1 BCJB 5 r 11 V. 11. JACOBY, Proprietor. Truth and Right- God and our Country. lTwo Dollars per Annua. VOLUME 12. BLOOMSBURG, COLUMBIA COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY NOV EM BE II 21, 1860. NUMBER 46. OP W1LU; 11 .ii .LL o f 5 T j ) i STAR OF THE NORTH rVILIIBtl) XTIBT WEDKKSST BT ; , WM. fl. JACOBY, ; Office on Mala St., !nl Square ueiow Market, TERMS; -Two Dollars per annum if paid Within fix months from the time of subscri bing : two dollars and fifty cents if not paid within the year. No subscription taken for a lei period than fix months; no discon tinuances permitted until all arrearages are paid, unless at the option o7 the editor. The terms cf advertising will be as follow : One square, twelve lines, three times, SI 00 Every subsequent insertion, . .- ... 25 One square, three months, ....... 3 00 One year, ....... 8 00 :' -"A Fll'LT CONFESSED," ' BT J C. PRtX'CC. " " ' ' A fault renftu'dis half redress' J A simple saying, brief and wise ; The ready troth i ever best, II iroth without disguise. If, in a weak and annry lionr, . We utter bitter word and strong, ' ' O ! let us strive with all our power . ' To rectify the; wrong. - If we attempt to mar and stain --' A fellow being' peace and name, - What does our selfish spirit niti . Bui fretfulnes and shame ? Remember that we but distrain - Another' quiet and our own ; -Then let us hasten to confess, " And. if we can, atone. But there are deeds done in the dark, . More baneful till than careless speech ; ' Ti when we single out a mark 'That secret spite may teach ; ' Ami arrow from an i-nseen hand Is wing d to wound !orapguiltle-s breast; And who can such a toe withstand, ; Hidden and uttconlesed ? , God jurfgelh justly, and will bring Grief tor the mischief that we do ; We cannot work an evil thing Bol we shall iffer loo, Thrn let n lay the bosom bare, "" Before the injured one and Heaven, f And. in a gush of heart felt prayer, Confers and le loririven ? :. Three Wild Storfcs. , .The Ssrnoyedes, whose country will readily be found in the northern extremity of Asiatic Russia, belong to that large family of the human race which comprises the Turks, the Mongalo, the Tcngusians, and the Finns, with all their subdivisions, and which yi distinguished by ethnolojists s the 4,Alatc." Their life is i-hiefly passed ii the desert regions bordering the Arctic Ocean, which are sometimes damp and marshy; and their" principal property con -its of the reindeer which convey them from place to' place . when they feel it necessary to change the site of their en campment. , Tents are their only dwelling places, and so completely are they wedded to m nomadic life, that it seems probable they will rather be extinguished than bene fitted by the progress of civilization. Among these primitive people the great Altaic philologist, M. Alexander Castaen, found a set' of tales, which for wildness vqnal the most fantaMic dreams of the Hin tloos. The heroes to which they refer are completely free from all law, moral or physical j virtue is by no means necessarily rewarded, nor is death an nnsnrmountable obstacle in the way of an aspiring genius. With these tales, in a condensed form, we present our readers. A tribe of Samoyedes, seven hundred e'roflg, was encamped in as many tents, under the rule of seven chiefs, all members of one family, and alf maintaining the dignity of their office by devoting their time, talents, and energies to the single purpose of dining out. Six of these great were childless, but the other, the eldest, had a boy, who, far from sharing in the family propensity, never went out at all, fcot snored away his exister.ee itbed. On one occasion, -when a great festival was coming off, the father of this heavy youth asked him to join in the party but tie re fused with a yawn, alleging as sn ex com) that he had a bad dream, which showed him that all the seven chiefs would fetish miserably, unless they appeased the higher powers by a sacrifice of fourteen reindeer. The father laughed at the dreams ; but, when the next morning dawned, the horri ble reality far' exceeded the dismal pre diction, for the youth, opening his eyes, found thai not only the seven chiefs, bat the whole seven hundred, personages, with fhelr reindeer and dogs, hid come" to an un timely end. The frightful spectacle aroused biro to nnwonted activity, and, having first Bt all the cords of the tents, he set out on fi, long walk, which, at the " end of some long months, he found . tco much for his trer.gih, especially as hn was not fortified iJ a panicle of food. At last he came to jhe sight of a former encampment, where fce foond ' a bone, already gnawed , by the jdcf, but which,, in jha present emergency was not to be" despid. Having retailed Jiime-elf with this delicacy, he raked about the snow, in hopes of rrakingmore d:s; 0Terie cf'the same ' kind, but he only found x pair cf silver ear-rings,' which he pet into his jtave, and then set out on aac.Ii2r locj walk, teeing; nothing at all till his eves were g!aideu3i with the sight of a reindter sledge.;-'- " r : - "Have you fpan ear ring?," said a wo psn who was 'the sola occupant cf the reLida "because if yon bare, yoa pay &a jrfjj hand ihera pvsr." ' "Yes, hava found them, and .I've got ibn in my s'ovp. Yon may take them, t-rd wc':.-.??,'jf joo'll only drirfl me to To this very modest request the woman replied by giving the Wanderer (as we shall call him) such a blow with her epear that he fell senseless. She then took the ear-rings, and rode on as if nothing had happened. The blow of the spear had a narcotic effect, and the Wanderer passed a long time in sleep. On resuming his dull journey across the , boundless desert he came to a site of another encampment, again enjoyed the luxury cf gnawed bone, and seeking in the snow for more, discovered an iron shovel. This proved more serviceable than the ear-rings, for a finely dressed lady, who met him shortly afterwards, and asked for her shovel, rewarded his good office in re storing it by driving him home to her tent. They indulged in pleasant converse on the way, the Wanderer talking about the 'in habitants of the seven hundred tents, and their untimely end, of which the lady had heard somewhat already, but desired to hear more, till at last the dialogue took a new turn, through the lady's remark that the reindeer in the sledge were uncom monly like his late father's stock; for the elderly gentleman who had presented the la.ly with this fine pair of animals, and also with the iron shovel, had intended them for bridal gilts, in consideration of her ap proaching marriage with his eon. This son was clearly the Wanderer, so that the hap py lady had at once found her intended husband and recovered her lott shovel. They lived together happily enough as man and wife, till the time arrived for re moving " the camp. Then the Wanderer discovered .that, although he had agreed very well with his wife, he was far from popular with the inhabitants of the neigh boring tenia. When the tribe commenced its march, he was proviJed vith Arorse reindeer than the rest, so that he always lagged behindhand when at last a halt allowed him to overtake his comrades, one of them artfully contrived to run a spear through his body. The party then moved mprriljr nnwa"', a It nothing ho.t hap pened, and though the bereaved lady re mained, behind, weeping in the sledge, her deer soon took fright and carried her after the others. Dead as he was, the Wanderer retained sense enough to be aware of the presence of an old man, who had but one eye, one hand, and one leg, and who, stri king him wi h iron staff, bade him hasten back home, where he would find his father and all his uncles alive. Thus admonished, he woke up and found himself alone, but, instead of following the old man's salutary counsel, he rejoir.ed his wife and compan ions, who had again hahed, anc" was re warded for his obstinacy by being killed again, with the same weapon as before This time his wife did not think it worth while to stop behind and weep." but con tinued her journey with the others, firm in the conviction that he who had got nponce could easily get up, twice. Nor was she wrong. The defective old . man again re suscitated the dead Wanderer with a touch of his iron staff, again advising him to re turn home, and informing him that his fatner was not only alive, but had been alive for some time. As the Wanderer had witnessed the destruction of hi family with his own eyes, this last assertion considera bly weakened hi confidence hi the old man's veracity, so he joined his wife and comrades, who bad again halted, as before, and with the same result, for the same man killed him for a third time, with the same spear. The old gentleman, whose patience was nearly exhausted, again revived the corpse with the iron staff, but took occasion to ob serve (hat he did not intend to repeat the operation. The Wanderer had now be come a little very little wiser by the experience. As the murderer had always artfully persuaded bim to look another way while the mortal wound was inflicted, he had never been properly aware of his own death, but had regarded his one-eyed benefactor as one of the images in a strange dream. However, a man is not to be killed three times for nothing, so when he again, joined the camp, strong in the suspi cion that he would meet with foul play, he resolved to strike the first blow. Instead of entering his tent as before, he took .all the bows and arrows, out of the sledges while his comrades .were sleeping, and then hewed down the tents with his wife's iron shoTel. The sleepers, thus violently awakened, rushed from the tents, and being deprived of . their weapons, were easily despatched. Our hero had inten tionally spared none but his wife's nearest relations, but when he surveyed the corpses, he was grievously disappointed at the dis covery that the miscreant, who had slain bim three times over, was not among them. The persevering villain had escaped. Still there werj traces of bis feet upon the snow, anj these, the, Tengelnl shovel bearer fol lowed, till at length be. overtook the treble assassin. Frightful and long was the single combat that ensued. It lasted through the whole winter, and just as 'summer set in, both combatants dropped down dead, af fording a savory repast to the wolves and foxes, who soon reduced tbem to a heap of fiesbless bones.''"1 V'f ! ''""''"". The one-eyed old gentleman, resolved that the story should not, end. , here, paid a visit to the bones about, the beginning of the autumn, and collected those of, the Wanderer into a bag, gramblinj very much that his good advice had not been followed, and juforrniag his pieeees! pro.frrs that more trial, and now, he trusted, the wilful youth would go home, schooled as he had been by such very bitter experience. With the bag on his back, the one eyed old gentleman crept into a hoilow, alter rolling aside a stone that stopped the en trance, and found himself in a dark, rJismal place, in which" there was . all manner of! disorderly ' whistling and singing, while sundry hands sought to make a capture of the bag. ' When the old man's eye grew a little more accustomed to the situation, he could perceive by the light that issued from the other end of the room that the snatchers and whistlers were all fleshless skeletons; j hut as this was a matter of trifling moment, he walked up towards the light, and found a tent, within which a fire was burning, while an old crone, whose large eyes were placed vertically in her hesd, aat on the hearth; with two unweildly monsters for companions. "Here's some firewood for ye," rowled the one-eyed old man, pitching his bag at the old woman. "Thank ye ! We were sadly out of it," replied the crone, and threw the bones on the fire which speedily converted them into ashes. On these the old woman slept for three whole days, at the end of which they produced a human form, namely, that of our friend, .the Wanderer, who could not make out where he was, and felt particularly awed by the apect of the two monsters. These, the old lady informed him, had been very estimable persons in their time, but were now converted to stone ; and she gave him to nnderstand that if he did not take her for : a wife he would be petrified likewise. Honestly avowing that he was married already, the Wanderer com plied with her request, and the old dame, not to be behindhand in generosity, pro mised to drive him home. So after a short honeymoon of three days, the reindeer were put to the lady's sledge, and bride and bridegroom rode merily towards the mouth of the hollow, pursued all the way by the mob of skeletons, who tried to wound the stranger with their spears, but were ren dered powerless by the counter charm of the reindeer. The stone at the mouth of the hollow was so weighty that the Wan derer could not restore it to its place, but this operation was gracefully performed by the old woman wiib a kirk ; and a little more journeying brought the loving couple to a tent, where they found the first wife and both her parents. These jumped into the sledge, which now proceeded with all speed to the Wanderer's first homo the old place with the seven hundred tents, in which everybody had been murdered when he was a little sleepy boy. There were the dear old tents all erect again, not one of the seven hundred miss ing ; there wre the people, and their deer, and their dogs, just as if nothing had hap pened, and the Wanderer had a right to ex act a little repose after his toilsome vicissi tudes. There, too, was that good creature, the little old man with one eye, and, 6ad to say, behind the old man was the hateful villain who had so many times caused our hero's death. Of course, two such invete ratafoes could not meet without fighting, and though the Wanderer soon despatched his adversary, his victory was immediately followed by insanity, and he killed his one eyed banefactor into the bargain. Off like a whiff of smoke went the beautiful vision of domestic felicity. The existence of the people in the tents was manifestly contin gent on the life of the old man, for when the Wanderer approached his boyhood's home, he found ail dead, and his two wives instantly died likewise, leaving him in a state of solicitude. Thus the story leaves off, as it began, with a heap of corpses, and, what is the strangest part of the matter, most of the people who die at the end are those who die at the beginning. Seven brothers, who are heartless in the imost literal sense of the word, figure in a tale that is distinguished from the others by something of a poetical tone. These seven brothers have murdered an old Samoyede lady and carried off her daughter, but there is a pious son, who has obtained a sopernaturally gifted beauty for his wife, and hopes, with her aid, to repair the mis chief that has been done. The great point is to get the hearts of the brothers, which they are in the habit of taking out of their bosoms every night before they retire to rest, and which they very imprudently en trust to the care of the captive girl. When the Simoyede and his wife enter the tent belonging to the brothers, the lady is invisible, but the husband accosts his sifter, whom ha finds alone. . The brothers, the informs him, are from home at present, but will return in the evening, and she gives him ample instructions how he is to proceed in his pious work. What these instructions were will be shown by the manner in which they were carried out, we must promise that the hero slinks off to his own residence, and his wife undertakes the achievement of the adventure. When the brothers come home, they eat their supper, and, spreading out seven deer skins on the ground, lay themselves down to rest. The captive maiden then goes round to them all with a dish. In this they place their hearts, which are afterwards bung on one of the tent poles by the treach erous attendant. The wife, securing her prize, returns with it to her husband, who, on the following morning, pays the brothers a visit, and finds thm all in a wretched state, Six fit the hearts be casts on the life, he may have his heart back. The de sired resuscitation is effected by means of certain charms, but the seventh heart is nevertheless thrown on the ground, and the eldest brother perishes like the rest, while the Avenger takes his mother and sister home. An important personage in the family of the Avenger is his father's sister,. It was by her counsel that he obtained his gifted wife, detained her garment while she was bathing with her six sisters, and refusing to restore it till she had promised not to leave hin. In fairy tales all the world over this mode of ensnaring sem supernatural personages is exceedingly common, and therefore we but lightly touch on this inci dent, as being less characterestic than any of the others. The wise aunt, consulted once by her nephew, presents him with a knife, that he is to give his wife, who will assuredly make a proper use of it. With these injunctions the nephew complies, and the wife no sooner receives the. weapon, she cuts out the heart of every one in the tent, including her own and her husband's, and flings them up in the air. The aunt visiting ti.e tent, finds every one alive, though destitute of the most important organ of vitality ; and with a view of recovering the lost hearts, proceeds to a lake, where the six sisters of the wife are bathing, and weeping for the seventh. Detaining the clothes of one of the bathers, she will not re store them save in exchange for a number of hearts, found by the sisters at their aerial residence, and which may possibly be those recently ex tracted. Loaded with these hearts, which have been purified in a celestial region, the aunt returns to the tent, and all on receiving their hearts become pure and holy The wife proposes that, they should now join her sisters, and ascending through the air in a roindeer sledge, they penetrate a thick mist, and at last reach a warm, blissful place, in which they are living to the pres eut day. In consequence of missionary operations the legends of the Finnish races not unfre- queuily show a curious mixture of the Christian with the national elements, the Apostles sometimes appearing as powerful allies of the ancient gods. We can hardly help sufficient that the Christian doctrine of regeneration is to some extent shadowed forth sn this last and least savage of our Samoyede tales. The Death of a It went in the morning a bright and ra diant morning many went yesterday.more to day, and there are dews to be shed for the departures of to-morrow. And can it be wandered that pleasant summer morn ings should beguile them into going ? Is it a marvel that they do not wait for the bur den and the noon, but fol ow the lark and her song over the ruin of the rainbow 1 That those words so beautiful, they should make so true, ' and joy cometh in the morn- ing Going in the morning ! a glorious morn ing when the sky is all beauty, and the world is all bliss; ere the dews have goue to Heaven, or the stars gave gone to God ; when the birds are singing, and the cool wiuds are blowing, and the flowers are out that will be shut at noon, and tne clouds that ate never rent in rain, and the shadows inlaid with crimson lie awaj to the west. We have sometimes seen a little coffin, like a casket for jewel, all alone by itself in a huge hearse, melahcholy with plumes, and gloomy as a frown and we have tho't, not so should we accompany those a little way, wno go in the morning. We have wondered why they did not lake the little coffin into the carriage with them, and lay it gently upon their laps, the sleeper there lulled to slumber without a bosom or a cra dle. We have wondered what there was for tears in such a going in the eariy morning from home to home lice fair, white doves with downy wings emerging from neither night and fluttering for en trance at the windows of Heaven. Never yet has there been a hand wanting to lake the wanderer in, and shot out the darkness and the storm. Upon those little faces, it never seemed to as, that death could place his great seal ; there is no thought of the charnel house in those young listeners to that invitation, whose acceptance we are bound to forbid ; then should be morning songs and not sighs; fresh flowers and not badges of morning ; no tears nor clouds, but bright, dews and bright dawnings together. Fold up the white robe ; lay aside the forgotten :oy ; smooth the little nnpressed pillow, and gently smile as you think of the garment, of the harp of gold, and of the fair brow with its diadem of light ; smile as you think that no years can make that memory old. An eternal, guileless child, waiting about the threshold of Paradise for the coming of a friend from home. Here the glad lips would quiver with an guish ; the bright curls grow grizzled and gray ; the young heart weary and old, but there, changeless as the stars, and young as the last, new morning. The poet tells of a green bough rent by the tempest from the tree, and swept rude ly along the breast of an angry river, and a mother bird with . cries of grief fluttering beside it, for her nest and nestlings were there. Oh ! better to be wafted away from earth, than thus that they should drift around the world in storm. When childrentpnurnmo Buffalo Hunting in Soath Africa. j Bnffola hunting at the Cape is so totally different from the chase of the American buffalo, that perhaps an account of a da) 's hunt and description of the Cape buffalo may not prove uninteresting. In the cool season cf U'M I journeyed, with one companion, :c -irs. ipo'i the east coast of Africa. Cm . tu.-'.i; point was Natal, and after lwe;-.ty eht Jays trtkirig, we arrived at our ground. We encamped upon a mountainous ride, a spur of the great Drakenbergs or QoaC-..'.'.a range of mountains,, which rn.: t pHy the whole continent from east o 'i !, Frm our lofty place of abou-i vs c: '. i rk the course of the Pongola rver us it flowed through the valley below. Ti.- scenery was beautiful; targe ovulating downs, dotted with clumps of large and majestic trees, gave an idea rather of an extensive park than a wild and uninhabited country, so fi 'I of malaria and tever, that even the natives, after vain attempts to locate them selves, were fain to fly from so unhealthy a spot. Engaging the service of twenty-four Kaffirs of the Amaswaza tribe, we descen ded into the lower grounds, in light march ing order, leaving our European servants, camp, wagons, &c., &c, on the mountain. Pitching a small patrol lent upon the batik of a river, I left the party, and accompan ied two Kaffirs, sallied forth with the inten tion of stalking buffalo. After a long walk, I succeeded Jri getting within twenty yards of four old bulls; they stood facing me, evi dently alarmed, but as yet had not detected ray stealthy approach. Standing as they did, it was an akward shot ; the immense mas of horn upon the forehead sheaths it with a coat of mail ; in addition to which bufTola carry their noses high, thus affording no sure mark when facing the hunter. I aimed at the point of the shoulder and fired ; the ball (a 2 oz one) told. 1 slunk behind a bush as the bull galloped heavily away. I Ftarted a Kaffir to keep him in sight, and it was well I did so. Hastily reloading, I follow ed, and was joined by the Kaffir, who re ported that, after proceeding a short dis tance, the wounded animal had proceeded sharp round a bush, upon the edge cf the game path. Cautiously advancing, I got within eighty yards ; I saw my friend wait ing evidently with the intention of charging whoever followed him upon the path. There was no bush between us, and not liking to approach nearer I- filed at him ; the bullet hit again, but the distance was too "reat for the shot to be effectual. He now moved t-lowly and sulkily off, followed at a respectable distance by the same iiiie !- ligeol native who had previously epor.e.l i him. I found, upon advancing, the Katar watching a small clump of bush, in which the buffalo was reported to have taken rei nge. I desired him to advance with me and point him out ; both Kaffirs declined i accompanying me, alleging the bufV.o was dangerous and meant mischief. Sitting down to watch the buh, I dis patched a messenger to the tent almost half a mile distant lor the iiog. In a very short time the dogs vmx in number, and led . . . . , ' . I r f Pi i. m O.rtHO 1 I V PH Prill 'I the thicket, the natives pointed out a dense miraosoa buhh, in which the buffalo was standing. 1 could merely s the outlines of his figure ; 1 could .in at no vital part; so, directing the KafHr. t .-lip tr. dogs the y shot. the momen". I fired, I The eifect was el-tricA. ; ment the most perfect s.:. was silent ; but tl. j disctn ; ievnus m r:gned all !y3 had scarcely taken place, when, with an angry roar, the buffalo bore down u: on us, the small bush es between were i-.V.-'. : a moment, everything yielding : h - .. and pon derous bulk. Eona. : . . l.afnr did not (as they often do) i - rjst. ee of mind they sli .ied the io. - ; dashing at him, his course was c..Kng-.; and I follow ed in order to administer anther dose ; but so sudden and impetuous were his attacks, that, after narrowir.gly escaping more than on -- I was fain to leave the covert and watch for a chance of a shot outside. Pres ently he broke covert on the other side, and went off full speed for the river, with the whole psck of dogs in full chase. I follow ed as fact as 1 could. Upon arriving at the river, I found him at bay cn the other side I again fired, but the distance was about eighty yards too far to kill. Tremendous ly worried by the dogs, he repeatedly took to the water, making down the stream. I continued a warm fire from the opposite bank over against the tent. After receiv ing many balls, he swam across in the deep water towards me. I waited until he was within ten yards of the water's edge, and fired. This shot proved fatal; his nose sank beneath the stream, the waters of which were dyed with .his blood; while some of the dogs cliined upon his back, biting his ears and worrying him to the last. I certainly obtained this animal solely from the exertions of the dogs. It was highly exciting to see the battle in the wa ter. The staunch manner in which they stuck to him was really wonderful, and ex cited my admiration not a little. To hunt buffalo successfully, it ii neces sary the . hunter should have a perfect knowledge ot their habits and modes of life; he should be able to follow their spoor iu the bush, to tell how old it is, whether the animal is alarmed and moving rapidly, cr is merely feeding as be goes along. He Without this knowledge the sportsman's edjcatiou is incomplete, and besides want of success he will find himself . frequently in dangerous and difficult situations such as would not occur to a more accomplished brother sportsman. I am led to these reflections by the many parties I have seen start well provi ded with everylhing- but the requisite knowledge of the habits and instincts of the animals they were about to pursue, and consequently return disappointed. . Some thing more than being a good rifle shot is required ; every species of game have their own peculiar habits, and to me I must con fess not the least a'tractive portion of the sport was, by a knowledge ot their habits, to be able to bring the chase to a successful issue. The cows and young buffalo are to be found in herds ; the old bulls are generally alone, or perhaps in Bmall troops, from three to ten in number. About the time the cowr calve, and for weeks afterwards, the bulls remain with the rest of the herd ; they then separate, and, though they are occasionally all found together, they are more usually apart. The cows hide their young in the thickest and most bushy kloofs, keeping by them during the day, and lea-ling them forth at i.ight to feed. About sun set, when not much disturbed, the herd may be seen gathering at the edge of the bush ; during the night they come out into the open plains and graze; soon after daybreak they return to the bush, seeking tUe thick est and most impenetrable places, where, nheltered from the heat of the sun, they sleep until the : approach of night again calU them forth. The calves remain with the herd after they have ceased to follow the cows, and none but the oldest and strongest bulls separate from the main body. Very early in the morning is the best time for hunting, as they may then be found on the plains, and may be intercep ted on their return to the bush, and hunted on horseback. Sometimes they return ear ly to their favorite kloofs. It is then neces sary to follow the spoor, observing the ut most precaution not to make any noise. The crack of a dry slick under foot is enough to start the whole herd, which, rushing blindly through the bush, terrify themselves but the astounding noise they make. Some times their quick 6cent will indicate to the m the approach of any enemy. Should he rush take place in the direction the hun ter is advancing, his situation is one of ex treme peril, as in their headlong flight they charge whatever is in their way. A quick ascent into the nearest tree is the t ii. rtlin Kiif (nm.limpt I i hnH 11 Inn .ill. . . . . u- c!T-.tnd ami fh hnntpr mnt triiKt to hia i'.-ustnee of mind, and secure the best con cealment he can. The large horns and tough skin of the buffalo render a long shot useless. About fifty or sixty yards is usually the distance, but in the thick bush the best plan is to creeT) if possible, within fit lee n or twenty yards ; a bullet of from eight to twelve to the pound lodged behind the bend of the shoulder is generally to be re- "cu , ' , V" stantaneouslv fatal. A 6ingle animal is ' i : v more easily appraached than a herd ; when . - In numbers some are always standing on the look-out. A solitary bull, on the con trary, will sometimes rise within half a dozen place. When wounded, and in the bush or long reeds, they are exceedingly dangerous. The extreme rapidity with which they dath through the thickest and strongest covert, their quick sight and keen scent, render the -utmost caution necessary Plunging along a game path, they will sud denly wheel lound some bush, and thehun ter following hot upon the spoor is pros' tr.:ed before he has time to raise his gun It is then the vidictive and savage nature of the buffalo shows itself; stamping with his fore feet and goring with his horns, 1 have known them to break every bone in their victim's body. With well trained dogs you may follow boldly, as by the.r incessant barking you are made aware of his exact locale, and the attacks o! the dogs occupy his attention iufficiently to allow of a delib erate aim being taken ; but dogs should be kept in leabhes and lipped after the wound ed buffalo; otherwise, if allowed to range in the covert, they would probably drive eve ry one out without a shot being obtained. Buffaloes are greatly molested by the swarms of flies and myriads of ticks which always accompany them. A very constant attendant upon them is the small brown bird called by the cononists the tick bird- This bird is always found in considerable numbers in the neighborhood of buffaloes and I have often noticed them flying and screaming in great agitation when we have approached their friends. I believe they not unfrequenlly give the alarm, which is followed by instantaneous tight. I had of ten heard the story, but confess I was scep tical nutil convinced by ocular demonstra tion. Such is the African buffalo ; cunning and suspicious, it is difficult to approach, but when wounded and its passions roused, it is as dangerous and formidable an aatogo nist as the skeenest sportsman would wish to encounter. La bob Lost. Hunting for your dog when you live io the neighborhood of a sausage factorty. Trying to persuade your wife to retain a pretty servant maid. The Gipsies. ; , A correspondent of the World furnishes' the following novel statement, concerning the Gipsies : " To THt Editor or the Wosld: The al lusion made by you in your issue of the , on the subject of the gipsies, induces me to think that you will give insertion to the following remarks on this singular race : ' The gipsies have frequently called forth a, certain kind and degree of" interest, which has often died away again for this particular reason, that little or nothing can be learned I from them of their history and condition, on account of the extreme prejudice that is entertained towards them and the singular reserve they show to people outside of their body. But when we gain their confidence we find about the tribe much that is inter-' esting 'to the generality of intelligent persons. ' ' i ' The question that most natarally presents itself, is, "who are the gipsies!"' TW reader of history will be surprised to know that tbey are the "mixed multitude" of the " exodus that left Egypt under Moses, and ' separated from the Jews in Arabia Petria,' and traveled northeast into India, where, la consequence of the rigidity of caste that has' prevailed in that country from time Im memorial, they formed themselves into a wandering race, living distinct from all' others. . Having been runaway slaves of a1 civilized society, the change of their cir-' cumstances ' naturally led them to adopt that condition which has characterized them since the beginning of the fifteenth ' century, when tbey first became known to ; the inhabitants of Europe. " 1 The gipsies that go about England to-day are merely the remains of the wild stock as it entered Great Britain in or previous to the year 1506. In their natural state they are and have always been a very prolific people. In the early part of the reign of Queen Elizabeth they were estimated, la England, at above 1C,00? ; and, notwith standing their great natural increase, they are generally set down as 'b?ing of rery ' few in number in England." - A late writer in Chambers' Edinburgh Journal even. 5 makes the astertion that "before this ceo-' lory expires there will not be a gipsy in ; Western Europe." But at the present day there are in Europe and America together less than 3,00u,000, of all mixtures of blood, -shades of color and position in life. So little is known of the gipsies that peo- ' pie invariably believe that when a gipsy eaves the tent and settles in life, or even travels without a tent, he ceases to be a gipsy ! But, notwithstanding every change ' of whatever kind he may make, he and his descendants never cease to be gipsies! The North American Indians are "dying out," because they depart this life ; but the gipsy tribe - gradually leave the lent and gets scattereJ amid the rest of the popula- - tion, and maintain their identity as a people, notwithstanding iheir having no religion peculiar to themselves. The prejudice that exists against a gipsy - is such as would lead us to think he was a snake or . some other reptile, rather than a ' man. The original gipsy has therefore no alternative but to bold himself aloof from the rest of his fellow creatures, and even to lead the roving life for which be is so. - much blamed. He has been born into that state and been reared in it ; and knowing no other he naturally follows it, and finds - the life of the ordinary inhabitant as dis- tasteful to him as his would be to the ' ordinary inhabitant. Add to this the fact that the common na tive, of whatever condition in life, will not ' associate wi;h him ; will not allow him to 1 enter a school, will even consider it pollu tion to touch him, and yon will see how difficult, how almost impossible it is to ' make anything of what people generally nnderstand to be a gipsy. But whenever ' the gipsy leaves the tent, and in the popu- " lar estimation ceases to be a gipsy, he most " rigidly hides from the public the fact that ' he belongs to the tribe. The tent is the hive from which the tribe swarms ; hence, ' as people know of no other gipsies than those about the bive, they come very . quickly to the conclusion that they "can make nothing of the gipsies;" without knowing that the tribe, taking year with year, and tent with tent, are constantly throwing off swarms of gipsies, into all kinds of itinerant and settled life. On ac connt ol the tribe as it were, "hiding itself," as it leaves the tent, the race, such as it is ' known to the world, never gets the reputa tion for the improvement of which it is capable, and no one of the tribe, outside of the tent, will say that they are gipsies j ' consequently the subject of their history is allowed to remain in a slough, oat of which it is necessary to drag it S, How to Kist. First, grasp with haste, around the waist, and hug her tight to thee; , and then she'll say "do, go way do, won't you let me be!" Then, oh, what, bliss! but never miss so good a chance at that ; then make a dash, as quick as Hash, and Harriet, hold my hat! A St. Louis paper says that the grass- . hoppers have eaten up the entire tobacco crop of Franklin county, and the last &4 ; was heard from them, they was seated oa the corners, begging every man that ptssei for aohaw. Bill, what brought yon to the calaboose) A couple of constables, sir.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers