THE STAR OF THE NORTH.
B. W. Hewer, Proprietor.]
VOLUME 9.
THE STAR OF THE NORTH
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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