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VOL. 1 - CLEARFIELD, WEDNESDAY, JULY 18, 1855. NO. 50.
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FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS.
ET UEXHY W. LOXGFELLOW.
When the hours of day are number'!,
When the voices of the night
Wake the better soul that slumber'd
To a holy, calm delight; '
Bre the evening lainps are lighted.
And, like phantoms grim and tall
Shadows from the fitful fire-light
Banco upon the parlor-wall ;
Thon the forms of tho departed
Enter at the open door;
Then beloved onefc, the trne-hearted,
Ucme to visit me once More ;
Ile, the young and strong, who chcrish'd
Noble longings for the strifo,
By the road side fell and perish'd,
1 Weary with the march of life;
hey, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly'
Spake with us on earth no more !
And they with them the Being Beauteous,
Who unto my youth was given,
More than all things else to love me,
And is now a saint in heaven.
With a slow and noiseless footstep.
Comes the messenger divine,
Takes the vacant ehair beside me,
Lays her gentle hand in mine.
And she sits and gazes at me,
' With those deep and tender eyes,
Like the stars, so still and saintlike.
Looking downward from the skies.
Utter'djnot, yet comprehend od,
Is tho Spirit's voiceless prayer,
. Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,
Breathing From her lips of air.
O, though oft depress'd and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside,
If I but remember only
Such as these have lived and died !
THE JVEW-.YIOVYN HAY.
BY TARE BENJAMIN.
Talk not to iuo of southern bowers,
Of oders breathed from tropic flower.
Or spice-trees after rain !
But of these sweets that freely flow
When June's fond breezes stir the low
Vrass, heaped along the plain.
This morning stood the verdant spears,
All wet with diamond dew the tears
By Night serenely shed ;
This evening like an army slain,
They nnmber the vacilic plain
With their fast fading dead.
And when they fell, and all around
Such perfumes in the air abound,
A3 if long-hidden hives
Of sudden richness were unsealed,
When on the freshly trodden field
They yeielded up their lives.
In idle mood I love to pass
These ruins of the crowded grass,
Or listlessly to lie.
Inhaling the delicious scents
Crashed from those downcast verduous tent,
Beneath the sunset tky.
It is a pure delight, which they
Whodcll in cities, far away
From rural scenes so fair,
Can never know in lighted rooms,
JVrvaded by exotic bloom
This tasto o,f natural air!
This air, so softened by the breath
Exhaled and wafted from the death
Of herb3 that simply bloom.
And scarcely noted, like the best
l)ear friends, with whom this world is blest,
Awaits the common doom
And leave behind such sweet regret
As in our heart as living yet;
Though heroes pass away
Talk not to me of southren bowers,
Or odors breathed from tropic flowers,
But of the new-mown hay.
THE MARSEILLES HYMN.
Oh! that is a song! It is the magic wand
that, with wondrous power, changes the boy
Into the man! Goto Paris; enter the first,
best theatre; take the audience by surprise,
and sing in the midst of the performance :
"Allons, enfans de la patrie,"
and you will witness something most extraor
dinary. The whole assemblage, actors and
audience, will at once arise, and, as with in
spired voice, hymn forth, Allons, enfans de la
patrie. The children will shout with joy and
toss their caps aloft; the women will wave their
perfumed handkerchiefs, and an excitement
will be raised that will continue long after tho
verses shall have been sung. And woe to that
power that should atttempt to quell this ex
citement in the moment of its might! Let
the government forbid the singing of this song
as strictly as possible; experience has proved
that the Marteillais will be sung to the end,
whenever its first tones have been raised in a
large assembly. The effect of this hymn is
truly wonderful; it often appears as a judge,
descending among men, and demanding an
account of their acts. Fools! to think its role
is finished. All revolutions, all emeutes which
have occurred since its composition, have but
Termed its influence and its importance. The
Marseilles IJymn is one of tho greatest tri
umphs of which music can boast it is the faith
find the trust of a nation.
RepMes Ahead. A friend, some time ago,
Jianded us a paper published iu the Indian
country, partly in the Choctaw language, in
which we observed that the wise men of the
nation fixed the compensation of their School
Teachers at forty dollars per month. In this
enlightened portion of the world, the far-seeing
people pay as low as twenty dollars per
month, lor the performance of this most im
portant and responsible labor. May we not
learn wisdom from the "lone red man?'
Holiness, the most lovely thing that
ist, ia radly unnoticed and unknown upon
arth.
From Sharp's London Magazine.
THE AUTHOEOF "JANE EYEE."
On the northern side of one of the blackest
moors of Yorkshire stands the little village of
Ilaworth, consisting of a church anda few gray
stone cottages. One of these, scarcely superi
or to its fellows, and distinguished only by a
sort of courtyard surrounded by a low stone
wall, and over grown with grass (shrubs and
flowers refusing to vegitate in so ungenial an
atmosphere,) is the parsonage. The archi
tecture is of the simplest description-a straight
walk leads up to the front door, on either side
of which appears a window, that of the sitting
room looking into the churchyard, well filled
with gravestones. On ibis parsonage until
within a few months since, not a touch of paint,
nor an article of furniture, had been expended
for thirty years, the period which has elapsed
since the death of Miss Bronte's mother.
Some six or seven years previous to that
date, an Irish clergyman, the Rev, Patrick
Bronte, then a resident of Henzancc, espoused
a young lady, contrary to the wishes of her
relations, Who refused to hold any further in
tercourse with her after her marriage. Her
husband having obtained the perpetual curren
cy of Ilaworth, took his bride to his new resi
dence, whero she spent tho remainder of her
days, dying in a rapid consumption after the
birth of her sixth child, Charlotte. Mr. Bronte
who though advanced in years, is still alive,
is described as a man of studious and solitaiy
habits, and of a singular and highly eccentric
turn of mind, which, together with a peculiar
temper, must have rendered him anything but
a suitable guardian to a youthful family. Nor
can we wonder at the mother's dying eclama
tiou, " What will become of my poor childreu?"
Engrossed by his own pursuits, the father
never even dined with his family nor taught
them anything, and the children learned to
read and write from servants only. When
Charlotte was twelve years old, she (even then
of an original and self-reliant nature) asked
and obtained her father's Tjerruission that her
sister and herself should be placed at the cler
gy school at Cowan Bridge. This as it then
existed, she has described to the life iu Jane
Eyre. Two of her sisters died of tho fever
which at ona time devastated the school; the
two others and probably Charlotte herself,
quitted it with the seeds of consumption in
their constitutions fostered by the cruel pri
vations they underwent. The food was horri
ble, and of it, bad as it was, they obtained so
little that often they were literally half starved.
Frequently has she 'crept under the table to
pick up the crumbs others had dropped.'
At the time of the fever, the doctor exam
ined the food; he put some in his mouth, and
hastily rejected it, protesting it was not fit for
dogs. "So hungry was I," said Charlotte,
'that I could have eaten what he threw away."
The three survivors returned to Ilaworth with
broken health, but there fresh trials awaited
them. "At nineteen," continued Charlotte
"I should have been thankful for a penny a
week. I asked my father, but he said 'What
do women want with money V" She was yet
only nineteen when she advertised for and ob
tained a situation as teacher iu a school. Not
finding it turn out as she had hoped, she wai
ted until she had saved money enough to pay
her passage to Brussels where she had secured
a position as school-teacher. She startedalone,
never having previously quitted Yorkshire.
When she reached London it was night; she
became alarmed, not knowing where to go,
and fearing to trust herself with strangers, she
took a cab drove to the tower stairs, hired a
boat, and was conveyed to the Ostend packet.
At first the officer in command refused to take
her on board till the next morning, but on hea
ring her desolate situation, recalled his pro
hibition. In Brussels she remained two years
her experiences there are detailed in "Vilette."
The character of "Adele," in particular is
drawn from life. On her returu she found that
the health of her two remaining sisters was de
clining and that her father's eyesight was be
coming affected, and she considered it her du-
tv to remain at home. She tried various wavs
to increase their income but failed in all.
Without mentioning her project to her fa
ther, she wrote "Jane Eyre," a work of which
Messrs. Smith J- Elder had the good sense to
perceive the merits and were courageous
enough to publish it in spite of its peculiari
ties, which would have alarmed any but a re
ally spirited publisher. About three months
alter the appearauco of her novel, and when
its success was no longer doubtful, Miss Bronte
resolved to screw up her courage, and inform
her father of the step she had taken. Mr.
Bronte, it appears, did not then join with his
family even at meal times. At dinner, Char
lotte announced her intention to her sister,
adding, that she would put it in execution be
fore tea! Accordingly she walked into the
study with a copy of her work wrapped up in
a review of it, which she had received, and
the following conversation ensued:
"Papa I have been writing a book."
"Ilaveyou, my dear ?" (lie went on reading.)
"But, papa, I want you to look at it."
"I can't be troubled to read manuscript."
"But it is printed."
"I hope you've not been involving yourself
in any such silly expense."
"I think I shall gain some money by it; may
I read some reviews of it V
5be read the reviews, aud again asked him
if he would look over the book; he said she
might leave it, and he would see. Later on
the same evening he sent an invitation to his
daughters to drink tea with him. Whon the
meal was nearly concluded, he said: "Chil
dren, Charlotte has been writing a book and I
think it is a better one than I had expected."
For some years he never mentioned the sub
ject again.
A lady who afterwards became intimate with
Miss Bronte, thus describes her first introduc
tion to her.
"I arrived late at the house of a mutual
friend; tea was on the table, aud behind it sat
a little dark person, dressed in black, who
scarcely spoke, so that I had time for a good
look at her. She had soft lightish brown hair,
eyes of the same tint, looking straight at you,
and very good and expressive; a reddish com
plexion, a wide mouth altogether plain; the
forehead square, broad and rather overhanging.
Her hands are like bird's claws, and she is so
short-sighted that she cannot see your face
unless you arc close to her. She is said to be
very sdiy; and almost cries at the thought of
going among strangers.
A GOOD STOEY.
A gentleman who possessed an estate in the
eastern part of England, worth five hundred
pounds a year, had two sons. The oldest be
ing of a rambling disposition, went abroad.
After several years the father died. The
younger son destroyed the will and seized on
the estate. lie gave out that his elder brother
was dead, and bribed witnesses to attest it.
In the course of tune the elder brother re
turned, in miserable circumstances. Tho
younger brother repulsed him with scorn, say
ing that he was an impostor and a cheat that
his real brother was dead long ago, and that
he could bring witnesses to prove it.
Tlr; real brother, having neither money nor
friends, was in a dismal situation. At last he
found a lawyer who agreed, (as lie had nothing
to pay him.) that if he would give him one
thousand guineas, if he undertook and gained
the cause, he would act tor him ; to which he
assented. The case was to be tried at the
next General Assizes, at Chelmsford, Essex.
The lawyer being now engaged, he set his wits
to work to obtain success. At last ho thought
that he would consult the first judge of that
age. Lord Chief Justice Hale ; accordingly ho
hastened to London, and laid open the cause
and all its circumstances. The judge, who
was a great lover of justice, listened attentive
ly, and promised all the assistance in his pow
er. He having taken leave, the judge con
trived so as to finish all his business at the
King3 bench before the Chelmsford Assizes
began. He started for Chelmsford, and when
within a short distance of that place he dis
missed his horso and sought for a private
house ; he found one occupied by a miller.
Alter tome conversation, making himself very
agreeable, he proposed to the miller to change
clothes with him, and as the judge had a good
suit on, the miller did not object; according
ly the judga put on a complete suit of the
miller's best. Adorned with a miller's hat,
shoes and stick, away he marched to Chelms
ford, where he procured lodging against the
Assizes next day. When the trial came on,
h8 walked like an ignorant fellow, backwards
and forward along the country hall, and when
the cenrt began to fill, he found out the poor
follow who was the plaintiff. As soon as he
eame into the hall, the miller drew up to him :
"Houest friend, how is your case like to
do to-day ?"
" Why, replied the plaintiff, "my cause is
in a very precarious situation, and if I loose
it, I am ruined for life."
" Well, honest friend," replied the miller,
" will you take my advice ? I will let you
into a secret which perhaps you do not know.
Every Englishman has a right and privilege
to except any one juryman through the whole
twelve ; now do' you insist upon your privi
lege without giving a reason why, and, if pos
sible, get me chosen in his room, and I will do
you all the service in rny power."
Accordingly, when the clerk called over the
names of the jurymen, the plaintiff excepted
one of them. The judge on the bench was
highly offended at this.
" What do you mean," said he, " by exeex
ting that gentleman ?"
"I mean, my lord, to assert my privilege as
an Englishman, without giving a reason why."
The judge, who had been highly bribed, in
order to conceal it by a show of candor, and
having confidence in the superiority of his
party, said :
Well, Bir, as you claim your privilege in
one instance, I will grant it. Whom would
you like to have in place of that man excep
tod?" After a short time taken in consideration,
he said "My Lord, I wish to have an honest
man chosen in," and looking around, " there
is that miller in the court ; we will have him,
if yon please." Accordingly tho miller was
chosen.
As soon as the clerk of the court had given
them all their oaths, a dexterous fellow came
into the apartment, and slipped ten caroluses
into the hands of eleven jurymen, and gave
the miller but five. He observed they were
all bribed as well as himself,1" and said to his
next neighbor in a soft whisper, " How much
have you got 7" Ten pieces," said he.
The milhir did not say what he had.
The cause was opened by the plaintiff's
counsel, and all the scraps of evidence they
could pick up were adduced in his favor.
The defendent had a great number of witness
es and pleaders, all bribed as well as the judge.
The evidence deposed that they were in the
selfsame county whon the brother died, and
saw him buried; and everything went with a
full tide for the younger brother. The judge
summed up with great gravity and delibera
tion: "And now, gentlemen of the jury,
bring in a verdict as you Bhail deem most just."
In a few minutes the judge said, "Are you
agreed ? Who shall speak for you ?"
"We are all agreed; our foreman shall
speak for us."
"Hold, my Lord," replied the miller, "we
are not all agreed."
" Why," said the judge, in a surley manner,
" what is the matter with you what reason
have you for disagreeing."
" I have several reasons, my lord," replied
the miller. "First, they have given all the
gentlemen of the jury ten broad pieces of gold,
and me only five, which is not fair. Besides,
I have many objections to make to the false
reasoning of the pleaders, and the contradic
tory evidence of the witnesses."
Upon this the miller began a discourse that
discovered such a vast penetration of judg
ment and extensive knowledge of law, that it
astonished the judge aad the whole court.
As ho was going ou, the judge in surprise,
stopped him.
" Where did you come from, and who are
you ?" he asked.
" I came from Westminster nail," replied
the miller. " My name is Mathew Hale, Lord
Chief Justice of the King's bench. I have
observed the iniquity of your proceedings this
day ; therefore come down from the seat you
are in no way worthy to hold. You are one of
the corrupt parties in this iniquitous business.
I will come up this inomeut and try the whole
case over again."
Accordingly Lord Mathew went up in his
miller's dress and hat, began the trialfrom the
commencement, and searched every circum
stance of truth and falsehood ; he evinced the
elder brothers title to the estate, and gained
a cociplete victor" in favor of truth and justice.
COCK-FIGHTING AUD PIOECN-SH00TING.
In Valencia, it is eommt ilfaul to go to the
cock-pit. This is a handsome little threatre
on the banks of the Turia, where, on two days
in the week, particularly if they happen to bo
saints' days, the stranger may be entertained
or disgusted with this very .Spanish amuse
ment. Cock-fighting here is second only to
bull-fighting, to which all things are second.
It makes the blood run ; and your Iberian is a
lover of it, even though it be chicken's blood.
Attached to the theatre is a large penuery,
where clippled roosters are kept to fight
against each other, and all comers. The John
Bulls are esteemed the most pugnacious ; be
ing fed on roast beef and plum pudding, prob
ably. There being no Yankees in the roost,
the Britisher is warranted to lick any cocks,
Christian or Infidel, that may presume to crow
at him. He is understood to beat the Gallic
cocks, out aud out, except it be in crowing.
His own neck he rarely deigns to use for this
purpose on more than two occasions, first,
when he goes into the ring, and last, when,
having struck his antagonist the fatal blow,
he goes out of it.
The process of cock-fighting being a feat at
arms which has delighted every boy who has
ever seen a barn-yard, needs no description.
The only difference is, that what at the farm
house is done according to nature, is done in
the pit on scientific principles, and after the
rules laid down in the books. The champions
must be duly and shockingly clipped. Particu
larly, their tail feathers must be cut off short.
All their beautiful plumage must be sacrificed
on the altar of Mars, before they are deemed
worthy to fight his battles. They are not even
allowed combs, crowns, or top-knots. The
wretched plight they have been reduced to
before entering the arena, takes away well
nigh all the beholder's pity for them. Such
hideous-looking brutes might fight till dooms
day ; and all Spanish eyes, at least, would re
tain their constitutional dryness. Should the
contest last so long as a quarter of an hour, or
more, there will be so much the more time
for betting ; and at the end of It the duros will
be tossed across the pit, from loser to winner,
as thick and fast as hailstones. There are
judges present, sitting in Feats of authority,
to decide all nice points. But tho well-practised
eyes of the audience rarely make a mis
take, and quickly detect any attempt at foul
play. All is done decently and in order. The
birds are either killed outright, or are with
drawn when disabled. In a drawn game they
are parted ; and they are hooted out of the
pit when they decline taking part in the per
formances. This, however, rarely happens.
For cocks in Spain are always as mad as March
hares. They will fight, and crow, as long as
they can stand, and often much longer than
they can see. Poor things! their little life
was not given them to be thus sported away ;
tbey were made to have their heads cut off at
a tingle blow. But 'tis partly their own fault
if they will keep such dreadful tempers!
Whoever may not fancy going to the cock
fight, may go down to the dip of the Taria, to
witness the pigeon-shooting. 'Tis more hu
mane, and is done in no theatre's walls, but in
the open face cf day. Of a holiday afternoon,
all the world is there, looking on. The river's
bed is dry and grassy ; for it is only at a sea
son of unusual rains, that the slender moun
tain torrent rises sufficiently high to fill its
banks. Here, below the bridge del Mar, is a
broad, open space, well suited to the game of
el tiro de las jalomas.
The birds are thrown up Into the air by their
owner, and whoever has a gun and pesetas
may have a shot at them. The person who
has the privilege of firing first, and has the ad
vantage of a position nearest the thrower,
pays afee of a peseta, provided his shot proves
a successful one. In that case, he is also enti
lled to the pigeon. If he misses his mark, he
pays nothing and gets nothing. Thereupon, as
many persons as choose to give a couple of
reals for the privilege of a shot, may fire as
fast as they like, until the poor bird either falls
or gets away. If killed, it belongs to the suc
cessful marksman, and it is brought in by
small boys, aided by dogs, whose share of th
sport is by no means the least. As hall-a-dozen
guns may be let off the same moment,
there is a judge present to decide all disputed
claims among tho sportsmen. His interference,
however, . is rarely necessary ; for the boys,
and even the dogs, seem always to know, as if
by instinct, to which one of the guns belongs
the honor of the victory, and the priae. Most
birds which get oil cut of the range of the guns
in the bed of the river, are brought down by
the peasants, who lie in wait under the neigh
boring trees, for chance shots, and who are al
lowed to fire at any fugitive coming within
their limits. Occasionally, a fortunate pigeon
soar3 high in the air, above the Teach of all
missiles, and after describing a few circles in
mid-heaven, shapes its course to its wcll-re-merubered
home, on some house-top in the
city. 'Tis so much clear gain to the owner,
besides a life saved to the poor bird.
This game of pigeon-shooting is favorite
diversion with the Valencians. The marksmen
vie w ith each other in showing their skill, and
the best shot carries off a load of popular hon
ors, besides birds enough to make a stew-pia.
A holiday, at tho same time, is made for hun
dreds, and even thousands, of spectators, who
cover the river-bed, the quays, and tho bridges.
So idle, so easily amused, are the dwellers
on these happy shores. With trifling toil, the
earth yields them its increase. Their wanls
are few and simple. They think not of the
morrow. Grant them, then, but an occasional
pigeon-shooting or a bull-fight, a procession of
priests, or a parade of soldiers, the sight of a
prince, or even an elephant and monkeys, and
their happy, heedless hearts, will want no more
to render life a perpetual merry-making.
EKETCH OF LTJTHEE.
BY CARI.YLK.
A course, rugged plebeian face it was, with
great crags of cheek bones a wild amount oi
energy and appetite! But in his dark eyes
were floods of sorrow ; and tho deepest melan
choly, sweetness, and mystery were all there.
Often did there feem to meet in Luther the
poles in man's character. He, for example,
of w hom Richter had said that his w ords were
half-battles; he, when he first began to preach,
suffered unheard of agony. O, Dr. Staupitz,
Dr. Staupitz,' said he to the vicar-general of
his order, ' I cannot, I cannot ; I shall die in
three months. Indeed, I cannot do it.' Dr.
Staupitz, a wise and considerate man, said
upon this : Well, Sir Martin, ifyou must die,
you must ; but remember, they need good
heads up yonder too. So preach, n an, preach,
and then live or die ss it happens.'
So Luther preached and lived, and he be
came, indeed, one great whirlwind, of energy,
to work without resting in this world ; and
also before he died he wrote many, very many
books books in which the true man was for
in the midst of all they denounced and cursed,
what touches of tenderness lay. Look at the
Table Talk, for example.
We see in it a little bird, having alighted at
sunset en tho bough of a pear tree that grew
in Luther's garden. Luther looked up at it
and said : " That little bird, how it cowers
down its wings, and will sleep thero so still
and fearless, though over it are the infinite
starry spaces, and the gioat blue depths of
immensity. Yet it fears not it is at home.
The God that made it too is there."
The same gentle spirit of lyrical admiration
is in the other passages of his books. Coming
home from Leipsic, in the antumn season, he
breaks forth into living wonder at the fields of
corn " now it stands there," he says, erect
on its beautiful taper stem, and bending its
beautiful golden head with bread in it the
bread of man sent to him another year." Such
thoughts as these are as little windows, through
which we gaze into the serene depth of Mar
tin Luther's soul, and see visible across its
tempests and clouds, the whole heaven of
light and love. He might have painted he
might have sung could have been beautiful
like Raphael, great like Michael Angelo.
C" A lady being asked what business her
husband followed, said he was engaged in
finishing." Further information was neces
sary, and after a brief hesitation, 6he contin
ued, " finishing his time in the State Prison."
C" Levity of manners and conversation, fa
vors almost every vice, and repulses every virtue.
CONCEST BY UNSEEN MUSICIANS.
The Home Journal translates the following
from a French paper:
Imsgine yourself in a drawing-room, one of
a numerous audience, all gazing intently upou
the sounding-beards of several solitary harps.
No one is near lheseharps; no human hand
touches their ringfng cortfs and yet you are
present at a delicious concert; you listen to a
thrilling harmony w hich seems to come from
these mute instruments, or to magically ex
halo from some mysterious region. Iu
listening to this harmonious combination, one
believes that he distinctly hears the brilliant
tones of the violin, the rapid chords of the pi
ano, the clear and ringing tones of the clario
net and hautboy, the grave and prevading
voice cf the bass viol.
One seeks with one's eye and one's ear lo
discover the secret cause of this striking phe
nomenon, but one sees only what one had at
first seen these instrumeut3 standing apart,
which seem to speak and sing of themselves,
without even receiving the gentle caresses of
the wind, w hich make the Eolian harp breathe
such indescribable things.
The impression which this mysterious music
made upon those present was such that many
persons could not bear it it made them ill.
A strange thing occurs. After several piec
es yf music have been played, the music ceas
es iustantly, in the midst of a musical phrase.
A complete silence ensues. Then, in a few
moments, tho music is resumed without any
change taking place in tho hall but cne, which
one would have supposed entirely foreign to
the phenomenon, and it was this: when tho
mcaic ceasedj a hand pressed lightly upon the
harp had broken its connection with a small
strip of wood; when the music sounded again,
the connection had been restored.
Let us give tho explanation of the mystery,
which is not one, but simply a new demonstra
tion of that well known property of solid bod
ies to transmit the waves of sound more quick
ly and w ith greater intensity than air. The
idea originated with the celebrated physician,
Wheatstone. The experiment was tested at
the Royal Polytechnic Institute of London,
under the supervision of ita director, Mon
sieur Pepper.
The strips of wood of which we have spoken
are of pine, two centimetre in thickness. They
pass through the floor, into a very deep cellar
beneath, where the lower end of them is fas
tened to the instrument played upon by four
musicians, playing sometimes alone, some
times as a quartette. Two were fastened to
the bridge of the violin and violincello, ono
to the sounding-beard of the j'iano, and tho
fourth below the stop of the clarionet.
These strips of wood, like tubes, transmit
the waves of sound from the instruments be
low to the sounding-boards of the harps above,
and thanks to the power of vibration with
w hich the wood is endued to so great a degree,
the resonance oft he former is greatly increased.
The vibration of the sounding-boards can bo
made apparent to the eyo by the figures which
arc drawn upon them by sand when thrown
upon them.
Air and gas transmit the waves of sound
much less distinctly than water or solid bod
ies. Liquids transmit sound four times faster
than air, and solid bodies twelve or fourteen
times quicker. This principle is the key to
the mysterious concert which we have described.
I'fcR of Two Eyes. To embrace all the ob
jects before us, and sec them with distinctness,
we require two eyes, because one is always
blind to a certain point before it which Is seen
by the otter. To prove that such is the case,
we may perform the following experiment:
On the wall of a room, or on a sheet of black
paper held up for the purpose, fix three wafers
in a row, three inches apart from each other,
and then place yourself directly in front of
them, at the distance ot from one to two feet.
Shut your right ey and look at them fixedly
and steadily for one or two minutes with the
left. You will now sec only two wafers, sup
pose tho first and second in the row; on alter
ing your position, you will see the third and
th first; altering again, yon will see the sec
ond and third; but never by any movement,
will all the three be seen together
Tho cause of this phenomenon is, that there
is a certain point in the retina, at the junction
with the optic nerve, which does not receive
impressions that is, does not picture objects
like other parts of the mirror and on this
minute point the impression of the unseen
wafer falls. We observe from this experiment
the use of two eyes, for tho person who has
only one, can never fee at once three objects
placed in the position we have mentioned, nor
all the sorts of one object of the same extent,
without altering the situation of his eye.
Chambers' Miscellany.
HAJady in Cincinnati ha recently had
a remarkable experience with a new Irish girL
" Biddy,? said she, one evening, we must
have some sausages for tea this evening, X
expect company."
" Tes, ma'am."
Tea time arrived, and with it the company ;
the table was spread, the tea was simmering,
but no sausages appeared.
" Where are the sausages, Biddy 1"' the lady
inquired. ...
" An' sure they're in the tea-pot, ma'am I
Didn't vou tell mo we must have 'em far ta ?"
n
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