BY D. A. & d. H. BUEH4'R
VOLUME XXL,II.I
TIIE
Whit ort thou, ALMIONT4 Oirs and *here thy
west ?
Thou broodest on the calm that cheers the
land', -„;
And thou Jost hear within thine awful hands,
The rolling.thundensalad the lightnings (Met.
Thou gdia'st the rtiorthern storm at night's
diasad noon.
Or on the red wings of the floes M onsoon,
Disturb'st the sleeping giant of the . ad.
In the hear sileneekof the polar span
Dost thou repose 1 or in the solitude
Of sultry tracts, where the lone caravan
Hears nightly howl the tiger's hungry brood 1
Vain thought ! the confines of his throne to trace
Who glows through all the fields of boundless
space. [Henry Kirk White.
"ALL'S WELL",
"Twelve o'clock at night, and all's wall."
False prophet ! Still and statue-like at
yonder window, stands the wife. The
clock has told the small hours, yet her
face is pressed closely against the window
pane striving in vain with straining eye,
to pierce the darkness. She sees nothing
—she hears nothing—but the beating of
her own heart. Now she takes her seat,
opens
a small bible and seeks from it, what
comfort she may, while tears blister the
pages. Then she clasps her hands, and
her lips are tremulous with mute suppli
cation. Iliat ! there is an unsteady step
in the hail—she knows it I Many a time
and oft it has trod on her very heart strings.
She glides down gently' to meet the wan
derer. lie falls heavily against her; and
in maudlin tones, pronounces a name he
Lad long since forgotten "to honor." Oh '
all enduring power of woman's love I—no
reproach, no upbraiding—the slight arm
passed around the reelingigure—once e
rect in God's own image. With tender
words of entreaty which is powerless to re
sist, if he would, she lends him in. It is
but a repetition of a thousand such vigils.
It is the performance of a vow, with a he
roism and patient endurence ton «minion
and every day to be chronicled nu earth,
too holy and heavenly to pass unnutieed
by the "registering angels" above.
"ALL'S WELL!" False prophet! In
yonder luxurious room sits one whose curve
it was to be as fair as a dream of Eden.—
The time was, when those clear eyes look
ed lovingly into a mother's faze—when a
gray haired father laid his trembling hind'
with a blessing, on that fair head—when
brothers and sisters' vela.* blended with
her own, in heart music around the happy
hearth. Oh' where are they now v Are
there none to say to the repentant Magda
lene, '•Ncither do I condemn thee ; gu and
sin no more:'" Must the gliked fetter
continue to bind the soul that loathes it,
because man is less merciful than trod ?
"A Lt.'s WELL !" False prophet ! there
lies the dead orphan ! In all the lengths
and breadths of the green earth, there was
found no sheltering nest where that lone
ly dove could fold its wings, when the pa
r, at bimls had flown. The brooding wing
that covered it. was gone from the cold
winds of neglect and unkindness. Love
Issas its life; and so it dropped.
"ALL'S WELL 1" False prophet! Sin
walks the earth in purple and fine linen ;
honest poverty, with tear-bedewed fare,
hungers and shivers, and thirsts, "while
the publican stands afar off." The widow
pleads in vain to the ermined Judge for
"justice ;" and, unpunished of Heaven,
the human tiger crouches in his lair, and
springs upon his helpless prey !
"ALL'S WELL !" Ah, yes; all is well !
For He who "seeth the end from the be
ginning" holds evenly the scales of justice.
"Dives shall yet beg of Lazarus." Every
human tear is counted. They shall yet
Sparkle as gems in the crown of the patient
tkud enduring disciple ! When the clear,
broad light of eternity shines upon life's
crooked paths, we shall see the snares
and pitfalls from which our hedge of thorns
has fenced us in! And in the maturity
of our full grown faith, we shall greeting
ly say—" Father, not, as I will, but as
Thou wilt."—Eatiny Fern.
Forget-me-Not.
"Grandmother," said :; little Gretchen,
"why do you call this beautiful flower, blue
as the sky, growing by this brook, a 'For
got-me-not ?* "
"My child," said the grandmother, "I
accompanied your father, once, who was
going on a long journey, to this brook.—
He told me when I saw this little flower,
I must think of him, and so we called it
the 'Forge t-me-not.' "
Said 'happy little Gretchen, "I have
neither parents, nor sisters, nor friends
from whom I parted. Ido not know who
I can think of when I see the 'Forget-me.
"I will tell you," said her grandmother,
"some One*of whom this flower may remind
you—Rim who made IL Every flower in
the meadow , says, ‘.lletnember God !' and
every flower in the garden and field says
to us of its Creator, Torget-m,e-not.' "
If there is a man who can eat his bread'
in peace with tilni and man, it is that rasa
who has brought tho bread out of,the earth
by his owukonest industry. It is canker
ed by no fraed-;—it is wet by no tear—it is
stained by no blood.' ' • .
A young lady, when mommouded to
- therein for health, said she wheidjunly
at an offer , and run her owa risk.
BABES OF HEAVEN.
BY MRS. DENISON.
There are some infants who seem des
tined for Heaven from their birth. Over
these the mother may smile and weep, and
watch the fragile beauty of cheek and brow
m vain.
Old and learned doctors may stand be
side their little couches, and count the
quick-beating pulse; but they cannot stay
the steady footsteps of death—they cannot
wave him back, that angel of Heaven.—
Something is written in the blue eyes—
the gentle smile, that mortals may never
interpret; for them the tiny headstones
stand in niches, fresh from the graver's
hands. For them the little marble urns
are already sculptured, and sweet spots in
the burial grounds lie waiting. Hug it
ever so closely to the fond bosom, the fa
vored immortal is ever in the hands of the
angels, and they will claim it.
I have known a few such children. I
remember, as I write, a sweet sister, who
came when the bird pipes his first May
song. For fifteen bright months she was
spared to earth, but all who saw her gave
ominous shakes of the head, and some said
even with tears, "Shall she die?"
Of all infant singers, none heard I ever
sing like hor. From morning till night,
from her twelfth month, her sweet, clear
voice rang through the house. And she
was neither taught this, nor paraded for
her gift—but a friand coining in would be
sure to hear 'Old Hundred' from the sing
ing lips of a babe who might be clinging
to the chairs in her first happy essay to
walk. 'China and many of the ancient
melodies, were us household words to that
little erenture—and every day at twilight,
nearly till the day she died, she would sing
herself to sleep, lisping those old words:
-Life is the time to serve the Lord."
Precious angel ! !ler hie was holy ser
vice. How happy she has been these long
long yours, up there—singing !
I had another little sister, who died at
the same age. I remember a still, beauti
ful night, when I sat watching that sweet
face—the pale hands, the laboring chest.
Her mother, wearied out, had fallen into a
sweet slumber.
Suddenly, in that dying hour, the old
tune of "Sweet Home" rang out clear,
sweet and distinct. How can I describe
the feeling that thrilled through all my
veins, when looking at the little lips, pale
and trembling, 1 saw them moving to the
cadence of the cherished melody. There
laid a baby, scarcely more than a year old,
disease upon her, her temples whitening in
death, singing a triumphal strain with a
failing breath. No language can tell how
awful was the scene. She sang it through
to the last uote—aud her fragile form sunk
backward.
In the morning they were laying light
ly and tenderly ou her limbs the burial
shrUud.
I heard lately a little story, which for
pathos could not be excelled.
A beautiful infant had been taught to
say, (and it could say little else,) "God
will take care of baby."
It was seized with sickness, and at a
time when both parents were hardly con
valescent from a dangerous illness. Every
day it grew worse, and at last was given up
to die. Almost agonized, the mother
prayed to be carried into the room of her
darling, to give it one last embrace. Both
parents succeeded in reaching the appart
went, but just as, it was thought, the babe
had breathed its last.
The mother wept aloud ; and once more
the little creature opened its eyes, looked
lovingly into its mother's face—smiled and
moved its little lips.
They bent down closer.
"God will lake care of baby."
Sweet, consoling word?!—they had
hardly ceased when the angel spirit was in
Heaven.
An Inzprew.lwe Fact.
A vessel was overtaken with a terrific
hurricane in the middle of the Atlantic
Ocean. After the most astonishing efforts
to weather the storm, the akullutelligenoe
of the Captain broke on the ears of the
passengers : "The ship is of her beam
ends; she will never right again; death is
certain."
"Not at all, air I not at all, sir," ex
olaimed a little sailor boy. "God will save
us yet."
4 , Why do you think so ?" said the Cap
tain, with strong feeling and astooish men t.
"Because, sir, at this moment they , aril
praying under the Bethel flag, in the city
of Glasgow, for all sailors in distress, and
us among the rest ; and God will hear their
prayers ; now see if he don's I"
The Captain, an old weather-beaten tar,
exclaimed, with tears running down his
cheeks, "God grant that their prayers may
be heard in our behalf, my little preacher 1"
At that moment a great wave struck the
ship and righted her. A sinailtaneons
shout of exultation, gratitude and'praise,
louder than the4torni, 'went up 'to God.—
A few de,* after, tbe.noble ship rode Ade:
ly into /New Iforitilarbor:
Softie:of, in Wide ape, pleases all; the
more lye you put ha it - the better.
GETTYSBURG, PA., FRIDAY EVENING, FEBRUARY 18, 1853.
Anecdote of Mr. Webster
Just before Mr. Webster died, and after
his recovery was despaired of, one of his
physicians approached his bedside and ask
ed how be found himself. "I feel like the
Jackdaw in the Church Steeple," was :he
strange reply. The physician withdrew,
sadly, from the bedside !,o another part of
the room, where some members of the fa
mily were standing together, and, shaking
his head, confessed hie apprehensions that
the brain of the dying statesman was affect
ed, that the stately oak was perishing at
the top. He could see no method in the
answer which his question. received. One
of the ladies present, who knew Mr. Web s , ,
ster better, did not believe his mind was
wandering, and quietly stepping to the
bedside, asked him what he meant by say
ing he felt like the jackdaw in the church
steeple. "Why, Cowper; don't you re
member ?" was the reply. She did re
member Cowper's delightful translation 4 of
one of Vincent Bourne little poems, en
titled "The Jackdaw." The following are
the verses, from which the reader will per
ceive the perfect fitness and point of the
reply :
The Jackdaw.
There is a bird who, by his cost,
And by the hoarseness of his note,
Might be supposed a crow—
A great frequenter of the church,
Where, bishop like, ho finds a perch,
And dormitory too.
Ahoy. the steeple shines a plate,
That turns and turn*, to indicate
From what puint blJois the weather;
Look up—your brains begin to swim,
'Tie in the clouthi—that pleases him,
He chooses it the rather.
Fond of the speculative height,
Thither lie wings his airy flight,
And thence securely sees
The bustle and the razee show,
That occupy mankind below,
Secure and at his ease.
You think, no doubt, he sits and muses
On future broken bones and bruises
11 he Nhould chance to fall.
No! not a single though; like that
Employs his philosophic pate,
Or troubles it at all.
He sees that this great round-a-bout,
The world, with all it. motley rout,
Church, army, phy,ie, law,
Ira custom and its buttinesa.
I. no concern at all of his,
And says—what says he?—"caw !'•
Thrice happy bird ! I too have seen
Much of the •anitica of men ;
And sick ul having seen 'em.
Would cheerfully thew, limbs resign
For such a pair of wings as thine,
And such. head between 'em.
A Strong Temperance Speech.
We find in an eastern paper the follow
ing arguments in favor of Temperance, by
31r. Edward Bait's, of England, who is,
we believe, the member of parliament for
Leeds. The following is an extract from
his speech :
"The peculiar danger of intoxicating
drinks is in their extreme seductiveness,
and in the almost unconquerable strength
of the drinking habit when once formed;
and their peculiar malignity is in their be
ing the parent or nurse of every kind of
crime, wickedness and suffering.
"I say boldly that no man living who
uses intoxicating drinks, is free from tile
danger of at least occasional, and if of oc
casional, ultimately of habitual excess. I
have known such frightful instances of
persons brought into captivity to the habit,
that there seems to be no character, posi
tion or circumstances that free men from
the danger. I have known many young
men of the finest promise led by the drink
ing habit into vice, runt, and early death.
I have known such to become virtual bar
ricades. I have known many tradesmen
whom it has made bankrupt. I have
known Sunday-school scholars whom it I
has led to prison. I have known teachers, I
and even superintendents, whom it has
dragged down to profligacy. 1 have known
ministers of religion, in and out of the
tablisliment, of high academic honors, of
splendid eloquence, nay, of vast usefulness,
whom it has fascinated and hurried over
the precipice of public infamy, with their
eyes open and gazing with horror on their
fate. I have known men of the strongest
and clearest intellect, and of vigorous reso
lution, whom it has made weaker than
children or fools. I have known gentle
men of refinement and taste, whom it has
debased into brutes. I have knoiril poets
of high genius whom it has bound in bond
age worse than the galleys, and ultimately.
out short their days. 1 have known states
men, lawyers and judges whom it has
killed. I have known kind husbands and
fathers whom it has made wester , . I
have known honest men whom it has made
villains. I have known elegant and .
tian ladies whom it has converted into
bloated sots.
"Is it not notorious that under the ra
vages of drunkenness the land mourns ?
That it is this whioh—l mat almost say
ezolusivelpAills our prisons, our work
houses, our • lunatic asylums,. our dens of
pollution, and our hospitals; which causes
most of the shipwrecks, firm, fatal goal
dents, crimes, outrages and suicides that
load the columns of our newspapms; which
robs num4rless wives of a lirit Tl Kirsi4.
ti t e t "4 IPunberlioil children Pareo'll
f°01"all,
which
of ovary cowfOrt, deprives soommor thou
sandsof children of 'addition, .and atinoat
of bread, and turns them on `rho sweeter;
“FEARLEOB Aliftl, 'ARE.”
fi'tl
which leaves many places of worship al
most empty, and so many Mechanics' In
stitutes languishing, whilst the pot-houses
are crowded; which brings dawn—it is es
timated—sixty thousand of our population
every year to a drunkard's grave?
"And of all the victims of intemper
ance, be it remembered, there is not one
who did not begin by moderate drinking,
or who had the remotest idea when he be
gan that he should be led into excess."
Beaullllll Curt orn.
In Sweden the first sheaf of the harvest
is preserved unthreehed, and on Christmas
eve it is elevated upon a pole in the fields,
for the winter birds to feast upon. The
farmer who should neglect to provide the
Yulo-sheaf, on Christmas eve, would con
fidently expect s bad harvest on the suc
ceeding year; while his neighbors would
consider him a bad man, and refuse to as
sist him if ho should fall into trouble.—
This certainly is'not a bad superstition.
Blatrlntony In Utah
No man in Utah, who already has a
wile, and who may desire to have another,
has any right to make any propositions of
marriage to a lady until he has consulted
the President over the whole church, and
through him obtains a revelation from God
as to whether it would be pleasing in his
sight. like is forbidden by revelation, that
ends the matter ; if by revelation the pri
vilege is granted, he still has no right to
consult the feelingsokfte—ymnig lady until
he has obtained the approbation of her pa
rents, provided they are living in Utah : if
their consent cannot he obtained, this also
ends the matter. 48. it if the parents or
guardians freely give their consent, the 3
he may make propositions of marriage LII
the young holy. Untie refuses these pro.
positious, this also ends the in/liter ; but
if she accept. a day is generally set apart
by the parties for the marriage ceremonies
to be celebrated. It Is necessary to sate
that before any map takes the least step
towards getting another witerwis 4119 duly
to consult the feelings of the wife which he I
already has, and obtain her eimsent, as re
corded in the 24th paragraph of the revela
(ion, published in the first number of •'the:
Seer."
"When the day set apart for the solemn
ization of the marriage ceremony has ar•
rived, the bridegroom and his wile, and al
so the bride, together with their relatives,
and such other guests as may he invited,
asseintde at the place which they have ap•
painted. The scribe then proceeds to
take the names. ages. native towns, cmmies,
States, and ounwtrilkii*olf the'psrties to be
married, which ho carefully enters on rec•
ord. The president, who is the prophet.
seer, and revelator over die whole clnirrli
throughout die world, and who alone holds
the keys of authority in this solemn tirdi•
fiance, as recorded in the second nod filth
paragraphs of die revelation on marriage,
rails upon the bridegroom and tits wife mid
the bride to arise, which they do, (routine
the president. The wife stands on the left
hand of lier husband, while dot bride
stands on her left. The president then puts
this to the wife : "Are you wit•
ling to give this woman to your !matt:tot'
to be his lawful and wedded wife for lime
and for all eternity ? If vim are you will
manifest it by placing her right hand with.
in the right hand of your husbanil;' The
right hands of the bridegroom and bride
being thus joined, the wife takes her hus
band by the left arm as if in the anitode of
walking. The president then proceeds
to ask the following ques t ion of the man
"I)o you, brother, (velliog hint by name.)
take sister.(ealling the oride by tier name,)
thy the right hand to receive her nitro your
self to be your lawful and wedded wife,
and you to be her lawful, and wedded hus
band for time and for all eternity, with a
covenant and promise, on your part, that
you will fulfil all the laws, rites, and ordi
nances pertaining to this holy matrimony.
111 the new anti everlastii.g covenant.doing
this ui the presence of God, angels, and
thes e witnesses, of voitr own Free will
and choice ?" The bridegroom nosier.,
"Yea." The president then puts inc guys•
lion to the bride: -Do you, sister, (call
ing her by name.) take brother (calling 111111
by name.) by the right hand, and give
ourself to him, to he his la wlid and
wedded wife, fur time and for all eternity.
with a Covenant anti prooolari on your part
that you will fulfil all the laws, rites anti or
dinances pertaining to this holy matrimony,
iii the lie w and everlasting covenant, doing.:
this in the presence of God, angels. and
these witnesses, of your own tree will and
choice I" The brille answers, Yes."—
The president says : "111 11110 name of the
Lord Jesus Christ, and by the authority
of the holy priesthood, 1 pronounce;, you
legally and lawfully husband and wife fur
the '(me and for till eternity ; and I seal
upon you the blesshigs of the holy resin
recline with power to collie forth in the:
morning of the first resurrection, clothed
with glory, immortality. and eternal lives ;
and Useal upon you the blessings of thrones.
and dominions, and principalities, and
powers: and exaltations. together with the
blessings of Abraham. lasso. and Jacob.
and say !situ, you be fruitful, and multiply.
land replenish the earth, that ynti may have
joy and rejoicing in your posterity in the
day of the Lord Jesus. All these bles
sings, together with all other blessings
pertaining to the new and everlasting cove
! ultra. I seal upon your heads, through
your faithfulness unto die end. by thii au
thority of. the holy priesthood, in the owns
of . the father. and , of the Bon, and pf the
Holy Ghost, Anton." '[he. . s cribe then
enters on the tensors! record' the date Ind
Noce °Niro or three Isiusesses who wow+
present."
Epitaphs.
Read `
Oa 4041 0f.4 0 04 Waisteit
swot this wiitt Yitit pa.
For why I Newo4hi'Pttiwil wir
Hallelwisist Mika*. I °
Here lii'Phenioa :
ulfiie Ile: AlWnier *Thettpia,
Wit& Wit It
Hs pis 4641triN mama s *ma
JUNI was slow Watsrioo."
The Wall of a Sorrowing *other.
The annexed poem relates to a distressing
event which is still fresh in the recollection of the
public. It is the production, if we we misuke
not, (says the Home Joirnal) of an author whose
name is honored wh American literature is
known :
He was my only boy ! •
A gem within the casket of my heart,
Priceless and precious as is the gush of joy
That from its fountains start.
How has the silken cord
Of my unspoken love hewn round him thrown.
Binding to pure affection ey'ry word
And smile his lip bath known.
Day after day hie foot,
Fleet with the blitheness of unfettentid youth.
Came to my ear, soft a• the tuneful lulu,
Or spice wind from the South.
But, oh. he comes not now !
Hie joyous step And merry laughing eye,
And the pure radiance of his sunny brow,
Were things of earth, to die.
Death, to the gentle child, [blend
Caine not with whispered accenta, such as
Sometimes with angel forms, wham faces mild,
Above the deeth•couch bend
The living wreath of Fame,
Twined by I nation for hie sire to wear,
Withers to dust,—and Ulory's proud acclaim
But sharpens my despair.
The glare of earthly pomp
Fades like a meteor in sr starlit eky
And the loud peal of Honor's clarion trump,
Is passed unheeded by.
The loftiest seat of earth
shrink• as a shrivelled smell before , the fire
That desolates my humble homestead heurth
ith anguish deep and dire.
Give me thy help. oh God !
In Ode my hour of grief •nA fearful woe ;
Teach me to bow beneath thy chaat'iling rod.
And stay the tear. that flow.
For hie dear sake. whose heart
fe gaabed and bleeding by the bitter stroke,
Help we to cheer his childless path, nor part
The ray horn the oak.
I know my bright.eyell bey
Is liestlitig in the lovely utvinur's breast ;
I low Igioi join the swelling song of joy,
lb that sweet world of rest.
Theo cease, my heart, thy
Hero be thy anchor 'ruin ihe storm of grief,
Let His 11:/failang promise► prevail,
Alail prayer be any reliel
The late Master Bead. Pierce.
The Cmicord Congregational Journal
publishes the following interesting rnernrn
to 4.1 thu late Master 13eujruniu Pierce:
The bright and manly little fellow, whose
death has awakened such limp and- uni
versal sy 'apathy for the desolate parenia,
was worthy of all the affection with which
they cherished him. and of all the hopes
they entertained of Irvin. A mere child as
lie was, of only eleven yemak fie possess
ed a mind of such rare sobriety, that it
could not be dazzlertby thejfrillititif aymi
ofieninebefirre him. hied triVliteb, 8e WAt
natural, others around hint were making
allusion. It being remarked to him, a few
weeks ago, by a gentleman quite intimate
with him, that he supposed he must he
highly pleased and elated with the prime.
peat of leaving dull Concord, and living
in the great city of Washington and the '
White ilouse, lie replied that he had an
wish to go. and only hoped lila (slier'
would put lion 011 a farm and leave lout
there, as that would he hir more namea
ble. Another asked Min, at a different:
time, what le - Messina or business he in-i
tended to follow. lie said he meant to i
he a farmer. "But,' - molted the gentle
man, ”how will you buy a farm f" -•1 will
work out, " was the reply. "and earn mo
ney enough." “I'erlia pa," said the gen
"your father will give you money
/motto to buy it." ••No," was the
stain reply. will work out end earn it ;
Inv father has no Inure money than Int l
wants ; and it be gives meaty I will give
it to hie nossioneries." lit- had received
kind, continuants instructions front his ear
lieat years, which scent to have made an
impression on his teruler mind, and to
have created hi him, thus early, an inter
est in the cause of Christian benevolence.
Indeed. he was olten seen at the monthly
concert no company wtilt lila parents. lie
was also a member of the Sabbath seined.
We are told Mat when their pastor attempt
ed to minister the eon:Mifflin's of the
pel to the licart-hrokeii and overadielitied
parents, soon alter tile hial iiecurrelice.l
tilt; only reply 01 the dither Won. ni 010
I.lllgllage sitiither,—"Cloilds and dark- I
nese round about him ; justice and judg•
['mot are the habitation of hula throne."—
Such a belief in Cicero universal govern
ment can alone sustain the heart under a
stroke like this. May it be able to sus
tain them.
CRUCIFIXION.—The Hebrews derived
this punishment from the Romans. The
upright beam was let into the ground, and
the criminal being raised up. was fastened
to the transverse piece by nails driven
through his hands—sometimes through his
feet also—and often the feet were crossed,
and one nail driven through both. The
feet were sometimes hound to the cross by
cords. A small tablet, declaring the crime,
was placed on the top of the cross. 'file
victim died under the must frightful suffer
ings, so great that, even amid the raging'
passions of war. pity was excited. The
wounds were nut in themselves fatal. A
raging fever soon sets in. and the victim
complains of throbhiug headache, intense
thirst and pain. When mortification en
sues, as is sometimes the case, the suffer.
er rapidly sinks. lie is no Juntas sensi
ble of pain, but his anxiety and sense of
prostration are excessive. hiccup super
venes. hie skin is moistened with a cold.
clammy .sweat, and death ensues. The
duration •of life *older these agonies, 'varies
with the constitution of the sufferer, and
the Mate ofihe weather. Death was has
tened •by the heat of: the inn. and: the ex
posure ,to,the cold night air. but it did ant
ordinarily ensue until lie halt hung fink
thirty-six liono; or. more.-- 6 01. F. Obrerv.
John Stirling. writing of modern &imp.
hit she folloriin graphic here . : NThe
Orgonni Isluiet Ind imber.l4.
Orit meld 11644 limey the'llemil ginirsl
tiotekelii their breathy' aisd *lOl.
HOMOreble4 pat.°
Alansys take the pat atm" absent Or.
son who is censured* company, so far as
truth - and propriety will allow.
Washing Sheep.,
We take it that this is a pretty good to
tal abstinence story—if any one has seen
it before let him read it and liugh at it a•
gain :
A year or two since when the subject
of temperance was being freely discussed
the citizens of a little town in the Western
part of Massachusetts, called a mee:ing to
talk over the matter. There lied never
been a tem peratuqt society in the piece. but
after some little discussion, it was voted
to form one. They drew tip a pledge of
total abstinence, and agreed that it any
member of the Society broke it, he should
be turned out.
Before the pledge Was accepted. Deacon
D. arose and said he had one ohjerlinn
to it ; he thought that Thanksgiving Day
ought to be free for the members to take
something. as he could relish his dinner
much better at this festivsl if he took aglass
of wine.
Mr. L. thought that the pledge was not
perfect. He didn't care env thing about
Thanksgiving, but his family always made
a great account of Christmas, and he
couldn't think of sitting down to dinner
then without something to drink. He
was willing to give it up on all other days..
and in fact, that was the only lime when he
oared anything about it.
Mr. B. next arose, and said he agreed
with ithe other speakers, except the time.
He didn't think much of Thanksgiving or
Christmas, though he liked a any
time. There was one (lay, however. when
he must have it, and that WI'S the Fourth
of July. He always calculated on having
a "regular drink" on that occasion, and he
wouldn't sign the pledge it it firibented hen
from relehra ling independence.
Squire `., en old firmer, followed Mr.
13. He wits 1101 in the habit of taking ant•-
thtng often hut must have some when he
washed sheep. Ile uouldsign the pledge
if it wooid give him this privilege of imhi•
ping when he washed sheep: Why, he
considered it dangerous for him to keep
his hands in (mid water without something
to keep loin m arm inside.
After sonie consideration it was conclu
ded that each nu tuber of the Soioely should
lake hie own cari.shion to drink—Deacon
D. on Thanksgiving. Mr. L. on Christmas,
&c. The pledge was logoo,l by a large num'
her, and the Society adjourned
condition, tiller voting that it should lie
the duty of the members to watch each
other to see that they did not break the
pledge.
The next morning Deacon D. walked
into his next neighbor's yard—who, by the
way, was Mr. L., the sheep man—wonder
ing its It was a hitter colt morning. wheth
er 1,. wits up yet. Ile met his neighbor
amiii nit of the house, and to his unit.
di tit . 61'16 *tithe mrill•
ern phrase, ••burning a very beautiful
kiln.•
by T. !" Pxelaimed the setnnishetl
Deaeon, ..what.lnee this menu, mir
here broken your pledge, mud oli.gra..etl our
Soelely and the tenfperanne valise." •
"Noi—hie—ne you know nit—hie—
Deaeou," maul L. I haven't—hie—bro
en !he—hie—fledge. Dintes.n."
••Certautly yon hive. sir. and I shall m
oon you In the S.•ctety. Y.. 0 agreed not
to drink °krill% when you washed sheep.
Von r:,titiot woke we !hilt': that you are
going to 14011 sheep such a cold day as
this."
“F—fol.low me—lsie—Denron.”
L. started for the ham, and she Deleon
followed. Oli entering the door. the Dea
con saw alarge wash-tish standing in the
floor with ass old run tied the poor
animal shaking dreadfully with the cold,
and rdesticg
“Hid--thertt. D•tl.tlenenn.” amid L..
pointing to the sharp, with an it of tri•
um ph. old--iiii,—r;ani has helm
wa4hoti a-aix times tit is—h in—morning.
and I—luc—ain't done with
yet.•
It is hardly necessary• to say that the
Deacoa vanished.
The following; amusing circumstance is
said to have oecurred at N fancy ball giveu
in Washington city recently. By the
way, limey balls are •all the go" there
now. It was utiderstnial that every per
sun WNK to dress la character, and an usher
was ..tatmeicil at Ulu dour ul the saloon. to
alisimillee to the company within. the tiff
'Orem characters as iliev entered.
Two young lathed at the entrance :
..Your characters V' asked the halter,in
a vvinaper..
••%Vedo not appear in volume to-night."
said the
"Two ladies without any characlers."
bawled out the usher, at the top of hie
VOICO.
SNoKIL TURNED INTO FURL..—. 4 late
number of the ••Scientific American" states
that the smoke in the factories in large ci
ties in England and Scotland is now eon
sullied, it having been made ;t penal offence
by act of Parliament far any factory to al
low its smoke to escape. The smoke is
all burned by simple contrivances of fur
naces. A committee of government first
established that the burning of smoke was
perfectly practicable; Aid Parliament then
enforced the fact by law. The factory
and mill owners soon found out how to
fulfil the condition' of this law. and the
result is, that they save a great . deal of fu
el Ey the operation.
Old bachelors mid happily ramjed men
take very different views of the married
state. For centuple, the old bachelor.
thus describes the condition as he coder.
stands it :
"Noisy clack and constant brawling,
Discard and domestic strife
Entity cupooard, children brawling,
etc/riding woman made s wile I * *
The man. really blesses' with a "betters
hair' thus delieribes the condition •
Lovely looks and constant ,courting,
avrteteolog all , the toil of life . ;
Chnerlutchildniii, harnilim *Pottbit
Lovely warners nosdiii'vlik.
A:tikhr war eaceinlyaohl 'Art *notion lu
Franklin Bursa Obureb, piston, 'and war
bid - oft by « women at ave hundred 'and
forty donors. Thin woman bu. for m*ny
years. been known la so apple.iellar op
404 Wharf.
#IIVO DOLLARS PER ANNVSL
INUMBER 49.
Enormous tleld °Morn.
The following is the statement of Mr.
Gen. Walker, of Suerniehanna county.
woo took a premium 4990 at the minuet
meeting of the Agricultural Society, lust
week. for the Itarge?‘t crop of corp. being 169
bushelikof shelled corn to the amt. We
believe this litur never been equalled in the
Upheld States. There were several other
competitors. but 96 . bushels to the acre.
rallied by John H. Bitaer. ef„ Lancaster
county, was , the next highest. antl 93. by
John A M'Rhea, of. White Marsh. Mont
gomery county, was the neat. . • ,
@MORON WALXICIVII JdfIDE Of OULTIVAIION.
. lie ploughed five *eras of green award
for corn, the beginning of May, and hauled
ono-hundred loads of manure CM the same.
Aker the manure wit spread; v:te ground
was well harrowed, wad planted the brat'of
Mae. in rows 3} feet apart, running north
and south. and If feet Apitt.yth , theriftwa.
running test end westl frunilltree to hen
Brains in:a hill.. TWo..gehelior
anted with three buslielirof plasfei. wee
applied to said five acres very soon-after it
came cps A plow. did Indenter 11 . 11 , fielti
alter the corn was planted. The ground
was kept loom and mellow; and the graas
and weeds etihdued by the use of ihe col
tivanir, making hut little use , tif the hand
hoe. A specimen of the corn
at the State fair. at Lattinaeter:in Ornotier.
being nt the white flint apetties, eighcroWcd.
small rob end long att. more than titsultiot
in length. • - •
In addition to the enormous yield of one
hundred eud sixty bnahels tii-fita acre of
shelled corn, thesame fiettlecoittainitiglise
acres, produced - twenty Wins of t apitrior
pumpkin., some of which weighed Mom
Man 41 pounds. Said field is situstethm
,,
one of the highest hills in Susquehanna
county. being an Oak, ,Pine,. Basch •. and
Sugar Maple ridge—Soil..a sandy loam.
GEORGE WALKER.
October 20, 1852
This statement ii.aerinmpanied With the
cit.:llia:ore of Hon. Wm. JetiO/9 ) v 4 V111. H.
01111 C, RIIII A. Citainherleitt. certiliying' that
they measured the held, emintall t h e rows
and the hills of *melt rota mid bulked twen
ty sit hdb : being a lair average- ni the
IA bide - field, and that this made a yield e
qual to 100 bushels of-altelletooris to the
F9FFECIII or tiamloacia oN tux Amino-
ATOMIC OF Tio Lim Hut
I bills upon our fields rnuskeither be earrii,til
lower by . natural or attal drainagm-or.
having thoroughly saturated the soil
,ou
c which it falls, be left neon the Surface to
be -earned off by evaporatioth Now every
gallon of water thus roirrietroff by r.
Ireporation requires/ as mueh heat as Would
! raise five and a half gallons from the 11•42-
tug. dito,: 111 bMililtg- V{'ithn iii
to exttione cases the reitty Offeets 'ef . the
•
heat time lost upon- vegetation - cannot fail
to be eriking; and I have ftvgitently finuid
the soil of a field well Araieed, higher in
temperature from 10 le 15 degrees, thaii
that of another field which had net been
drained, though in every other respeet the
soils were similar. I have observed, the
, ,
effects of this en the growing crop : I
have seen only one it touch inferior crop
on the under-drained herd, tuft that eittp
harvested fully three weeks litter the other,
and liwieg to this circuanstanee and the
setting in of unsettled weather, I have apes!'
that crop deteriorated hilly tee per cent. in
value.—Jetinial Royal tigricultural
elev.
- ,
flow to Improve Poor Soil.
There iii a way within the reach even
of e poor man. It be will be contain 'to
till but little ground, he may have it norieli
ed alinoat at find coat, by inheriting the rei-
, lowing particulars :
I Waste nothing. If you have merely. a
ticli of soap suds. throw it upon your heap.
So of rotten chips, the hair carded froux
your horse and sow. the liquids removed
every morning by lice (win k drimbiri.
lIIPPI. your woolen rags, written, lime or.
clay that may be at hand. Pet also the
oyster-shells that are thrown ai refuse by
1 some neighbor. burn and powder them.
bud add this to the MIIIIIIIIII stock. attic
iii. tem, any hay you may, have .that is
wonliless as fodder. Pursue this Aounte
in the strictest manner, and your land will
constantly be improved, Nor should„yon
forget tiPset all hands, old and yotingt:wow
and female. as far as convenient. tit pluck
up by the roots the steads that infest yiiiir
grounds, taking care. that the seeiii tlo
not ripen, acid throw these upon -,pile.
A small armful per day will amount to
mush in, a season, and may produce yearly
its own weight of grass, or straw, yr stalk,
and you.rid ofyourself
a pest at the saw! .
time, If your land is elay, surely .you
can mix sand in your dung heap. and 41dia•
do much good, and all this coat a meta. tri,
Ile.
__
Haul up to your yard a few losda of *
beat or muck, from some swamp; sir if *hie
is beyond your reach, col/seta queatil of
leaves from the (Meat or elsewhere, mlO
throw these 'vim a pile,,and if you pot
atttl charcoal dust from the kilo of:wipe, ,,
neighbor, you will be the igttiner, Doing
thete thins, or as many of . tiem go you
can, other suggestions will . . occur so You*
the result of circumstance* which; be.
equally important. . , ,
The 'Penneylreton Inquirer slays, this
MOM Maywood of Pfidniklptint, who lis*.
been• dancing at Floreom, Slaty, created
such afurore that on the oreseton 'her
benefit, it took three earriages to parry, bir
the boqueis, thrown on dui stop her, -6 "
One ,aecount Nays many. `of the Esocfeete•
heeudfully done up iu tibbo9r, were let
large an floor borrete. • -. • •
" 1 91r,0,11,, my. Intr. I barn sold Col o ,"
.i'lleat's kind of you. now, Charlos,*f
the wire, 'dm ..ttikuured. dogu the dirty..
nasty br ute . ; you ougiii
_.4t Niro douo it
lang ag o. "Yes. love ; gOlgriY 414.150i-r".`4.
a 8094 IPttle.*ll in pupa—Ste. at Silt 411.
lan" swim," •
Coid lands near Wheeling Va., 'lo'
ling at 41,400 an sere.
If you wish to cblieest inirithetol.lart,'", l
pretty girls in lowa.
Yining IC a."