THE STAR OF! THE NORTH. B. W, Weaver, Proprietor.] VOLUME 9. THE STAR OF TIIE NORTH IB PUBLISHED EVTRY WEDNESDAY MORNING BY R. W. WEAVER, OFFICE —Upstairs, in the new brick build ing, on the south side oj Main Street, third square below Market. TEH BIS:— 1 'wo Dollars per annum, if paid w:lhin six months from the lime of sub ecribing ; two dollars and fifty cents if not paitl within the year. No subscription re ceived for a less period than six months; no disconiiittianee permitted until all arrearages lire paid, unless at the option of the editor. ADVERTISEMENTS not exceeding one square Will be inserted three limes for One Dollar, and twenty.five cents for each additional in seition. A liberal disconnt will be made to those who advertise by the year. Clioite trg. THE CONQUEROR WORM. BY EDGAR A. POE. Lo! 'tis a gala night Within the lonesome latter years! An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veil*, and drown'd in tears, Sit in a theatre, 10 see A play of hopes and fears, While the orchestra breathes fitfully The music of the spheres. Mimes in the form of God on high, Mutter and mumble low, And hither and thither fly- Mere puppets they who come and go At bidding ol vast formless things That shift Ike scenery to and tro, Flapping from out their Condor wings Invisible Wo! That Motley drama! —oh, be sure It shall not be lorgot! With its Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returnetb in To theself same spot, , And muck of Madness, and more of Sin, And Horror the soul of the plot. But see, amid the mimic rout, A crawling shape intrude! A blood-red thing that writhes from out The scenic solitude! It writhes!-it writhes'.-wilh mortal pangs. The mimes become its fond, And the angels sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued. Out—out are the lights—out all 1 And, over each quivering form, The curtain a funeral pall, Comesdown with the rush of a storm, And the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirm That the play i* the tragedy, "Man," Its hero the Conqueror Worm. A New Hrrjfcljle. Every person has read of Jules Gerard, the ' lion-killer, and bis wonderful encounters in ! the jungles of Africa. When Gerard came back lo Paris the last lime from his favorite amusement in Africa, he suggesteJ to Dev isme, the well known gunmnker of the Bou levard des Il&liens, the idea of inventing a ; ball that would explode when it arrived in ! the animal's body. The new projectile is l about the size of the Minie ball; its penetra ting force is equal to the common ball. Ar rived at the animal's body, it explodes like a bomb, and, of course, causes the sudden death of the animal. U shot into the lungs -of en elephant, for example, the ball in explo ding disengages carbonic acid gas, and the animal, which from its size might otherwise survive for a short time, will suddenly tail • asphyxiated. A few days ago a parly of | gentlemen accompanied M. Deviame to a horse-slaughter house in the environs of the city. Thare the new projectile was tried on five horsee which were standing tied lo a fence wailing to be shot. They were each ebot in the lungs, the ball exploded, and the animal fell dead. The experiment was com pletely satisfactory. Since then, M. Devis roe, to demonstrate the practicability of bis new projectile as a substitute for the harpoon in the destruction of whales, has gone to Havre, with the hope that a whale would present itself to be killed, but lo try the ex periment on an artificial whale that would respond in its resistance to a real one. The xperiment was entirely successful, and those who witnessed it assert positively that the substitute for the harpoon is fouud. TO TIIE GIRLS. Ladles, you caged birds of beautiful plum age, but sickly look; you pals pets of the parlor, vegetating in unhealthy shades of a greenish complexion, like that of a potato in a dark cellar—why don't you go out in the open air and add lustre to your eyes, and vig or to your irames I Take early morning ex orcist—let loose your corset strings aod run up the bill for a wager and down again for fnn. Liberty thus exercised and enjoyed, <*vill render you healthy, blooming and beau tiful—as lovely as the Graces; prolific as Devara. The buxom, bright-eyed, rosy cheeked, full-breasted, bouncing lass—who can dam a stocking, mend trousers, make her own frocks, command a regiment of pots and kettles, feed the pigs, milk the cows,sod be • lady withal in company, is just the sort ot a girl for me or any other young man to marry. But vou, ye pining, lolling, screwed up, wasp-waistod, doll dressed, putty-faced, consumption-mortgaged, novel-devouring daughters of fashion or idleness—are no more fit for matrimony than a pullet is to look afler a family of fourteen chickens. The truth is, my dear girl*, you want, generally speaking, more leg exercise, and less sofa; more pud ding and lets piano; more frankness aod leu mock modesty; more corned beef steak and lets bishop. Looaen yourselves s little; en joy more liberty and lesa restraint of fashion; breathe the pure atmosphere of freedom; become something nearly as lovely as tbe God of nature designed.—£>otc ; Jr. BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA.FWEBNESDAY, JULY 29, 1857. From the London limes, July 7. | THE AFRICAN LAUOR QUESTION. I The extraordinary position of our tropical colonies was forcibly illustrated In the dis cussion which occurred in the House of Com mons on Friday evening respecting the in troduction of labor into British Guiana. At the very moment that the high price of su gar is making itself felt most keenly, and a failure is apprehended in the supply of that material which furnishes the very life blood of British trade, Mr. Thomas Baring re minds the Legislature that our Colony of Guiana contains 50,000,000 acres of the most fertile land in the world, that it has ev ery advantage of internal communication, with an extensive leaboard for the resort of shipping;')* within .a monthit six weeks' sail of our shores, and could produce cotton and sugar in all the abundance- that consu mers or manufacturers could desire. One element only is wanting to the reali zation of these natural bounties, and that is the labor of man. The soil, the climate, the capacities of *ll ktods are favorable in tbe extreme; the territory is our own, and it lies within easy reach; but there are no laborers forthcoming to turn these advantages to ac count. Even those peculiar elements which are said to be wanting to the agriculture of India—energy and capital—are not lacking in Guiana, for British planters are establish ed in the Colony, and are prepared with all other requisites, if they could obtain the hands to do the work Btgood wages. Noth ing beyond tbi* is needed to bring plenty in to our markets, and relieve the anxieties which, as our readers saw, have been again expressed on behall of our staple manufac ture. In this world it is usually found that em barrassments of this description admit of re moval by proceeding* fraaghT wKtx.s double benefit. The abundaaae of on* district is made to ease the necessities of another, and both gain alike by die establishment of an equilibrium. Our colonies want labor; other countries are overstocked with it. In China, for instance, the population has so far out grown the territory that the Chinese go off in swarms, like bees, to any quarter of the world which wilt receive them. In India, again, though the redundance is not quite so striking, the country teems with life, and la bor is so cheap that it barely admits of be ing bartered for subsistence. From India, therefore, and from China, labor bas found its way to the colonies in question, but so great is the distance and so serious the im pediments iiilerposeiF that, eScept In the case of the Mauritius, the supply bas been very insufficient. That island, however, fur nishes an excellent illustration ot the state of things which might be brought about. — Within the last ter. years, as Mr. Labouchere informed tbeasllouse, it has received from India no fewer than 100,000 Coolies. This reinforcement of workmen has enabled the planters to cultivate sugar not only at a profit but ' at a greater profit than by slave labor," while the high prosperity of the colony tbos induced, "so far from being purchased at the expense of inhumanity towards these laborers, enabled them to accumulate prop erly and settle on the island, or, if they re turned to their native country, they carried the fruits of their industry with them. All this while, it must be remombered, that the slave trade itself undergoes heavy discour agement from such successful competition, and that our own markets experience tbe benefit of most seasonable importation*; so that all parties together—tbe colonial propri etor, the British consumer, and the actual laborer—derive advantage from the system, winch injures nobody except the slavehold er. We do not see how a stronger case coold possibly be made oni. By the simple agency of labor, one of our colonies is able to amast wealth, to slock our markets with its exports, to benefit tbe population of an other land, and to act like a thorn ih the eide of the slaveholder. For tha want of this sarqe agency, others of onr colonies are run ning lo ruin, are exporting but little produce, are doing no good to anybody, and are per mitting the slave merchants to thrive in the absence of the competition they might es tablish. If these facts do not make a case for supplying not only Guiana but onr other settlements too with free labor in propel abundance, we are *t a loss to see bow any proposition can be proved at *ll. What is the obstacle i t tbe way ? The distance. If the West Indies, said Mr. La bouchere, had not enjoyed the same advan tages as the Mauritius, it was "owing to their geographical position in relation to the soorce of the supply of labor not being so iavorable." But is there only one such soured? Is not Africa aa populous in many parts as India? Is it not as conveniently situa'ed in regard to the West Indies, as India is with regard to the Mauritius? Aod above all, are not tbe Africans pre-eminently fitted by nature for tropical labor? Every one of these-questions must be answered in the affirmative. It is easier lo bring negroes from Africa than Coolies from India or Chi namen from Hong Kong, and when brought they would make the best of laborers. We are driven, therefore, to seek elsewhere for reaeona against the proceeding, and such arguments were produoed by Mr. Labou ohare in tbe debate, and will be found em bodied in a letter from Mi. M. Porster, which we publish lo day. According to these views the condition of the native Af ricans is each that to go to the coast with a demand for their service* would infallibly generals a system of kidnapping in tht inte rior of the country, and, iu foot, as far as Af rica is concerned, would revive the slave trade, and destroy tb* tnoro legitimate pnr- • Truth and Bight God aud ourf Country. I mils which the partial repression of thi I trade has Buffered to apring up. j In conaidering theae argument, we find ! the compass of the controversy eery conve niently narrowed. It ie not alleged 'hat the position of the nogro.once landed in Guiana or Jamaica, would be otherwise than good, or that his rights aa a tree laborer on British territory could not be effectually secured.— All that is said is that he could not be pro cured on the shores of his birth without giv ing occasion to fearful wrong. As to his freedom, regarded in the abstract, there i hardly room for discussion about it. With few exceptions, the tribes about the coast live in a state of slavery naturally and con stantly in so far as concerns subordination to the Will of a master. They may not be ill used or overworked, but they %re at the command and disposal of a lord. At present they are engaged in the manufacture and exportation of palm oil and other such pro ducts, but if a demand were made for them, their kings, or masters, would instantly sell them, and then resort to war to procure oth ers, who would be sold in the same way.— The necessary consequence of such a sys tem would be the revival of the slave trade atrocities in the first stage. The horrors of the middle passage would, of course, have no existence, nor would the negro have any thing to fear when he was landed at his des tination; but the effect on Africa itself would be deplorable. Negroes, in short there, are natural slaves, born so, and kept so. If no slave market If opened, their masters are content with reasonable service; but if they can make a better thing of it by selling theft) outright they will infallibly do so, and steal others to keep up the supply. Such, as we understand it, i 9 the case of those who, like our correspondent, are averse to the proposed system of supplying our colonies with free labor from Africa. Upon this reasoning we can only observe tbat whereas the anticipated advantages are, as we have shown, enormously great, the ap prehended evils are certainly somewhat oir cumscribed. As regards the Negro himself, it is hardly possible to deny that under prop er supervision he would be far bnter off in a British colony than he is at home under the rule of a master, who, as our correspondent admits, could and would, if thwarted or of fended, whip him or starve him into sub mission, or even murder bim outright.— Suoh conditions of service would certainly be well exchanged for those nnder which the Coolies of the Mauritius realize freedom and independence. AM tbat ia dreaded i* R>| these petty kings, if once they get an oppor tunity of shipping their subjects in any ca pacity whatsoever, will take to this trade so kindly as to forsake other occupations for tha: of manstealing. We will not here inquire whether such propensities could be encountered by "any checks,but will accept the argument on its own ground. Granted that a demand for ne groes will generate intestine wars in Africa, does not such demand exist now? Whence come the thousands ot slaves yearly landed in Cuba, and the thousands who die on the passage ? And what is the effect of such an exportation? Clearly, this intestine war must be prevailing as it is, but all the other hor rors of the slave trade too. This war, in short, is but part and parcel of the very slave trade which free labor would put down, and thequestion is not whether we should or should not run the risk of creating a demand for negroes on the ooast of Africa, but whether, as we have never yet been able to extinguish such a demand, we should not attempt to take it in hand our selves, with a certainty of suppressing all its abominations in every stige of the pro ceeding but one, and with it at least a chance of mitigating them in that stage also. The Dead Babe. Do not bend over that li ttle cradle so hope lessly, with such passionate gnef. See a tear has fallen on the marble cheek, and dimmed it* whiteness ; think thee, bereaved mother, no stain of ain shall ever wring a drop like that from those gentle eyes. Belter the pallor on the velvet cheek of tbat dead, innocent cA, than the blush of shame tbat might. God knows bast, paint it a ladeless red, hereaf ter. Better tbe chill of tbat fair brow, be cause in heaven, the sister brow, (the spirit) wears a crown of glory, :ban the manly fore head, stamped with cares, crossed with toil ing thought, or mayhaps, branded with dis honor. Better the helpless, passive folding of those little bands, than the uplifted arm that might smite a brother to the earth ; for think, mother, every Cain has once been pure, as lovely perhaps, as thst dead.babe of thine. God takes in mercy; he gave thee sn an gel, and be has called it home a little before. Around thee, tbere will henceforth be a spirit babe, folding it* little wings by thy side, and comforting thee when thou art in affliction. How sweet, thy soul it loosed from the band* of earth, to feel the soft arm* of a little child wafting thee to the eternal mansion*. A FITTTING REBUKE.— Having in my youth notions of severe piety, says a celebrated Persian writer, I used to rise in the night to watch, pray and read the Koran. One night, as I was engaged in these exercises,'my father, a man of practical virtue, awoke while I was reading. "Behold," said Ito him, "thy other children are lost in irre ligious slumber, while I alone wake to praise God." "Son of my soul," he an swered, "it is better to sleep than to wake to remark the faults of my brethren." THE STAR OF LO^E. There is a moment, in every man's exist ence, on which turn* his future destiny.—• There* are many such moments; lor often times life bangs upon a thread, andrif the thread is not cut, it requires but a tiuch to change tbe whole direction of tha futtye. But in every man's life there is at least ope, and in that of young Sheik Houasein it Recurred thus: It was not often in those days that travel ers crossed tbe great desert. Few Europeans came to Egypt, and fewer still wentjto Sinai. But there was a time when Houstein was called to Cairo to meet a noble party of west ern traveler*, a gentleman and to ladie*, wbo were making a pilgrimage lamina! and Ih* Holy I*aq|L and wbo in crossing the desert. He sas^H^ tbe gen tleman, and readily engaged lo Inform the deaired service. It was not until tbe party bad left tbe Birk et-el-Haj that be met them, wlfere they were encamped, by moonlight, on the sand that stretches away to Sotz. As be sprang from his mars, before the tsnl-dooi, he was startled by such a vision as he had never before seen, but thought be had dreamed of in his waking dreams. She was slight, fair, and, in (lie moonlight, pale as a creature of dreamt. Was this one of the honris of his fabled paradise ? No; he rejected the thought, if it rose. There wa* no spot in all the heaven of Mahommed fit for an angel like this. Away, like the aarids on the whirlwind, like the clouds before the sun, like tbe stars at daybreak : away swept alkhis faith in Islam, and, in an instant the Shiek Houmoio was an idoljjo/, worshipping as thousanas greater than done, the beauty of woman I Perhaps he might have quenohed his thirst for the unknown at some other fountain, but this was erlcugh now. He had found that wherewith to fill the void, and he was content. Love was a new emotion, a sensation he had never before experienced, and it satisfied him. Did she love him ? That was a ques tion which never occurred <e.him. What did he care lor that? He was net seeking to be loved ! He was looking for employment for his own soul, and he had lound it, and tbat was enough. The tradition goes on to describe his long crossing of the desert—how be lingered among the hills of Sioai; how he led them by Akaba and Pelra, and detained them many weeks in the city of Rock ; how the lair Eng lish girl faded slowly away, lor sbe was-now dying wWen smican*. Uidmirt ami how, weary, well-nigh dead, he carried her to the Holy City, and pitched their tents by the mountain of toe Ascension. And all this time he watched over her with tbe zealous care of a father or a brother, and the quick heart of the lady say it and understood it all. And sometimes he would try, in broken words, to tell her of bis old belief and his ideas of immortality, and she would read in his bearing sublime promises and glorious hopes tbat wete in a language that he knew nothing of, but which be half understood from her uplifted eye and countenance. How he worshipped that matchless eye! He worshipped nothing else, on earth or in heaven. It was noon of night under the walls of Je rusalem ; and in a white tent close by tbe bill on which the footsteps of the ascending Lord left their hallowing touch, wp English girl was wailing His biddiug to follow him. Outside the tent, on the ground, with eyes fixed on the everlasting start, lay a group of Bedouins, and apart from them a little way their chief, silent, motionless—to all that was earthly, dead. A low voice with in the tent broke the stillness of tbe night, but he did not move. A voice was uttering again those words, of whieh the soaad had become familiar to bim already,tbe Christian prayer. "Shiek Houssien 1" He sprang to bis feel. It was her voice, faint, low, but silvery. The (enl-door was thrust aside, and at a baud motioned to him to enter, he obeyed. She lay on the cushions, her head lifted somewhat from the pillow by the arms of her sister; her brother, wbo spoke the language of the desert well, stood by her as the young Shiek approached. His ooofoa'wa* gathered around hit head ; only his ftart efe, flashing gloriously, was visible. She looked up into it and whispered ; he half understood her before the words came through her brother's lip*, as she told him the story of Calvary and Christ, and the cloud tbat received the King and Saviour returning to His throne. It were vain to say he understood all this. He only knew that the was telling bigpt of her hope ere long to be above him, above the world, above the sky; and bis active but be wildered mind inwrought all this with an cient traditions, and having long ago rejected the creed that did not tesch him that eke was immortal, as he fallback on the idea flat tbe immortals had something todo with the stars, and as be lay down on the ground, close by the side of the lent, listening for every sound from within, he fixed his eyes on the zenith and watched the peering of the hosts of the night, until sbe died. Then a mailing of garments, a voics- of inqftriOaeiblS sweet neas suddenly silent, a low; toft Sigh, the ex piration of a eaint; and tbat at thai instant far in the depths of the meridian blue, a clear star flashed on bis eye, for the first time iu silver radiance, and be believed tbat aha was there. For three-score years afler that, there was on the desert, near that group of palm tree* aud lonely apring, a small turret built of etonee, brought a long distance, stone by stone, on camels. And in this hut, or on it* summit, lived a good, wise man, beloved of all (he tribes, and especially followed by his , own immediate tribe, who, with him, reject ed Mohammed, and worshipped aod un known God, through the medium of the stats and especially one star, which be had taught them to reverence above all others. At length there came a night when the wind was abroad on the desert,and the voice ol the tempest was fierce and terrible. But high over all the sand-hills, and over tbe whirling storm* of sand, sedate, calm, majes tic, the immutable stars were looking down on tbe plain, and the old man in his tower beheld them, and went forth on tbe wind to search their infinite distances. That night, saith the tradition, another star flashed out of heaven beside the star that the Arab* worshipped, and the Shiek Houstein was young again in the heaven of bis belov ed ! Let us leave him lo the mercy of tradition, nor seek lo know whether he leached that blessed abode. Gelling to Heaven bv way of New Orleans- The Philadelphia correspondent of the New York Dispatch gives the following: A few day* since, a young man who had long been attached to a church, and who was fcbont to leave for New Orleans, came to bid his pastor farewell. 'And so you are go ing to that degenerate place New Orleans, are yon V said the pastor. 'Yes, sit, but I don't expect lo be iefluenced by any extra neous pressure of any kind,' responded the young man with considerable earnestness.— 'Well, lam glad to see you so confident. I hope the Lord will guide you. But do you know the temptations which exist there?'— 'Npt particularly, sir.' 'Well, 1 do. You'll find wanton women in the gnise of Paris, tempting tbe very elect; and rare wines and ardent drinks; and you'll find fine company, and night brawling, and gambling, and dissi pation, and running after the lusts of old man Adam.' 'Still, sir, I hope to combat these successfully.' 'I hope you will my dear Christian brother, was the reply. I hope yon will, and let me give you this much for consolation in case you should fall'from grace. The tempter is worse than the sin, and the greater the temptation, the more merit there is in resisting it. The man who goes to Heaven byway of Hew Or terns, is sure lo have twice as high place in eternal glory as he who reaches Paradise through the quiet portals of Connecticut or Pennsyl vania. Blerlt and Position. The difference between a man of merit and a man of position is this : the latter is the man of his day, the former is the man after his day. There was a king in England wltenShaks peare lived there, and doubtless every child in the realm knew his name familiarly; but how many knew the name of the poor play writer? But now, almost every child wbo speaks the English language, knows of Shakspeare and his writings. How many of them know of James and his writings? Very few. Thus the man of high position died wiih bis position and his day; but the man of merit only began to live when he died. The author of "Don Qnixotfe is known by his works throughout tbe world; but who can tell about the men of position—tbe king, if a king—or tbe nobles, or the fine gay la dies who lived when Cervantes was writing tbe adventures of the "Knight of the Rueful Countenance ?" Who was Governor of Virginia when Pat rick Henry fired his fellow-men with his elo quence? Yet every American bey knows of Patrick Henry. And yet we think that the Governor must lisve been belter known in his day than the orator. Thus it is : position is a thing of to-day, while merit is a thing of all time; and when joined to that rarest of things—an upright, blameless Christian, life—it becomes a star in eternity, a never-ending light in the eter nal sky of truth. Evil Speaking. The following anecdote is related of the late excellent J. J. Gurney, by one who, as a child, was often ono of his family circle: One night—l remembered it well—l re ceived a severe lesson on the sin of evil speaking. Severe I thought it then, and my heart rose in childish anger against him who gave it; but I had not lived long enough in this world to know how much mischief n child's thoughtless talk may do, and how often it happens that talkers run off the straight line of truth. S. did not stand very high in my esteem, and I was about to speak further of her failings of temper. In a few moments my eyes caught a look of such calm and steady displeasure, that I stopped short. There was no mistaking the meaning of that dark, speaking eye. it brought the color to my face, and confusion and shame to my heart. 1 was silent for a few moments, when Joseph John Gurney asked, very gravely: "Dost thou know any good thing to tell us of her?" I did not answer; and the question was more seriously asked: . "Think; is there nothing good thou canst tell us of her?" "O, yes I know some good things, but—" "Would it not have been better, then, to relate these good things, than to have told cs that which would lower her in our es teem? Since there is good to relate, would it not be kinder to be silent on the evil?— 'Charity rejoiceth not in iniquity,' thou knowest." LUTE GIFTS. BV CHARLXS SWAIN. I've brought thee spring roses, Sweet roses to wear, Two bnde for thy bosom And one for thy hair; I've brought thee new riband* Tby beauty to deck, I.tghl blue for thy love waist, And white for thy neck ! Oh, bright is the beauty That woos the to-night; But brighter affection, And lasting as bright! I've brought thee, what's belter Than riband* or rose— A heart that will shield thee Whatever wind blows! 'Tie gladness to view thee, ' Thus beaming ami gay; And walking in sweetness As if thou wert May! The spring of thy being As lovely to see; And oh ! what's diviner, Affianced to me ! A Jllography of Di Kane by l)r. Elder. Messrs. Childs & Peterson announce that they will soon publish * memoir of the late Dr. Kane, by Dr. Wm. Elder. This, lo very many persons, on both sides of the Atlantic, must be gratifying news, and the forthcoming work will doubtless be looked for with lively interest. Certainly no nobler subject for bi ography has been furnished within the)pres ent century, and we are glad to tbink that it has been committed to entirely competent hands. The gentlemar. wbo has been en. gaged lo prepare (he book for the press, is not only ablo to perform the task with all de sirable literary ability, but his rare earnest ness of character, at.d fitness to sppreciate fully the importance of the undertaking, af ford a guarantee that he will execute it con scientiously, and, therefore, thoroughly. He has, we learn, been furnished with the nec essary materials for his purpose by the family of Dr. Kane, and by Mr. Grinnell, Lady Franklin, and all those who had any available knowledge to contribute. In view, then, of the completeness of the data supplied, and the eminent qualifications of Dr. Elder to make the best possible use of it, we may confidently promise that (he biography he is employed upon, will not only possess the absorbing interest which belongs lo the events of a very remarkable life, but be invested with that additional charm which the most vigorous and vivacious style of narrative can impart to the heroic incidents of personal his tory-, ... As regards tbe need for such a memorial, there can, we think, be no doubt. Apart from any gratification it may afford the im mediate friends and relatives of the deceas ed, or tbe curiosity of the age ill which ho lived and acted out the marvellous career of self-sacrificing adventure, peril and endurance which has won for him a wide and glorious renown among his cotemporarie9, there is a moral significance in so illustrious a life, which requires that it should be preserved and transmitted fur the benefit of posterity. Highly as we estimate the services that Dr. Kane rendered to science in his explorations, and the probable results lo whieh tbey may yet lead, and much as we prize tbe modest, though fascinating and intelligent record he has left of hie last expedition, we hold that the chief worth of all he has been and all he has done, consists in the shining example of human character which he b*e bequeathed to his race everywhere, and the salutaiy in fluence which tba: example may continue to exert in succeeding generations of men. That is the true, the paramount value of all biography that deserves to be written, and we venture to say, that an instance of indi vidual history, comprised within a period of thirty odd yeara, more deserving of permanent record and better fitted lo stir strongly all the springs of virtuous emulation, than that of the young Arctic hero, is not embraced in hu man annals. The world knows already the prominent events ol his later yea:*. It has read in his own simple narrative the scene ot thrilling danger, of severe suffering, and of miraculous fortitude through which he passed in his devoted search lor the lost English nav igators amid the frozen regions of the pole. But these are but manifestations of character which make it the more important that we should penelra'e into and discern the process es and agencies of education which ultimate ly expanded iuto and bore such noble fruit. Tho man, therefore, who,"in writing his bi ography from the beginning, admits us to a clear, familiar view ol the inner life of Dr. Kane—a view of the workings of his soul in its growth towards that heroia breadth and depth of development, that greatness of pro portion and generous vigor of tone which were revealed in-action and achievement, will perform a work which alone oati enable us to understand the admirable character and career which are the subject of il, and make them a luminons guide to others who may aspiteto like virtues and like dialinotionv Dr. Elder, we believe, will endeavor to do Ibis, and our knowledge of his talent* and his zeal assuies us that he will satisfactorily accom plish bis taak. Until the volume is issued from the press, the impatience to peruse it will doubtless iuoreaee, and we dare to pre dict, that,when received, it will be found one of the most originally written, most interest ing, and practically useful memoir* ever giv en to the public— Philadelphia Eve. Journal. BP If a girl thinks more of her heels than of her head, depend upon it, she will never amoont to much; for brains which settle in the shoes never get above them. Young gentlemen will please make note of this. [two Dollars per knnmu. NUMBER 29. ileVeriei of a Drunkard. "I think liquor's injuring me ; it's a spott ing my temperament. Sometimes Ijget mad when lem drunk, and abuse Beltjr and the brats—it used to be Lizzie and the children that's some lime ago ; I can just mind it.—• When I used to come home tlTen, she used to put her arm* around my neck, dad kits mB, and call me dear William. "When I come home hodr, she t ekes her pipe out of her .mouth, and pais her hair ont of bar eyes, and looks at;me, and says some thing like, 'Bill, you drunken brute, shut the door after you; we're cold enough, having no fire, without letting the snow blow in'tbat way." | "Yes, she's Betty and I'm Bill, qpw. I : aint a good bill neither—'spec! I'm a Counter tie it —won't pass—a tavern, without going in and getting a drink. Don't know what bank I'm oH; last Sunday I was on the river bank —drunk. "I stay out pretty lath now—sometimes I'm out all night. Fact is, I'm out piratiy much all over; ont of friends, out of pocket, out at elbows and knees,'and always outrageously dirly—so Betty says; but then she's no judge, for she's never clean hersel'. "There's one good quality I've got—l wont get in debt; I never conld do it. There, now, one of my coat tails is gone ; got tore oft, I 'spect, when t fell down here. I'll ! have lo get a new suit soon. A fellow told me, the other day, I'd mike a good sign for I a paper-mill; if he wasn't so big, I'd lick | him. I've had this shirt on for ninety days, and I'm aftaid it won't como off Without tearing. I ain't no dandy, althongh my clothes is nearly all grease-ian style. I guess I tore this hole in my pants, behind, the other night, whan I sat down on a nail in the car penter's shop. I've got to get it mended up, or I'll cstcb cold. "Lend me three cents, will you ? I feel an awful goneness—clear way down into my No. 9." Don't Yon do It. When a petulent individual politely ob serves to you, "you had better eat me up, hadn't you?—don't you do it. When a clique of warm friends want you to start a paper to forward a particular set of views, and promise you a largo quanti ty of fortune and fame to be gained in the undertaking—don't you do it. When you have any business to transact with a modern financier, and ho asks yon to go and dine with him—don't you do it. Should you happen to catch yourself r.-hi —ing In a piloting office, tnd tho fore man tells you to whistle loudor—don't you do it. If on an odd occasion your wife should exclaim to you, "now tumble over the cra dle and break your neck, do!"—don't you do it. When a horse kicks you, and yon fell a strong disposition to kick the horse in re turn—don't you do it. When you are shining very expeditious ly round town, in search of somebody with something over, who can assist you with a loan, and you are suddenly anticipated by somebody, who wants to borrow from you— don't you do it. When you are offered a great bargain, the value of which you know nothing about, but which you are to get at half price, "being it's you"—don't you do it. When a young lady catches you alone, lays violont eyes on you, expressing "pop" in every glance—don't you do it. Watering Places. People are beginning to find ou* that fash ionable watering places are great hnmbuga. They are frequented almost exclusively by a set of parvenues, whose sole business it seems to be to dress in "loudest" style, make offen sive remarks about each other, and, general ly, to praotice envy, hatred, malice, and alt sorts of uncfiaritableneis. Sensible and pleas ant people avoid these placet, and go lot some quiet retreat, where thfy can gel some thing fit to eat, and enjoy a vacation in a rational manner. We shall find this year the artists, authors, and literary tnd professional men, with a strong spice of the bnsinese community, comfortably and quietly located by the ses or monmain side; while the so , called fashionable resorts will be almost en tirely deserted. ANFCDOTE or DEAN SWIFT. —A man and woman one night, in a violent storm, knock ed pretty steadily at Dean Swift's door, and : at length roused him from his slumbers.— He rose, and throwing up the sash of his chamber window, asked what they conld want. They answered they wanted to bo married immediately, and called for that purpose. "No," says the Dean, "can't you wait till morning? it is now 1 o'clock."— They stated some urgelit reason for pro ceeding without delay. The Dean found it in vain to parley. "Well," said the Dean, still keeping his head out of the window, and talking with the bride and bride-groom in the street, "If it must be so I'll marry yott now. Attend! " Under tho window in stormy weather % I join this man and woman together; Let none but He, who mado the thunder, E're put this man and woman asunder." KEEP YOUR OWN DOOR CLEAN. —'John,' said a clergyman to one of his flock, "you should become a teetotaler—you have been drink ing again to day." "Do you never take a wee drsp yourself, sir?" inquired John.—" "Ah. but John, you must look at your cir cumstances and mine." "Vorra true." quoth John, "but sir, can you tell mo how tha streets of Jerusalem were keopit sue clean?" "No, John, 1 cannot tell you that." "Wee!, sir, it was just becauso everv one kaepit his own door clean!" replied John, with an air of triumph.
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