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.