science with an egg, js now endeavoring to'
raise his spirits with yeast. If he fails in this,
it is his deliberate intention to blow his brains
out with a bellows, and then sink calmly into
the afms of—a yopng'lady.