"el)e teliig!) Ergisetr. Is published in the Borough of Allentown, Lehigh County, Pa.,'erery Wednesdak by ILhINES & DIEFENDERFER, At 81 50 per annum, payable in advance, and $2 00 if not pat' until the end of the year.— No paper discontinued until all arrearages are paid. • I):7DcrzcE in Hamilton street, t doorsAßst of the German Reformed Church, directly oppo site Moser's Drug Store. ))Letters on business must. be POST PAID, otherwise they will not be attended to. JOB PIZINTINCI, Having recently added a large assortment of fashionable and most modern styles of type. we arc prepared to execute, at short notice, all kinds of Book, Job, and Fancy Printing. partirol. Winter to the Poor: Stormy minter comes again, Bringing snow, and hail, and rain,' Beating 'gainst the window pane— ' Rudely knocking at the door. Boreas holds to-night a rout, See the shutters bolted stout, Fasten all the doors about, Stormy winter is without— . God have mercy on the poor. On the poor, half clad b shreds, Through whose low and leaky sheds Snow beats down on aching heads, Pillowed on the naked fluor. He that looks may there behold Side by side the young and old, Shrivelled arms the babe enfold, Oh, how dreadful s the cold, Clod have mercy on the poor. Iron•hearted winter comes Knocks in vain at costly domes, But he searches through the hpines - Scattered on thy fozen moor There no shutters bolted tight, Fasten out the stormy night, There no hearth is blazing bright, Oh, how desolate the sight— God have mercy on the poor Sea the famished infant prcss'd To the fond but empty breast, While the mother bends distressed, Dropping tears upon the floor ; THOU who hear'st the raven's cry, here look down with pitying eye— Send them manna from the sky, Or, let birds their bread supply God Lave mercy on the poor! Hearts; (bat nil encased in "gold ; Self-enriching, have grown old., Who have never felt the cold, Once unbar your bosom's door, Let compassion now go forth, Learn, what ye to learn were loth, That no luxt rp,pf t arth, Half true bounty's joy is worth— Oh, have mercy on the poor' Hark ! the storm is raging yet ; Who beside his fire can sit, tnu eaut,rers IvPacL shivering on the froze moor? Ye, who downy pillows press, Ye, whose limbs soft robes 'caress, / Pity and relieve distress ! Oh, the storm is pitiless— God have mercy on the poor ! b 11111 enb la - SoyEnna:: CURE. L. The following cure for the gout' is taken from an old book :—First —The person must pick a handkerchief from the pocket of a maid of fifty years, who has neve. had a wish to change her condition. Second— He must wash it in an honest miller's pond . Third—lle must dry it on a parsons' hedge who was never covetous. Fourth- 7 1Ie must send it to a doctor's shop that never killed a patient. - Fifth—He must mark it with a lawyer's ink whii never cheated a client. Sixth—Apply it to the part effected, and a cure will speedily follow. (33TITE COBBLER'S " LAST " WORDS. I feel that I ' wax' weaker each succeeding day, and that I am fast. approaching my ' end,' a few more stitches ' and ' awl ' will soon be over, in Heaven there is rest for my weary ' sole,' earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heel.' Having said ' awl ' he wished, he calmly breath ed his ' last.' 13:7." Dick, I say why don't ° you turn the buffalo.robe t'other side out'—hair is the warm, eat." " Bah Sam, you get out. Do you sup, , pose the animal himself didn't know ho wear his hidel I follow his style." 10-The question has been asked, wit considered impolite for gentleman to go, presence of ladies in their shirt, sleevj at the same time it is considered ladies, themselves to appear ,befor! without any sleeves at all. ff7The Ohio editors talking of the nexi grand baby convention say, there is great coin plaint among the young married people ahem want of notice, therefore the time has been ex tended. They also say babytarians need have no fears that the drouth will effect the exhibition. • OZ7It is not a little singular that the letters that spell debt aro the initials Of the sentence, Dun Every Body Twice ; and the letters which spell credit are the initails of the sentence, Call Regular Every Day—l'll Trust. • Ento sure, says the Dayton Gazette, to marry a woman that will help you, instead of being a burden. In mercantile phrase, get a piece of calico that will wash.' 03A man in Albany, while in a lit of night mare, dreamed that he was a horse and that his wife was a hostler going to rub him down. At this point in his dream he kicked his spouse out of bed. Ba• Mrs. Swissholm says that women have great and grievous wrongs. Among the num ber, is the neglect which allows them to live and die old maids. , [l Long boots arc among the latest New York fashions for ladies. They are said to come up—ever so . . • aMMINIMMOM.amorso - • . n . i• - . . • . - over the ship 'ke 5 R . . . .. 0: .., , . , ,!:. began to be frig tem ..)1 . • -‘). • 4-* . , ~ .:‘,.,;;;; .. ' - , , -.- I '' , -;---,;' ~(`-: ;(3-.., .. . . . ? Y . ...,..' ..! . ..i i ~..;-,",. I >...:: ..'. ..:'::: .- . - -.-, . zt4 slr z :' , ,.. 4, ) . e..., ...... f . ! .. 2 ) r but before he c me as thought ver] ') it' i ~• 5 •. „,:, fel - -7 - r . , ' 11,1 GI .ill ..‘ 4 . .: ' XL: , sunder. T Bold sl 12 4 -0:-•••:? : ,.. , - ..4- , ,-(V •••••11-'7-.1 .',',.' Za , 7 ,- .-^ ,, - . .ft s: ' .;;;,..e.... -:'','!'--=';‘,.' ,:' .:-01 ..- 4 . /A, va-. , 1 .7 .?.;1 4 ,.5.!. -ziNt.l'vd.'t 7 - -.• - : , : 4 3;'- - i- 7 '..r. r.:4 and . a 1111 ball of „ mast. A other, RI • emmemertgr leen, .=•• -•"---- lightnin came, an( • began o play ahotr . .11- 1:1.r 1- , ,-,- alJtoofrt)' fo 3.:0r0f onO &Tirol lArictilfore, 311orafitti, Inumuttit, 3tarkihi, fir., SzT VOLUME IX. Artrij iii eurltilllnittrti THE BOY HEROES Wass Kentucky was an infant Slate, and before the foot of civilization had trodden down her giant forests, there lived upon a branch of Green River, in tlic western part of That State, an old hunter, by the name of John Slater.— His hut was upon the southern bank of the stream, and, save a small patch of some dozen, acres that had been cleared by his axe, he was shut in by the dense forest. Slater had but two children at home with "liim—two sons, Philip and Daniel, the former fourteen, and the latter twelve years of age. His older children had gone Smith. His wife was with him, but she had been for several years an almost help less cripple from the effects of severe rheuma tism. It was early in the spring, and the old bun* had just returned from Columbia, where he had been' to carry the product of his winter's labor•, which consisted mostly of furs. He had receiv ed quite a sum of money, and he had brought it home with him. The old man had for several years been accumulating money, for civilization . was gradually approaching him, and he meant that his children should start on fair terms with the world. • One evening, just as the family there sitting down to their frugal supper, they were attract ed by a su4den howling of the dogs, and as Slater went to the door to see what was the matter, he saw three men approaching his hut. Ile quickly quieted thc4logs, and the strangers approached the door. They ask«l f irsomething to cat, 'rind also for lodgiwzs for the night.— John Slater was not the man to refuse a request of that kind, and he kindly asked the strangers in. They set their rifles behind the door, and unslung tlair packs, and room was made for them at the table. Thee represented them •US as travellers ooundfurther west, nut nd ing to cross the Mississippi in search of a settle ment. The new-comers were feu• from being agrees lite or prepossess g in their looks, but Slate] took no notice cf the eiteumstance, fn• it wa. not his nature to doubt any man. The boy , however, did not like their appearance at all. and• the quick glanoes which they gave eatti 'titer told of their f2t.fln,,ts. The hunter*.s wilt was not at the table, but she sat in her great easy chair by the fire. Slater entered into a conversation with hi, otests, but they were not very free, and after r while the talk dwindled away to mere occtision :11 questions. Philip, the elder of the hop: noticed that the men cast uneasy glances about , he room, and he watched them narrowly. His 'ears had beet me excited, and he could not rest. Ile knew that his father had a large sum of money in the house, and his first thought was .hat these men were there for the purpose of robbery. After the supper was finished the. two boys quickly cleared off the table, and then they went out of doors. It had become dark or. rather, night had fairly set in, for there was ).1 bright moon, " two thirds full,'! shining down upon the forest.' Daniel," said Philip, in a low whisper, at' the same time casting a look back over his shoulder, "what do you think of , those three men ?" " rrraraid they're bad ones," returned flu younger tioy. "So do I. I believe they mean to sten lather's money. Pidzi't you notice how the looked around ?" " Yes." BEI nto the .s whilst • orreet for gentlemen "So did I. If we should tell father what we !link he would only laugh at us, and tell us we sere scare•crows." " But we can watch 'cm." " Yes,” returned the other ; " and wo will watch 'em ; but don't let them know it." The bOys held some further consultation, arid then going to the dog-house they set the small door back so that pie hounds might spring forth if they were wanted. Soon afterwards they re entered the house. If they had desired to speak -with their father about their suspicions, they had no chance, for the strangers sat close by him all the evening. At length, however, the old man signified his intention of retiring, and ho arose to go out of doors to see to the state of elixirs without. The . three men followed him, but they did not take their weapons. The old lady was asleep in her chair. " Now," whispered Philip, " let's take two of father's rifles up to ohr bed. We may want 'em. We are as good as men with the rifle." Daniel sprang to obey, rind (Illicitly as possi ble the boys slipped WI) rifles from their beck ets behind the great store chimney, and carried them up to their slceping•pluee, and then they hastened back and emptied the priming from the strangers' rifles, and when their father and the straugcrs returned they had, resumed their seats. BY SYLYANUS COBB, JR Ja VY I/ 11 --- 1321 1 B D L 3 ALLENTOWN, PA., DE .Tql-BER, Is, 1854! `The hunter's cabin was divided into two apartments on the ground floor, one of them, in Ile end 'Of the building, being the old man's sleeping room, while the other was the large living•room in which the company at present, sat. Overhead there was a sort of scaffoldim, , reaching only half way over the large room be• low it, and in the opposite end of the building 'from the little sleeping apartmant of the hunter. A rough ladder .kd up to the scaffold, and on it, close up to the gable end, was the boys' bed. There was no partition at the edge of this scaf folding, but it was all open to the room below. Spare bedding was spread upon the floor of the kitchen for the three travellers, and after everything had been arranged for their canfort the boys went up to their bed, and the old man retired to his little room. The two boys thought not of sleep, or if they did, it was only to avoid it. Half an hour passed away, and they could hear their father snore. Then they heard a movement from those below. Philip crawled silently to where he Could peep down through a crack . , and he saw one of the men opening his pack, from which he took 'several large pieces of raw meat. The man examined the meat by the rays of the moon, and moving towards the end window he shoved the sash back and threw the pieces of flesh cut to the dogs. Then he went back to his bed and laid down. At first the boy thought this might be thrown to the dogs only to attract their attention, but when the man laid down, the idea of poison flashed through Philip's mind. He whispered his thoughts To his brother. The first impulse of little Daniel, as he heard that his poor dogs were to be poisoned, was to cry out, but a sud den pressure from the hand of his brother kept him silent. At the head of 'the boys' bed there was a dark winlow—a small square door—and it. vas lireelly over the dog-house. Philip .resolved to go down and save the dogs. The undertak ing was a dangerous one, f,r the least nois' they Ile, e villains—and them the eons ( quen ees iniLlit be fatal. But Philim,Slater found him self gltm - g• in heart, and he determined upon the trial. His fatberlife might be in his l!ands! This thought rsas a tower of strength in itself. Philip opened the window without movin Crom his Lod. and it swung upon its leather' hinges without noise. Then he drew off th ,h . eyt and tied one corner cf it to the staple 1)3 which the window was hooked. The sheet wa: ~..hen lowered upon the outside, and Carefull . l !be brave boy let himself out upon it. lle en j deed his brother not to move, and then lie slid ogis e l ess ly down. The hounds had just found the meat, but they drew back-at their young I aster's beck, and Philip gathered the flesh all itp. lie easily quieted the faithful brutes, and hen lie qui:kly tied the meat up in the sheet. 'there was a light ladder standing near the dog. house, and setting this np against the building Philip made his way back to his little loftr,.and when once safely there he pulled laic sheet in :tree him. The strangers had not been aroused, and wi:11 a beating heart the boy thanked God. He had performed an net, shnple.as it might appear. at which many stout hearts would have quailed. The dogs growled as they went back to their kennel, and if the strangers heard them they thought the poor,animals were growling over the repast they had found. At length the hounds ceased their noise, and all was quiet. An hour passed awaY, and so did another. It must have been nearly mid night when the men 4elow moved again, and then Philip saw the rays of a candle fht.sh up through the crack of the floor on which stood his bed. lle would have moved to the crack, where he could peep down, but at that moinent he heard a man upon the ladder. He uttered a quick whisper to his brother, and then lay perfectlystill. The man came to the top of the ladder and held his light up so he could look upon the boys. The fellow seemed to be satis fied that they.were asleep, for he soon returned to the ground floor, and thep Philip crept to his crack. He saw the men taking knives from their packs, and he heard them whispering. " We'll kill the old man and woman first," said one of them, "mid then we'll hunt tip the money. If thoso little brats up there (he pointed to - the scaffolding), wake up, we can easily take care of them." ' 1 44 we must kill 'em Of," said anolbei of the villains. " Yes," returned the first speaker, " but the old ono first. If we touch the young ones first they may make a noise and start the old man up.' Philip's heart beat with horror. " Down the ladder—outside ! quick !" he whispered to his brother. " Down, and start up the dogs ! Run for the front door and throw it open—it isn't fastened ! 0, do let the dogs into the house as quick as you can. I'll look rout for father while you go !" Daniel quickly crawled out through the little window, and Philip seized a rifle and crept to • the edge of the scaffold. Two or the villians Were jr,st approaching the door of his fa:her's. room. They had set the candle down on the floor so that its light would' fdd into the bed= room as soon as the door was opened. Philip drew the hammer of his rifle back and, rested the muzzle upon the edge of the beards. One of the men had laid his hand upon the wooden latch. The boy hero uttered a single word of heart-sent prover, d then•ho-pulled the trigger. The villain whose hand was upon the door uttered one sharp, quick cry, and then fell upon the floor. The bullet had passed through his brain.. Fur an instant the two remaining • villains were conftmnded, but they quickly comprehend ed the nature and position of their enemy, and they sprang fur theiadder. They did not reach it, however, for at that moment the outer door was flung open, and the hounds—four of them—sprang into the house. With a deep, wild yell, the animals leaped upon the villains, and they had drawn them to the floor just as the old hunter came from his room. Help us ! Help us, father !" cried Philip , as he hurried down the ladder. " I've shot one of them ! They arc murderous robbers ! Hold 'em ! held !" the boy continued, clapping hi. 7; hands to the dogs. Old Slater comprehended the nature of the scene in a moment, and he had towards the spot where the hounds had the two men upon the floor. The villains had both lust their knives, and the dogs had so maimed thou that they were incapable of further resistance.— With much difficulty the animals were called iff, and then the two men were lifted to a seat. here was no mired of binding them, for- they welled more some restorative agent, as the dogs tad made quick work in disabling them After they-had been looked to, tl:c old man east his eves about the roem. They rested a moment upon the body of him who had been shot, and then they turned upon the two boys. Philip told hint all that had happened. It seem ed some titne before thi, old hunter could crowd tecmi:!¢ truth titre:m.ll his mind : but ache gradually ewnprehend,Nl it all, a soft prate ltd proud light brolre over his features, and he held his arms tmt to his sons. " Noble, noLle boys !" he uttered, as he clasped the in both to his bosom. " God bleV, thee for this. 0. I circanad not that you h d st: , ll hearts! 11,..5s thee ! 1,1e,s thcc For a lo; g Line that old !ran gazk , d upon i boys in silence. Tears of love and gratitu rolled down his checks, anti his whole face w lighted up with most joyous. holy pride. Long Ind'ore daylight Philip mounted tl horse and started oli for the near,st settlumen and early in the forenoon the officerstjustice had the two wounded villains in charg , while the body of the third was also removed. They were recognized by the officers as criminals of old notoriety, btiViliinrn their last adventure. for. the justice they had so long outragtd 11.11 upon them and stopped them iti.heir carter. Should any of my readers chance to pass down the Ohio River I beg they Will take notice of a large white mansion that stands upon the southern bank. with a wide forest rail: in front of it, and situated sonic eight miles west of Ow ensboro." -Ask your steapboat captain who lives therotitLhe %rill tell you "PHILIP SLA- TER and Draifiimt, retired flour merehants•;" 'l'hey were the Bar IlEnoEs of whom 1 have been writing aaria figs SOPC UnAG Not many years since the good old ship Pan to sailed from Boston, bound to Sumatra. •She was comnranded.by Capt. Isaac Jacobs, a good seaman, and a naturally good•hearted ma 'but. in his long career beneath the trident of Nep tune he had imbibed many of those false ideas prevalent among seamen, and he had Fume tt look upon the sailor's life as one which necCs sarily did away with those finer and warmei traits of character that mark the huinane4am generous landsman. In this wise Isaac Jacob_ sometimes lost sight of true merit where it ac tually existed: Among the crew of the Panto, on her pre sent voyage, was a young man named Caleb Ba ker. He had shipped only three days before the ship sailed.. lle was a slender framed ;inn. with a fair; prepossessing countenance, light blue eyes, and light brown hair. Though light in his build, he Was y, t well stocked with nos• die, and his motions were quick and energetic. His appearance was calculated to predispose beholders in his favor. • Oite day, shortly after the ship had left port, !uaker was busy about some matters of his AO in one of the gangways, one of the men, a rot gh, uncouth fellow, by the name of Bunkton. came along and gave the clothes bag of Baker a kick out of the way, thereby scattering a number of things about the deck. " I wish you'd be c ireful," said Baker, as he moved to gather up his things. Then keep your things out o' my way," gruffly returned 13unkton. They were not in your way." Do you mcan to tell me I lie 1" I said my things were not in'your way. 7 " And I say they were putc me again." " Very well,—Lave it your own way," calm ly returned Baker, as he drew his bag closer in towards the bulwarks. " And don't you be impudent, neither,".pro vokincly added Bunkton. " Look ye, Bunkton, if you've any business of your own, you'd better mind it." " Eh, lubber ? I'll show ye my business.— Take that !" As Bunk ton spoke, be struck the young man upon the face. The crew had most of them gathered about the place, and arrangements were quickly made for a fight. " Just conic coward.—come foriCard, and showye my business," cried Bunkton, bristling about with his fists doubled up. " A fight ! a fight," cried half a dozen of the men. Don't stand that, Baker." The young man's eyes had flashed as he re ceived the blow, and there was a quick quiver- , ing of the muscles in his hands but he made no motion to strike. " Ain't you gain' to take it - up V' asked Bunkton. " No. I want nothing to do with you," re turned Caleb. " Then you are n coward !" uttered BunkiL t l. with a contemptuous tone and look. T e nu . Young Baker calmly repiied to the and Bunk ton became still more savage. Those who know anything about ocean life, will un derstand the sentiments of the rough crew upon such matters as the present. They could comprehend but one kind of courage, and the moment that Baker refused to fight they set !din down as an arrant coivard. At first they had been prepossessed in his favor, for Bunkton was a quarrelsome fellow, and they hoped Ca leb would flog him ; but when they saw him quietly turn away and resume his work, they began to taunt hint, too. " What's all this ?" asked Captain Jacobs, who was attracted to the spot. The matter was explained to him. "Did'nt resent it ?" uttered the captain, look ing with mingled sin prise and contempt upon Caleb. " Why didn't you knock him down, Baker ?" " Because I don't want to fight with any man, •' And will you allow yourself to be struck anzi not resent is " I will defend myself in case of danger, but wiil not o abase myself as to engage in a bru fight %atm it can be possibly avoided. I ace as yet done wrong to no man ; ut were — " , 422.14- shipmates, I shm hl wroncr him and mystif both.'' " Then you will have yourself looked upo as one who may be struck with impunity." A quick flush passed passed over the young man's face as the captain thus spoke, but he was scon calm. " I mean, sir," he returned, " to give no one occasion to strike me: yet Bunkton struck me, hut you can see that he already suffers more Oran 1 do." Thinkton gave Ca1(1) the lie, and again tried to urge hint into a fight. but the captain inlet fered, and quiet was restored. From that time Caleb Baker was looked upon by the crew as a coward. At first they taunt ed him. but hit: ifnifiy kindness soon put a stop to these out r(1 manifestation. 9, and the Ealing:; of the craw were expressed by their lool;s. Ba.. on tort: every occasion he could - find to annoy the young man, for he had taken Lis oath that he would " have a fight out of the coward yet." The rest of the crew might have let the matter pass, had not Bunkton's continued behaviour keitt alive the idea of Baker's cowardice. Nopooave himself knew the great struggles that ktent on in the young man's bosom ; but he had resolved that he would not fight, except in actual. and necessary self defence, and he adhered to his principle. Ile , perforniud his duties faithfully, and Cal ta'n Jacobs was forced to admit that, though Baker was a coward, he was yet a good sailor. Thus matters passed on until the ship had doubled the Cape of Good Hope, and entered the Indian Ocean. It was towards the close of a day that had been sultry and oppreSsive, that it fitful breeze sprang up from the southward. It came in quick, cool gusts, and the broad canvass only flapped before it. " IPe arc•likely to have a blow soon," re• marked the mate. "Not much, I think," returned the captain, as ho took a survey of the horizon. " This spitting will soon die away, and I think the wind will then come out from the wcst'ed. However, it way be well enough to shorten sail, You may take in t'galiants'ls and close reef the tops'ls." This order was quickly obeyed, and, as the captain had predicted, the spitting gusts died away, but there was no wind came out• from the westward. It grew dark, but no wind bad come. About ten o'clock those who were on deck were startled by a sudden darkening of tho stars, and they saw a great black cloud rolling up from the southward. It soon hung NUT:II3ER 11. Now don't you disT .id the mate, " the weather rigging might be and the mast would go overboard." " True—true," returned the captain, " but who shall go aloft and do the job I There would be no foothold in the top, for that will go. with a crash. The trestletrees are already shattered." "If you will port the helm, I will make the trial," cried a clear, strong voice, which was at, once recognized as Caleb Baker's. " It will be sure death," said Jacobs. " Then let it be so," returned Caleb. "If succeed, the rest of you may be saved ; but now we arc all in •danger. Port the helm, and I will go." Caleb took the axe from the mizzenmast, ands soon his form %YRS lost in the darkness, as ho moved toward the starboard rigging. The helm was put a-port, and the ship gradually gave her starboard side to the gale. Soon the blow of an axe was heard—then another—and anoth-• er. The ship heaved heavily over—then anoth er blow was heard. There was a fearful strain ing and cracking—and then came the crash.—. The heavy topmast had gone clear over the• side ! Fragments of the trestle and crosstrees. came rattling upon the deck, but all eyes wore strained painfully towards the mast head. The dim outlines of the heroic man could bo seen safely hanging- by the mizzen topmast stay. The ship was once more got before the wind and ere long Baker came safely to the deck.* Ile staggered aft to the binnacle, and there he sank, fainting end bruised, upon the deck : but he was quickly conveyed to the cabin, and. his wants were all met. Caleb's bruises were none of them bad, and; in a few days he was again at his duty. The men ekell him anxious, and they seemed uneasy as they met his smiles. The captain, too changed color when lie met the kind, noble look of the young nm, but he soon overcame the• false pride that actuated him; and stepping to. the noble fellow's side, he took him by the hand. ' " Caleb," said ho, "if I have dono wrong, I freely ask you to forgift me. I have called you' a coward, but I did not know you." • " Think no. more of it," said Caleb, with a beaming eye. " I once promised to one whom I loved better than life-,my mother—that t would never do a deed of which I might after wards be ashamed." Bunk ton pressed forward. " Caleb," ho said, seizing the hand of the young man in his hard fist. " you must forgive me for what's passed. We'll.be friends after this." " Bless you, Bunkton, and friends we wilt be," returned Caleb.• " Yes," said Bunkton, " an' if you wont fled; for yourself, I'll fight for you, if you ever stand; in need of it." ' " I tell' you, my men," said the captain, "stheit's certainly two kinds of courage v and,. after all, I don't know but that Caleb Baker's kind is the best. It takes a stronger and big ger heart to hold it, at all events." o:7rnms I HAVE SCEN. - I havo seen the most worthless and lazy fellows dress the most fLshionably. I have seen the most talented young men turn tiplers, tobacco chewers, die drunkards. I have seen men who boasted much of their wealth, who were not able to pay their tailor. I have seen a lovely young girl marry a rich. old bachelor for his wealth : and— I have seen the same girl dio broken hearted' within a year. I have seen the beautiful, and the talented: marry a dashing, brainless fop, because he too, ivas rich ; and : I have seen them over after drag out a mid .able, wretched existence. a black. pall, and the men ;ed. The captain was called, on deck there came a crash •y heavens had been rent in ;hip trembled in every joint, fire rolled down the main .nd another crashing of. the d at length the electric light It the ship in wild, fantastic streams. " The fercmost is 6:melt," shouted one of the men. " &els-here its head is shivered !" All eyes were turned to the spot, and by the next wild flash the men could seo that a dan gercus havoc had been made with the main mast. The cap was shivered, the starboard cheek was nearly stripped dr, and the trestle /3 tr CS were quivering. Of course the heavy to mast was only held in its place by the du bi us trestletrees, and main-top threatened eTy instant to come thundering upon the deL with the long topmast and iopgallantmast in; its company. Such a catastrophe would sorely prove fatal to the ship, and all knew it. But while ail hands were gazing at this, an other danger arose. The low, rumbling sound that had been growing in the southward had escaped the notice of the crew, ere they knew it, the rushing, howling 'wind was upon them. The ship leaped like a frightened stag before the gale. The mate cut the maintopsail sheots, and the sail was snapped into ribbons. Tho foretopsail was clewed up, and the ship was got before the wind. The lightning cloud was swept away, and it was dark as Erebus. The wind howled fear fully, but there was one sound more fearful than that. It was the creaking of the shattered trestletrces, as the Lid of the topmast bore down.' upon them. " 0, God!,' ejaculated Captain Jacobs, "if the trestletrees give way we aro lost. Hari; !, hear them labor !" Away up aloft, in the impenetrable darkness, stood the giant topmast, and all felt it could not stand there long. The men crowded aft, and with painfully beating hearts they beard the mast labor. " If we could bring the ship broadside to,"'
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