CLEARFIELD, PA, WEDNESDAY, JULY 1, 1857.
VOL. 3.-NO. i
BY S. B. BOW.
'TIS WELL TO HAVE A MEEEY HEAET.
-'Tii well to hare a merry heart,
However hort wo stay ;
- There's wisdom in a merry heart,
Whate'er the world may say.
Philosophy may lift its head,
And find out many a flaw,
.But give me that Philosophy
V That's happy with a straw.
- - If life hut brings ns happiness,
- ,It "brings ns, we are told,
V hat's bard to boy, tho riob ones try,
. . With all their heaps of gold !
Then langh away let others boast,
Whate'er they will of mirth :
Who laughs the most may truly say
lie's got the wealth of earth.
" There's bcanty in a merry laugh, "
. A moral beauty too
It shows the heart an honest heart,
That's paid each man bis due,
And lent a eh a re of what's to spare,
Despite of wisdom's fears,
A Tid made the cheek less sorrow speak,
The eye weep fewer tears.
The eye may shroud itself in cloud,
The tempedt wrath begin ;
It finds a epaik to cheer the dark,
- ' Its unlight U within !
Then laugh away, let others say
' Whate'er they will of mirth ;
Vbo laughs the most may truly boast
lie's got the wealth of earth !
.TOE MISTAKE.
"Ill never do it never so long as I lire !"
And the boy clenched his hands together, and
strode up and down the room, Lis fine features
flushed, and his forehead darkened with anger
and shame. "I'd ask the minister's pardou in
lather' presence, of course I would ; but to go
before the whole Academy, boys and girls and
do this!" His whole frame withered at the
thought. "Ellsworth Grant, you will brand
yourself as a coward and a fool all the days of
your life." - "
' "But father never retracts, and he said I
must either do this or leave the school, and go
out on the farm to work ; and the whole village
will know the reason, and I shall be ashamed
to look any one in the face. I've a good will
to run away." The boy's voice grew lower,
and a troubled, bewildered expression gather
ed ou his flushed features."
. "It would be very hard to leave the old pla
ces; and then, never to see Nellie again; it
would break her heart, I know It would."
And his iace worked convulsively a moment,
but it settled down into a look of dogged res
olution the next. "I musn't think of that just
now; though its only ten miles to the seaport,
"and-1 could walk that in an hour, and get a
place in some ship that was about to sail, be
fore father was any the wiser. Some time I
would come back of course, bnt not until I was
old enough to be my own master." The boy
sat down and buried his fece in his hands and
the sunset of tho summer's day poured its cur
rents of crimson and amber into the chamber,
and over the bowed figure of the boy.
At last he lifted his head there was a look
of quiet resolve in the dark hazel eyes and a
bout the usually smiling youth.which in youth
is so painful, because it always indicates men
tat suffering. :
. Ellsworth Grant was, at this time, just fif
feen ; he was his father's only son, and was
motherless.
. The deacon was a storn, severe man ; while
Ellsworth inherited his mother's sunny tem
perament. His father was a man of unswerv
ing integrity and rectitude a man who would
have parted with his right hand sooner than
committed a dishonest act ; but one who had
few sympathies, for the faults indigenous to
peculiar temperaments and character; a man
whoso heart had never learned the height or
depth, and all tho embracing beauty of that
mightiest text which is the one diamond a
mong all the pearls and precious stones of the
Bible, "Be ye Charitable."
lie was a hard, exacting parent, and Ells
worth was a fun-loving, mischief-making boy,1
that everybody loved, despite his faults, and
the scrapes he was always getting himself in
to. There is no doubt that Deacon Grant lov
ed his son, but he was not a demonstrative
man, and, then it is the sad, sad story that
may be written of many a parent "he didn't
understand his child,-" and there was no moth
er with her soft words and soothing voice, to
come between the father and son.
Ellsworth's last offence can be told in a few
words. Tho grape-Tine, which, heavy with
purple clusters, trailed over the kitchen win
dows of the school-teachers residence, had
been robbed of more than half its fruit, when
the inmates were absent. "
. The perpetrators of the deed were, howev
er, discovered to be a party of the school-boys,
among whom was young Ellsworth.
The rest of the scholars privately solicited
And obtained the school-teacher's pardon, but
4be Deacon who was terribly shocked at this
.evidence of his son's want of principle, insis
ted that be should make a public confession of
Ij'is tault before the whole assembled school.
: Iii vain Ellsworth explained and entreated
-His father was invulnerable, and the boy's
.haughty spirit entirely mutinied.
"Ellsworth, Ellsworth, where are you go
3ng V There came down the garden walk, an
.eager, quivering voice, which "made the boy
.start, and turn round eaeerly, as he stood at
(the garden gate, while the light of the rising
djr was flushing the grey mountain in the east
with rose-colored hues. A moment later, a
small light figure, crowned with golden hair,
d a large shawl thrown over its night dress,
ood by the side of tho youth, ' V
"Why, Nellie, how could you? you'll take
cold in your bare feet, among the dews." .
"I can't help it, Ellsworth." It was a tear
swollen face that looked up to the boy's.
"You see, I hav'nt slept any, hardly, all night,
thinking about you, and so I was up, looking
out of the window, and saw you coming down
the walk."
"Well, Nellie," pushing back the yellow
hair and looking at her fondly, "you sec I
can't do what father says I must, to-day, and
so I'm going off."
"O, Ellsworth ! what will uncle say 7" cried
the child, betwixt her shivering and weeping.
"What will uncle say T How long shall you
begone?" . . - ..'
"I don't know," ho replied, evasively,. "I
shan't be back to-day, though. But you ifTusn't
stand here talking any longer. Father'll be up
soon, you know. Now good-bye, Nellie."
There was a sob in bis throat as he leaned
forward and kissed her swact face, that had on
ly seen a dozen summers,and then he was gone.
. "Go and call Ellsworth to breakfast,vill you,
Ellen ?" said the deacon, two hours later.
"He isn't up stairs, uncle." And then as
they sat down to theirs, she related what had
transpired.
The deacon's face grew dark as she proceed
ed. "He thinks to elude the confession and
frighten me, by running off for a day or two.
He will find that he is much uiistaken."
So that day aud tho next passed, and the
deacon said nothing more, bnt Ellen, who was
bis adopted child, and tbo orphan child of his
wife's most intimate friend, noticed that he
began to look restless, and to start anxiously
at the sound of & footfall ; but still Ellsworth
did not come.
.At last a strict search was instituted, and it
was discovered that Ellsworth had gone to sea,
in a ship bound for some part of the western
coast of Asia, on a three years' voyage.
"I hope he'll come back a better boy than
he left," was tho deacon's solitary commenta
ry, but in the long nights Ellen used to hear
him wai ting restlessly up and down the room,
and his black hair began to be thickly scat
tered with grey.
But tl.e worst was not yet come. Ono No
vember night, when tbe winds clamored and
stormed fiercely among the old apple-trees' in
the garden, Deacon Grant and Ellen sat by the
fire in the old kitchen, when the former re
moved the wrapper from bis weekly newspa
per, and the first paragraph that met his eye
was one that told him the ship in which Ells
worth tad sailed, had been wrecked off the
coast, a:id every soul on board had perished.
Then the voice of tho father woke up in the
heart of Deacon Grant. He staggered toward
Ellen v-ith a white Laggard face, and a wild
fearful cry, "My boy I my boy !" It was more
than his proud spirit could bear. "O, Ells
worth ! Ellsworth !" and he sank down rest
less and his head sunk into the lap of the
frightened child.
After this, Deacon Grant was a changed
man. 1 did not know which was the most to
blame, the father or the son, in the sight of
God, who judgeth righteously.
But equally to the heart of many a parent,
and many a child, tho story has its message
and its warning.
Eight years had passed. It was summer
time again, tbe hills were green and the fields
were yellow with their glory. It was morn
ing, and Deacon Grant sat under the porch of
the gre.it, old, rambling cottage ; for tbo day
was warm, and the top was wrapped round
thickly with a hop vine. These eight years
had greatly changed the deacon. He seemed
to Lave suddenly stepped into old age, and the
light wind that stirred the green leaves, shook
tho grey hair over his wrinkled forehead, as
he sat there, reading the village newspaper,
with eyes that Lad begun to grow dim.
Every little while fragments of some old-
fashioned tune floated out to the old man, soft,
sweet, stray fragments ; and flitting back and
forth from the pantry to the breakfast table,
was a young girl, not handsome, but with a
sweet, frank, rosy countenance, whose smiles
seem to hover over the household as naturally
as sunshine over June skies. She wore a pink
calico dress, the sleeves tucked above the el
bows, and a "checked apron." Altogether
she was a fair, plump, healthful looking coun
try girl.
And while the old man read the paper under
the ho? vine, and the young girl hummed and
fluttered between the pantry and the kitchen
table, a young man opened the small front
eate, and went up the narrow path to the
house. He went np very slowly, staring all
about . him with an eager wistfnl look, and
sometimes the muscles of his month worked
and quivered, as one will when strong emotions
are shaking the heart. He had a firm, sinewy
frame of middling height ; he was not hand
some, but there was something in his face you
would have liked ; perhaps it was the light a-
way down in his dark eyes ; perhaps it was the
strength and character of the lines about his
mouth. I cannot tell ; it was as intangible as
it was certain you would have liked that face
The door was open, and the young man
walked into the wide hall. He stood still a
moment, staring around the low wall, antl on
tho Dalm-leaved paper that hung on the side
Then a thick mist broke over his eyes, and he
walked on like one in a dream, aPp.uj-
qnite forgetful that he wa in nw own buuic.
1 think those low fragments of song uncon
sciously drew him to the kitchen, for a few
moments later he stood in tbe doorway, watch
ing the young girl as she removed the small
rolls of yellow butter from a wooden box to an
earthen plate. I can hardly transcribe the ex
pression of the young man's face. It was one
of mingled donbt, surprise, eagerness, that at
last all converged into one joyful certainry.
"Merciful man!" The words broke from
the girl's lips, and the last roll of bntter fell
from her little hands, as looking up she saw
the stranger in the doorway ; aud . her rosy
cheeks actually turned pale with tbe start of
surprise; Tbe exclamation seemed to recall
the young man to himself. He removed his
hat. "Excuse mc," be said, with a bow, "but
canyon tell me whether Deacon Grant resides
here"?"
"O, yes ! will you walk into the parlor and
take a seat? Uncle, here is a gentleman who
wishes to see you." And in a flutter of em
barrassment she hurried toward the door.
The gentleman' did not stir, and the deacon
removing hii silver spectacles came in ; and
the two men looked at each other, the oldtr
with some surprise, and a good deal of curios
ity in his face ; the younger with a strange
longing earnestness in his dark eyes that seem
ed wholly unaccountable.
"Do you know me, sir !" he nsked after a
moment's silence, and there was a shaking in
his voice. .
"I don't know that I ever had the pleasure
of meeting you before, sir," said the deacon.
But here a change came over the features of
the girl, who had been watching the stranger
intently j tbe light of a long buried recollec
tion seemed to break from her heart into her
face, ner breath came gaspingly between her
parted lips, her dilated eyes were fastened on
tho stranger; then, with a quick cry, sho
sprang forward. "Uncle, is it not Ellsworth ?
It is surely our long lost Ellsworth !"
O ! if you had seen that old man then. His
cheeks turned ashen pale, his frame shivered ;
he tottered a few steps forward, and then the
great, wild cry of his heart broke out "Is it
you, my boy, Ellsworth !"
"It is I, father ; are you glad to see me I"
And that stout man asked the question with a
sob, and a timid voice, like that of a child.
"Come to me ! come to me, my boy, that I
thought was dead, that I have seen every night
for the last eight years, lying with the dark
eyes of his mother under tbo whito waves. O!
Ellsworth, God has sent you from tbe dead !
Come to me, my boy I".
And the old man drew his arms around his
son's neck, and leaned his grey Lead on Lis
strong breast, and for a while there was no
word spoken between them.
"You have forgiven me, father?" asked the
young man.
"Do not ask me that, my boy. now many
times would I have given every thiag I pos
sessed on earth to ask, "forgive me, Ells
worth !" and to hear you answer, "Yes, fath
er." So there was peace between tbose two,
such peace as the angels, who walk up and
down the hills, crowned with the royal purple
of eternity, tuno their harps over!
"And this this is Nellie ? How she has al
tered ! But I knew the voice," said Ellsworth
at last, as be took the girl's hand in his own,
and kissed her wet cheeks, adding very ten
derly : "My darling sister Nellie." And at
last they all went out under the cool shade of
the vine, and there Ellsworth told his story.
Tho merchantman in which he had sailed
from home was wrecked, and many on board
perished ; but some of tbe sailors constructed
a raft, on which tho boy was saved, with sev
eral others. They were afterwards rescued by
a vessel bound for South America. Here Ells
worth had obtained a situation in a large mer
cantile establishment, first as a clerk, afU r
wards as a junior partner.
He had written home twice, but the letters
Lad been lost or miscarried. As he received
no answer, he supposed his father had never
forgiven him for "running away," and tried to
reconcile himself to the estrangement.
But he had of late, found it very difficult to
do this, and, at last, he had resolved to return,
Lave an interview with bis parent, and try
whether the sight of his long absent son would
not soften his heart.
O ! it was a happy trio that sat under the
green leaves of the hop-vine that summer
morning. It was a happy trio that sat down
in, that low, old-fashioned kitchen, to the dili-
cions dinner of chicken and fresh peas, that
Nellie had been so long in preparing.
And that night three very happy people
knelt in the old sitting-room, while the trem
bling voice of the deacon thanked God for
him that was dead and is "alive again." -
Ccrk for Hydrophobia .Recci). First
dose, 1 oz. of elecampane root, boiled in 1 pint
milk until reduced to a half pint. Second aose
(to be taken two days after the first,) 1 1-2 oz.
ot elecampane root boiled in 1 pint of milk,
boiled as the first. Third dose, the same as
the second (to be taken two days after) ; m all
three doses. The above was sen.
York Tribune by J. W. Woolston, of Philadel
phia, as a cure for tho above terrible disease,
and he states that he has known it to be per
fectly successful in affecting a cure m twenty
cases. - ,,,
rjyA light purse, is a heavy curse.
PEESBYTEBIAW 6EKEEAL ASSEMBLY.
We have been requested to give place to the
following Report adopted by the Presbyterian
General Assembly, at its recent session in New
York:
"TheGencral Assembly, in view of the mem
orials before them, and of the present relations
of tbe Church to the subject of slavery, feci
called npon to make the following exposition
Of principle and duty. -
The Presbyterian Church in these United
States has, from the beginning, maintained an
attitude of decided opposition to tbe institu
tion of slavery. ; -
The Synods of New York and Philadelphia,
in 1787, two years before the organization of
the General Assembly, declared that they did
"highly approve the general principles in favor
of universal liberty that prevailed in America,
and the interest which many of tbe States Lad
taken in promoting the abolition of slavery ;'
and "they recommended it to all their people
to use the most prudent measures consistent
with the interest and state of civil society in
the counties where they lived, to procure even
tually the final abolition of slavery in Ameri
ca.' In 1793, while the Constitution of the Pres
byterian Church was in process of formation
ancUemblication, the action of the Synod just
referred to was approved by the General As
sembly, and republished by its order.
The . Assembly of 1795 declared "that al
though in some sections of our country under
certain circumstances the transfer of slaves
may be unavoidable, yet they consider the buy
ing and selling of slaves by way of traffic, and
all undue severity in the management of them,
as inconsistent with the spirit of the gospel.
And they recommend it to the Fresbyteries
and Sessions under their care, to make use of
all prudent measures to prevent such shame
ful and unrighteous conduct." .
The Assembly of 1815 "expressed their re
gret that the slavery of the Africans and of
their descendants still continued in so many
places, and even' among those within tbe pale
of the Church," and called particular attention
to tho action of 1795 with respect to the buy
ing and selling of slaves,
iln 1818 the Assembly unanimously adopted
a report on this subject, prepared by Dr.
Green, of Philadelphia, Dr. Baxter, of Virgin
ia, and Mr. Burgess, Ohio, of which the follow
ing is a part :
"We consider the voluntary enslaving of
one portion of the human race by another as
a gross violation of the most precious and
sacred rights of human nature ; as utterly in
consistent with the law of God, which requires
us to love our neighbors as ourselves, and as
totally irreconcilable with tbe spirit aud prin
ciples of the gospel of Christ, which enjoins
that "all things whatsoever ye would that men
should do to you, do ye even so to them."
Slavery creates a paradox in the moral system;
it exhibits rational, accountable, and immortal
beings in such circumstances as scarcely to
leave them the power of moral action. It ex
hibits them as dependent on tbe will of others
whether they shall receive religious instruc
tion ; whether they shall know and worship
tbe true God ; whether they shall enjoy the
ordinances of the gospel ; whether they shall
perform the duties or cherish the endearments
of husbands, wives, parents and children,
neighbors and friends ; whether they shall pre
serve their chastity and purity, or regard the
dictates of justice and humanity. Such are
some of the consequences of slavery conse
quences not imaginary, but which connect
themselves with its very existence. The evils
to which the slave is always exposed often take
place in fact, and in their very worst degree
and form ; and when all of them do not take
place, as we rejoice to say in many instances,
through the influence of tho principles of hu
manity and religion on the minds of masters,
they do not still the slave is deprived of bis
natural right, degraded as a human being, and
exposed to the danger of passing into the
hands of a master who may inflict npon him
all the hardships and injuries which inhuman
ity and avarice may suggest.
"From this view of the consequences result
ing from the practice into which Christian
people have most inconsistently fallen, of en
slaving a portion of their brethern of mankind
for God hath made of one blood all nations
of men to dwell on tbe face of the earth it is
manifestly tbe duty of all Christians who en
joy the light of the present day, when tbe in
consistency of slavery, both with tbe dictates
of humanity and religion, bas been demon
strated asid is generally seen and acknowl
edged, to use their honest, earnest and un
wearied endeavors to correct the errors of
former times, and as speedily as possible to
efface this blot on our holy religion, and to ob
tain the complete abolition of slavery through
out Christendom, and if possible throughout
tbe world."
The Assembly also recommend "to all tbe
members of our religious denomination not
only to permit but also to facilitate the instruc
tion of slaves in the principles and duties of
the Christian religion,", and added, "We en
join on all Church Sessions and Presbyteries
under tbe care of this Assembly to discounte
nance, and as far as possible to prevent all
cruelty of whatever kind in the treatment of
slaves, especially tbe crnelty of separating
husband and wife, parent! and children, and
that which consists in selling slaves io those
who will either themselves deprive these un
happy people of the blessings of the gospel,
or who will transport ihem to places where tho
gospel is not proclaimed, or where it is forbid
den to slaves to attend upon its institutions.'
The foregoing testimonials on tbe subject of
slavery were universally acquiesced in by the
Presbyterian Church up to tbe time of the di
vision in 1838.
In 1849, the General Assembly made a
declaration on this subject, of which the fol
lowing is tbe introductory paragraph :
"The system of slavery as it exists in these
United States, viewed either in the laws of the
several States which sanction it, or in its actu
al operation and results in society, is intrin
sically an unrighteous and oppressive system,
and is opposed to the prescriptions of the law
of God, to the precepts and spirit of the
gospel, and the best interest of humanity."
In 1849 the Assembly explicitly reaffirmed
the sentiments expressed by the Assemblies of
1815, 1818, andl84G.
In the year 1850, the General Assembly
made the following declaration :
"We exceedingly deplore- the working of
the whole system of slavery as it exists in our
country, and as interwoven with' the political
institutions of the slaveholding States, as
fraught with many and great evils to the civil,
political and moral interests of those regions
where it exists.
"The holding of our fellow men in the con
dition of Slavery, except in those cases when
it is unavoidable by the laws of the State, the
obligations of guardianship or the demands of
humanity, is an offence-in the proper import
of that term as used in the Book of Discipline,
chapter 1, sec. 3, and should be regarded and
treated in the same manner as other offences."
Occupying the position in relation to this
subject, which the framers of our Constitution
held at first, and which orr Church bas always
held, it is with deep grief that tee now discover
that a portion of the Church at the South has to
Jar departed from the established doctrine of the
Church In relation to Slavery, as to maintain "it
is an ordinance of Cod," and that the system of
Slavery in these United States is Scriptural and
right. Jl gainst this new doctrine see feel con.
strained to bear our solemn testimony. It is at
war with the whole spirit and tenor of the
gospel of love and good will, as well as abhor
rent to tbe conscience of the Christian world.
We have no sympathy or fellowship with it ; and
we exhort all our people to eschew it as a serious
and prenicious error.
We are" especially pained by the fact that
the Presbytery of Lexington, South, have
given official notice to "Us that a number of
ministers and railing elders, as well as many
church members in their connection, hold
slaves "from principle," and "of choice," "be
lieving it to he according to the Bible right,"
and have, without any qualifying explanation,
assumed the responsibility of sustaining such
ministers, elders and church members in their
position. We deem it our duty, in the exer
cise of our Constitutional authority "to bear
testimony against error in doctrine and immo
rality in practice in any Church, Presbytery
or Synod," to disapprove and earnestly con
demn the position which bas been thns as
sumed by the Presbytery of Lexington, South,
as one which is opposed to the established con
victions of the Presbyterian Church, and must
operate to mur its peace and binder its pros
perity, as well as bring reproach on our boly
religion ; and we do hereby call on that Pres
bytery to review and correct their position.
Such doctrines and practice cannot be perma
nently tolerated in the Presbyterian Church.
May they speedily melt away under the illu
minating and mellowing influence of the gospel
and grace of our God and Savior.
We do not, indeed, pronounce a sentence of
indiscriminate condemnation npon all our
breritern wboare unfortunately connected with
the system ot Slavery. We tenderly sympa
thize with those who deplore the evil, and are
honestly doing all in their power for the pres
ent well being of their slaves, and for their
complete emancipation. We would aid and
not embarrass such brethern. And yet, in tbe
language of the General Assembly of 1818,
we would "earnestly warn them against unduly
extending the plea of necessity; against mak
ing it a cover for the love and practice of
slavery, or a pretence for not using efforts that
are lawful acd practicable to extinguish this
evil."
. In conclusion, tbe Assembly call the atten
tion of tbe Publication Committee to this sub
ject, and recommend the publication, in a con
venient form, of the testimony of the Pres
byterian Church, touching this subject, at the
eaaliest practicable period.
On the final vote the Yeas and Nays were
ordered, and the Assembly stood 166 Yeas, 26
Nays and 2 not voting. One of the nays sub
sequently changed his vote to a yea, and three
others, who were not present when the vote
was taken, requested leave to record their
names in tbe affirmative, so that tbe vote
really stood 170 Yeas to 25 Nays.
The Albany Journal advocates the employ,
ment of fire engines In qnelling riots, in pref
erence to the use of balls and bayonets. This
plan, if followed, vouW certainly "throw cold
water" upon the tage of a mob, and might
dampen their ardor, if not wet their powder.
AGRICULTURAL.
Advantages or Rot Ansa Crops. There
are certain minute ingredients in tbe soil, such
as phosphoric acid, sulphuric acid and potash,
which exist only to a limited extent. Grow
ing wheat crops exhaust rapidly tbe phospho
ric acid ; corn crops tbe sulphuric acid, and.
potatoes tbe potash. Now, if repeated crepe
of wheat should be attempted to be grew on
the same field, a scarcity would occur T the
phosphoric acid, and the first effects thereof
would be to make tbe ear of the wheat small
er, and tbe number of grains less ; next, to
make later its usual period- of ripening. The
roots do their best, but owing to the scarcity
of the peculiar nourishment wanted, tbe sea
son of growth too often ends before maturity
is reached. It is this system of repeated crops
that reduced the corn yield on the river bot
toms of the West, from sixty bushels to the
acre, down to thirty or forty. But by having
a rotation of crops com, wheat, potatoes and
grass the soil is not robbed of the peculiar
food congenial to either of these crops, and
what is really taken away, nature to a degree
replaces before the same crop recurs again ia
the field. Ohio Valley Farmer.
Old Apple Trees. Old apple trees, having
ceased, to bear, should have the soil removed
from the roots, the old limbs taken off, and the
tops thinned out. The soil about tbe roots
should then be replaced by an equal bulk of
compost formed of the following materials :
One cerd of good muck, one-fourth of a cord
of finely pulverized clay, two casks of unslack
ed lime, two ditto unleached wood ashes, and
one ditto salt. After filling in, cover the im
post up the collar of tbe tree with straw, and
confine it by a few flat stones. Then with an
old hoe scrape off tbe rough bark from tho
trunk and larger limbs, and apply, after wash
ing tbem thoroughly with a solution of pot
ash water, or ashes and soft soap, a mixture of
snuff (Scotch yellow) and lard..
Comparative Speed or Horses asd Oxejt.
A bet was made recently between two farmers
in France about the speed of horses and oxen
with a heavy load the same distance about
twelve miles. A four-berse team was put to
a wagon loaded with 10,000 pounds .of beet
root pulp. The oxen were two or a double
yoke, with, the same amount of load. The
horses beat them only seven minutes. Time,
3 hours 6 minutes ; 3 hours 13 minutes.
THE POPE IK SOUTH AXX2ICA,
The Pope and the Spanish American Re
publics are at open war, and on all sidea we
perceive tbe evidences that the old secular or
ganization of the Church of Rome is losing its
hold upon the Catholic communities of this
continent. Pio IX., who came into the chair
of St. Peter with a promise of liberal reforms
that awakened an ardent and hopeful throb
bing throughout Italy, seems to be an appoint
ed instrument for weakening its hold npon the
temporal interests of men. His Allocution of
tbe loth of December last, styling the govern
ments of Catholic America perverse, and di
recting bis subordinates to continue a firm re
sistance to the secular power, is stimulating
the spirit of opposition to tbe assumptions of
the church through all those countries.
Tbe struggle of tbe day in Mexico is be
tween Church and State. Its results may be
somewhat delayed, but cannot be doubtful".
Ever since tbe time of Joseph and Pharaoh,
tbe lean kine have eaten the fat kine, and so It
will continue to be. v Tbe politicians, specula
tors and people that are now attacking tbe
Mexican Church under tbe inspiring cry of
liberty, have nothing to loose, while the church
is rich and fat, offering a splendid banquet to
its oppose rs in tbe day of their triumph. In
Central America, the church, though not rich,
is in similar danger. The clergy are publicly
accused of apathy In the recent struggle be
tween Walker and tbe native politicians, and
open threats of retaliation are made.
In New Granada tbe church is deposed from
tbe bigb places of the State, but the Pope's
Allocution has rekindled the anti church fires.
The radical press is pouring forth its attack
upon tbe private life of the clergy so virulent
ly that in Bogota they have appealed to the
cudgel, and editor and priest have played at
single stick in tbe open streets. -Peru bas a
doptedanew 000(11101100, under which the
ecclesiastical is subjected to the civil power.
Tbe clergy have refused to swear allegiance to
it ; but the battle is delayed for a while, in
view of the contest of that State with the
Chilian fillibustera for the possession of the
rich Cbincba Islands. In Chili the Church
and State are at fierce war in regard to jurisdic
tion. There it is carried on before the tribu
nals and in the press, the government being
too strong to permit of an appeal to powder.
The enemies of tbe church are merely eon
signed to tbe operations of sulphur in the fu
ture, for which, however, they seem to care lit
tle. The end of all this conflict is by no means
apparent, and we ahall watch the signs of its
progress with much interest.
There is much talk of passing laws by which
snicide by poison will become more difficult
of execution than formerly. Mr. Algernon
Jones, a young friend of oars, says nothing
shall stop him from killing himself whenever
he wants to. If he can find no other way, he
wfU eat a bit of sponge and drink water till
he bursts. . "