THE STAR OF HIE NORTH.
• •*. w. Wttvw ProprlrtorO Troth and Rifflt God and our Country.
VOLUME 6.
THE STAR OP TRE NORTU
1# published every Thursday Morning, by
R. W. WEAVER.
OFFICII — Up stairs, in the nets brich building
on the south side of Main street, third
square below Market.
Temstr—Two Dollars per annum, if paid
within six months from the time of sub
scribing ; two dollars and fifty cents if not
paid within the year. No subscription re
ceived for a less period than six months: no
discontinuance permitted un'il all arrearages
are paid, unless iff the oplior. of the editor.
AbVKSTiSRMRSTS not exceeding one square
will be inserted three limes tor one dollar,
anil twenty-five cents for each additional in
sertion. A liberal discount will be made to
h'dle who ydvertise by the year.
SLANDER.
A whisper woke the air—
A soft light lone and low,
Yet barbed with shame and won ;
Now might it only perish there!
Nor farther go.
Ah ma! a quick and eager ear
Caught up the little meaning sound I
Another voice has breathed it clear,
And so it wanders round,
From ear to lip— from iip to ear—
Until it reached a gentle heart,
And thai—it broke.
It was the only heatt it found,
The only heart 'twas meant >o find.
When first its accents woke ;
It reached :hat tender heart at fast,
And that —it broke.
low as it seemed to other ears,
it came—a thunder-crash to hers—
That fragile girl so fair ami gay—
-That guileless girl so pure and true !
'Tie said a lovely humming bird
That in a fragrant lily lay,
And dreamed the Summer morn away,
Was killed by but a gun's report.
Some idle boy had fired in sport !
The vary sound —a death-blow came I
And thus her happy heart, that beat
With love anil hope,so fast and sweet,
(Shrined in its Lily too ,
For who the maid that knew,
Rut owned the delicate flower like gtace
Ot her young form and face .')
When first that word
Her light heart heard,
It fluttered like the frightened bird,
Then shut ite wings and sighed,
And with a silent shudder— died I
FRANCES S. OSGOOD.
How Bttsnoi'i Father Disposed or the
Old Horse. .
My father, besides Deiig in the mercan
tile line ir.d keeping the village tavern, also
ran a freight wagon to Norwalk, and kept a
email Itvfery stable. He was fond of a joke
and hail a sly, peculiar, waggish kink in his
nature Which led him frequently to turns of
some petty cute tricks. On on e occasion a
young man named Nelson Beers, arplied to
him for the use of a horse to ride to Danbu
ry, a distance of three miles. Nelson was
an apprentice to the shoemaking business,
nearly out of hie time ; was not overstocked
with brains, and liveJ a mile and a half east
of our village. My father thought it would
be better for Nelson to make his short journ
on foot, than to be ai the expense of hiring
a horse but he did not tell him so. We had
an old horse named 'Bub,' that having tea
ched an age beyond his teens, was turned
nut in the bog lot near our house to die. He
was liberally a 'living skeleton,' and was
much in the same condition of the Yankees
nag, which was so weak his owner had to
hire his neighbor's horse to help bim draw
hie last breath. My father, therefore, in
reply to Nelson'a application, told him that
the livery horses were all out, and he had
ndne at home except a famous 'race horse,'
which he was keeping in low flesh in order
to get him in proper trim to win a great
race soon to come off.
'Oh do let uie have him, Uncle Phile,
(that was my father's appellation ] I will
ride him very carefully and not injure him
in the least,' said Nelson Rears.
'He is too valuable an animal to rink in
the band* of a young man like you,' res
ponded my father.
Nelson continued to importune, and my
father to play off, until it was finally agreed
that the horse could be had on the condition
thai he ahould in no case be rode faster than
• walk or slow trot, and that he should be
fed four quatts of oats at Danbhry. Nelson
started on his rosiuante, looking for all the
world as if he was on a mission to the 'car
rion CfOws,' but he felt every inoh a man,
for he fancied himself astride of the great
est rkoe horse in the country, and realized
fhsi s freet responsibility was resting upon
his shoelders, for the fast words of my fath
er to him were, 'Nelson, if any accident
should happen to this animal while under
yout charge you oould not pay the damage
in e lifetime of labor.'
Old 'Bob' was duly oated and watered at
Danbury, and at the end of several hours,
Mr. Beers mounted him and started for
Balhel. He concluded to take tho 'great
psistare' road home. That being the name
of a new road out through ewamps -mead
ows, as a ehorter route to out village. Net
eon, for onoe forgetting his responsibility,
probably tried the speed of his race horse,
■Bd soon broke him down. At all events,
•sinethtog occurred to weaken old Bob's
nerves, for he came to a standstill and Nol
eon wa* forced to dismount. The horse
trembled with fright. A small brook was
running through the bog nt the roadside,
and Bear*, thinking that his 'race horse' j
v seeded n drink, led him into the stream.—* j
■ Foor cid Bob got stuck in the mud, and
' 'not having strength enough to withdraw his ,
list, quietly closed bis eyes, soJ like a pat- |
BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY. OCTOBER 12, 1854.
riarch a* he was, he dropped into '.he soft
bed that was awaiting him, and gave dp the
ghost without a single kick.
No language oan describe the consterna
lion of poor Beers. He could not believe
his eyes He tried to open those of his
horse, but it was no go. He placed his ear
at the mouth ol poor old 'Bob' but took it
away in utter dismay. The breath had cea
sed. At last Nelson groaning as he thought
of meeting my lather, and wondered wheth
er eternity; added to time, would be long e
nough for him to earn the value of the horse,
took the bridle from the 'dead bred,' and
unbuckling the girth, drew off the saddle
1 and placing it on his own back, trudged
[ gloomy toward our village.
It was about sundown when my father es
espieJ his victim coming up the street with
the saddle an 1 bridle thrown serosa his
snulders, his faoe wearing a look of the
most complete dispair. My father was cer
tain that old 'Bob' had departed this life, and
he chuckled inwardly and quietly, but in
standtly assumed a most serious countenance.
Poor Beers approached more slowly and
mournfully than if he was following a dear
Iripnd to the grave.
When he came within hailing distance,
my father called out :
'Why, Beers, it is possible you have let
that rude horse run away with you ?'■
'Oh, worse than that, worse than that, un
cle Phile,' groaned Nelson.
'Worse than that I Then he has been
stolen by some judge of valuable horses!
Uh, what a fool I was to intrust him to any
body ?' exclaimed father, with well feigned
sorrow.
'No, he aint stolen, uncle Phile,' said
Nelson.
'Not stolen? well I am glad of that, for I
shall recover him again, but where is he ?
1 am afraid yon have lamed'him.
'Worse than that,'drawled the unfortunate
Nelson.
'Well, what is the matter, wkare is he ?
what nils him V asked my father.
Ob, I can't tell you —I oan'l tell you ? sai l
Beers with a groan.
' But you must tell me, returned my fath
re.
'lt will break your heart, groaned Beers.
'To be sure it will, if he is seriously in
jured,' replied my father,'but where is he 1
'He is dead,' said Beers, as he nerved him
self up for the announcement, and then clo
sing his eyes, sunk into a chair completely
ovsraoma with fright.
My father gave a groan and started Nel
son to his leel again. Ail the sensations of
pain, despair, harror and intense agony were
depicted to the life [on my father's counte
nance.
'Oh, uncle Phile, uncle Phile; don't be too
hard with me, I wouldn't have had it hap
pen for all the world.' said Beers.
You can never recompense me for the hone
replied my father.
'I know it, I know it, uncle Phile. I can
only work for you as long as ! live, but you
are satisfied, after my apprenticeship is fin
ished,' returned Beers.
After a short time my fatlierbecame ctrlm,
and although apparently not reconciled to
his loss he asked Nelson how mnch he sup.
posed he ought to owe him.
I don't know—l am no judge of blooded
horses, but I have been told that they are
worth fortunes sometimes; replied Beers.
'And mine was tho best in the world, said
my father,, and in such a perfect condition
for running—all bone and sinew.
O yes, I saw that,' said Beers, despnridinz
l> but with a frankness that showed he did
not wish to deny the great claims of the
horse and hia owner.
'Well,'said my father with a sigh, 'as f
have no desire to go to law on the subject,
we had belter agree on the value of the
horse. You may mark on a slip of paper
what sum you may think you ought to owe
me for him, and I will do the same: we can
then compare notes and aee how far we dif
fers.'
' I will mark,' said Beers, fbut uncle Phile
don't be too hard with me.
I will be as easy as I can, and endeavor to
make some allowance for your situation'
'said my father, but Nelspn when I think how
valuable that horse was, of course I must
mark something in the neighborhood of the
amount of cash I could haye received for
him. I believe, however, Nelson,
thtt you are an honest young man and
are willing to do what you think is about
sight. I therefore wish to caution you not
to mark down one cent more than you
really thiuk undec..lhe circumstances you
ought to pay me wben you are able and for
which you are nnw willing (o giv<s me your
note of hand. You will recollect that I told
you when you applied for the horse, that I
did not wiah to let him go.'
Nelson gave my father a grateful look,
and assented to all he said. About a doien
of our joke-loving neighbors were witness
ing the scene with great apparent solemnity.
Two slips of paper were procured, my lath
er marked one, and alter much hesitation
Beers wrote on the other.
'Well, let us aee what you havo marked,'
said my father.
'I suppose you wil| think it too low,' re
plied Beers handiug my faihei the slip of
paper
' Only three hundred and seventy-five dol
lars !' exclaimed my father, reading the pa
per. 'Well, there is a pretty specimen of
j gratitude for you !'
I Nelson looked bumbled, .and could not
muster courage enough to ask my father
I what he had marked
| finally, one of our neighbors asked my
father to show his paper. He did so. He
had ma rked 'six and a quarter emit /' Out
neighbor read it aloud, and a roar of laugh
ter ensued, which fairly lifted Beers to his
feet. It was some lime before he could
comprehend the joke, and when he became
fully aware thtt no hardi was done, he was
the happiest fellow I ever remember seeing.
'By thunder!' aid he, 'l've got a dollar
and thirty-seven and a half cents, and darn
ed if I don't treat that out as free as air; I
was never sceared so bad in all my life.'
Nelson stood treat for the company, and
yet having half his money left on hand, he
trudged home a happier if not a wiser man.
HON. C. R. BUCK A LEW,
The Wilkesbarre llecord, edited by Wm.
P. Miner, has during the past summer been
engaged in firing off silly squibs at Mr.
Buckalew. A frendly pen, whose master we
recognize as the ablest writer in the valley,
more than defends Mr. Buckalew against
this assault of envy ; and we have several
limes read the article with as much pleas
ure from its manner as its matter. In this
cooler hour of reflection the friends of our
absent neighbor will be glad to hear the
echo of their feeling from Luzerne.— ED.
STAU.
' Age is honorable undoubtedly , but has
it the apology of youth for indirection, want
of candor and the common charities of life?
Does the spirit of Envy survive all the ge
nial currents in the heart of age ? The af
firmative to this question is painTui to us.
But to what other source can be ascribed
the Parthian darts flung all summer at the
Senator from this district, Charles R. Bucka
lew. Mr. Buckalew grew from the stump.
The mountains of Fairmounl was his home,
and his was truly the poor boy's heritage—
"latw birth and Iron fortunes."
The rich valleys of Chester and Wyoming
grew no food and amiled no warm encour
agements for him. But nature loves (hat
her nurselings of genius should soring from
her own mould and feed from her own un
polluted breast. And the poor boy in the
earliest bloom of manhood has exhibited a
wealth of intellect, and a splendor of elo -
quence which has crowned him and his dis
trict with honor. From his "Retreat" could
not the old Eagle give one shriek of joy
and impulse to the young, snaring and no
ble bird from another nest—from that Eyrie
high up in the bleakest winter crags where
the storm spirits revelled over desolation ?
It was iu fiis bosom—who can doiib't It.
But between the old bird and the snn, strait
in whose bright eye the young Eaglet was
soaring upon so gall ant a pinion, stood an
other figure!!
It the solicitude and anxiety for the other,
the source ol all this bitterness against Mr,
Buckalew? Is it painful to witness the larg
er shaduw thrown by the "little ragged boy
from the Berwick Turnpike ?" ft it humili
ating to reflect that the boy who picked up
his education among the stones and beech
nuts should have leaped far ahead of the
child of many hopes and an expensive cul
ture ? If such be the motives for abuse, is
it worthy of a man who many years has
figured in literature and in Congress ?
Ask the entire Senate, political opponents
as well a friends—ask every man who has
day after day witnessed his spleu.iid tri
umphs upon the floor of that body. They
wilt one and all tell you that Buokalew is a
marvel—that in the Senate, or out of it, they
nowhere know his equal. They will tell
you of his radical principles, his integrity,
and the vast sums which his unyielding hos
tility to every form of speculation upon the
public Treasury, has saved the Common
wealth. Is it because he is absent from
I home, and this is deemed a favorable and
above all a safe lime to sneer ah d cry him
down, that he is attacked? Is it a test of
courage to attack the absent ! Is it an evi-
I denoe of fine sensibilities ?
it is said that Mr. Buckalew naturally is
of a feeble body—suffering from cancerous
affect ions of the breast, and worn out, with
four years labor in the Senate and his pro
fession, was in a dangerous condition .of
health. Some physicians in HarrUburg and
Philadelphia, attracted by his ingenious
character and high promise, advised him to
travel during the summer. This he was ton
poor to do. His oircumslanoe* and condi
tion, through some friend, reached the ears
of die Secretary of State, who, needing a
safe and trusty agent to carry some impor
tant despatches, proffered the duty to Mr.
Buckalew, who accepted it. This is the
statement, and we presume it is coireot.
There is no salary attached to the duty— not
a dollar—the actual expenses of tha dip on
ly being paii. And thia is the grievance a
bout which the ,columns of a newspaper
have been pretty well occupied alt summer.
During Mr. Polk's administration, James
Cooper, then a leading Whig member of the
Legislature, now Whig United Statea Sena
tor, was in failing health. His friends rep
resented the fact to Mr. Polk, and solicited
for him a Diplomatic appointment in Italy.
Although a political opponent, Ihe President,
feeling the natural sympathies of a gener
ous and warm hearted man, complied with
Ihe request. Mr. Cooper was appointed by
a democratic President, and confirmed by
a democratic Senate, and remained in Italy,
on democratic partonage doling his pleas
ure. The gentlemen who are now so dis
turbed by Mr. Buckale-v'e appointment,
launched no thunders then. Tho thing was
at? right, because Mr. Cooper was a Wnig;
sad was not deemed am standing in any
body's way h*fe, locally. .And proud are
we mdeed, that no democrat objected to (lie
matter.
it is well known that Mr. Cooper is rarely
in his seat in the Senate, for which he
draws every dollar of his pay. It is equally
well known that he is the President of the
Sunbury and Erie Railroad, the duties ol
whioh office he attends to and receives a
handsome salary. Here is time dus to the
United States & paid for oy the United States,
expended in the service of a giganlio cor
poration. But any reference to so glaring a
delinquency on (he part a high Whig offi
cial would not aid in abolitiouiz ng this dis
trict, We desire to excite no Galphin chol
ics, but if the gentlemen who are so solicit
ous about Mr. Buckalew, will attend to the
small comings ot their own Whig agent*,
they will find full occupation lor their facul
ties.
What are you Living fort
Life is a good or an evil, a benefit or an in
jury a blessing or a curse, according to the
will of its possessor. Man's destiny is in his
own hands and upon himself must rest the
blame, if it be one of interminable wretch
edness. To that man who lives only for the
gratification of his passions, who seeks his
happiness iri the pleasures, the honors, or e
moluments of this world who is incited to ac
tion by tho goadings of ambition, or the de
sires of fame, life is only an evil and a curse.
It were better for him not to be, than after
toiling and struggling lor vanities, to go dowji
to misery and endless woe!
"He aims too low, who aims beneath the
skies.
"I have created man for mv glory," sailh
the Eternal, " and my glory will I not give
to another."
Regardless of this declaration, myriads are
living for their own glory; self is the god who
claims their highest devotion, and upon his
altar, sacrifices, never so costly, are cheer
fully laid ! Reader! what are you living
for ? Has thirst fur fame taken posses
sion of your being, and, deceived by his sy
ren's voice, are you willingly bartering heav
en' s glories for the applause of men, whose
breath is in their nostrils? Does (he glittering
gold tempt you, and, in order to its acquisi
tion, are you willing to forsake home and
friends, and obliterate all yout social affec
tions? Do the fading honors of earth present
more attractions to your soul than the imper
ishable glories of that city whose walls are
jasper, and whose streets are gold? What
are you living for? For yourself, or for God?
For baubles of time, or for the substantial
izes of eternity? ,
Aged man' what are you living for?
You whose bead is whitened by the storms
of many winiers, you whose brow once so
smooth and fair, is now all furrowed by the
band of time; whose step once so firm, is now
so feeble, whose eye which shone so bright
ly, is now dimmed by age; yoij whom a thou
sand fearful vices warn, are soon to pass from
earth—what are you living for? Remember
that Ihe hoary head is a "crown of glory,"
only,"if it be found in the way of righteous
ness!"
And you—jou active, business-like look
ing man, just iu the prime of life—wha!
{ are you living for ? As you go forth mom
' iug bv morning, with a firm tread and a self
I confident air, to yonr counting house, your
field, or workshop, is it to fay up treasures
on earth, or do you feel yourself to be the
; almoner on God's bounty to the * perishing
I poor around you ? Are you reaping the to
wards of labor blessed bv God, and are the
"Lord's poor," whom "you have always with
you," perishing for want of life's necessa- '
ries ? Are you a Christian professor, living
in a land of Bibles and ordinances, yourself
indebted to Christianity for all the blessings
you enjoy, and do you retain in your own
possession "the Lord's money," which he
has given to yon to aid iv disseminating the
gospel over the whole earth ? "Give an ac
count oi yourself." What are you living for ?
Young man, endowed with intellect, en
ergy and will, —What are yon living for ' Is
the world rising up before you in its boasted
magnificence, and presenting its extravagant
piomises to lure you to its service, or is your
expanding vision taking in Ihe imperishable
rewards of adhesion to God, and under the
influence of high resolve, are you laying all
your redeemed powers a voluntary sacrifice
upon his altar, lu be employed for his glory ?
God has ulaims upon you, (he world baa
claims upon you: friends, neighbors—all
have claims upon you, Opportunities and
privilege will soon end, the grave will soon
be yoar home, the earth your mantle eternity
your sphere of existence ! What aru you
living for 1
Heeding an Auctioneer.
Those who ate in Ihe habit of attending
auction aales, know that when the auction
eer is trying to get bids from ■ dull audi
ence, he will sometimes say : "The first
man that opens his mouth lb bid, shall have
tha goods.;" intending to creep out of Ihe
bargain if the bid should be too insignifii •
cant. As upon receiving a bid of three
cents, he replies, "Oh, you ain't a man,
you're a boy ;" or, "Your mouth was open
already." An auctioneer was headed on
thia dodge at Pittsburg, not long since as
follows : Auctioneer: The first men who
bide on this shall have it. Countryman : I j
bids tree cents; dot ish my knife. A.: Your
knife for three cents ? Are you the man 1
C. ( Yaw, Mann, del ish my, riame.i , A.:
Matin—eh—well—but—you are not the first
man. I thought that Adam was the first
man. C-: Yaw, dat ish it ; Adam, dat ish
my name, top, Adam Maun. Now you gif
me my knife, I gif you tree oeuts. The
kuife was handed over, and the sate ad
journed for ihpl evening *
The Amenities of Political Life,
The New York National Democrat pub
lishes the following letter written by the
late Daniel Webster during the session
of Congress of 1850, when Mr: Dickinson,
by his course in regard<o the Compromise
Bills, had defeated Ids re-election to the
Senate. The sentiments of it are as compli
mentary to Mr. Dickinson as honorable to
the writer. None but a truly great man
could thus write in oommeudation of the
characlet and actiou of a political opponent:
•'WASHINGTON , Sep. 27th, 1850.
My Dear Sir : Our companionship in the
Senate is dissolved. After this long and
most important session ynu are about to re •
turr. to your home : and I shall try to find
leisure to visit mine. I hope we may meet
each other again two months hence, for the
discharge of our duties, in our respective
stations in the government. But life is un
certain ; and 1 have not felt willing to take
leave of you, without placing in your hands
a note, containing a few words which I wish
to say to ynu.
In the earlier part of our acquaintance,
my dear sir, occurrences took place, which
I remember with constantly increasing re
gret and pain ; bscause, the more I have
known of you, the greater haa been my es
teem for your character, and my respeot for
your talents. But it is your noble, able,
manly, and patriotic conduct, in support of
the great measure of this session, which has
entirely won my heart, and secured my
highest regard. I hope you may livelong,
to serve your country. Ido not think you
are likely to see a crisis in which you may
be able to do so much, either for your own
distinction, or lor the public good ; you have
stood, where others have fallen : you, have
advanced with firm and manly steps where
others have wavered, and faltered, and fal
len back : and for one I desire to thank you,
and to commend your conduct, out of the
fulness ol an honest heart.
Tli is falter needs no reply ; it is, lam a
ware, of very little value; but I have
thought you might be willing to receive it,
and perhaps to leave it where it would be
seen by those who shall come after you.
1 pray you whan you reach your own
threshold, to remember me most kindly to
your wife and daughter; and I remain, my
dear air, wiih the truest esteem, your friend
and obedient servant,
DANIEL WEBSTER.
Honorable Daniel S. Oick.inson, United
Slates Senate."
When these two distinguished gentlemen
were in (he Senate of the United States to
gether, (the Democrat says) there was a
period when the force of party feeling had
led to a personal alienation between them.
This continued, to the subsequent regret of
both, for some time; when however, the
country was menaced with danger by the
assaults of internal enemies, Mr. Webster
end Mr. Dickinson, like true patriot*, for
getting their personal quarrel, nobly united
in its defence, and thus cemented a friend
ship which continued unabated up to the
death of the "defender of the Constitution."
The Piogrcs* of Discovery.
No man can tell where improvements.in
the arts will slop, or what discoveries are
yet to be involved from the still wide and
unbounded unknown. When we think of
what was a century ago, and what is now;
when we review the inventions which have
been made during that period, and pass
them before the mini l , tbey almost seem
too numerous and great lor our belief. In
1805 ihere were only four steam engines in
the United Slates ; not a steamboat, not a
railroad, not a locomotive. Few machines
of any kind were made then, and scarcely
any kind of manufacturing operations con
ducted. In 1810, there was not an estab
lished line of telegraph in our country;
now we have no less than twenty-three or
four thousand miles of wires.—The Daguer
reotype is but > lew years of age, and the
vulcanization of India rubber no older. In
the manufacture and improvement of vari
ous tools, vast progress has been made in a
very few years. The printing presj, from
the alow bund machine, printing a few
hundred copies ir. an hour, haa been yoked
10 the steam engine, and now throws off
thousands of copies in the same time. It is
impossible for ut to enumerate a tithe of all
the inventions and discoveries which have
been made during the past century ; they
are almost beyond computation. Our ob
ject is to present the eubject for reflection to
the numeroue ingenious men in our coun
try. The field before thein is still a com
prehensive one. Some new discovery may
yet be made whereby the air above may be
aa safely and economically as the waters
beneath. In agriculture, in machinery and
in chemistry, what alores of cew wonders
may be developed. Every man who makes
a new improvement or discovery is a publio
benefactor. His labors vibrate far beyond
the boundaries of his own existence, even
todietant generations—Scientific American.
BAI.ZAC AND TUB THIW.—A few nigbta
ago, sa one ot our most distinguished au
thors, M. de Balzac, was lying awake m
bed, be saw a man enter his room cautious
ly and attempt to piok the lock of his wri
ting desk. The rogue was a little discdn
certed at hearing a loud laugh the occupant
of the apaiiment, whom be supposed a
sleep. "Why.ijo you laugh, air f", a*ked
the thief. "I am laughing, my good fal
low," said M. de B„ "to think what pains
vou are taking, and what A risk you run, in
hope of finding money by night Ui a desk
where the lawlul owner can never find any
by day 1' The thiol ''evacuated Flauds's''
et once.—Paris paper. <
Decisions of the Stale Superintendent.
The State Superintendent of the Common
Sohols has made a few important decisions,
from which we copy the following mdst in
teresting ones:
Corporeal punishment ami power of Teach
ing.—ln regard to the question of the right
of teaohers to inflict corporeal punishment
upon their pupils, all concerned will bear in
mind that tha Superintendent has no power
to make lawsthough it is duty to explain
such as relate to schools and school purpo
ses, when applied to. The right of the
teacher to inAiol such punishment, is found:
ed only upon necessity, of the case, and not
upon statute. "Tt is absolutely necessary that
good order shoull be maintained in the
schools, and that all proper rules, regula.
lions and commands of the Teacher should
be strictly and promptly obeyed. Hence a
necessity exists for sufficient power to en
force this duly, and hence it is that a teacher
may inflict such reasonable eorporeal pun
ishment upon his pupil as the parent might
inflict for a similar cause. The pupil is
technically in school from the hour of ope n
ing in the morning and alteriioon until final
dismissal, and while in or about the school
house in pursuance ot his duty as a pupil.—
This, (hen, is the extent of the authority of
the teacher to inflict corporeal punishment,
it would be totally impracticable to extend it
by legislative enactment.
Pupil only subject to Parents oat ot School
Hours. —No person would consent to relin
quish the control of his child at his own
fire-side or in his own household, and it
would be unjust and oruel to make a child
responsible to (wo authorities which might
differ in almost every command given. II
such was the case a teacher might require a
pupil to commit lessonc out of school hours,
while the parent would require manual la
bor from the pupil during the same time-
Tile Teacher might prescribe one line of
conduct—the pa rent another. Who should
be obeyed when both oould not be ? If ei
ther should be habitually disobeyed, the
consequence would ineviiahly be extremely
pernicious. The grant of such powers Jo
the Teacher, too, would be inconsistent
with the just responsibility of the parent to
the laws of the land and of God, for the
conduct of his child, and destructive of al
most ail responsibility of minors, excepting
du(iog school hours and to Criminal laws.
Nor would there be any commensurate ben
efit for the evil which the grain of aueh
powers would entail. If a Teacher has suf
ficient authority to control his school, his
power is ample for the purposes of instruc
tion in school, and there ends his responsi
bility. If pupils abuse each other in their
way to or from school, or commit any other
wrongs, they and their parents are responsi
ble to the law, and one or two examples of
prompt redress by this means would, no
doubt, correct all such evils in any neigh
borhood.
Who Victoria la.
People who wish to know who Victoria
is, "whar she cair.e from." &c, &. will
please glance over the following'ptogramme:
Victoria is the daughter of Duke of Kent,
I who was the son of George the Third ; who
' was the grandson of George the Second;
who was tha son of :he Princess Sophia;
who was the cousin of Anne ; who was the
sister of William and Mary; who was the
) daughter and son-in-law of James the Sec
ond; who was the son of Charles the First .
who was the son of James the First; who
was the son of Mary ; who was the grand
daughter of Margaret; who was ihe sister of
Henry the Eighth; who was the son of
Henry the Seventh ; who was the son of the
Karl of Richmond ; who was the son of Cath
erine, the willow of Henry the Fifih , who
was the son of Henry the Fourth ; who was
the rousir. of Richard the Second, who was
the grandson of Edward the Third; who
was the son of Edward tha Second, who
was the son of Henry the Third ; who was
the ion of John ; who was the son of Hen
ry (he Second ; who was the son of Matil
da; who was tho Jaught er of Henry the First;
who was the brother of William Rufus;
who was the son of William the Conquorer;
who was the bustard son of the Duke of
Normandy, by a tanners' daughter, of Fala
f
Genius, Talcum, Cleverness
Genius rushes like a whirlwind; talent
marches like an avalanche of heavy men
and horses ; cleverness skims like a swal
low in a summer evening, with a sharp
thrill note, and a sudden turning. "Hie man
of genius dwells with men and with nature;
the man of talent in his study; but the olev- 1
er man dances here, there and everywhere,
like a butterfly in a hurricane, striking ev
rything and enjoying nothing, but too light
to be dashed to pieces. The man of talent
will attack theories ; the clever man assails
the individual, and slanders private charac
ter. But the man of geniua despises both,
he heeds none, he fears none, he lives in
himself, shrouded in the consciousness ot
his own strength—he interferes with none
sod walks forth an example; 'eagles fly a
lone ; they are aheap that herd together.'
It is true, that ahould a poisonous worm
cross his' path, he may tread it under hi*
fool; should a our snarl at him, he may
chastise it: but he wifl not, cannot attack
the privacy of another. Clever men write
verses,'tfirfrf Of tWteni Write piose, but the
man of genius whites poetry .—Leelures on
Poetry.
NUMBER 38,
Slander. ,
How frequently is the honesty am' ittlpg
rity of a man disposed of by a smile or < a
shrug ! How many good and generous ac
tions have been souk into ohlivioo by a die
trustful look, or stamped with the imputa
tion of proceeding front bad motives, by a
mysterious and seasooabls Whisper t f.ook
into companies of those whose gentle na
tures should disarm '.hem we shall lind tut
belter account—how large a portion of chas
tity is sent out of the world by distant hints
—nodded away, and cruetly winked hito
suspicion by the envy of those who are peat
all temptation Of it themselves. How often
does the reputation Of C helpless c real urn
bleed by a report—which the party Who is at
the pains tb propagate it beholds with friuch
much pity aud fellow feeling—that he te
heartily sorry for it—hopes in God It II not
true —however as Archbishop Tillotson wit
tily observes upon it, is resolved in the
meantime to give (he report hr pass, that
at least it may have fair play lo lake its for
tune in the world—to be believed or not,
according to the charity of thorn into whose
bonds it shall happen to fall!— Rome Joinnal
I'rovcrbt on Homed
When cals wash their faces, bad weather
is at hand; when women use washea to their
complexion, it is a trua sign that the beauiy
of their day is gone.
Many pbwddr their face* thai their akiit
in fly seem while; it is apoulteienhat Hours ad
old hen, that it may pass for a lender chicken
The stepping stone of foitune is not lo be
found in a jweller's shop.
How many women have been ruined by
diamondsjas bird-catchers fentioe the lark
Irom heaven to earth with sparkling glass.
Like the colored bottles in achemiat's win
dow, is the rouge on the cheeks of a maideu,
it attracts the passers by, but but all know
the drug they advertise.
Choose not your wives, as you do grapes
from the bloom on them.
He who merries a pretty face, only, is like
a buyer of cheap furniture—the varnish that
caught the eye will not endure the fite-etde
blaze.
The girdle of beamy is not a stay-lace
This is the only excuse fof light-lading;—a
good house-wife should have no unrig.
When a maid takes to spaniels and par
rots. it means .hat her beauty has gone to
the dogs, and that henceforth her life is a
bit den lo her.
The mouth of a wise woman is like a mon
ey box which is seldom opened,so that much
treasures come forth fiom it.
S'.ore up the truth, 0 won.an !Be chsrilv
ble unto thy fallen sister. Imitate not the
staits that chase from their hard their wound
ed companion.
The wise wife opposeth wrath with kind
ness. A sand bag will slop a cannon ball
by its yielding. A good woman is like a
common fiddle, age only makes its totter
sweeter.. i
HORACEGREBLEV
Is evidently on the road to refortn as the
following paragraph from his {ttrft testifies.
He says:—
"It is our deliberate jutlgmenl that no negro'
trader in the Srnth would permit a cargo of
his human chattels to be carried for a eingle
sright with je little ieg ird lo their health arid
eomforl—to say nothing of decency—ae is regc
ulurly evinced in the transportation af free
white emigrants (many of them American'burn)
from this city to Albany. We believe it far*
below the truth to estimate that three thoMP
and human lives arts annually sacrifielt'
through the ravages of diarrhma, dysentery,
cholera, rheumatism, and fevers,.in ooose
qnence of ihis North River exposure alone.
And we call opon our city authorities, e£-
thsr alone or in conjunction with those of
Albany, to take instant aud effective mess
ares to arrest this wholesale sacrifice of huv
man life and happiness on the altar of the'
basest avarice—the most reckless itthumar.-
'y-
Anute-Revealers.
"We saw a sight in this city'of sights Is'sl
Friday. It wss a young lady, possessing
beautiful features. Her eyes glistened ahd
glowed with intense brightness ■ her cheelis
were flushed as the rose, aud her lip> bote
the resemblance of red eherrlea, freshly
plucked from the trees. Her costume wan
of black velvet. She was dressed a h
Bloomer—only a littler more so. Her pam<t
came to the ankles, where they were baok l
led neatly around a pair of white stockings.
She had a black nfranda thrown aide bet
shoulders, and on the top of her head sat
veiy becomingly a black betvar hat. Hal
bead was combed beautifully on each t*io
of her forehead, and foil in ringlets over her
shoulders. She is about eighteen yoars ot
age, hails from Philadelphia, and is now on
her way to New Orleans, in search of a run.
away lover."— Dayton Eagdei,
vTrtTW i t '.l
A NEW IDEA.—V Ypr drunk again, IteyV
No my lovs, (hiccup) not drunk, but slip
ry, (hiccup) The fact id, my deaf, some
body pus been rubbing lite bottom of my
boots (hi6cup)um<) they pre as smooth as
gloat."
sw Thirty yekrs ago, says our best phys
icians, no such disease-as amain, goty waa
over heard of. Too disease U caused prin
cipally by poiibflotis ffhffcs.
"I say. John, whsro did you get that lust
er's hat.'" : -•
" Please yer lipcer,", said John," its an
old one of yoofs, thai MiW"gave me yes
; terday when you wete id