THE STAR OF THE NORTH.
t W. Weaver, Proprietor.]
VOLUME 8.
THE STAR OF THE NORTH
Is PUBLISHED EVERT WEDNESDAY MORNINO BV
R. W. WEAVER,
Up atairi, in the new brick build
ing, on the eouth side oj Main Street,
third square below Market.
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A CHILD'S rRAYF.It.
Sweeter than the songs of thrushes.
When the winds are low:
Brighter than the spring-time blushes,
Reddening out of snow,
Were the voice and oheeh so fair
Of the.little child at prayer.
Like a white lamb of the meadow,
Climbing through the light:
Like a priestess in the shadow
Of the temple bright,
Seem'd she, saying "Holy One,
Thine, and not my will be done."
[ALICE CARET.
CROMWELL AND MILTON.
During bis morning drills and evening ca
rousals, Gibbons mind was still occupied with
tbe design of writing some history. This
cherished projeot has been familiar to him
through all the changes of his life. His early
readings from the period when he first be
gan to think at all, were directed with this
intention. When he was sn idle student at
Oxford, when he was considered an apostate
from the faith of his ancestors, when he
became a Protestant again, when he became
• sceptic, in youth and manhood—as Protest
ant, Roman Catholic, sn unbeliever, ah a
man of letters, and as a man of fashion, as a
soldier, and as a politician, the faint voice
within still whispered that he WB to be a
historian. This is directly contrary to the
opinion of Mr. Carlyle and Dr. Johnson, that
tbe mind of a man of genius is of a peculi
arly plastic nature, and that it is in his power
to be either a great orator, statesman, poet,
bietoi.ian, or what he will.
Look at Cromwell and Milton. Here are
two men having so striking a family likeness
that (hey may be considered brothers; they
were both men of genius; men of stern and
earnest temperaments; men whose days were
spent in strange and unknown ways, with
precipices and deep waters orf every side ;
but who were always upheld by a solemn
enthusiasm and calm determination, that
made them set as nought all the powers of
tbe world.
For them the ordinary attractions of life
had no charms. They were sent into the
world for no other purpose than to eat, drink
and be glad. What to them were seventy
years of luxury and pleasure, if they were to
be purchased by an eternity of misery!—
Wae the Bible true or false ? Were heaven
and hell true or lies? They looked into their
hearts, and a fluttering spirit told them that
tbe Bible was true, that heaven and hell were
troe, that life, death and eternity were true.
Each theu labored under hiegreßt Task-mas
ter's eye. But how different were their lives,
and yet how much the same ! How unlike
are their portraits, and yet how like ! Yet
could Cromwell have been anything more
than the statesman and soldier? Could Mil
ton have been anything but the philosopher
and poet! Was not Cromwell essentially a
man of action, and Millon not less essential
ly a man of speculation ? Could Millon have
won the battle of Worcester? Could Crom
well have written Paradise Lost ? It was not
assuredly for want of opportunity that Crom
well was not a great poet, for his yonth and
early manhood were spent in retirement and
obscurity, such as were very likely to nurse
habits of thought and miditation, and indnoe
the mind to apply itself to the quiet study of
literature and philosophy. We know well
that Millon devoted his life to study of liter
ature and philosophy. We know well that
Milton devoted his life to study, and was
conscious even in bis early days of his voca
tion. The design of some great work, which
posterity would not let die, was formed in
youth, health, and happiness, and carried out
iitold -age, defeat, blindness, poverty, and
ruin.— Prater's Magazine.
Da. Winam's WILL.—The late Dr. John
C. Warren, of Boston—a man who stood at
the head of tho old School Medical profes
sion of Massachusetts,and who was a strong
advocate for general post-mortem examina
tions and a more thorough and continued
study of anatomy—willed his body for dis
section, and his skeleton for preservation in
the Medical Museum. From an exchange
we learn that—
Tho will required that the body should re
main twenty-four hours, at the close of
which time arsenic should be infused into
the veins; at the end of the next twenty
one hours the funeral ceremonies should
lake place and the body be deposited be
neath St. Paul's Church, and twenty-four
hours thereafter was to be given for exami
nation to the officers of the Medical College
and the Physicians of the Massachusetts
General Hospital. After this the flesh was
to be taken from t)ie bones, the bones mac
erated, wired and deposited in the College
Museum.
He did this to break what he considered
a superstitious reverence for a dead body,
which .interfered he believed with the ac
quisition of knowledge very essential to the
living. He endeavored to make the best
possible use of all his faculties while he
lived, and provided for rendering his body,
after death, the most useful to survivors.
Medical Reformer.
BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY; PA.. WEDNESDAY, JULY 30, 1856.
GAMING.
Voltaire asserts, that, "Every gambler is,
has beeD, or will be a robber." Gaming is
an evil in the first place, because it is a
practice which produces nothing. If the
whole human family were all skilful ;game
sters, and should play constantly for a whole
year, there would not be a dollar more in
the world at the end of the year than at its
commencement. On the contrary, there
would be much less, besides an immense
loss of time. But, secondly, gaming favors
corruption of mind. It is difficult to trace
the progress of the gamester's mind from the
lime when he commences his course, but
we know too well the goal at which he is
bound to arrive. There may be exceptions,
but not many; generally speaking, every
gamester, sooner or later, goes to perdition,
and often adds to his own woe, by dragging
others along with him.
It d isconrages industry. He, who is ac
customed to secure large sums at once, which
bears no proportion to the labor by which
they are obtained, will gradually come to re
gard the moderate, but constant and certain
rewards of industrious exertion as insipid.—
The famous philosopher, Locke, in bis
"Thoughts on Education," thus remarks, "It
is certain that gambling leaves no satisfac
tion behind it, to those who reflect when it
is over, and it in no way profits either body
or mind. As to their estates, if it strike so
deep as to concern them, it is a trade then,
and not a recreation, wherein few thrive;
and st best a thriving gamester has but a
poor trade of it, who fills his pockets at the
price of his reputatron." J. T. Headley, in
letters from "Italy, and the Alps, and the
Rhine," says that "A gambler carries his re
pulsive sonl in his eyes, in his face, nay, al
most in his very gait. His very presence
causes a chilling atmosphere around him,
that upsets all that approach him. Gangling
more completely metamorphoses a man than
any other crime except murder." Gaming
is always criminal, either in itself, or in its
tendency. The basis of its covetousness , a
desire to take from others something for
which yon have neither given nor intend to
give an equivalent. I have often wondered
how sober and intelligent peoplo, who have
consciences, and believe the doctrine of ac
accountability to God—how professing Chris
tians, as is sometimes the case in this coun
try, can sit whole evenings at cards. What
notions have they of the vaiue of time ? Can
they conceive of Him whose example we
are bound to follow, as engaged in this way?
What a herculean task has Christianity yet
to accomplish!
The excess of this evil has caused even
the overthrow of empires. It. leads to con
spiracies and furnishes conspirators. Per
haps this vice has nowhere been carried to
greater excess than in France. There it has
its administration, its chief, its stockholders,
its officers, its priests. It has its domestics,
its informers, its spies, its pimps, its assas
sins, its bullies, its aiders, its abettors, in
fact, Us scoundrels of every description; par- :
ticularly, its hireling swindlers, who are paid
to entice the unwary into the "hells upon
earth," so odious to morality, and so destruc- !
live to virtue and Christianity. In England,
this vice has been long looked upon as one
of pernicious consequence to the common
wealth, and has bqen for a long time pro
hibited by law. Every species of gambling
is strictly prohibited, and is frequently pun
ished with great severity. Men of immense
wealth have been known to enter gambling
bouses, and in a few short hours, to be re
duced to beggary.
. The young shoulJ be warned never to en
ter this dreadful road. Shun it as you would
the road to eternal destruction. Fly the
temptation as you would the bite of an asp
or a scorpion. Take not the first step; if
you do, all may be lost. Say not that you
can command yourself when you approach
the confines of danger. So thousands have
already thought as sincerely as yourselves,
and yet they fell. The probabilities that we
shall fall where so many have fallen, are as
millions to one ; and the contrary opinion is
only the dream of lunacy. When you are
inclined to think yourselves sale, consider
those who once thought themselves equally
so, have been corrupted, distressed, ruined
by gaming, for this world, and that to ootae.
Think how many families have been plunged
by it into beggary, and overwhelmed by it
in vice. How many men have become hare
at the gaming table, how many perjured,
how many drunkards, how many blasphe
mers. "If Europe," says Montesquieu, "is
to be ruined, it will be by gaming." Burghi
in his dignity of "Human Nature," sums up
the evils of gaming, as follows : "It U the
cause of infinite loss of time, of enormous
destruction of money, of irritating the pas
sions, and stirring up avarice ; of innumera
ble sneaking tricks and Irauda: of encour
agement of idleness ; of disgusting people
against their proper employments, and of
debasing all that is truly noble and valuable
in the human soul.— N. Y. Observer.
STATISTICS OF HvDROPHOBiA.-By Dr. Blatch
ford.—Out of 72 caßes, 54 were bitten by
dogß, 6by cats, 1 by a raccoon, and 1 by
a cow. Out of 62 cases, 4 died the first
day, 9 the second, 6 the third, 18 the fourth,
4 the fifth, 2 on each the sixth, seventh and
tenth days, and lon the twenty-first. That
22 bites occurred in March, April and May;
18 the next quarter; 18 the next, and 22 the
last. The average time of sickness was 66
days, but this lengthy average was enhanc
ed by two strongly marked cases, lasting
365 and 360 respectively. The usual ave
rage is 41 days.— N. Y. ITmw.
Extravagance In the t'ursnlt and Repnb"
llcan Enjoyment or Wealth.
The rapidity with which large fortunes are
acquired in this oounlry, without the neces
sity of much education or refined intelli
gence, is the source of a great deal of the
tasteless extravagance and gaudy show that
characterize the style of living of our so
called "fashionable society." The family
who by a sudden turn of fortune's wheel,
rise at once from the obscurity of a mediocre
position in the world of gentility, to a station
in the front rank of "Upper-ten-dom," are
naturally desirous to signalize their calumni
ation by a stunning display of resources, and
their previous education (or rather their want
of one) renders their effort to shine more
conspicuous by their gorgeous vulgarity and
bad taste, than by any attribute of increased
refinement and elegance. Their dress, their
manners and their mansions are, consquently,
absurdly exaggerated copies of the richness,
the self-possessed breeding, and the luxury
of European high life, and the ceremonies of
their fashionable intercourse, in many in
stances are carriralures of the pomp and eti
quette of the "baut ton" of foreign astsloc
racy. Parade with them becomes fuss;
courtesy, affectation, confidence, impudence;
privilege, license; elegance, and costliness,
profusion and extravagance; and exclusive
ness, presumption.
In a country founded on principles of so
cial and political liberty and equality, this
attempt to imitate the fashionable vices of
the monarchial system leads inevitably to
abuse and exaggeration, and produces dis
content and envionsl'ill-feeling among that
very large class of respectable people, who,
with equal rights, have not the ability or the
fortune to indulge in equal luxury, and must
be "snubbed" by those whom chance alotie
has placed socially above them, while they
are fully conscious of their own moral and
intellectual right io stand at least in the same
rank of worldly consideration.
And besides these evils, there is also an
other, even greater, which this national folly
encourages; this is the morbid hankering af
ter riches, and the consequent sacrifice of
comfort, intellectual culture, and often the
nicer shades of honesty and honor, to the
eager pursuit of tbe coveted wealth which is
to enable the possessor to assume a position
among the gorgeous circles of the money ex
olusives, who form the upper stratum, par
excellence, of our large metropolitan commu
nities. As our contemporary, the Sandusky
Register tersely remarks, in this connection :
"Here, in a nut-shell lies what we regard
• iho great evil of republican institutions;
not that the evil approaches ever so remotely
the good : no ! we are hopeful indeed of lib
erty and tree institutions—but when there is
a danger is it not well to be on the look-out
to avoid it. So many men acquire immense
riches in America, and the lists are so equally
open to all, that ambition and competition
are feverishly, unnaturally excited. There
is one universal struggle for wealth going on,
in which health and happiness are often
overthrown, and in which vir'ue, honesty,
peace, mental repose and spiritual growth
will be overwhelmed, and every private and
national virtue deterioated, and to which
even public prosperity will fall a victim, if
the combatants do not pause to consider what
risks ore tun—what periled by this mad
"fever of living" to grow rich."
MR. BROWN S MISHAPS.
Mr. Eliphalet Brown was a bachelor of
thirty-five, or thereabout; one of those men
who seem born to pass through the world
alone. Save this peculiarity, there was noth
ing to distinguish Mr. Brown from the mul
titude of olher Browns who were boin, grow
up, and die in this world of ours.
It chanced that Mr. Brown had occasion
to visit a town some fifty miles distant on
matters of business. It was his first visit to
the place, and he proposed stopping for a
day, in order to give himself an opportunity
to look about.
Walking leisurely along the street, he was
all at once accosted by a child of live, who
ran up to him, exclaiming:
' Father I want you to buy me some can
dy.'
' Father!' Was it poasiblo that he, a batch
elor, wag addressed by that title? He could
not believe it?
' Who were you speaking to, my dear?'
he enquired of the little girl.
' I spoke to you, father,' said the little one
surprised.
'Really,' thought Mr. Eliphalet Brown,
'this is embsrrassing.'
' 1 am not your father, my dear,' he said.
'What is your name?'
The child laughed heartily, evidently
thinking it a joke. 'What a fanny father
you are,' she said; 'but you are going to buy
rue some candy ?'
'Yes, yes, I'll buy you a pound if you
won't oall me father any more,' said Mr. 8.,
nervously.
The little girl clapped her hands with de
light. Tbe promise was all she remember
ed.
Mr. Brown proceeded to a confectionary
store, and actually bought a pound of candy,
which he placed in the hands of the little
girl.
In coming out of tbe store they encounter
ed the child's mother.
'O, mother,' said the little girl, 'just see
how much candy father has bought me.'
'You should'nt have bought her so much
at a time, Mr. Jones,' said the lady, 'I am
afraid she will make herself aiek. How did
you get home ao quick 7 I did not expect
you till night.'
' Jones—l—madam,' said the embarrassed
Trith and Right Clod aid oar Comtry.
Mr. Brown, 'it's all a mistake; I ain't Jones
at all. It isn't my name. I am Eliphalet
Brown, of W , and this is the first time
I ever came to this city.'
'Good heavens! Mr. Jones, what has pot
this silly tale into your head ? You have
concluded to change your name, have you?
Perhaps it is your intention to change your
wife?'
Mrs. Jones' lone was defiant, and this ten
ded to increase Mr. Brown's embarrassment.
' Ibave'nt any wife, madam ; I never had
any. On my word as a gentleman, I never
was married.'
' And do you intend to palm this tale off
upon me ?' said Mrs. Jones, with excitement.
' If you're not married, I'd like to ktjow who
I am ?
' 1 have no doubt you are a most Respect
able lady,' said Mr. Brown, 'and I conjec
ture, from what you hare said, that-fumr.
name is Jones ; but mine igfirown, madam,
and always was.' - , .
' Melinda,' said her mother, suddenly tak
ing the child by the arm, an| leading her up
to Mr. Brown, 'Melinda, win is that gentle
man I
' Why, that's father!' was the immediate
reply, as she confidingly plated her hand in
bis.
' You hear that, Mi. Jones; do you ? You
bear what that innocent clild says, and yet
you have the unblushing inpudence to deny
that you are my husbandl The voice of
nature, speaking through he child, should
overwhelm you. I'd like to know if you are
not her lather, why you are buying candy
for her? I would like to have you answer
that. But I presume you never saw her be
fore in your life.
'I never did. On my honor; I never did.
I told her I would give her~tlie candy if she
would not call me father any more.'
'You did, did you? Bribed your own
child not to call yon father 1 0, Mr. Jones,
this is infamous! Do you intend to desert
me, sir, and leave me to the ooltj charities o(
the world? and is this your first step?'
Mrs. Jones was so overcome that, without
any warning, she fell baok upon the aide
walk in a tainting fit.
Instantly a number of persons ran to her
assistance.
' Is your wile subject to fainting in this
way?' asked the first comer, of Brown.
'I don't know. She isn't my wife. I
don't know anything about her.'
' Why, it's Mrs. Jones, ain't it?'
' Yes, but I'm not Mr. Jones.'
'Sir,'said the first speaker, stern Iy,'this
is no lime to jest. I trust that you are not
Iba oaueo of iha excitement which must
have occasioned your wife's fainting lit.
You had better call a ooach and carry ber
home direotly.'
Poor Brown was dumbfounded.
'I wonder,' thought he, 'whether its pos
sible that I'm Mr. Jones without knowing it.
Perhaps I'm really Jor.es, and having gone
crazy, in consequence of which I fancy that
my name is Brown. And yet I don't think
I'm Jones. In spite of all, I will insist that
my name is Brown.
'Well, sir, what are you waitiug for? It
is necessary thai your wife should be re
moved at once. Will you order a carriage?'
Brown saw that it was no use to protract
the discussion by a denial. He, therefore,
without discussing the point, ordered a hack
ney coach to the spot.
Mr. Brown accordingly len) an arm to
Mrs. Jones, who had somewhat recovered,
and was about to close the door upon her.
'What, are you not going yourself?'
'Why, no; why should I 1'
'Your wife should not go alone; she has
hardly recovered.'
Brown gave a despairing glance at the
crowd around him, and deeming it useless
to make opposition where so many seemed
thoroughly convinced that he was Mr. Jones,
followed the lady in.
'Where shall I drive ?' said the whip.
'I—I—I don't know,' said Mr. Brown.
'Where would you wish to be carried V
'Home, of course,' muttered Mrs. Jones.
'Where is that ?' asked the driver.
'I don't know,' said Mr. Brown.
'No. 19, H s'reet,' said the gentleman
already introduced, glanoing contemptuously
at Brown.'
'Will you help me out, Mr. Jones? said the
lady, 'I am not fully reoovered from the
fainting fit into which your cruelty drove
me.'
'Are you quite sure that I am Mr. Jones?'
asked Mr. Brown with anxiety. ,
'Of course,' said Mrs. Jones.
'Ther.,' said ha resignedly* 'I suppose 1
am. But if you will believe me, I was firm
ly convinced this morning that my name
was Brown, and to tell the truth, I have'm
any recollection of this house.'
Brown helped Mrs. Jones into the parlor;
but good heavens! conceive the astonish
ment of all, when a man was discovered
sealed in an arm chair, who was the very
fac simile of Mr. Brown, in form, features,
and every other respect!
'Gracious!' ejaculated the lady, 'which—
whioh is my husband?'
An explanation was given, the mystery
cleared up, and Mr. Brown's pardon sought
lor the embarrassing mistake. It was freely 1
accorded by Mr. Brown, who was quite de
lighted to think that after all be was not Mr.
Jones, with a wife and child to boot.
Mr. Brown has not since visited the place
where|this "Comedy of Errors" happened.
He is afraid of losing his identity.
fjr The difference between an honest
and a dishonest banker is, that one fails in
making money, the other makes money in
failing.
How Brother Penrce Converted Fennter
raaeber. *
The following amusing anecdote of the
distinguished (?) representative in Congress,
we clip from that excellent paper, the Phila
delphia Sunday Mercury. The joke was per
petrated by the inimitable New York Cor
respondent of that paper, who gets off some-I
thing 'rioh, racy and rare,' every week; and
who seems to be well acquainted with the
subject upon which he writes. The joke is
quite characteristic of the man. Head it:—
'I see that the Rev. and Hon. J. J. Pearce,
of the northern part of four Slste, a K. N.
member of Congress, has become a subject
of serious animadversion. Your correspon
dent knows him well, and would like simply
to say that the only fault in John Pearoe is,
that theology doesn't agree with his moral
the materials which would have made a glo
rious landlord, an efficient stage proprietor,
or an acute and successful auctioneer, were
sadly perverted. Pearce is a Methodist min
ister, and his wife is possessed of certain real
estate that will support him independently
of bis church. He bad, some years ago,
near Lockhaven, a fine field of tobacco. He
was one day sitting a-slraddle the fence sur
rounding this field, whittling a pine shingle,
and humming 'The Old Ship Zton,' when an
old local preacher, whom I will call Brown,
who had always regarded Pearce with a
jaundiced eye, thus accosted bim:
'Brother Pearce, don't you think you'r a
helpin' along the devil a-raisio' that' air to
bacco? Don't you think it makes a sting in
the noeetrills of the Lord ?'
Pearoe ceased whittling.
'Why ?' he asked.
'Why? Why? Why, hain't you a helpin'
the devil? Hadn't a man—specially a man
what's got grace—ought to do every thing
for the glory of God. And does raisin' that
air cursed stuff glorify the Lord, eh?'
'Do you do everything with a special eye
to God's glory ?'
'Wa-a-11, yes ; I alters pray to do that air
thine.'
'What's that white stufT slicking out of
that bundle you have under your arm?'
'That air's cotton muslin stuff for shirts.'
'Do you believe that slavery glorifies
God?'
'No, no ! Hell's a leetle too good for the
slave-holders. The devils sure to get 'em
when the Lord parts the sheep and the
goats ?'
'And yet,' said Pearce, 'you'll wear cot
ton shirts and eat sugar, the two very arti
cles upon which all the negro's labor is ex
pended.' And then jumping down from the
fence and lucking In a white rag which pro
truded from a rent in the rear of his unmen
tionables, he added, staring his would-be ac
cuser in the eye : 'You glorily God, do you,
in all your actions? You wear cotton shirts,
and d—n the slaveholders, and you sweeten
West India rum with eugar, the very objects
for which all the negro's sweat is expended,
and then curse me for raising my own to
bacco! You're a pretty Christian, you are.'
The old local preacher sneaked away,
leaving Pierce to take another chew from his
sheet-iron tobacco box, and expectorate to
his heart's content.
Pearce is 'some' at a campmeeling, and
when he gets himself worked up into a rap
turous phtensy, his red head and dilating
eyeballs really assume a remarkable aspect.
At a campmeeling in Nippenose Valley, some
four years since, there was one lough old
customer named Fenstermacher, that never
could be induced to come to the anxious seat.
Pearce had striven hard to gain him over to
the Lord's side but as he owned a good dis
tillery, and the church wouldn't receive bim
unless he quit the business, old Fenslerma
cher would not budge an inch. It was the
last day and hour of the said meeting, and
Pearoe was speaking from the top of a dry
goods box with his watch in his hand.
"Only fifty-five minutes more," he shouted,
'and more than a thousand sinners still un
converted.'
Old Fenstermacher was in front of him
and visibly quailed.
Then a prayer and hymn followed, and
again Pearce cried, looking at his watch:
'Only thirty minutes to damnation!'
The same process was repeated until but
five minutes of the time remained, when
Pearce, with hair disheveled, and standing
out from his head in all directions,said, with
terrible solemnity, in a voice intended for
the Dutchman's special case :
'Only five minutes to Hans Fenstermacher's
damnation I'
The old lellow turned pale as ashes for a
moment, and then blubbered out as he sank
to his knees on some straw:
'Oh mine Cheesus, 1 right away
up, and sells my dishtillery to Sam Yerkes
for sixteen tousand tollars to morrow.'
Six months after that day the old man was
a pillar of the Methodist Church in Nippen
ose, and probably ia there yet.
Such is the character of the Honorable Mr.
Pearce, a man who, I doubt not, is much be
lied, but who, nevertheless, is not just so well
fitted for sacerdotal duties as some others of
softer heads and harder hearts.
IMPORTANT CHANCES IN Mexico.—The de
cree that the clergy are not permitted to hold
property was published in Mexico on the
28th nltimo. The people in general con
gratulated President Commonfort on that im
portant step. The Jesuits are to leave the
country. The Spanish difficulties are settled.
The ports are open for emigrants, and liberty
of conscience has been guarantied by the
Congress. Such liberality gives some hope
that Mexioo will yet rise from ber debase
ment, and assume rank among the nations
of the earth as a fixed and permanent power.
HUMOROUS.
W "Never saw euch stirring timet," ae
the spoon aaid to the eaoeepan.
£7Those two gentleman who stood upon
the point of honor, the other day, for ten min
utes, performed • very delicate feat.
17* "Come in, children, out of the wet,"
as the shark ssid when he suokedin the little
fishes.
IV "What is the cause of that bell ring
ing?" inquiried Pete.
"It's my deliberate conviction that some
one has pulied the rope," answered Jo
seph.
I*" A partisan paper says it is a mistake
that the (opposite) party plays upon a thou
sand strings. The organ of that party is a
lyre.
HP* It is said (hat a Yankee baby Will
crawl out of the cradle, take a surrey of it,
invent an improvement, and apply for a pat
ent before he is six months old.
£7* Jenkins is a mao who takes matters
humorously. When his best friend was
blown into the air by a 'bustin biler,' Jenk
ins cried after him, "there goes my es-sfsom
ed friend.
£7" A young man was conversing in a
public house of his abilities and accomplish
menls, and boasting a great deal of his
mighty performances. When he had fin
ished, a Quaker quietly observed, 'there is
one thing thou canst not do; thou canst not
tell the truth.'
£7" A STRINO OF PUNS.—"Josh, I say. I's j
going down street t'other day, an' I seed a|
tree bark."
"Golly!. Sam, I seed it hollow."
"I seed the same tree leave."
"Did he take his trunk wid 'im?"
"No, he left that for board."
IF "Mr. Julius, is you belter die morn
tn?"
"No Mr. Snow, I was better yesterday but
I'se got ober dat."
"Am dere no hopes, den, ob your discov
ery?"
"Discovery of what ?"
"Your discovery from der convalescence
which folched jou on yer back."
"Dal 'pends, Mr. Snow, altogedder on the
prognostications which amplify de disease;
for should they terminate fatally, he hopes
the colored indervidual wont die till his breff
lefs him some other time. As I said before,
it all depends on de prognostics, and till de
disease come to a head it am hard to tell
wedder de nigger will discontinue his come
or not."
NOOKS VS. SNOOKS.—Nooks met Snooks in
a tight place, and neither could turn out with
out some danger of overturning their respect
ive carts.
"If you don't turn out," said Nooks, "IH
serve you just as I did a° man I met half a
mile back here in just such a place at this."
Snooks was impressed by the decision
which Nooks displayed, and promptly com
plied with the request; but just as he was
getting by, be inquired :
"How about that man you met—how did
you serve him ?"
"Oh, well—bem—you see when I found as
bow he wouldn't turn ont for me, why—
hem—l just turned out for him—that was
all 1"
Nooks is a wag of the first water!
17* The captain of a canal boat was bring
ing a large number of passengers down the
Pennsylvania Canal, and had been consid
erably irritated by the publications in the pa
pers, showing tjiat (be traveling public were
all for Adams. Watching a favorable oppor'
tunity, while neapng a bridge and while his
passengers were on deck discussing politics,
he called out, 'all in favor of Jackson will
stoop their heads.' Every man ducked his
head of course to avoid coming in collision
with the bridge, and the captain triumphantly
raised his head crying 'unanimous for Jack
son,' and so it was reported in the democratic
papers of the next village. This was con
sidered the best political dodge of the cam
paign.
POKTRY—A "brilliant" young miss, dis
coursing on poetry, bursts out in the hifatulin
strain: "Poetry, sir, in my opinion, is har
mony. It is the voice of the angels, the ma
sio of the spheres, the royal harp of love, the
parent of purity, the benign instrument of
charily. Poetry breathes sweetly in the pas
sing zephyrs, and sings lullababies in the
majestic symphonies of Boreas; the seas
echo its music, and the waves as they roll
onward without cessation, in chromatic soales
express its very soul. Poetry to me is (he-
Jane, my dear, where did you purchase that
love of a bat?
17* Nebraska appears to be filling up with
large bodies of emigrants, mostly young
men. They go with the plough and the axe
in hand, and not Sharpe's rifles. This may
account for the peaceable and secure settle'
ment of the territory, in such striking con
trast in Kansas,.wbioh was commenced with
swagger and violence, and has continued
with trouble and outrage ever since.
17 A wealthy family in New Orleans so
tainted with blood on the mother's side that
could not be admitted into the best so
ciety, sold out last year and went to Paris.—
One of the daughters, it is now reported, has
married a foreign ambassador at the court of
Louis Napoleon.
I.ovx AND SILENCE.—
Words are little aid
To love, whose deepest vowa are ever made
By the beart'a beat alone. O, silence is
Love's own peculiar eloquence of bliss.
[Two Dollars per ABBM*^
NUMBER 28.
JTWbitol Beading.
From the Middle Stotee Med. Reformer.
Is A SOUTHERN CLIMATE BENEFICIAL TO CON
SUMPTIONS?—Aaron W——, of Tamaqua,
Pa., asks whether it be a fact that a South
ern clime is best calculated to promote the
recovery of persons laboring under Con
sumptive disease?
We know that this is the opinion very
generally entertained—that "the refreshing
breezes, the orange groves and flowers, and
eternal spring" of the South are preeminent
ly calculated to benefit the consumptive,
and that all thus diseased or having a ten
dency to it should go to the middle climate
of the South. Now to our mind—and our
opinion has been strengthened by observa
tion and considerable investigation—this is
all a fatal error—an error fearfully demon*
titrated by innumerable marble rocords in
the West Indies, Madcria, tho South of
Fllicn, an —ell no Ptu.Un 1 | t :
our own country.
Reflect a moment. The peculiarities of
the Southern climate are foggy, damp, wet;
at one time suffocatingly sultry, at another
cool, damp and chilly. These changes too
are sudden and great, often over thirty de
grees in less than six hours. Well the sys
tem of the consumptive is iu a relaxed con
dition. The tendency of such a climato,
instead of proving bracing and tonic, in
creases this difficulty. He needs the life
giving influences of the clear, dry air of tbe
North, and he must have it to successfully
escape the fatal results of consumption, be
cause having a less amount of lungs ho
necessarily consumes a less amount of air,
in bulk, than the imperative wants of the
system demand. Well it has been demon
strated that the warmer air is, the less nour
ishment it contains—that a* cubic inch of
cold air contains a greater proportion of ox
ygen—the blood purifying and life giving
element, than the same amount of warm air.
The consumptive then, who is already liv
ing on a short allowance in this important
particular, if he leaves hence at all, instead
of going to a latitude where this allowance
will be diminished, should by all means go
where every inch of air he consumes will
afford him the largest amount of nutriment.
Instead then of going South let him go
North. We may recur to this subject again.
EPILEPTIC FITS AND EPILEPSY NOT THE SAME
DISEASE.— By H. S. Barrows, M. D.—The
disease known among us as epilepsy is in
volved in no inconsiderable obscurity, and
I verily believe that there is a difference be
tween it and epileptic fits. I not only be
lieve that epilepsy is incurable, but that no
well attested case of cure can bo produced.
That epileptic fits have been, and maydtf
cured I have no doubt, if the case is
in seasoa. We cannot
case to be one of epilepsy
it presents some of the
toms, any more thau we are a"thorizNß|
pronounce certain hepatic troubles of a
chronic character, consumption, merely be
cause they present some symptoms in com
mon with that fatal disease. The pathog
nomic symptoms of epilepsy are convul
sions with sleep. The attendant symytoms
usually are foam issuing from the mouth,
laborious respiration as in the act of strang
ling, pulse at the commencement quick and
small, in the progress of the paroxysm lan
guid and full, eyes swollen and protuber
ant, constantly in motion and turned up so
as to conceal the pupils, teeth grinding often
with great violence, the jugulars turgid, the
tongue swollen and protuberant, the head
convulsed, and sometimes seized with te
tanus, and either drawn forwards 'to the
chest, or backward towerds the spine where
it continues fixed and quite immoveable.—
The thumbs are strongly rivited within the
palms; all the muscles are either convulsed
to such a degree that several men can scarce
ly restrain their motion, or the whole body
becomes rigid like a marble statue. Some
times it comes on suddenly and without the
least warning of its approach; but frequent
ly it is preceded by some degree of lassi
tude, singing in the ears, &c.
Epilepsy is that organic affection of the
cerebrum which predisposes the individual
to certain fits or convulsions, marked by
a certain characteristic of periodicity, and
may occur monthly, weekly or daily. This
1 define true epilepsy, without fear of con
tradiction pronounce it incurable by human
skill.
Epileptic fits are certain convulsions of the
epileptic character, being or not being mark
ed by periodicity, depending upon any of
the various causes of irritation, and in which
the cerebrum is functionally affected. These
fits are curable, and are the fits which have
been cured by those who make epilepsy a
speciality in their practice, and who have
received the credit ot curing a disease which
in fact never existed.— Worcester Jour, <f Mod,
BLEEDING IN PUEBFEEALFEVER.— At amoet
ing of the College of Physicians of Phila
delphia, March 6th, 18S6, in discussing this
subject Dr. Beosley said:—ln tbe early year*
of my practice, I adopted the plan recom
mended by Dr. Dewees, and bled and pur
ged freely in such cases, and I regret to say,
with not that success I desired. But for the
last eight years 1 treat them differently, sel
dom taking any blood from them.
Dr. Condie said:—During a practice of 19
years, I have seen enough of puerperal fe
ver to strengthen my adherence to the belief,
confirmed now by the conclusions of ob
stetricians in every part of Europe, and by
the majority of those in our own country,
that bleeding in this disease is altogether
mischievous.— Transactions of College of Pky,
i sicians.