; i ft 4 i ! j . JS
V0L.-1.
OLEARFIELD, -.WEDNESDAY; NOVEMBER 22. 1854.
i -. "
NO. 21.
". '..'.'"'.."'l 'V : V ,"'.'tI," - '-' - - ' ' V,' " " " . ; COME AND TAKE ME. pcriTirn. ; '-'' . .? .: v.- : -.: ..- ;. . . . : 'i,- j!; . . :":.:r"'
5 " RAFTSMAN'S JOUR.VAL.' h
.'.'. :s , Bas. JVwes, Pnbliaher :
Per. annum. (payaM in advance.) -j t $1 60 .
If paid within lh year, 2 00 . .
No paper discontinued -until all arrearages are
paii. . . - .-.; .'.
A failure to notify a discontinuance at the expi
ration of the term subscribed for, will be consider
ed anew engagement.
'-"'"' ' ABSENCE.
Lo! on the Susquehanna's gentle tide, - . , .
The twilight linpjy-. on the billow's breast,"
It fondly hangs and fondly is caressed ;
And weeps and blushes like a parting bride.
Mark, how the gay and gladdened rirer glows ! .
Now bank and ware and fondly bossemed idle
Grow bright and beauteous in that glorious smile;
And now 'tis past! The stream in darkness flows.
to sets the smile of lore upon the tide , -
Of a lone spirit: though its banks bs gay,
And many a bright scene woos it from its way,
That smile is it knows no joy besida .
And flows iu sadness on. So let it flow', '
Until that gentle smile again awake its glow !
; ;cDriginnI:Horal;nIf.
BR1TTFA FOR TUE JCR!CAL.
Tin:
Ml1
3? W
COPYRIGHT SKCtJEB. " ' "
'. . CHAPTER IX. :
Valens looked a moment at his pale, excited,
trembling wife The blood rececded from his
broad, red checks; and passing out of the
door, he hurried into the grounds back of his
dwelling, his first thought being, as the even
ing was line, and the air balmy and pleasant,
that they had gone out to enjoy the bright
star-light, and the fragrance of the moist,
dewy flowers.
He . passed rapidly along the walks, and
through the thiok,clustering vines; but see
ing nothing of them, he returned again to-ihe
hall, endeavoring to conceal, as far as possi
ble, his increasing anxiety.
Jv.sl as he entered, however, the sound of
feet ascending the marble steps, caught his
ear; and, turning round, he hastened to the
door and opened it, followed by Valencia.
It was Valdinus and Vcrtitia.
"Where's Fiducia ?" inquired Valencia,
quickly. t
We left here, with her child, an hour ago,"
replied Valdinus. .
What! left-her alout said Valens, sharp
ly.' Yes; we were out on a matter of Vertita's,"
said be, entering the hall, and throwing him
f?If carelessly on a seat in the corner.
It appeared, they had been to one of the
numerous Heathen Temples, to present an of
fering to a certain Goddess. As to tho ob
ject of this offering, it must suffice to say,
that it was not wholly unconnected with the
affair of Marcus. -
The truth, at length, flashed like lightening
n the mind of Valens, and he could no longer
conceal his apprehensions. His dear Fiducia
had been seized and carried off, and possibly,
by that time, her body had been committed
to the flames ; but how she had fallen into the
hands of their barbarous persecutors, he could
not conjecture. Nor was there any one to
tell..- Valdinus and Vertitia had left her alone
with her child an hour before, and that was all
they knew. The circumstances, therefore, of
her arrest and abdnction was a profound mys
tery, and for aught he could see, must remain
60. - ----- . . . . - .
Then, knowing as he did : the strength of
Fiducia's principles, and her resolute purpose,
as often expressed to himself, never to deny
her faith, even at the cost of her life, led him
to believe, that, if in the power of their ene
mies, her fate, would soon be sealed. .., ,
And Iicrc, it may as well be stated, that this
was Fidncia's natural character, firm and un
compromising, especially in matters of faith
and duty. Neither threats, nor tortures, nor
flatteries could shake her resolution,' when
once advisedly formed. This . feature had al
ways been one of the' niost noticeable in her
life, even from- her childhood ; and it had
fchown itself with marked prominence in her
character as a Christian," ..''"' , " "
At the same time, however, it had always
been united with an , uncommonly easy, mild,
docile disposition ; and Fiducia" had always
been one of the most kind, loving, and obedi
ent daughters. With j little tto say,- and less
disposed to join in , the frivolous gayities of
of tlie;wirld, her ornament was indecd.that of
a "meek andiuiei Ppirit.", , e And then, r uni
versally esteemed, she had gained a hold upon i
the hcartf Cher parent, well nigh amounting
te idolatry.
Hence, 'wc can readily conceive Tiow stun
ning the stiock-kow; like some great convul
sion, their present - apprehensions would toss
nd upheave their' louls into tho-wildest drs
rrder, and break up" the deepest fountains of
their sorrows'"-61' 't & '-;- l iu--'
An4 15aef was aTieJntf lingering - hope.
The humap nind never readilyf.yiflda.to desr
. t f ill shoot forth i" tV tinsel ray b through ,
the thickest 4glopn , Hence, J after the first
paroxyuuf hUiejf. nd 8 subsided, . Valens.
resolved once more, to visit his tgronnds;" "in.
arch of his missing daughter
'I -
The search was accordingly made, but in
vain. The bright star-light was tailing silent-
ly through the opening vines, and tho moist,
dewy flowers were pouring fourth their sweet-
e.t fragrance into the air, and the mild, balmy
zephyrs where whinperiiig through the leaf1
branches of the verdant trees. But that was
all. No bright, crce tine countenance carno
forth to meet the sorrowing man, to roll the
great, cumbrous burdeu;frora his heart; and
he walked into an adjoining street. , .
Here he stood for a few moments, scarcely
knowing where he was, or what he did. His
eyes, however, were raised to heaven, and a
few broken, but fervent - petitions ; went forth
audibly from his lips.
"O, Fiducia! my dearest Fiducia!" said he,
involuntarily, as be turned to re-enter the
grounds.
"Fiducia ! who's that V said a gruff, hoarse
voice. ; j
Valens was startled, aud, looking round, ob
served au old man crouched in a dark cornor,
a few yards from where he stood. He was one
of those queer, miserable beings, great num
bers of whom strolled about, the . streets of
Rome, subsisting by' fortune-telling, necro
mancy, and other similar arts ; and passing the
night in the streets and alleys, or wherever
convenient.
"Fiducia's my daughter," said Valens, stow
ly approaching the old man; as he spokel
"Ha ! ha ! Christians," I guess,' said the old
man, in the same gruff voice; and raising his
long, bare, shrivelled arm, he; pointed to the
red light in the sky
"If thou knowest aught of my ' daughter,
speak," said Valens, imploringly. ; : 1
The old man shook his grey, shaggy locks,
and taking up a small rod or wand that lay at
his side, began- figuring with it in : the air.
muttering, at the same time, a jargon of fool
ish, unmeaning words. ...
"Ha! ha! Christians, I guess,", again said
the old man, in a wild, guttural voice, that
alarmed Valens, aud he turned to hasten away.
"Ha ! ha ! do I know aught of your daugh
ter," cried the old man: "Is there any thing
a wizard dont know ? : 0 1 Vare ! Vare ! m v
sweet Vare ! nipt to-night my set cars' as the
Emperor's dogs snarled, and dragged a whin
ing female down yonder glistening marble.
Ha! ha! is there any thing a wizard dont
know ?" and the old man began figuring again
with his wand, and muttering as before.
v alens had stopped. His heart sickened.
His blood ran cold. His fears were confirmed.
Vare was the name of Fiducia's child, aud he
knew his daughter's fate.
He hurriedly re-entered his dwelling, and
throwing himself on a seat, burried his face
in his hands.
What a mystery is the future ! What hu
man eye can penetrate its dark, misty depths 1
An hour, or even a few moments walk along
life's sad journey, brings man into a maze of
darkness, where the nicest and keenest pow
ers of vision are wholly useless. In fact, each
successive step in life is taken at a venture,
and where it may plunge him, or what new
scene it may reveal to his view,no man know-
eth. The darkmysterious night, indeed re
cedes, but then it only receds, step by step, as
man thus advances upoa life's journey ; and it
is true, that man can only read his own, or
the history of his fellow mortals from the rev
elations of each successive hour or moment,
which, together, make up the sum-total of
life!' " ' . , ,:
The reader has only to look into the great
halt, to see a painful confirmation of this
truth. . A family, in a moment, is overwhelm
ed with inconsolable grief."- A fond, loving
mother has laid her bleeping bab . upon her
couch ; and having impressed a kiss upon its
guileless hps, ana gazed proudly upon its
m hi. s unincnn? ieamres .sno ipnri it -ih i
fU 1 , - f . . " I
. , a .,,,. .
a heart tun oi great, joyous emotions, to re- I
scat herselfat the, curious marble stand, and 1
resume her devotional meditations. . But lust I
as she takes her scat, the door is burst open,
auu a ..u"imi,j oi ruue, miunaiea soldiers
stand before her. She falls back In her seat,
J f J . - f . '. I
paie, tremming ana anngtitcd. Her last as
.... iUUUg.,J4r ui Her sleeping par;
ana araggea out ana nurnea down the marble
steps, she has only time to give vent to the
sudden anguish of her soul, in the words ; "O,
Vare', Vare! my sweet Vare." ' ; 3
', While this sad, heart-rending scene Is act-
i..B, c - V w"ous-
la Vl A (.(.Aif K 4Vk nimi 1 . n n X V. T !ll I
atuug iiit juctin. iiivii uicasu iiea nig wiin
emotions of bliss. ' fn a few moments, the
are expecting to greet the fond idol of their
hearts with their wonted .embrace and, set
ting down j to tell her of their-joys, of their
sn'cet.commnpion-with: the j Savior in (he em
blems of; his dying lovp,', andj ' if possible, to
impart to her soul .some, of that rapturous joy
with which their own Js filled.' j But,' alas I
.Kar fAnnrfTDA.mA ' tVinr - t frrntj nAna I
. o- -
greet thera. ; Fiducia was gone-gone, at the
11 r 1 : l ivj 4 A v a
wiyi .''.y- t'!.
and her snirit to God." And thev went." . I
. Was iCnot .itWweepr'ls' not 'be
warrn.'VfuU fountain in We . breast ,
thcrej to' beT" unsealfd," and ,'shed 1 Can the
strong tie that binds together the hear'ts'ofipa'-
reins ana ineir cruiaren. ne rudeiv uunaerea. i
and no keen pain or ajigiiish "be felt'.' ' shall
' , : i - - ' i T - r - t ......
man tanks' sensitive to'he
offspring, than theVcasts7 c
destruction his
of the
fleTa or the
fowls, of the air? 'No!
J The harp of man's nature is, strangely strung
I and attuned to a variety of melodies: At one
time,. to give forth its sweet notes of joy at
another, its deep, plaintive notes of sadness
and hencethe great drama of human life is
intcrludedTwith" the music of sorrow ' or joy
just as occurrences chance to tonch the- attun
I ed-strings.'
r. Valens is still seated, with his face burried
in his hands, while the great, boiling waves of
sorrow are whirling and" dashing through his
soul. Valencia, with little Vare clasped to her
breast, is pacing the hall in an agony of grief.
Valindus, unused to thinking or caring much
about anything, at length, has raised his hand
to wipe away the tears which have found vent
in despite of his efforts to keep them back
while Vertitia, at last, roused to a full sense
of the overwhelming calamity, has thrown
herself back in her seat, pale and death-like
and is wringing her hands, the very picture o
grief and despair.' h r '. '.
"Ah !" said Valens, at length, haying in a
measure recovered from the first sad effects
of the shock ; "ah ! are there no rays of light
penciled in the darkened skies ? Is there no
comiorr, no nope in tms dark, trownmg provi
dence ? ?Is thero no loud, nieaninz voice in
it?" - , ;. -. . . .
i. ... -
"It's more, I think, than I can bear," soled
Valencia, clasping, at the same time, little
Vare tighter in ; her arms, and pressing ; her
warm, scalding cheeks to his. : - -
,"And mc, too,' quickly, rejoined Vertitia ;
"I wont bear it ; I'll go and die with her." .,
Foor V ertitia ! I or the first time in her
life, perhaps, she had experienced the pangs
of an honest, heart-felt grief. Young,- gay,
and thoughtless, and immersed in the pleasures
of the ; world, her life's journey had glided
along smoothly, uninterrupted by any of its
sad, sudden checks. - And she had all her
tears yet to shed ; yet to le3rn the great lesson
of the world's regrets and sorrows. 1 v - '-
At length, however, the call came; and she
is obliged to enter the Bchool of experience,
and, with all others, learn how few and full of
trouble are the da-.s of our appointed tTrueon
earth.
How hard is the lesson ! How bitter is the
first sip from the full, overflowing cup ! So
t often is. When the long-gathering cloud at
last breaks, it is with the force of the whirling,
dashing tornado bending, breaking, and pros
trating all before it.
Then, her untamed nature refuses to submit
-to bear the load that has been . laid upon it.
It is too grievous. It stings, torments, crush
es the soul ; and throws it inso a wild, mad,
furious frenzy. It rebels, and like the vic
tim around which the seapent has coiled its
huge folds, it writhes and tortnres, plunges
and struggles, to relieve itself. But in vain.
. Even Valencia, though fortified by the prin
ciples of a great and glojious faith, finds sub
mission difficult. In their best estate, the
children of light are encompassed with infirm
ity ; and that which is weak gets the better of
that which, is strong ; and the soul ; for the
time being, is swallowed up in the depth and
intensity of its sorrows, and sees nothing but
itsown misery.
Valens, however, at lust, looks up from the
depths; and sees the dark, frowning skies
streaked with the light of an advancing day ;
sees the bright star of hope and promise rise
over the gloomy hills; and hears, most of all,
i tliis sad, afflicti-re providence, the entreaty
-Cilia T r oTba rftnr ' '
"If Fiducia lives, I will see her face again,
at the peril of my life," said Valens.
To be continued. " "
... Church Music - .
The following briliant passage is by; Wash
ington Irvine, on hearine the choir in West
minster Abbev
. c-.j j n . .
outiaeniy inc notes oi tnc aeep lauorinir or-
gan hurst upon the ear, falling with double
and redoubled intensity, and rolline- ax it.
k;u, r tt. j
their volume and . trrandeur accord with ti.u
mighty building! with what pomp do they
8weU through its vast vaults, and breathe their
awfui harmony through the caves of death,
and make the silent sepulchre vocal! And
now
they rise in triumphant acclamation heaving
higher and higher ' their accordant notes, and
piling sound on sound. ; And how they" pausej
and the soft voices of the choir break out in
to sweet gushes of melody; they soar aloft and
warbie along the roof, and seem to play about
' ' . .. ' ' ' -
these lofty walls like the pure airs of heaven."
Again the pealing organ heaves its thrilling,
thunders, compressing air into music; and rol
ling it forth upon the sonl., What long drawn
cadences! what solemn sweeping concords -r-It
grows more and more dense aud powerful; it
fills tha. - vast pile, t and seems to jar the very
walls; thenar is stunned,- the senses are over
whelmed." And -now it is windine un in fnll
i , ., .....
ijtioueef it.is rising irora: earth to heaven; the
verv soul seeTOSrapt away and floated upward
I . .
on the swelling tide of harmonvU
! i T ..
: ;Lifve A masked, baU,.whereiti struggling
through':the.rowd, :and,trying to penetrate
the .disguise of our .neighbor, we are apt to
forget urown part, until .thewjaning Rights
"v v A.
1J-"Mother,,v said a little square-built ! ur
chin 'about1 five"- vears
bo nrf years oldwhy; d6n? my
fter.makc me monitor ' sometimes.l can
every boy in mr cinss but one?' ' 0 ! ' '""
teacher
lick
istorirai.
THE PURITANS.
. rnoic n'cAtrLAY.
We . would first speak .of the Puritans
the most remarkable body of men, . perhaps
which the world has ever produced. .The odi
ous and rc;diculous parts of their character lie
on tne suriace. lie that runs may read them
nor have there been wanting attentive and ma
licious observers to point them out. For ma
ny years after the Restoration, they were the
theme of unmeasured invective and derision
They were exposed to the utmost licentious
ncss of the press and of the stage, at the time
when the press and the stage were most licen
tious. They were not men of letters; they
were as a body unpopular ; they could not de
fend themselves; and the public would not take
them under its protection. They were there
fore abandoned, without reserve, to the tender
tnercics .of the satirists .uid dmniatists. The
Ostentatious simplicity, of their dress, their
sour aspect, their nasal twang, their stiff pos
ture, their ong gracqs, their Ilebrew names
the Scriptural phrases which theyr introduced
on everyjccasipn, theirj contempt of human
learning, their detestation of polite amuse
ments, were indeed fair game for the laughers.
But it is not from the luughers alone that the
philosophy of historyjs to be learnt. And he
who approaches this subject should carefully
guard against the influence of, that potent
ridicule, which lias already misled so many
excellent writers. .........
Those who roused the people to resistan
who directed their measures through a long
series of eventful years who formed out of the
most unpromising materials, the fincts army
that Europe had -ever seen who trampled
downKing, Church, and Aristocracy who, in
the short intervals of domestic sedition and
relellion, made the name of England. terrible
to every nation on the face of the earth, were
no vulgar fanitics. Most of. their, absurdities
were mere external badges, like the signs of
free-masonry, or the dresses of friars. We re
gret that these badges were not more attrac
tive. t We regret that a body, to whose cour
age and talents mankind has owed inestimable
obligations, had not the lofty elegance which
distinguished some of the adherents of Charles
I., or the easy good-breeding for which the
court of Charles II. was celebrated. . But, if
we must take our choice, we shall, like Bassa
nio in the play, turn from the spacious caskets,
which contain only the Death's head and the
Fool's head, and fix our choice on the plain
leaden chest which conceals tho treasure.
The Puritans were men whose minds had de
rived a peculiar character, from the daily con
templation of superior beings and eternal in
terests. Not content with acknowledging, in
general terms, an overruling Providence, they
habitually ascribed every event to the will of
the Great Being, for whose power nothing was
too vast, for whose inspection nothing was too
minute. . To know him, to serve him, to enjoy
him, was with them the great end of existence.
They rejected with contempt the ceremonious
homage which other sects substituted for the
pure worship of the soul. . Instead of catching
occasional glimpses of tho Deity, through an
obscuring veil, they aspired to gaze full on the
intolerable brightness, and to commune with
him face to face. : Hence. originated theircon-
tempt for tcrrestial distinctions, the differ
ence between the greatest and meanest of man
kind seemed to vanish, when compared with
the boundless interval .which separated, the
whole race from him on whom their own eyes
were constantly fixed. They recognized no
title to superiority but his favor; and confident
of that favor, they despised all the accomplish
ments and all the dignities of the world. If
they were unacquainted with works of philos
ophers and poets, they were deeply read in the
oracles of God. If their names were not found
in the registers of heralds, they felt assured
that they were recorded in the Book of Life.
If their steps were not accompanied by asplen.
did train of menials, legions of ministering an
gels had charge over them. . Their palaces
were nouses not made witn hand:, their dia
dems crowns of glory which should never fade
away! - On the rich and the ' eloquent, on no
bles and priests, they looked down with con
tempt: for they esteemed themselves rich in a
more precious treasure, and eloquent in a more
sublime language nobles by the right of an
a'rlier creation," and priests by the imposition
of a mightier hand.. The very meanest of
them was -a being to whose :fate a mysterious
and terrible importance, belonged rou whose
slightest. action the Spirits of light and dark-
mess looked with anxious interest who had
been destined, before neaven and eartu were
created, to enjoy a fccility which should con
tinue" when heaven and earth should have pass
ed; away. (1 Events which sho-t-sighted. politi
cians ascribed to earthly causes had, been or
dained on his account. For his sake empires
had risen and flourished, and decayed". For
bid sake' the Almighty had proclaimed his fcill
by. the pen of the evangelist,: and the harp of
the prophet.. , He had been rescued bj nocom-r
' mon. deliverer from the grasp of tno common
i foe."' He had been" i ransomed by the ' sweat of
jinovalgar- agonybytbeL-WOodof too. earthly.
-"ed
F dead had arisen? that H nature" bad shudder-,
cd at the sufferings of her expiring God !
sacrifice, it was lorhim that jne sua had peeq
jftliHrdlanrotis.
THIEVING ACTBESS.
. BT JULES JAKIN.
' If you love contrasts, this I am going tonar
ratc, and which I have not sought, is terrible!
At the very hour "nenriette Sontag died, at
the hour when a nation in mourning bore the
remains of the great artiste under the funeral
vaults of the Church of the Professor, to the
plaintive accents of the Requiem, srnig by Sal
vt, Marini, ttovere and Salviati, an obscure
vessel, more like a slave ship than a Christian
vessel, bore to California a woman who had as
pired, too,' to all the glories of the theatre !
Eh! la maUieurtsute! she had fatten (she was
scarcely above thirty) to the rank of the rrpri
de justice ! When she made her debut in the
first parts of tlio tragedy there was nothing
more leatiful than this woman, and it was the
unaninous praise of her beauty to compare' her
to Mademoiselle George herself. She wore
the diadem like a queen: she held the sceptre
like the greatest beauties of this our earth; she
hid the- voice, the accent, the lightning, the
majesty of her part, and it required nothing
loss than the sudden appearance of Mademoi
selle Kachael to make that woman understand
at least that she was destined to play the second
parts. Then she became the pny of ennui,
and anger mingled with it; she concealed her
self near the ceiling of the theatre, and hid
there: she hissed her, she called her rival !
They were obliged to use force and to throw
her out of the house of Moliere.' Then she
fled into the provinces, where she reigned
alone and without rivals, subduing all opposi
tion by her boldness and her leauty. More
courageous and more patient, this woman
would have found her vocation, she would
been the Athalic and Mcrope. She had their
proud bearing. - Suddenly she began to filch
pieces of linncn and silver spoons in the inns.
This Queen of the East had scarcelv taken off
the crown and the purple, when she played the
disgraceful part of the thieving magpie. "She
had a fork under her Roman attire ; she envel
oped her diadem in a napkin stained with the
gravy of the last meat pie. It was horrible to
hear the inventory of the Police for the prose
cuting attorney, and when the judges saw this
queen,thcy could not understand how she could,
from the height of her throne, thus stoop to
these stains. ' Mark well that she twice stole
this inn's silver, was condemned to the pine
infamate. f) misery! They twice cut her beau
ful hair, the finest ornament of her insolent
head, ishe was twice thrown m the midst of
those nameless female thieves, and in the midst
of the refuse of Parasian prostitution, but no
thing could cure this incorrigible mania. At
the last, tired' justice determined to send this
unfortunate woman to the mines of the Sacra
mento, and it ' was on board of the ship
which bore her to her last destination that
Helena Gaussin died, abandoned to all her vi
ces, and sullied with all her crimes.
Tastes Din'er.
In a lecture on what he has seen abroad,
Wendell Phillips observes -
In Italy, you will see a man breaking up' his
land with two cows and the root of a tree for a
plough, while he is dressed in skins with the
hair on. . -. .
In Rome, Vienna, and Dresden, if you hire
a man to saw wood he docs not bring a horse
along. He puts one end of the saw on the
ground, and the other ii his breast, and ta
king the wood in his hand, rubs against the
Saw. . ' O -v. - r '. L
It is a solemn fact, that in Florence, a citv
filled with the triumph of art, there . is not a
single auger, aikL if a carpenter .would bore a
hole, he does it with a red hot poker!, j This
results not from the want of industry, but .of
sagacity of thought.- : , ,, -v
The people are by no means idle. . They
toil early and late, men, women, and children,
with an industry ; that shames labor-saving
Yankees. Thus he raafces laboi,that thenoor
must live. ,,:.-.. : ... : r , ? .
In Borne,-charcoal is principally used, for,
fuel; and you will see a string of twenty, mules,
bringing little sacks of it on their backs, when
one mule could draw all of it in a cart. , But
the charcoal vender never had a cart, and so
he keeps his mules and feeds them. This is ;
from no want of industry, but there is no com
petition. A Yankee always looks haggard ' and ner- i
vous, as though he were chasing a dollar.
With us, money is everything; and when we
go abroad, we !are surprised to find that the
dollar has ceased to be almighty'. '-r -v! 1
If a Yankee refuses to do a job for fifty
cents, he will probably do it for a ddllar, and
will certainly do it for five ', But1 one yf ftift '
lazaroni of Naples, when he' has earned two
cents, and eaten theni, will work no more that
day; if you offer him ever so large a ' sum
He has earned enongk for the day, and -wants'
no more.'"- So there' is "no' eagerness for- ma !
king money, no motive for itj'afid everybody
moves slowly;
5 How late la it I?Look ;at boss; And
see! -he's drunk yet'f if h Isn't, it cant be
much 'after" eleven. 'Does be keep such
good time ?' -'Splendid ! "they v regnlat fhe
town clock'by his nos'e.f ;,!t :i' "s r'"
Ortr ia e Various Jlants.
Every gentleman farmer" ought to be sorap.
whatacquaintcd with the origin and history of
all ordinary plants tni. . trees, so aa to know
their . nature, country and condition. Such
kuowledge,j besides being, a groat ; source of
pleasure, and very desirable, will often enable;
him to explain phenomena in the habits of.
many plants that otherwise would appear in
explicable. , . -
Wheat, although considered by some as a
native of Sicily," originally came from the cen
tral table-land of Thibet, where it yet exists aa
a grass, with small mealy seeds."
. Eye exists wild in Siberia.
' Barley exists wild in the mountains of Him-
alaya. a.- , :.- - ' -.''.'
Oats were brought from Xorth Africa. '
Millet, one Fpecies,";j a native of India, an
other Egypt and Abysinnia.' ; ' " ' '
Ma-ze, Iudi vn corn, is of native growth in
Amciica. ' "-'- ' ' .. - .
Bice was brought from South Africa, whence
it was taken to India, and thence to Europe'
and America. ' :
Peas are of unknown origin. ' ' ' ' :-
Vetches arc natives of Germany.1 -' 1 '
Buckwheat corne originally from Siberia and
Tart.iry. ': ;' - - -' - '
The Garden Bean from the East Indies, ''
Cabbage grows wild in Sicily and Naples. ' "
The poppy was brought from the East. ""
The sunflowcr'from Peru."
Hops come to perfection as a wild flowc in
Germany. - ' -
Saffron came from Egypt, ' ' ' ' '
The onion is also a native of Egypt.
Horseradish is from SouthEuropc. , , .
Tobacco is a native of Virginia, Tobago,
and California. Another species has also been
found wild in Asia. '
The grasses are mostly native plants, and so"
are the clovers, except Lucerne, which is a
native of Sicily. '
The gourd is an Eastern plant. .
The potato is a well known native (of . Peru
and Mexico. "
Coriander grows wild near ' the' Mediterrk' ",
nean. - '
Anise was brought from the Grecian Archi
pelago. - . .
Had a WiNMXG ; way with Her. A way
ward son of the . Emerald Itle lef the bed aud "
board" which he and Margaret had occupied
for a long while, and spent his time around "
rum shops, where he was always on hand to
count himself in, whenever anybody should '
'stand treat.' Margaret was dissatisfied with
tliis state of things, and endeavored to get her :
husband back again.' We shall see how she
succeeded: '
Now, Patrick, m'c honov, il von come
back?' - '
'No, Margaret, I won't ct.nie bavk.' ' '
Ah' won't ye comc"back for the love of the .
children' , - . . -"
'Not for thejove of the children, Margaret.'
Will ye come back for the love of mtself?' '
'Niver, at all. ?W.!y"wid yes.'
'An' Patrick Avont the love of the church
bring j-e back?'
'The church to the divit, and then I wont '
come back.'
Margaret thouglit she would fry one other
inducement. Taking a pint bottle of whiskey
from her pocket, and holding it up to her
truant husband, she said 'Will ye come for .'
the drap of whiskey!'
'Ah, me darlint,' answered Patrick, unable
to withstand such a temptation, 'it's yersetf
that'll always bring me home again ye ha "'
such a icinnivg way xrid ye, I'll come home .!
Margaret!'.
Margaret declares that Patrick was reclaim
ed by moral suasion ! ' . ' ! " , ""'"
Facing the Misic Some years ago in the
New Hampshire House' of -llepresentatives,
one of the members of that body, an old stick
from South Hampton, when the yeas and hays
were, taken on an important question, did not:i
answer to his name: After" the foil Wasflnlsh--"
ed, he rose and addressed the prtsiding officer
in the following pithy. language: I rise to let
you know: that I did not mean to dodge tho" 7
question. I only squatted a little, in order to 1
take a better view of the whole subject ; and "
I now say No' to that critter.1 ; -
"j, . t ii. , . . .; ; j. ,t .
A SUOWEE OF COMPLIHEXTS. "How forhl-
nate I am in meeting a rain beau in this stona,H i
said a young lady, who was caught in a shower-
the other day, to her'fceatt of promise;" wh -happened
along with an umbrella. . n. ' - - J
: "And 1,' slid he gallantly, "am as much - i
rejoiced as the poor Laplander, - when he haf i
caught a rain-deer J' i - ' - . "a s.i "7
Those are the benu ideal of wt-t weather 'com-
pliments." V' i --., ! rl vt.a t- v
,' I fi-'-o ; 1 .! ?i vju.;!-
"5ay, Cea&ar. Agustus, whyris yourlega.
like an organ grinderl;,,. -. j -i; - -ri ;cn
"Guvs It up, Mr. Peabody,"why is dal'V. , .
"Cause da carry a nioakftjtabouide streets"
; AbrickgjazcdrtheluatdQfMi-2E.:nst'as
hia ears passed the corner' m'j 1,. ts-.zi :: c fl
' f "" . ! 1 . 1 . 'i j i . n .... s f .
An orator holding forth jn favor of "Fornau. .,:
arrd)yney cbpiudes tjius: V'i ,l.""f
I '.Cjb. my The'arers, 'depend upoq it; .nothing . 7
beaUVood'wife. '.'. '. X-' V., . . ; --
(fl "beg your pardon," replied one Qfthe'au
ditorsj "a bad husband does." ,
it
ft
1
Hi'.'
n
A.
u
i r
ii ,
Si ,'l
h;