•.< GLUME 7. I /THE S+AR.OF THE NORTH I #lB PUBLISHED EVERY T|IURSI>AY UOHNIKU BY If It. W. HI AVKU, ■/OFFICE— Up stairs, in the new brick buifil- Pj ' bg,(m tke south side of Main Strict, ■" ' third square be'oto lUdrtct. " I ( TERMS :—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 lesa period than six months ; ho i discontinuance permitted until ail arrearages are paid, unless at the option of the editor. AnvtßTiseuKNTS not exceeding one square ■will be inserted three times for One Dollar ' and twenty-five cents for each additional in- i sertion. A liberal discount will be made to those who advertise by the year. ' From Ike N. Y. Evening Altrrer. Poi'tii) DEAD, Thare is a certain iudesoribabia pathos in thefolloivihg lines, which will remind the , reader of flood's "Bride of Sighs,"' though there is nothing in common between the two • poems, save a touching sadness add a breath- i ingofthe "human." "Found Dead 1 ' isfiSm . the pen of Mr. Albert Laighton, whose po- ] ems we noticed at some length last summer. Found dead—dead and alone : There was nobody nerv, nobody near When the outcast died on his pillow of stone- No mother, no brother, no sister dear, Not a friendly voico to soothe or cheer, Not a watching eye, or a pitying tear. < Found dead—dead arid alona I In the roofless street, on a pillow of atone. Many a weary day^went by, While wretched and worn be begged for , bread, Tired of life, and longing to lie Peacefully down with the silent dead. I Hunger and cold and scorn and pain. I wasted his form and seared his brain, , on a bed of frozen ground, With "ene was the outcast found. Found dead—deaif and alone On a pillow of sionb in the roofless streol— Nobody heard his last lam*, moan, 1 Or knew when bis sad hsart oeaseTTo beat." No mourner lingered with tears or sighs, But the stars looked down with pitying ef.es, And the chill winds passed with a wading sound a ' i O'er the lonely spot where his iorm was found.' , " Found dead—yet not alone; There was somebody near, somebody near To claim the wanderer as hie own, And find a Lome for the homeless here. One, when every human door Is closed to his Children, seamed and poor, Who opens the Heavenly portal wide ; Ah ! God was near when the outcast (lied. PORTSMOUTH, N. H., Nov., 1865. , ■ 1 ; The New fluveu Tragedy—What the ! Prsphctess saw While l)ead. The NSw Haven papers give at length the testimony produced in the Coroner's inquest on the body of Matthews the man who had hisihroat cot by the Wakemanites, because be bpd a "bad spirit in him," Samuel Sly, onefjf this uew sect confesses that be killed Mali tews because Amos Hunt gave the "tai spirit to Matthews, wbioh was hurtihg Sly'i sister." He nays: I ruck Matthews on the temple first, and brot ;hl him to the floor; Iben used the knife, j and Iso the fork; struek him with the stick r one before using tbe knife; as near as 1 can ecollect, bis bands were not lied ; I did aff his coal; when I struck him with the lick he fell down and did notssy e word; the tflueuce I was under led me to da this; be I I down upon bis side and evidently stru ;led, but did no: attempt to get up ; be did ot use bis bands to prevent my cutting bis roat; Ibe light in the room was upon the telf at the lime ; as near ts I can reeol- I leel I cut bis throat several tiroes, and stabb ed t) fork into his bresst fever at times; he did ot grbah much, and did not aay any thin ; I struck him with the stick several timi after he was down; I held his bead i up l cut his throat; 1 believe the fork was ■a tl room, and it was used for taking the lid c' tbe kettle upon the stove; 1 hid the fork ml afterwards earned it back and put it in be room, so it would have tbe appear and of bis killing himself; look off bis uost afte I had cut bis throat. V tile giving tiro account of tbe whole af fair te seemed desirous of telling the truth wit Hit hesitation. He kept the Bible in his hat all the time, and frequently said, during the onfesstpn, that he narrated the facts "in tbe fear of the Lord." He appeared ex tra lely nervous, and any noise in the room . Mined to disturb him very much. This ne. ousness appeared to be a constitutional dif sully. He said be was bom in 1803, tint is now nearly 52 years of age. He said _-*• thir wben four years of age, he received a eat apon the head, wbicb injured his brain considerably. In consequence of this, he seemed unable to collect hia Ideas as read ily as was oftentimes desired by the jury. Sly had mads a clean breast of the whole affair to Shenff Parmelee, in the morning, and manifested a desire to tell tbe whole to tbe jury. This declaration was made to the Sheriff voluntarily, and without being desired to do SO. i r"! t *S >••. The leader of this peculiar sect, shows the char acter of the delptipn : , t qf Mrs- Rhode WakeutPn, the prophetess, called and sworn. This witness i* tbe founder of* the eeet called the "Waletaianittf," and is a Wonder ful specimen of the human specie*. She came in closely veiled, end is the vsvy per sonification of the wonderful women that Iked in Salem in the sixteenth century. i shall he 70 years old en neat November;. have lived in New Haven seventeen years ; ' have bid seventeen children, nine of whom are now liiiog; have been a widow twenty i yet A; I formerly lived ic Greenfield, then L moved to New Haven; my brother ho* also resided here; he is about 00 year* of age; BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 17, 1856. J have been/a "messenger" torn God about thirty years; experienced • religion at that time and walked With Jesus Christ ever since; first experienced religion because my hus, bind abuheil me and I expected to Idie, and be finally killed me ; after my husband kill ed me I was dead seven hours and then rais ed ; two angels stood beside me when I want to Heaver, and tonched me with their bright [ swords and I rose again; saw (here all that was dead, and there (hey weri under a cloud of death; when I was (here this cloud parted and my spirit went one way and theirs the other; 'hey all tbea held up their little while hands and iejoiced; the two angels turned to the and then I went up to Heaven; there; was a red light and many white clouds lhe*e; Christ c.yne to roe when t was in Heaven, with Vis nails In his hands, a ; tid sivoku peace to my soul ; because he spolcj peace to my soul 1 wired up, and another spirit came to me aw! spoke saying.- Make your peace with bod I then kept on praying ;he soon took me to P'tadiae and told me alt abou' Adam and Eve and ell tbe other spirits ; this light, iben came on me so that 1 bad to look up, and the spirits said I was numbered one of then ; was taken up to Heaven from this place of light, and thou saw Christ and all the Holy Angels; Christ bad on the thorns and looked as when he was cruoified ; then saw God sitting upon his throne in all bis glory ; about the throne were all the angels in their while robes, aud they were ail hap py spirits there; this spirit then came and took me back to earth and when I got back to earth again I saw my dead body lying on the floor; I felt bad because I had come back to this wicked world to live again ; J eoin saw my wicked husband, who said, "By God, she's raised 1" Soon after I saw two angels, who came to me and spoke to m kindly, and then Christ appealed to me, anil i fell down before him. And oh ! how ttypy-I fell! end how happy 1 then was ! I vrent to God with my case last night, and had a revelation from Him; that man was in league with.tbe devil; he (meaning Mat thews) got his evil sptril from Amos Hunt; Hunt attempted to poison me. (She went on and gave a long, 'rambltdg account of Amos Hunt's poisoning her.) The first ffiing 1 knew of the murder was when they came up stairs searching for a hatchet; I kuew that my brother had a stick of witch-hazel in the house ; be sells the bark, and livee by o doing; I was sick that night, and expected to die, and asked them to to take Matthews out of the house ; he had such a bad spirit 1 that he was taking away my divine spirit and killing me by it; Amos Hunt wa#lhe man of sin, and be put his spirit on Mailliews; if I should die, the judgment would come; this man of sin cursed God when be died ; there was a black spot on the throne of God ; in my revelations from God last night, He said if I was condemned iu this case the world would be immediately destroyed; in this revelation I was told by God that my brother did kill Matthews, and that he did it to jSave the world! f This singular revelation here closed and \he "messenger from God' ; (as she calls her *|lf) was tskeu balk to jail. A Candidate tor n Schoolmaster. BY HORACE B. STANFORD. A \sw years ago I chanced to be a mem ber OBthe superintending school committee, and a rating the various comical scenes that came utxler my notice, I must relate tbe fol lowing :\ One afkrnoon, as I aal at my desk, a wag on rattlsd\i) into my doorjrJ, and in a few momenta i\ore there came a thump upon my door. I vup to see what was wanted, and I found upottmy piazza ona ol the most ori ginal specimens of the geniua Yankee that it was ever my lot to fall in with. I mean of sucb Yankees a* we read 01, but wbicb are seldom seen. Hp stood about 'six feel two,' was rather lean, |nd yet giving evidence of plenty to eat. Hit dress was evidently his best, though the coat and hat had surely come down io him from a gentleman that had passed away. His vest was of a blue, homespun cloth, short, and buttonod with brai-s buttons; bis neckerchief was of check ered gingham, while the wee bit of a dickey which had been pulled op to sight above it, wfes but a more extended binding of hia cot ton shirt. His face was open enough, in all conscience; and his hair, which was of sev eral hues, from that of flux to that of a wilted bar, bad been greased thoroughly, but it j|ould not stick down. His boots were evi dently made fdl wear, and were visible ball way up to tbe top, the trousers either having shrank up or msyttep having been roaJe to clear the mud. 'Mornin' -'squire,' said he in a tone not un like the grating in a saw-mill. 'Good day,' 1 returned, not wiphiog to re peat bis exaot salutation, seeing it was nearer evening than morning. '1 kiad'a thought as bow I'd come an' git yeou to gin me a sartiferkste, bein' as they j wanted me ( tb hev one alore I commence keepin'schewl ußbietaown.' ft waa in the fell, and as the day was cool, I asked tbe applicant to walk in, hinting to him first, that he could wipe his (set oh the mat. He gave his boots a wipe and then followed me to my study. He look a seat on my lounge deposited his bat upon the floor, and then took out an old pocket-book from eoniewhere witbfi) bis vest, "Kf you'te in s hurry, 'squire, don't know as ihoro!|i he any need of you're 'gamtoin' me, for. I've got a tatlifarkate from the seiek men of aoiir taown. I kep sebewl that last winter; an'you'd better b'leve 1 made the wool fly. Jos' |t me tell yer tut that," he Truth and Right God tod our CouHtry. rattled on with as mnch aesursncp as man could have, and in a.lone of self .esteem,a head of anything 1 ever suspected from hia fooks. "You see thpy have got the a(J-fired est ugly sot of boys over ihero in Perdishun Holler, ye ever hearu tell on. Why—they licked the schewlmueler an' lugged '<<P aout of the schewl'ouse every winter for six win ters, By gimerky, J was mud. Sezl,jelet me Itepp that schewl." The kommifty heurn tell on me, ao' they sent for me at wonst. They* 'zsmined me, an' guv me a sartifetka.:e rile orf. An' loom menced tbe schawl. Sum of the big boys commenced wonst or tvfist to kick up a row, bui apple sarse an' greens! didn't I wollup 'em. You never seed such a schawl as '(Was. The folks said as haow there hadn't beer, such a schewl thar for forty years! The "schewlmaster" waited a few mo ment* to see if 1 would express any astonish, mom, but as I did not he went on. "I.'seemed 'it some of the folkß down here in Pordunk hev hearn tell haow I sukseeded, and they've sent fur me to kum an'try my hand thar." I remembered now to hsvpheard the agent of the .school in tbe dialriot which was gen erally known as I'aukunk, say that he had sent to try and hire a teacher who kept a school in B , the previous winter, and I suppose this must be the one. His fame bad puly reached our town connected with a thrashing exploit, jn which be bad floored some half dozen big boys. "As I was say in,' 'squire, thar's no need of your'zamm'tV me. Here's the aartifer' kale." And as be thus spoke he banded me a soil ed and crumbled paper, which I found to be indeed u bonafide certificate, and signed by two of the school committee, of B . "Or course you'll give us a rekomendasbun, squire!". , "I believe f must examine you a little, first," I saki; for f had a curiosity to'see bow much the fellow really knew. "Wal, ov course you ken. But raally, squire, I dono but I may be a little mite riisty. Hain't brnsbed up any lately. But rayther reckon yeou'll find me some. Haow'lt you take tne ? What comes first t "Suppose we-try a bit ol Geography-first," Said I. "Wal," lie uttered, not quite so confident ly as before. "Go ahead. But mind, 'squire —as I said afore, 1 may need a little brush ing up. "What is the capital of (bis State?" I asked first. "Port—!— Let's see—ya-as—Portland." "No, no," said I. "Portland used to be, but Augusta is now tho capital." "Wal, naow I didn't know that. It's been changed sense I studied jography. Howsom ever, go ahead." "What is the capital of Massachusetts!" "Wal," he replied, slowly and solemnly, at the same time counting bis Augers, as tho' the solution weie to be arrived at mathemat ically, "naow, let me sec, that's clean way daown sumwhar by the OBhun. I never was thar, bat Joe Popwhack, as we used to call 'im—lie was thar. By thunder, 'squire, Joe'd be rather astonished ef he knew I Was a keepin schewl, wouldn't he. Ye see Joe- Martin, bia name is, but we call him Pop whack 'cause he used to use that word. But Joe don' know mnch, but, howsoraever go abend 'squire." "Well," I returned, feeling that he would net enlighten me on Geography, "suppose we try English grammar." "Thai's yer sort. Ye see I never took much pains with jography, 'cause the master al tars has a book, an' lie can tell jest whar all them places is. But yeou'll find me to hum in 'rithmetick, naow I tell ye. I've devoted the most of my lime (o figgers, for up in aour pails they want their beys to cypher." "But first," said I, holding in tbe laugh that was trying to burst out, "tell me wha 1 grammar is." "Sanin," ha responded, with in energy that led me to look for more understanding of the matter than I had expected, "grammar is the study wot's got naouns—an'—verbs, an'—au' tich sorts ov thing* in it. Yer see I ' han't quite forgot it vol," "No, I see not. Can you tell me what a noun is?" > 1 ■ "Wal, I'm afeard yeoure got me thar.— But than you see, it's all in the book, an' I ken tell when the schooler* recit* right. But yeou'll find me to bum iu rithmetick.'? "Very well," (aid I, "suppose we try it.— In a piece of land ten rods long, and (our rods wide, how many square rods are there." Mr. Sprigge, for so I call him, commenced to count- his fingers energetically. "Wal," he at length uttered slowly and thoughtfully, "ten rod long an' four dee*. — 'Juess wu'd better try that by square resrt, hadn't we. .'sqqire!" "Any way you please," I replied, tiiroiiik ' my fane towards the window, 'to hide the smile I could no longer repress. The "candidate" studied bard for soma moments, counting hia fingers over and over ' again, and at length be broke oat in a sort of ' relieved tone. "Look heiw,'squire, rather think that ere'll come under the head ov surveyin', ac' ya ' see I never studied that. I never had no, wat-dye-call it—the thing tbay stick up on three leg* to look itrroegh; never conld ford it. Bet naow gin a* tumthin' of • common schewl kind." "Well," s*id I determined to let tbe fel low answer one question if possible, "sop pose a bushel of corn is worth one dollar, now much are tea bushels worth!" Again be went over hie fingers. "Yeou mean shelled com, I 'spdse,"he said after a while. "Yea." I answered. "Cause it makes a good deal of difference, yer see,'baont that. Corn on the eat'll over run the bushel ef it's good for anything.— Naow the corn we raise 'll overrun four quarti to the bushel. Ten bushel of earsM > make mor'n a bushel of shelled corn. Yer see T should be particker 10 'splain this to my scholars, 'cause ye see, 'squire, I mean to fit 'em for the bizziness of life. Naow a good malty schewlmaMers don't dew that, hut I deW. Ginger ahd Jerewealera, 'squire, yew ori to see me handle the big boys when they git ionruly. I tell ye they don't try it mot'n wonst." I despared of getting eren one fair ho swer from my applidanf, and f concluded to drop him. "Mr. Spriggs," said I, as politely as I could, "I'm afraid "you Wouldn't suit here.— I could not give you A certificate without overstepping the boundstbf my duly." "Yeou don't mean uttered the poor fellow, iu a dulsful, sinking tone. "Why I kep' last winter, W*s* ♦ft along fust rate.— Guess yew'd belter let me try my hand. Naow I tell ye, it'll be a great disappoint ment to me. I've got rigged fork." "I can't do it." "But I ken brush up, 'squire. I told yer I was kind o' rusty naow, but I ken overhaul tliese things and look 'em up." "Very well," I said. "When you have brushed up and overlooked your studies some, I should be happy to examine you again." • He went away with a sad and sorrowful countenance; but whether he ever 'brushed ap' or not 1 do not know, for he hat never since shown himself to me. Thie may seem overdrawn, but I will just say that the fellow did not know one bit more then I have represented, and yet he hid a certificate, in which be was folly re commended as • suitable and competent person to be a teacher of youth, and it was signed by two oi the soliool committee of his native town. But I will simply add, that the writing of the certificate betrayed as much ignorance of the English grammar on the part of the committee as Mr. Spriggs had displayed in his examination. The Widow Bcdott and Dean Craae. Mr. Crane is a likely youog widower, whom the Widow Bedott has set her cap for, an J thus she endeavors to pave the way for bis popping the question to her, and gets taken in "dretfully * "0, no, Mr. Crane, by no manner o' means, '(ain't a miunit tew soon for you to begin to task about gettiu' married again. I'm 'ma zed you should be aleerd I'd think so. See —how long's Mis Crane been dead? Six months I —land o'Goshen !—why I'vnknow'd a number of individdiwalsaet married in lens time than that. Titer's Pni! Bennett's widder that I wasatalkin'about jest now—she'twas Louisy Perce—her husband had'nt been dead but three months, you know. I don't think it looks well for a woman to be in such a hurry—but ior a man it's adifierent tbing— circumstances alter cases, you know. And then siuiwated as you be, Mr. Crane, it's a turrible thing for your family to be without a bead tpsuperintend the domestic consarns an' tend to the children—to say nothin' of your self, Mr. Craue, You dew need a compan ion and no mistake. Six months! Good gracious ! Why, Squire Titus dident wail but six weeks arter he buried his fust wife afore be married his second. I thought thar wa'nt no partickler need o' hurry in'so, se'en his family was ail grow'd up. Such a crit ter as he picki out, lew I 'twas very unsuita ble—but every man to his taste—l hain't no dispersition to meddle with nobody's con. sarin. Ther's old farmer Dawson, tew—his partner hatn't been dead but ten months. To j ba sure he ain't married yet—but be would ! a been long enough ago if somebody I know on'd gin him any encurridgement. But tair.'t 1 for ma to speak 0' that matter. He's a clev er old critter, and as rich as a Jew, but, law ful takes! he's old enough to be my fktlier. And ther's Mr. .Smith, Jubiter Smith, you know him, Mr. Crane, hia wife (she t' was Aorora P'ike) she died last summer and he'e been squiulin' round the wimmen ever since, end he may equint for eli the good it'll 00 him as far as I am consented—tho' Mr. Smith's areepectsble man—quite young and hain't no family—vary well off tew, and qaite intelleelible—but I (ell ye what—l'm puny partickler. O, Mr. Crane, it's ten year come linnewary since I witnessed the expi ration o' my beloved companion!—an on common long time to wait, to be sure, but tain't easy to find anybody to fill the place o' Hezekier Bedott. I think you're (he most like husband of ary ibdividdiwal I ever see, Mr. Crane. Six months! moderation I cum* yon should be steered I'd think 'twas tew soon, why I'vs know'd— Mr. Crane—"Well, Widder, I've been thinking about taking another companion,and I thought I'd ask you— Widow.—"O, Mr. Crane, egeoose my eo n motion—it' so onexpected. Jest hand me that are bottle of cSmfire off lha mantlery ehtlf, I'm tuther taint: do put a little mite on my handketcher and hold U to my no*.— Ther*—that'll dew, I'm rather more com posed, jou may'proeeed, Mr. Crane." Mr. Crane.— 1 " Well widder, I was going to Ssk yon whether—whether— Widow —"Continner Mr. Crane, dew, I know it's turrible embsrrlsin.' I remember whip my dezeased husband made the sup position to me, he stammered and stuttered, and wpa awfully flustered, it did seem as if he'd never ge\it.but in the world, and t'sqs pose it'a ginertlly the ease, at least it has been the oase with all them that's made (op positions to me—yon see they're ginerally oncerting about what kind of an anser they're agwina to git, and it kind 0' makes 'ym ner vous. But when an individdivval has reason to s'pose his attachment's reciparaled, I dont see what need there is 0' hia bain'ffuetrated. though I must say it'a quite embarrasaio' to me— pray continner." Mr. Crane.—"Well, then I want to know if yon are willing I should have Melisty t" ■* '0 ' • ' • • • • Mr. Crane.—"Why, widder, you surprise me—l'd no idee of being treated in this way after you'd been so polite to me, and made such • fuas over me and the girls." Widow.—"Shot yet head, Tim Crane, nnn 0' yer aasa to me. There's yer hat on that are table, and here's the doer, and the soon er you put on one and march ont 'o.'t other, the better it lil be for yon. And I advise you afore try to get married agin, to go out west and See 'f yer wife's cold, and arter your sat isfied oa that pint, jest pet a little lampblack on yer bair—'twould add to yer appearance undoubtedly and be of service tew you when you want to Sourish around amongst the gala, and whesi you've got yer hair fixt, jest splinter the spine 'o yer hack, '1 wouldnt hurt yer looks a mite ; you'd be entirely unrefut able if you wae a little grain straight#;. 0 THK BELLE *KB THC STUDEKT.— At a cer tain evening party, a haughty young beauty turned to a student who stood uear bar, and said— "Consin John, I understand yonr eccentric friend L— is here. I hare a great curi osity to eoe him. Do you bring him here and introduce him to me." The student went in search of hit friend, and at length found him lounging 00 the sofa. "Come, L said he, "my beautiful Cousin Catharine wishes to be introduced to you." "Well, trot her out, John," drawled L—, with ah affected yawn. John returned to his cousin and advised hrr to defer the introduction till n more faaoi able time, repeating the answer be bad re-1 ceived. The beauty bit her iipa ; but the next mo ment she said— "Well, never fear; I shall insist on being ' introduced." After some delay, L— was led up and the ceremony of introduction performed.— Agreeably surprised by the beauty and com manding appearance of Catharine, L made a profoundly low bow; but instead of ramming it, she raised her eyeglass, survey, ed him from head to fool, and then waving the back of her hand toward biio, drawled oo t— "Trot him off, John, that's enough !" Titc GOVERNOR or MAINS ON THC LIQUOR LAW.— Governor Wells iu his Message to tbe | Maine Legislature, says of the liquor law,; which was tbe great question upon which ; the September election turned, that, with the ' light of experience, a new law may be form- { ed, which will meet the wants of the com- I munity. The sale of liquors, he admits, j should be restrained, but only as far as ia consistent with the rights of the citizens : j "Whether a person will or will not use in toxicating liquors as a beverage, ia a ques- | lion ior his own determination. One may persuade another as to what he shall do in 1 relation to himself in morals or religion, but 1 coercion in respect to such action is perse- j cution. It is founded in tho sentiment that I one knows what is better for his neighbor than the neighbor know* for himself, and a unity ot will must be made by compnlsion.- An attempt of this kind is at war with the very elements or civil liberty. Tbe wants of tbe community will be satisfied- with a very restricted sale, by granting licenses in each city, town and plantation, to no mote sellers than will conveniently accommodate the purchasers. It is a desirable object to place the traffic in the hands of respectable citizens. Innholders furnishing liquors to t to their gnests and travellers alone, would stand iu tbe same situation as the heads of families. Importers under the laws of the United States should be allowed to eell In the , original packages. And there are some clas ses of persona to whom sales should be prot hibileu, those whose habits show tbem unfi to be trusted with what they are sure to use improperly. The public good requires that no intoxica ting liquors should be allowed to be drank in the shops where they are sold. Such prac tices lead to breaches of the peace and other conduct injurious to society. It does not ic cotd with wise and consistent laws to forbid the manufacture of au article which is per mitted to be sold. No doubt the legislature will enact a lew, with suitable penalties, that will recieva the approbation of tha people and will accomplish all that legislation can be ex pected to do in promoting tbe oause of tem perance. Although many well-meaning persons have approved of the existing law on this subject, believing H to be the best instrumentality to advance a good cause, it aecms to me that they have done so without a thorough ex amination and understanding of it, and that no rational and unprejudiced man, who has studied it attentively, can sanction its tyran nical details, oud recommend it aa a rule o government 10 a free people." HINT* ONTUE DWBABBOF WINTER. The lace of Nulur.o has again become clothed ia white end wrapped in the con gealed slumbers of Winter. The animal creation readily adapt themselves to the provisions of Nature and meet the changes in the seasons designed for them with pleas ure or apparent indifference. There is, however, one exception, and this is "Man, tho noblest work of God," —the animal most perfect is all its ports, and which excels all others in power of endurance,—the animal that has received from the hands of his Cre ate* the most perfect power of adaptation to the seasons, and has this perfection crowned with intellect to guide and control him, thpt he may pass unharmed through the changes of the seasons, so governing his power of endurance as to be able to pass not only without injury, but with ab solute pleasure, from the melting rays of sumjQer's sun to the withering frosts of of winter's night. Although tho Creator has endowed man with such powers of endurance and adap tation to vicissitudes; although he has placed him for above the rest of the animal crea ; tioft, in the perfection of his organization, , and given him reasoning powers to com- i prebend the dignity of his superiority and bis duty to God as the Croat or, and himself 1 as the croature, to maintain this superiority by preserving the physical man as the "cask et" that the "jewel"—the soul—may pass untarnished back to the giver; although so muck haa been done for man as an animal, in giving him such superiority in power of endurance and adaptation to changes in cli mate and seasons, yet "how are the mighty fallen!" Compare the civilized man with the man of nature and behold the contrast. The man of nature comes forth with firm tread and heavy muscular development; with life and vigor coursing every nerve, and the vermil lion current dancing merrily in every vein. He bids defiance to the heat of summer, or the frosts of winter, because he has main tained the animal superiority, that the God of nature has given him. Civilized man exhibits a pale, feeble and trembling exist ence, a closed and bloodless cutaneous sur face, and consequently a dyspetic stomach and care-worn brain have robbed him of the beauty of his animal existence. He is no longer able to bear the vioiaeitudes of the seasons. The heat of summer depresses him until he finds himself a fit receptacle for every prevailing epidemic; the approach of winter pierces him through with its chil ling Waste, and colds, coughs, catarrh, asthma and consumption become hie constant com panions. He complain* of the severity of the season. He may for a while brave the withering froste of mid-winter, but its winds whistle the requiem of his premature death t —he falls a prey, at last, to the changes of | the seasons. Now why all this? Why should civilized 1 man snffer a sickly existence and a pre ma- i tare decay, while the man of nature lives I in the full enjoyment of health and longev- ] ity 1 The latter is more exposed to sudden i ' changes than the former, and seldom suffers : from winter diseases. Colds, coughs, astli ipas, and consumption may be ihe immedi ate cause of great mortality in civilized so ciety ; but the reul cause—the predisposition to disease—the foundation upon which dis eases of the chest build, and without which the system would scarcely over succumb to the influence of cold, lies far back in the sickening habits and indulgences of man kind. The man who obeys the laws of his phys j ical being, defies the cold and braves the I storm with impunity, because all the organs | have a healthy action. The system itself : is a citadel, the keeper is the available vi ! tal force, and when there is perfect integri j ty, this force is thrown upon any part, suf ! ficicnt to protect the system against the im | pressions of cold; or by virtue of its power lof equilibrium, it guards the system against the inroads of disease. This force depends upon healthy digestion and healthy assimi lation—two processes which cannot go on harmoniously without strict observance of the laws of life and health. Hore then we get a view of the cause of so much sickness and premature death in civilized society. All poisons of whatever kind or name, when taken into the stomach, are at antipodes with (he laws of life. All over-excitement of the brain, irregular habits or wrong in dulgence of tho appetite and passions, arc at war with life and health, and tend direct ly to destroy or weitken good digestion or assimilation, and in the same proportion de stroy the vital force. What wonder then that colds, coughs, ca tarrhs, asthmas and consumption aro so 1 prevalent in the winter, plunged as society is in physical and moral dissipation ! For how can the system react against the with ering effect of a Winter storm, when the re activo energy is feeble, and the cutaneous surface bloodless and collapsed? How can the reactive energies be kept in full force, and the tone of the surface kept up, and it bo filled with rich blood except by good di gestion ? And how can you secure gool di gestion and assimilation except by properly controlling the appetite and passions and mental exercise ? But when these are all trampled upon with impunity, digestion be comes irregular and bad; the blood is there by impoverished, the system depressed, aud all the processes of life become abnormal; the available vital force feeble and yielding, and tho man bogins to fancy himself sick.— The cause of the trouble is entirely over looked. Medicine is resorted to with the hope of remedying the evil, and in cases where this is of pathogenetic kind, or of the secret nostrum kidney, it draws tho avail able vital force to the internal surface to the detriment of the skin, building chronic fire on tho mucons linings, ptoducing cos- , tifieness of tho bowels and constipation of the skin. The attention of the physician is j directed to the stomach and to the bowels; they are irritated with drastic drugs to make •hem expel, but very little attention is paid to the closed up skin, although tho most im- ( portant exefsting organ of the whole body. ( These "twenty-eight miles of pores," hav- t ing their mouths nearly closed with morbid matter, cuts off cutaneous exhalations, forces the vast amount of cutaneous excretions upon the internal organs, which must, of 1 necessity, from overworking, produce con gestion and chronic inflammation. The cu taneous circulation being cut off, the skin becomes dry, bloodless, and open to impres f siona from every change in the atmosphere, f Thus many a good constitution is sacrificed on Ihe altar of self-indulgence and prodigal i ity. Tho predisposition to diseaso is laid; • the available vital force is (oo feeble to faadf ' I against the damp chilling winds of fall and - winter; colds, coughs, consumption and , premature death is the legitimate result— ■ Mortal Reformer, [Two Dollars per Adudl; NUMBER" 5& THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW. ' We are not quite sure that we are guilty of any wide doparturu from the rules of pro priety, in setting down to pen a few thoughts and reflections called forth by the time and occasion. Another your in tho running calendar qf time has passed away. On the 31st of De cember at midnight, with the stars for watch ers, the Old Year died. lived its tints, then full of things dwindled and finished and forgotten, it went the way of—all tho years before it. it is buried in the gieat sepul chre of the post. " Fleeting as are the dreams of old. Remembered like a tale that's told We pass away." How rarely keeps anything PVenly on—- Hero and there ah asjiirSn't for famo still stretches after his eluding.hatlow it is tree— here and there an enthusiast still clings tt> his golden dream—here and there u friend | keeps his truth, aud a ltlver his faith—bttt how many more that were as ambitious, fth enthusiastic, as loving as these when the old year began, ore now sluggish and cold and falso? Keep a record of life if you will, and, as surely as it is human, you Will find it a fragmented and disjointed history, Crowd ed with inconstancy and change. Tlie links of existence are continually breaking around [ us, but how seldom do we properly heed 'kem.l Disease and .suffering havebeen ot ""■'"T'l' | """ - Hill IMI 111 eler of all—has been unusually busy intra insatiato work. The bills of mortality in , many of onr cities, towns and villages—es pecially in tho sunny south from whence have issued waitings of phreuziod anguish because of the pestilence—hare been large; nor has "the country" been eitempt from the dread visitations of the pitiless Death king. Youth aud age,'innocence, worth and beauty are -stricken down on every hand. Still the world moves on, and as the past recedes, its brokeu ties are forgotten, and the minds of till ate wholly absorbed in the present and future alone. Such is life— tho habit of mukind. f But it were not well to allow the past to be forgotten. To those couiem plating,inl- I portant changes in the customs and usages Of society— to those directing their talents and energies toward the remodelingof some of its venerable institutions—to those who are battling against prejudice and persecu tion in order to uproot great and primal Bt rors that have been cursing tho world—to all these its lessons and its experience are valua ble, inspiriug encouragement and hope— They teach that though worth has many op posing obstacles -to encounter, and that the approval of mankind is never won without hard fought battles, yet that like the Hock that lifts its head above the waste of waters, lashed by a thousand storms, when the tem pest is past it still stands, lifting its proud front to heaven, defying its fury and smiling at its ruge, so with Truth and Right, they gain the triumph in tho end. And such les sons of cheering hope cannot tail to reach the heart, and give nerve and vigor to the arm that essays to strike a blow in their do fence. Then as another—a NEW YEAR has been, noiselessly ushered in, it were wisdom to tako its begmning as a stand-point—look back a little and around us, in order to know where we stand—whether, as medical re formers, we have gained anything—whether we have made any advancement, or wheth er all our labors have been in vain. Ap4 what are the results ? Why we find a mighty revolution in the. medical world—in the opinions of mankind—in the practice of tho healing art, and all through the machinery we have set in motion. Instead of the weak, despised and trampled upon few of other days we have become a numerous, respect able and influential body, commanding tho recognition and respect of those once lending their iuiluencc to awo us with dungeons aud inquisitorial prosecutions. The philosophy we advocate and the doctrines wo teach at* no longer treated with tho indifference and contempt of bye gone years, but aro being Investigated and adopted by those preferring new truths to old errors. Our literature— our Journals and Text-books have assumed form and character, and ace sought after by all classes; aud our Colleges are rapidly filling with students of stamina calculated to give character and reputation to any pro fession. Then we have no causo for discourage ment. And as much contributing to these gratifying results was wrought during the year just past, we would conclude with tho question, How much shall we accomplish during the year just entered in? If wo al low selfishness to govern us, and pursue a course of discordant bickering we shall gain but little, but by non compromising with er ror, aud an amicable co-operation of effort for the promulgation of medical truth, we shall accomplish more for ourselves—for our cause, and for humanity during the twelve months to come than we have done , for many—many months past.— Medical Re former, Jan. let. Lord Lindsay states that in the course of his wanderings amid tho Pyramids of Egypt!, he stumbled on a raumy, proved by its hier oglyphics to be at least 3000 years of age. On examining the mummy, after it was un wrapped, he found in one of its closed hands a tuberous or bulbous root. He was interested in the question how long vegeta ble life could last, and he therefore took that tuberous root from the mummy's hand, "planted ft in a sunny soil, allowed the rains add defva from heaven to descend upon it, and in tmxoburse of a few weeks, to hie as touishmcrfl Ind joy, the roo't burst forth, and bloomed &o a beautiftil dahlia. '■
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