THE STAR OF THE NORTH. B. W. Hewer, Proprietor.] VOLUME 9. THE STAR OF THE NORTH |8 PUBLISHED EVERT WEDNESDAY MORNINU BY It. IV. WEAVER, OFFlCE— Upstairs, inthenew brick build ing, on the south side oj Main Street, third • square below Market. X Eft 91 S:—Two Dollars per annum, if paid within six mouths from the time of sub scribing ; two dollars and fifty cents if not paid within the year. No subscription re ceived for a less period than six months; no discontinuance permitted until all arrearages tore paid, unless at the option of the editor. ADVERTISEMENTS not exceeding one square i Will be inserted three times for One Dollar, tond twenty-five cents for each additional in- TOition. A liberal discount will be made to those who advertise by the year. Choice {JoetrQ. THE CONQUEROR WUItAI. BY EDGAR A. FOB. Lol Mia a gala night Within the lonesome latter years I An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veils, and drown'd in tears, Sit in a theatre, lo 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 of vast formless things That shift ike scenery to and fro, Flapping from out their Condor wings Invisible Wo I That Moiley drama ! —oh, be sure It shall not be forgot! Wi:h its Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle thai ever returned) in To the self 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 inirude! A blond-red thing that wrubes from out The scenic solitude! Ii writhes!—it wriihes!-with mortal pangs, The mimes become its food, • And the angels sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued. Out—out are the lights— out all! And, over each quivering form, The curtain a funeral pall, Comes down with the rush of a storm, And the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirm That the play is the tragedy, "Man," Its hero the Conqueror Worm. A New Projectile. Every person has read of Jules Gerard, the lion-killer, aud his wonderful encounters in the jungles of Africa. When Gerard came back to Paris the last time from his favorite amusement in Africa, he suggested to Dev isme, the well known gunmaker of the Bou levard des Italians, the idea of inventing a ball that would explode when it arrived in the animal's body. The new projectile is about the size of the Miriie 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. If shot into the lungs of an elephant, for example, the ball in explo ding disengages carbonic acid gas, and the animal, which frotn its size might otherwise survive for a short time, will suddenly (all asphyxiated. A few days ago a party of gentlemen accompanied M. Devisme to a horse-slaughter house in the environs of the city. There the new projectile was tried on five horses 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 doad. The experiment was com pletely satisfactory. Since then, M. Devis tne, to demonstrate the practicability of his new projectile as a substitute for the harpoon in the destruction of whales, has gone lo Havre, with the hope that a whale would present itself to bo killed, but to try the ex periment on an artificial whale that would respond in its resistance to a real one. The experiment was entirely successful, and those who witnessed it assert positively that the substitute for the harpoon is found. TO THE GIRLS. l adies, you caged birds of beautiful plum age, but sickly look; you pale pets of '.he 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 frames 1 Take early morning ex ercise—let loose your cordfel strings and run wp the hill for a wager and down again for Inn. Liberty thus exercised and enjoyed, will render you healthy, blooming and beau lilul—as lovely as ibe Graces; prolific as Devera. The buxom, bright-eyed, rosy oheeked, full-breasted, bouncing lass—who an darn a stocking, mend trousers, make tier own frocks, command a regiment of pots and kettles, feed the pigs, milk the cows,and be a lady withal in company, is just the sort l a girl for me or any other young man to -jQarry. But you, ye pining, lolling, screwed p, waisted, doll dressed, putty-faced, consumption -mortgaged, novel-devouring daughters of fashion or idleness—are no more fit for rtgatrimony than a pullet is to look after e family N of fourteen chickens. The troth is, my dear gJ.rls, you want, generally speaking, more leg exercise, and less sofa; more pud ding and less piano; more frankness and less mock raodosty; more corned beef steak and less bishop. Loosen yourselves a little; en joy more liberty and less restraint of fashion; breaths the pure atmosphere of freedom; become something nearly as lovely as the Gad of nature designed.—Row, Jr. BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, BA., WEDNESDAY, JULY 29, 1857. From Ihe London limes, July 7. THE AFRICAN LAIIOIt QUESTION. 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 seaboard for the resort of shipping; is within a month or 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 all kinds are favorable in the 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, ar.d are prepared with all other requisites, if they could obtain the hands to do the work at good wages. Noth ing beyond this 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 raanulac ture. In this world it is usually found that em barrassments of tbia description admit of re moval by proceedings fraught with a double benefit. The abundance of one district is made to ease the necessities of another, and both gain alike by the 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 will 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 has found its way to the colonies in question, but so great is the distance and so serious the im pediments interposed lhat, except in the case of the Mauritius, the supply has been very insufficient. That island, however, fur nishes an excellent illustration ot the state of things which might be brought about.— Within the last ler. years, as Mr. Labouchere inlormed the House, 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 Ihus induced, "so far from being purchased at the expense of iuhumanity "towards these laborers, enabled them to accumulate prop erty and settle on ihe island, or, if they re turned to their native country, they carried the fruits of their industry with them. All this vhile, it must be remembered, that the slave trade itself undergoes heavy discour agement from such successful competition, and that our own markets experience the benefit of most seasonable importations; so that all parlies together—the colonial propri etor, the British consumer, and the actual laborer—derive advantage from the system, which injures nobody except the slavehold er. We do not see how a stronger case could possibly be made out. By the simple agency of labor, one of our colonies is able to amass wealth, to stock our markets with its exports, to benefit the population of an other land, and to act like a thorn in the side of the slaveholder. For the want of this same agency, others of our colonies are run ning to 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 our other settlements too with free labor in proper abundance, we are at a loss to see how any proposition can be proved at all. What is the obstacle i i ibe way ? The distance. II 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 source of the supply of labor not being so lavorabte." But is there only one such source? Is not Africa as populous in many parts as India? Is it not as conveniently situated in regard to the West Indies, as India is with regard to the Mauritius? Aud above all, are not Ihe Africans pre-eminently fitted by nature for tropical labor? Every one of [beße questions must be answered in the affirmative. It is easier to bring negroes from Africa than Coolie 3 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 reasons against the proceeding, and such arguments were produced by Mr. Labou chere in Ihe debate, and will be found em bodied in a letter from Mr. M. Forster, which we publish lo day. According lo these views the condition of the native Af ricans is such that to go to the coast with a demand for their services would infallibly generate a system of kidnapping in tha inte rior of the country, Bnd, in fact, as far as Af rica is concerned, would revive the slave trade, and destroy the more legitimate pur suit* which the. pariitl repression of this Iratle has suffered to spring up. In considering these arguments wo find ; the compass of the controversy very conve niently narrowed. It is not alleged 'hat the position of the negro, once landed in Cuiana or Jamaica, would be otherwise than good, or that his rights as a Iree 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 is 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 are 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 j 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 I be deplorable. Negroes, in short there, are natural slaves, born so, and kept so. If no slave market Is opened, their masters are ' content with reasonable service; but if they 'can make a better thing of it by soiling them outright they will infallibly do so, and steal others to keep up the supply. Such, as we understand it, is 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 that whereas the anticipated advantages are, as we have shown, enormously great, the ap prehended evils are certainly somewhat cir cumscribed. As regards the Negro brmselt, it is hardly possible to deny that under prop er supervision he would be far better 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 him outright Such conditions of service would certainly be well exchanged for lho>e under which th- Coolies of ihe Mauritius realize freedom and independence. All that is dreaded ie that thee>6 petty kings, if once they gel an oppor tunity of shipping their subjects in any ca pacity whatsoever, will take to this trade so kindly os lo forsake other occupations for that of manstealing. We will not here inquiro 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 ol slaves yearly landed in Cuba, and Ihe 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 the question is not whether we should or should not run the risk of creating a demand for negroes on the coast of Africa, but whether, as tve have never yet been able to extinguish such a demand, we should not attempt lo take it in hand our selves, with a certainty of suppressing all its abominations in every stage of the pro ceeding but one, and with it at least a chance of mitigating them in that stage also. Tbe Dead Uabc, Do not bend over that li ttle cradle so hope lessly, with such passionate grief. See a tear has fallen on the marble cheek, and dimmed its whiteness ; think thee, bereaved mother, no stain of sin shall ever wring a drop like that from those gentle eyes. Better the pallor on the velvet cheek of that dead, innocent one, than the blush of shame that might. God knows best, paint it a ladeless red, hereaf ter. Better the chill of that fair brow, be cause in heaven, the sister brow, (the spirit) wears a crown of glorj, '.hail the tnanly fore head, stamped with carea, 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 ; lor think, mother, every Cain has once been pure, as lovely perhaps, as that dead babe ol thine. God takes in mercy ; he gave thee an sri gel, and he has called it home a little before. Around thee, there will hencelorllt be a s, ••it babe, folding its little wings by thy - id''., : comforting thee when.thou art in "til liosi. How sweet, thy soul is loosed from the hands of earth, to feel the solt arms of a little child waiting thee lo the eternal mansions. A FITTING REBUKE. —Having in my youth notions of severe piety, says a celebrated Persian writer, I used to rise in the night to -.v.itch, 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 waks to remark tho faults of my brethren." Truth and Right God and our Country. THE STAR OF LOVE. j * . , . ' s There is a moment, in every man's exist ence, on which turns his future destiny.— There are many such moments; lor often- j times life hangs upon a thread, and if the { thread is not cut, it requires but a touch lo change the whole direction of the future. But in every man's life there is at least one, and in that of young Sheik Houssein it occurred ( thus: I It was not often in those days that '.ravel- , ers crossed the great desert. Few Europeans ( came to Egypt, and fewer still went to Sinai. ( But there was a time when Houssein was | called to Cairo to meet a noble party of west- { ern travelers, a gentleman and two ladies, I who were making a pilgrimage lo Sinai and , the Holy Land, and who wished his protection in crossing the desert. He saw -but Ihe gen ! tlernan, and readily engaged to perform the ( desired service. It was not until Ihe party had left the Birk- { et-el-Haj that he met them, where they were encampod, by moonlight, on the sand that stretches away to Suez. As he sprang from his mare, before the tent-door, he was startled by such a vision as he had never before seen, but thought he had dreamed of in his waking dreams. She was slight, fair, and, in ihe moonlight, pale as a creature of dreams. Was this one of tho houris of his fabled paradise? No; he rejected the thought, if it rose. There was no spot in ell the heaven of Mahomtned fit for an angel like this. Away, like the sands on the whirlwind, like the clouds before the sun, like the stars at daybreak : away swept all his faith in Islam, and, in an instant the Shiek Houssein was an idolutor, worshipping as thousanils greater than he have done, Ihe beauty ol woman I Perhaps he might have quenched his thirst for the unknown at some other fountain, l>ut this was eutugh now. He had found lhat wherewith to fill the void, and j he was content. Love was a new emotion, a sensation he I had never belore experienced, and it satisfied , him. Did she love him? That was a qnes- ! lion which never occurred to him. What did he care lor that? He was not seeking to he I loved ! Ho was looking for employment lor his own soul, and he had louud it, and Ilia 1 was enough. The tradition goes on to describe hi- r. crossing of the deseri—now he ' I among the hills ol Sinai; ho ' ' by Akabaatni P :ra,R'id '-:ie'.' j weeks in the city of II ik ; how a .air Eng | i lish girl laded slowly away, lor she was now | 1 dying when she came lo Egypt j and how. j j weary, well-nigh dead, he carrier) her to tho j I Holy City, and pitched their tents by tho J S mountain of the Ascension. And all this j time he watched over her with the zealous J j care of a father or a brother, and Ihe quick : heart of the lady say it and understood it all.l I And sometimes he would try, in broken | j words, to tell her of his old belief and his ! ideas of immortality, and she would read in ' his hearing sublime promises and glorious : hopes thai were in a language that he knew nothing of, but which he half understood from her uplifted eye and countenance. How he worshipped that matchless eye! j He worshipped nothing else, on earth or in heaven. It was noon of nighl under Ihe walls of Je- I rusalem ; and in a white lent close by the bill on which Ibe footsteps of the ascending Lord ( left their hallowing touch, an English girU ' was wailing His biddiug to follow him. Outside the tent, prone on the ground, with j eyes fixed on the everlasting stars, lay a ' group of Bedouins, and apart from them a , | little way their chief, silent, motionless—to ' 1 all lhat was earthly, dead. A low voice with- - iu the tent broke ibe stillness of the night, 1 but he did not move. A voice was uttering again those words, of which the sound had become familiar to him already,the Christian : prayer. "Shiek Houssien!" He sprang lo his feet. It was her voice, ! 1 faint, low, but silvery. The tent-door was thrust aside, and as a baud motioned lo hint j to enter, he obeyed. She lay on the cushions, her head lifted J somewhat from the pillow by the arms of her j sister; her brother, who spoke tbe language ! j of Ihe desert well, stood by her as the young j Shiek approached. His coofea was gathered I around his head ; only hie durk eye, flashing | J gloriously, was visible. She looked up into 1 it and whispered ; he half understood her ! before the words came through her brother's lips, as she told him the story of Calvary and I Christ, and the cloud that received the King ' i | and Saviour returning to His throne. It were vain to say he unde'- ond all this He only knew ttiat she was ism .•!.•: ' . . hope ere long to be above In n, above si • world, abnvu ihe kv; and t 1 i.ciiv.. bir. be wildered m:r.! kinrougiit " with cietit traditions, and li.i in . 3 ?o rejected, thocreed that did tint teach -atshe was immortal, ar, he fell hank on 'ea that the immortals had sotr.ct' hig t > nth the etars, mid as he lay down on tho '■!, close by the side of the lam, li.-tcni - or every sound front within, he fixed lits eves on the zenith and watched the passing of the hosts of the night, until she diad. There was a rustling of garments, a voice of hoyctfressible sweet ness suddenly silent, a low, soft Bigh, the ex piration of a saint; auJ that at tbst instant far in the depths of the meridian blue, a clear star flashed on hie eye, for the first time its silver radiance, and lie believed that she was there. For three-score years after that, there was on the desert, near that group of palm trees and lonely spring, a small turret built of stones, brought a long distance, alone by ■tone, OQ camels. And in this hut, or on il* summit, lived a good, wise man, beloved of all the tribes, and especially followed by his own immediate tribe, who, with him, reject ed Mohammed, and worshipped and un known God, through the medium of the stars and especially one star, which he 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, aud over the whirling storms of sand, sedate, calm, majes tic, the immutuble stars were looking down oil the plain, and the old man in his tower beheld them, and went forth on the wind to ] search their infinite distances. That night, saith the tradition, another star flashed out of heaven beside the star that the Arabs worshipped, and the Shiek- Houssein was young again in the heaven of his belov ed ! Let us leave him to the mercy of tradition, nor seek to know whether he reached that blessed abode. Getting lo Heaven byway of New Orleans- The Philadelphia correspondent of the New York Dispatch gives the following: A few days since, a young man who had long been attached lo a church, and who was about to leave for New Orleans, came to bid his pastor farewell. 'And so you are go ing to lhat degenerate place New Orleans, are you?' said the pastor. 'Yes, sir, but I don't expect to be influenced by any extra neous pressure of any kind,' responded the young man with considerable earnestness.— 'Well, lam glad lo see you so confident. I hope the Lord will guide you. But do you know the temptations which exist thereV— 'Not particularly, sir.' 'Well, I do. You'll find wanton women in the guise of Paris, tempting the very elect; and rare wines aud 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 those i successfully.' 'I hope you will my dear Christian brother, was the roply. I hope yon will, and lot me give you this much for consolation in cise yon should fall from j uraci*. The to "liter vol- I lit; rlie am, merit I here >•, in resitting ii The tr.an who • goes to Heaver ly way of titio Orleans, is -uro tn l.tive twice us a pi. no i;i eternal die quiet petals ot Cutmeedcut or Peniisyl i vaina. Merit aurl Position. j The difference between a man of merit j 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 whenShaks- ! peare lived there, and doubtless every child in the realm knew his name familiarly; but j how many knew the name of the poor play writer? But now, almost every child who j speaks the English language, knows of Shakspcare and his writings. How many of them know of James and his writings? Very few. Thos the man of high position died with his position and his day; but Ihe man 1 of merit otdy began to live when he died. The author of "Don Qnixolte is known by ' his works throughout the world; but who: can tell about the men of position—the king, if a king—or the nobles, or the fine gay la dies who lived when Cervantes was writing the adventures of the "Kuight of the Ruelul Countenance?" Who was Governor of Virginia when Pat-! rick Henry fired his fellow-men with his elo- j quence? Yet every American boy knows of Patrick Henry. And yet we think that (he Governor must have beeu better 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 tbe 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 one of his family circle: One night—l remembered it well—l re ceived a severe lesson on the sin of evil speaking. Severe 1 thought it then, and my heart rose in childish anger against him who gave it; but I had not lived long enough ill this world to know how much mischief a child's thoughtless talk mr.y do, and how often it happens that talkers run off the .. i. •• :r • S. dul ot s and very high i i '. c 'i-utii, and 1 was about to ;v i; I • • f lie .iii' 'of temper. In ft few momenta Itty ayts caught :t look of such calm md etc ,■:/ o - ,-k.u uii.', n ■topped shot'. There was no n■■ -<■ r 1 the meaning of that dark, speak-, v eye 1' brought the color to my faco, a id c ... t I and shame to ray hemi 1 was silent |jo| it lew inomeuis, when Joseph John Gurney ' asked, very gravely: "Dost thou know any good thing to tell us i of her?" I did not answer; and the question was more seriously asked: "Think; is there nothing good thou canst tell us of hex?" "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 rejoicelh not in iniquity,' thou knuweat." LOVE GIFTS. BY CHARLES SWAIN. I've brought thee spring roses, Sweet roses to wear, Two buds for thy bosom And one fur thy hair; I've brought thee new ribandt Thy beauty lo deck, Light blue for thy love waist, And while for thy neck ! Oh, bright is the beauty Thai woos the to-night; But brighter affection, And lasting as bright! I've brought thee, what's belter Thau ribands or rose— A heart that will shield thee Whatever wind blows! 'Tis gladness to view thee, Thus beaming and gay; And walking in sweetness As if thou wert May! The spring of thy being As lovely lo see; And ob! what's diviner, Affianced to me ! A Uiograpliy of Ui* Kuue by Or, Elder. Messrs. Chillis & Peterson announce that ! they will soon publish a memoir of the late ; Dr. Kane, by Dr. Wm. Elder. This, to very I many persons, on both sides of the Atlantic, I must be gralilyiug news, arid the forthcoming i work will doubtless be looked for with lively interest. Certainly no nobler subject for bi- j ography has been furnished within the pres- I em century, and we are glad lo think that it has been committed to entirely competent j bands. The gentleman who has been en gaged to prepare the book for the press, is • not only able to perform the task with all de sirable literary ability, but his rare earnest ness of character, and fitness to appreciate fully the importance of the undertaking, af ford a guarantee lhat he will execute it con scientiously, and, therefore, thoroughly. He has, we learn, been furnished wiih the nee 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 cunitibule. In view, then, of the completeness of the data supplied, and the eminent qualifications of Dr. Elder lo n. ilo' llie best possible use of it, we may promise that the biography he is i ' h ii, will not only possess,the . crest which belongs to the events . very remarkable life, but be iuvested witli that additional charm which the most vigorous and vivacious style of narrative can impart to the heroic incidents of personal his tory. As regards the need for such a memorial, 1 there can, we think, be no doubt. Apart j from any gratification it may afford the im mediate friends arid relatives of the deceas- ; ' ed, or the curiosity of the age in which li 3 j ' lived and acted out the marvellous career of ' self-sacrificing adventure, peril and endurance j which has wor. for him a wide anil glorious 1 1 renown among his cotemporaries, there is a j 1 moral significance iu so illustrious a life, j which requires that it should he preserved and transmitted fur the benefit of posterity. Highly as we ei-tirnate the services that Dr. ! Kane rendered to science in his explorations, ! and the probable results to which they may j yet lead, and much as ve prize tbe modest, • though fascinating and intelligent record he has left of his last expedition, we hold that tho chiei worth of all he has been and ull he j has done, consists in Ihe shining example of j human character which he has bequeathed to his race everywhere, and the salutary in fluence which tha! example may continue to exert in succeeding generations of men. That is the true, the paramount value of all j biography that deserves to be written, and ■ we venture to say, that an instauce of indi- | vidua! history, comprised within a period of j thirty odJ years, more deserving of permanent j record and better fitted to stir strongly all the | springs of virtuous emulation, than that of [ the young Arctic hero, is not embraced iu hu- J man annals. The world knows already the prominent events o! his later years. It has I read in his own simple narrative the scene ol ; thrilling danger, of severe euflering, and ol j miraculous fortitude through which he passed j in his devoted search lor the lost English nav- j igators amid Ihe frozen regions ot the pole. I But these are hut manifestations of character | which make it the more important that we j should peneira'e into and discern the process es and agencies of education which ultimate- I ly expanded into and bore such noble fruit, i The man, therefore, who, in writing his bi- I ognphy from the beginning, admits us to a j clear, familiar view ol the inner life of Dr | Kanc--a view of the workings of his soul iu its growth towards (hat heroic breadth and' depth of development, that greatness of pro portion aud generous vigor of tone which were revealed in action and achievement, | v II perform a work which itlone can enable i.i understand the admirable character and r which are the subject of it, aud make i a luminous guide to others who may j aspire to liko virtues and like distinction. Dr. ' Elder, we believe, will endeavor to do this, 1 i , and our knowledge of his talents and his zeal I assures us that he will satisfactorily accom-1 | plish his task. Until the volume is issued > | from the press, the impatience to peruse it ! will doubtless increase, and we dare to pre- I I diet, that.wheo received, it will be found one { of the most originally written, most interest ing, aud practically useful memoirs ever giv en to tbe public.—Philadelphia Eue. Journal. ST If a girl thinks more of her heels than of her head, depend upon it, she will never amount to much; for brains which settle in the shoes never get above them. Young gentlemen will please make note of this. [Two Dollars per Annua* NUMBER 29. Reveries of u nrankarO. "I think liquor's injuring me ; it's a spoil ing my temperament. Sometimes I,gel mad when I arri drunk, and abuse Betty and tha brats—it used to be Lizzie and the children that's some time ago ; I can Just mind it.— When I used to come home then, she used to put her arms around my neck, and kiss me, and call me dear William. "When I come home now, she t akss her pipe out of her mouth, and puts her hair ont of her eyes, and looks aDme,and says some thing like, 'Bill, you drunken brute, shut the door after you ; we're cold enough, having no fire, without letung.'lie snow blow ill .that way." I "Yes, she's Betty and I'm Bill, now. I aint a good bill neither—'spec! I'm a coonter fieit—won't pass—a tavern, without going in and getting a drink. Don't know what hank I'm on; last Sunday I was on the river bank —drunk. "I stay out pretty late now—sometimes I'm out all night. Fact is, I'm out pretty much all over; out of friends, out of pocket, out a' elbows and knees, and always outtsgeously dirty—so Betty says; but then she's no judge, for she's never clean horself. ' "There's one good quality I've got —I wont ! get in debt; I never could do it. There, ' now, one of my coat tail* is gone ; got tore j ofl, I 'spent, when I fell down here. I'll have to get a new suit soon. A fellow told | me, the other day, I'd make a good sign for | a paper-mill; if he wasn't so big, I'd lick | him. I've had this shirt on for ninety days, i and I'm afraid it won't como off without tearing. I ain't no dandy, although my I clothes is nearly all grease-ian style. I guess I tore this hole in my pants, behind, the other night, when I sal down on a nail in tf.a car penter's shop. I've got to get it mended op, or I'll calch cold. "Lend nte three cents, will you I I feel an awful goneness—clear way down into my No. 9." Don I You do It. When a petulent individual politely ob < serves to you, "you had belter cat me tip, ; hadn't you f —don't you do it. j When a clique of warm friends want you I to start a paper to forward a particular set j of views, ami promise you a largo quanti | ty of fortune and fame to be gained in Iho | undertaking—don't you do it. When you have any business to transact 1 with a modern financier, and he asks you j to go and iline with him—don't you do it. | Should you happen to catch yourself | whistling in a printing office, and the fore man tells you to whistle louder—don't you j do it. If on an odd occasion your wife should i exclaim to you, "now tumble over the cra | die and break your neck, do!"—don't you ! do it. When a horse kicks you, and yon fell a strong disposition to kick tho 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 ofTered a great bargain, tho value of which you know nothing about, but which you are to gel at half ! price, "being it's you"—don't you do it. | When a young lady catches you alone, j lays violent eyes on you, expressing "p 'p" in every glance—don't yon do it. Itateiiug t'luccs. People are beginning to find out that fash j ionablo watering places are great humbug*. ; They are frequented almo-t exclusively by a ' set of parvenues, whose sole business it seems j to be to dress in "loudest" style, make offen i sive remarks about each other, and, general | ly, to practice envy, hatred, malice, acd all i sorts of unchariiableness. Sensible and pleas l ant people avoid these places, and go to ■ some quiet retreat, where they can get some ; thing fit to eat, and enjoy a vacation in a rational manner. We shall find Ibis year the j artists, authors, and literary and professional I men, with a strong spice of the business j community, comfortably and quietly located I by the sea or mountain side; wltde the so called fashionable resorts will be almost en tirely deserted. ANECDOTE OF DEAN SWIFT—A man and woman one night, in a violent storm, knock ed pretty steadily at Dean Swift's door, and j at length roused him from his slumbers.— 4 He rose, and throwing up the sash of hit 1 chamber window, asked what they could ' want. They answered they wanted to bo married immediately, and called for that purpose. "No," says the Dean, "can't yon ; wait till morning! it is now 1 o'clock."— They stated some urgent reason for pro ! ceeding without delay. The Dean found it ! in vain to parley. "Well," said the Dean, i still keeping his head out of the window, i and talking with the bride and bride-groom j in the street, "If it must be so I'll marry you ! now. Attend! I " Under the window in stormy weather j I join this man and woman together; Let none but He, who made the thunder, , Ere put this man aud woman asunder." KEEP YOUR OWN DOOR CLEAN.— 'John,' said a clergyman to one of his dock, "you should become a teetotaler—vou have been drink ing again to day ." "Do you never take a . wee erap yourself, sir!" inquired John.— , "Ah, but John, you must look at your cir cumstances and mine." "Verra true." quoth i John, "but sir, can you tell me how th . streets of Jerusalem were keepit sae clean!" "No, John, I cannot tell you that." "WeeJ, 1 sir, it was just because every one keepit > i his own door clean!" replied John, vrith art ' air of triumph, x
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers