BY S. B. ROW.
VOL. 4.-ArO. 19.
CLEARFIELD, PA., "WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 30, 1857.
"THE WIND AND STREAM."
A brook came stealing from the ground :
You scarcely saw its silver gleam
Among the herbs that hung around
The borders of the winding stream.
A pretty stream, aplaeid stream,
A softly gliding, bashful stream.
A treeze came wandering from the sky,
Light as the whispers of a dream ;
lie put the overhanging grasses by.
And gayly stooped to kiss the stream.
The pretty stream, the flattered stream,
The bhy yet unreluotant stream.
The water as the wind passed o'er.
Shot upward many a glancing beam,
Pimpled and quivered more and more,
And tripped along a livelier stream.
The flattered stream, the simpering stream,
The fond, delighted, silly stream.
Away the airy wanderer flew
To where Use fields with blossoms teem,
To sparkling springs aud rivers blue,
And left alone that little stream.
The flattered stream, the cheated stream,
The sad, forsaken, lonely stream.
That careless wind no more came bck ;
fie wanders yet the fields, I deem ;
But on its melancholy track
Complaining went that little stream.
The cheated stream, the hopeless stroani,
The murmuring, moaning steam.
A TRUE STORY.
Written for the "Raftsman's Journal."
INTRODUCTION.
Mr. Editor : Allow rue to introduce my
self to you ami your patrons as one who wish
es to write something for their instruction or
amusement. Who lam, it were better per
haps not to sa- at present, and what I am, you
will be better able to judge than I to tell you.
Remember, I do not write for fame, but if any
thing that my pen can produce may please, in
bttuct, or amuse your readers, I shall have at
tained my object. The illustration of the
principle, that the moral influence of woman
is the strongest restraining power, (apart from
Divine grace) which can be exercised over the
heart of erring man, is w hat the writer intends
in the following story. The story is a true one,
aud took place within the limits of our own
State, and the most important personages were
all living a few years ago. In real life we fre
quently see proofs of the adage, that "truth is
stranger than fiction," and this simple narra
tive is one of the strongest that has ever come
under my notice. Under the circumstances
it is deemed necessary to suppress the names,
both of persons and places, and to use ficti
tious ones instead. As it is fashionable, ami
very convenient too, I shall arrange the story
in parts, or chapters under appropriate titles,
and as it must have a name will will just call it:
THE BEIOSMED, OS WOMAN'S IHIXirES'CE.
CHAPTER I. THE INEBRIATE.
In the town of P , lived the wealthy Gen
eral () . He had served with honor in the
army of his country, and when his sword was
no longer required in her service he settled
down, and engaged in an extensive and profit
able business, by which, in the course of time,
lie amassed great wealth. Ilis wife was a wo
man of eminent piety, and of great amiability
of character, possessing a good judgment, but
lacking energy to carry out her convictions.
She trained her children with all the care of a
devoted christian mother, whose only fault was
an over-indulgence. Those children who par
took of their father's disposition, ami deter
mined will, did not therefore profit as much
by her pious teachings as might have been the
case, had she possessed the firmness to com
mand, when necessary. The lather being to
tally absorbed in the acquisition of riches, had
no time to devote to the raising of his chil
dren, consequently that duty devolved solely
on the mother. Ho supposed that his duty
was fulfilled when he fed, clothed, and sent
them to the best schools, always furnishing
them w ith a sufficiency of pocket money. The
family grew up intelligent and respectable,
with one exception. The oldest son, with
whom we have chiefly to do in this sketch, and
whom, for the sake of distinction, we shall call
John, had early shown a disposition to disre
gard the advice of his mother, and as he grew
older he manifested sttong passions and an im
patience of restraint, which led him often,
while yet young, to the haunts of dissipation.
Accordingly when John was placed at a dis
tant college to finish his education, he felt en
tirely free from restraint or control, save what
he felt when in the presence of the faculty of
the school. Here his evil propensities soon
developed themselves, and he plunged into al
most every species of vice. lie chose for his
companions the most vile and dissipated of
the students, who, as they were all the sons of
men w ho belonged to nppcr-tendom, felt them
selves privileged to do much as they pleased ;
aud it was only the fact of John's father being
a millionaire that saved him from being dis
missed from the school in disgrace. Notwith
etanding his dissipated habits, he possessed
talents of which he might justly have been
proud, and which, if properly cultivated and
directed, would have made him "an ornament
to society." Eut alas! his talents and privi
leges only seemed to facilitate his ruin. Ho
graduated with honor, and came home, but no
persuasion on the part of his friends' could in
duce him to abandon his vile course. .Neither
could his father prevail on him to enter his
counting-house, nor engage in business, or
choose a profession. In short, he became "a
genteel loafer," frequenting the "drinking sa
loons," the "gambling hells," and other places
where "fast young men" frequently resort.
At length he began to be shunned by the re
spectable portion of his associates. In vain
were his mother's tears, his father's remon
strances he went on in his downward road.
His father, thinking to remove one great temp
tation beyond his reach, stopped his usual sup
ply of money, and now, not having the means
to follow his dissipated course, even the low
est and most degraded of his associates, "those
harpies who feed on human flesh, aud fatten
on the heart's blood of their victim," forsook
him, and he found himself alone in his degra
dation. In this condition, his family, and es
pecially his sorrowing mother, would gladly
have opened their arm's to receive the repent
ant prodigal; but no f he must needs sink
deeper in the gulf of wickedness, and lower
himself, if possible, "beneath the brutes that
perish." He had fallen from the respectable
position of the son of General O., to the fash
ionable debauchee the bar-room loafer the
common street drunkard and blackguard, and
now his cup of iniquity was nearly full. He
could get no more liquor on trust, and he had
been frequently kicked from those "hells,"
where he was wont to spend his father's sub
stance, as a vagrant, and not unfrequently was
he confined in the lock-up, for drunken and
disorderly conduct. He pawned his watch,
clothes, books, and everything that he claim
ed as his own, in order to get his accustomed
stimulant; but at length all these resources
failed, and like the "Prodigal Son," he was
reduced to utter destitution, but, unlike that
individual, he did not arise and go to his fath
er. Hitherto he had been able to procure
food, as well as "drink ;" but now starvation
stared him in the face, and he was aroused
from his mania, if I may so call it, by the
gnawings of hunger. He had spent the pre
vious night in the street without his accus
tomed stimulus, and had not tasted food for
forty-eight hours. The same feeling that pre
vented him from going to his father at this
time, prevented him from begging. That he
did not become a thief, or a robber, was doubt
less owing to the good counsel of his mo'her,
the influence of which he had never been able
wholly to shake oh". In a state of mind but
little short of madness, he resolved to seek
employment as a boatman on the river, know
ing that there he would receive plenty of that
poison which had become necessary to his ex
istence, as he thought. He was not long in
finding a situation on a boat, bound for a town
some forty miles up the river. After satisfy
ing the cravings of nature, he was furnished
with "whiskey," and the boat left her wharf.
Before they had proceeded half the distance to
C , John was found in a state of beastly in
toxication, aud unable to perform the duty as
signe I him. The captain admonished him,
but Lo rejiied with insolence, and demanded
more liquor. This Ike humane captain allowed
him. and then put him ashore in the wilder
ness, miles from any settlement, and utterly
unable to walk ; and then steaming oft", left
him to his fate. Here then is a young man,
raised in wealth and opulence, possessing the
advantages of education and talents, sunk to
the lowest depth to which the poor inebriate
can fall, and abandoned by his fellow men, left
to perish among the wild beasts of the forest.
We cannot help exclaiming, alas ! poor John !!
CHAPTER II. THE ULSTER'S DAtCUTER.
Some twenty miles from the town of I ,
and not far from the river, there rises a gently
sloping hill, which, at the date of our story,
was covered with a stately growth of oak and
walnut. On the south side of this hill, and
near its summit, by the side of a chrystal
spring, stood the cabin of an old hunter. A
small garden on one side of the cabin, planted
with such vegetables as were common iu coun
try gaidens, with a few beds of flowers, which
gave evideuce of female taste, and a small ar
bor, covered with wild vines, the whole sur
rounded by a rude picket fence, were the only
traces of civilizttion to be seen: Upon enter
ing the cabin we behold a stalwart form of fif
ty years, clad in the costume of a hunter,with
"leggins, moccasins," &c. a picture of the
"White Indian" who has made the forrest his
borne till he has become all of the savage in
appearance save the countenance, which beam
ed with benevolence and love, as he smokes
his pipe, and turns his head occasionally to an
swer a question or reply to a remark of his
daughter. We cast our eyes around the cabin
and find an air of neatness and comfort per
vade everything, and we mechanically turn our
eyes in search of the fairy whose care and taste
has made the rude cabin of the hunter a pleas
ant home. A vision of beauty, such as we sel
dom see, except in dreams, or in our imagina
tion, bursts upon our sight. A girl of sixteen
summers, tall, and graceful in every propor
tion, and movement, she stands the embodi
ment of loveliness ; a countenance expressive
of the unsophisticated child of nature ; her
soul beaming through her largo hazel eyes,
gave evidence of a power of intellect, a strength
of will, and a purity of hcait, seldom met with
in one person. Nimrod, as we shall call the
old hunter, was one of the pioneers of that
part of the State, and had alternately perform
ed the part of soldier, scout, and hunter. Rais
ed in the frontier settlements, the rifle was his
constant companion, and he felt no love for
the arts of civilized life. Ho had married dur
ing a time when the Indian had forsaken the
war-path, and when gentle peace was begin
ning to thed her hallowed influence on the
western frontier. But scarcely two years had
passed ere the rcd-skics again tok up the
hatchet, and Ximrod was again called from all
he held dear, to brave the perils of a wilder
ness campaign and chastise the savage foe.
Placing his beloved wife with her friends for
safety, he joined the army, and spent the sum
mer and autumn in the forest. At length the
enemy being driven from all their important
settlements, and their villages, corn, &c, des
troyed, the army returned home. What was
Nimrod's grief when he learned that his wife
was no more. lie had left her in delicate
health, and anxiety for his late preyed upon
her spirits, and finally brought on a fever which
terminated in death. Nimrod though a rough
uneducated back-woodsman, and spending
much of his time in what was calculated to
harden the heart, viz, Indian warfare, was nev
ertheless one of the most tender-hearted of
men, and loved his wife with a devotcdncss,
and constancy, that many husbands in civiliz
ed and refined society would do well to imi
tate. For some time he was inconsolable, but
gradually his affections turned toward his in
fant daughter, and he could not follow his ac
customed pursuit of hunting, as he could not
stay away from his child. He became melan
choly and shunned society, and at last conclu
ded to carry his child to the cabin on the hill
side, far from the clearings of the white-man,
and there enjoy its society while he followed
his business of hunting. He accordingly re
moved with his child, then two years of age,
to the cabin, where he expected in the train
ing of his beloved Louise to find a pleasure
that he had sought for in vain in the haunts of
busy men. And hero did this singular man
live by aid of his trusty rifle, and the cultiva
tion of his garden, and rear his beautiful child.
At first she was left alone while her father
went out to kill game, or went down to the
river to trade furs with the traders for such ar
ticles as they needed. As Louise grew up she
followed him in his excursions after game, at
times, but was not allowed to visit the landing,
when a Loat was expected. Ilis excursions
were never long, as game was abundant, and
was often seen from the door. When she did
not accompany him she spent her time in ten
ding her garden, into which she had trans
planted many of the wild wood flowers, in
which she took great delight. Of the world
she knew nothing except what she heard from
her father, and as he was unable to read, and
had lived since childhood on the frontier, his
knowledge of the world was very limited. It
was his constant aim to instil iuto her young
heart right principles, and a firm self-reliance,
which ho intended should be of service to her
when deprived of his care and protection. At
the period at which our story opens the clear
ings of the white man had been pushed within
five or six miles of the hunter's cabin, but ve
ry seldom had Louise seen the face of a hu
man being, other than her father, and never
once had she seen one of her own sex, since
her childhood. She lived but to minister to
her father, and to rejoice in the song of the
birds in the whispering breeze in the mur
muring rill in the babbling brook in the
roaring river in the humming of the bees
in the blooming of the flowers in the twink
ling of the stars, and in the silvery light of the
moon did Louise find food for though!, and as
she loved nature in all her forms so did she
derive pleasure from all her works. Often did
she think how happy her lot when compared
with those who were surrounded by the temp
tations of society ; st ill there was a void in her
heart which neither the love of her father, nor
all the beauties of nature could fill. A longing
after the companionship of the young a year
ning after a kindred spirit with which to hold
sweet communion, would steal over her be
times, and dim the brightness of her lonely
forest life.
CHAPTER III. A STRANGER AT THE CABIN.
One evening her father, who had been ab
sent some time, returned, bearing in his arms
the form of a young man, who appeared to be
in a state of insensibility. Her lather stated
that he had found him near the river, and did
not know but that he had been foully dealt
with. After such restoratives as the cabin af
forded had been applied the stranger seemed
to revive a little, and began to talk incoherent
ly. Nimrod,who had a knowledge of the herbs
used by the Indians in the treatment of disea
ses, at once prepared to act Physician to his
patient. It was evident that the disease was
brain-fever, whatever might have been the pre
disposing cause of it. For many days did the
stranger rave in wild delirium, but at length
the disease abated and the patient sank into a
deep calm sleep. Most faithfully did Nimrod
nurse, and watch over the young man, wonder
ing what strange circumstance had thus thrown
the son of his old General on his humanity and
his hospitality, for he had learned from the
ravings of the young man that he was the son
of General O, under whom he (Nimrod) had
served in his last campaign against the In
dians, and who had complimented him for his
gallantry on the battle field. Louise too, was
assiduous in her attentions to the stranger, hor
heart swelling with pify as she bent over him,
bathing his burning temples. Her father gave
her what.information he possessed in regard to
their guest's father, but of the family ho knew
nothing till Providence made him the instru
ment of saving John's life. John awoke from
his long sleep, and felt like one awaking lrom
a troubled dream. But as recollection return
ed the strangeness of his sitnatlon burst upon
him, and he inquired, " Where am I, and how
came I here ?" Louise replied, that he was
very ill and must keep perfectly quiet that
her father had found him near the river, and
had borne him to the cabin. While listening
to the rich music of her voice, he gazed upon
her like one entranced. A new light began to
break on his mind his mother's prayers and
tears the whole history of his past life seem
ed to rise like a dark cloud shutting out the
light of heaven, and shutting his eyes, with a
groan he relapsed into insensibility, from
which he did not recover for some hours.
When he did recover his senses, he lay for
some time musing on the past and present, and
wondering what the future had in store for
him. When he thought on the lovely being
who watched over him, and of the gentle moth
er whose counsels he had disregarded, he
groaned in the agony of his remorse. Louise
bent over him, and whispered words of hope
and consolation to the heart-sick invalid.
When he was strong enough, Nimrod imform
ed him of the state in which he had found him
tnd his subsequent illness. John, like a true
penitent, "made a clean breast of it," and con
fessed all his crimes to his benefactors, prom
ising amendment. John appeared a new man,
anil as he afterward acknowledged, Louisa was
the instrument of that change. He passed
some weeks with the hunter and his daughter,
during which time his gratitude ripened into
love, and he found that Louise had given her
heart's best affections to the erring, but re
pentant prodigal.
CHAP. IV. THE WEDDING AND ITS RESULTS.
When Nimrod was made acquainted with
the state of affairs by the lovers, he at once
consented to their union. John urged that
the wedding should take place immediately,
as he feared that his friends would oppose his
marriage with one who did not know a letter
of the alphabet, and who was only the daugh
ter of a poor old hunter. Nimrod and Louise
at length gave way to his importunities, and a
minister was brought from the nearest settle
ment, "and the twain were made one flesh."
It was some time after, that John got his cour
age raised sufficiently to write to his Mother,
and tell her all that had befallen him. How
he had fallen to the lowest depth of degrada
tion had sought to flee from home and kin
dred had been abandoned in the forest, to
perish with tho wild beasts had been taken
np and nursed by the old hunter and his daugh
ter how he had awoke to a new life through
Louise's influence, and how he had married
her, notwithstanding her ignorance. When
his mother read his letter she wept tears of joy
for her son, "who had been dead and was alive
again had been lost and was found." With
regard to his marrying Louise she remarked
that any girl was good enough for her son.
She sent for them at once,and had them brought
home. In Louise she tound abeing of uncom
mon mental capacities, and one who only
wanted education to make her an ornament to
the most refined society. To a cheerful and
sprighthy disposition she added a sweetness of
temper and gentleness of manner which made
all who knew her love her. Her motherin-law's
first care was to procure a competent teacher,
and have her educated, which did not prove a
difficult task, as she possessed great application,
quick perceptions, a good judgment, and a re
tentive memory. In a very short time she
completed a thorough education, so that she
took a position in the highest circles, where
she became a general fovorite. And now she
induced her husband to go into business, his
father furnishing the capital, and by her supe
rior skill and management, the business soon
became a profitable one. Her influence over
her husband was unbounded, and though he
had tact for business, yet he remained a sober,
respectable merchant, his wife being chief
clerk and manager. Years have passed and
this child of the forest is the mother of a large
family of respectable and intelligent children ;
her husband, too, moves in the highest circles
of respectability, and attributes all to the in
fluence of the hunter's daughter. She has set
a noble christian example before her family
and has trained her children in the path of vir
tue and usefulness. Perhaps the reader would
like to know what become of old Nimrod.
Well, he lived alternately with his daughter,
and in the cabin on the hill side, till the "clear
ings" of the white man surrounded his humb
le home, and his game was driven farther back.
He then spent his time in the family of his be
loved daughter, where he died a few years
since, mourned and regretted by all.
I cannot close this imperfect sketch with
out giving a friend's description of this inter
esting family. About three years ago he vis
ited the town of P and there became ac
quainted with this family. He says, "this ex
traordiuary woman still possessed traits of
great personal beauty, and was lively, and
cheerful. Her intelligence and conversation
al powers were truly wonderful. Her family
appeared to partake of her energetic disposi
tion, and were intelligent beyond their years.
I could not help feeling, after hearing this
woman's history, that "truth is stranger than
fiction." And now geDtlc reader shall I lay
down rny pen to resume it no more, or do yon
look for another communication from your
friend and well wisher, "Mollie."
Col. Fremont is now in Boston. He has been
made a kDight of the "Sons of Malta."
DOMESTIC ECONOMY.
Agricultural Facts. There are 5 pounds
of pure sulphur in every 100 pounds of wool.
Carrots consume 107 pounds of lime to the
acre ; turnips but 70 pounds.
A cubic foot of common arable land will
hold 40 pounds of water.
It takes 5 pounds of corn to form one of
beef. Three and a half pounds of cooked
meal will form one of pork.
To add one per cent, of lime to a 60il that
is destitute of it requires 10 tons of slacked
lime, or six of caustic, to the acre.
Clay will permanently improve any soil that
is sandy or leachy. Lime and leached ashes
will also benefit leachy land.
A ton of dry forest leaves producing only
500 pounds of mold will produce a ton of
plants.
Clay applied to sandy land, Is far better
than sand to clay land. One hundred tons to
the acre will give an inch in depth.
Pure phosphorus is worth from one thou
sand to five thousand dollars a ton ; and, as
it comes from the earth it shows how scarce
it is.
SnEEP. The pioper management of sheep
is a matter ot very great importance to the
farmer. He may procure the Lest breeds,
and yet a bad location and bad management
may soon destroy them. They require high,
dry upland and soft water. If confined to a
low, dairp soil, and limy water, the wool be
comes coarse, the sprightliness of the animal
is lost, disease follows, and it dwindles down
into a mere apology for a sheep and a poor
apology too. Lime soils and lime water arc
very injurious to them, as, by absorbing or
destroying the oil in the wool, it renders the
fibre harsh and brittle. The plants, too, iu
such soil, are very strongly impregnated with
lime, and the water hard, which soon produces
roughness and diccase of the skin. Over a
bundanco of food, too, is injurious to them.
It will increase the quantity, length, and
bulk of wool, but injure the quality. Ruta
bagas, in largo quantities, will increase the
weight of the carcass, but injure the texture
of the wool. Let the land on which they are
kept be high, dry aud destitute as far as pos
sible of lime, liberally supplied with sulpur,
the grass short and sweet, and the flocks will
amply repay. Ohio Fanner,
Great Challenge R ace for S 200,000.
The Georgia sportsmen some time since sent
forth a challenge to the world intended for
Great Britain, of course to run a match race
of four miles and repeat for $100,000 a side,
over the Ten Brocck course at Savannah.
The London Sunday Times insists that a com
pany shall be formed in England to accept the
challenge and test the superiority of the hor
ses of the two countries. The Times calls
upon Lord Zetland to become the champion
of the British tnrf, and send out his noble
horse Skirmisher "to do battle against the
American celebrities." The indications are
that the match will be made for next season,
and if so, we may look for the greatest and
most exciting race which the world ever wit
nessed. As action for debt by a wife against her hus
band, to recover money loaned by her hus
band, being property acquired after marriage,
was tried iu the Common Pleas of Perry coun
ty, Pa., a short time since, Judge Graham pre
siding. The question was whether a wife
could maintain a suit against her husband.
The court decided that she could, and deliv
ered a verdict for the plaintiff for 52,508.
The Mormon Capitol. Great Salt Lake
City is laid out on a magnificent scale. It is
four miles in length, by three in breadth, the
streets running at right angles, and 132 feet
wide, with sidewalks 2J feet in width. Each
building lot contains an acre aud a quarter of
land, and a stream of pure water running
thro' the city is made, by an ingenious plan,
to flow on each side of every street, and to
irrigate every lot.
It has been decided, in a recent case, in the
State of Indiana, that marriage in that State
requires no formalities to make it legal, ex
cept the mere agreement of parties that it is
a civil contract only, and differs from other
civil contracts merely in this, that it cannot
be dissolved, even by mutual consent.
They tell of big rats on the line of the Ohio
Canal, and one of them is said to have towed
a boat, using his tail as a tow line. That's a
whopper of a rat we mean. If we should at
tempt to beat this rat story, we should tell of
that mosquito in the Montezuma Swamp on the
Erie Canal, who stole a pole for a tooth-pick.
Every person is proud. Pride is an element
of our nature. We could not live without it ;
we should even be worthless. All the passions
are good, without exception it is excess that
makes them evil, and the best of them are as
bad as the worst. 1
An Indian messenger has brought word to
Manistee, Michigan, that on "Sleeping Bear,"
a bleak promontory on Lake Michigan, the
bodies of several wrecked sailors lie frozen
stiff, and that tho wolves are greedily devour
ing them.
Carlyle says make yonrself an honest man
and then yon may be bare there is one rascal
less In tho world. -
The half State half Territory of Minnesota
is considerably bothered just now to know who
is who. What with Indian voting and doc
tored returns, the new State carnot decido
whether Kamsay or Sibley is elected Gover
nor ; so, to cut the Gordian knot, Mr. Buchan
an's 7'erri7or'aZ Governor, Sam Jiedary, steps
in and delivers the first annual message of a
Slate Governor. The Republicans in the Sen
ate, 17 in number to 19 Democrats, protested
against the recognition of Medary as State
Governor, but tho other side weut ahead, and
both Houses met in Convention (on the 11th)
to hear Medaty's speech. In Convention, on
motion to appoint a Committee to wtit upon
Medary, tlx: vote was 51) to 47. Tho message,
which was then read, is devoted altogether to
the internal afiairs of tho Territory-State, and
is considered a lair and literal document.
Mr. Goodrich, Dem., of the Pioneer, was elect
ed State Printer by a vote of CO to 47. A
Democratic caucus of the Legislature on tho
loth nominated Gen. Shields and nenry M.
Rice for UVitcd States Senators. We find
nothing in the papers in regard to tho State
canvass. Winter is in full progress, and tho
sleighing superb. -V. 1". Tribune, Dec. 23.
A Stage Attacked by Wolves in Maine.
Maine papers state that on Wednesday night
last, as a Mr. Mitchell was driving a mail wa
gon on the back Calais route, from Bedding
ton to the next stopping place, twenty miles
from Bangor, being without passengers, his
team was beset by a pack of wolves which
came within an acc of raising the deuco with
him. They were about a dozen in number,
and came on fierce and noisy. Mitchell, how
ever drove up smart, which he bad no difficul
ty in doing, as the horses were quite as much
frightened as himself. As they pressed hard
upon him, and glared their eye-bal's and
gnashed their teeth about him, he let go tho
contents of a rifle, which laid one of the hun
gry crew, and for the time checked their per
suit. This was providentially near the stop
ping place, upon arriving at which, the driver
is said to have been pretty well overcome with
excitement aud freight.
The Fire-Flies of Siam. Sir J. Bowrinj
thus speaks of these remarkable insects:
"They glance liKe shooting stars, but brighter
and lovelier, through the air, as soon as tho
sun is set. Their light is intense, and beauti
ful in color as it is brilliant in spleudor now
shining, anon extinguished. They have their
favorite trees, round which they sport in count
less multitudes, and produce a magniScient
aud li.'ing illumination; their light blazes and
is extinguished by a common sympathy. At
one moment every leaf and branch appears
decorated with diamond-like fire; and soon
there is darkness, to bo again succeeded by
flashes from innumerable lamps, w hich whirl
about in rapid agitation. If stars be the poet
ry of heaven, earth has nothing more poelio
than the tropical fire-fly."
Living in Santa Fe. A correspondent of
tho Washington Union writes from Santa Fe,
New Mexico, as follows : As a fastidious and
querulous visiter once wrote from the White
Sulphur Springs, iu Virginia, so might I write.
We have four kinds of meat for breakfast,
viz : ''ram, lamb, sheep, and mutton." Chick
ens are so very high priced that we seldom ev
er have the pleasure of feasting on them ; oc
casionally we have a chicken pie, which, as
Sam Weller says, is very good when not mads
out of kittens. Potatoes are selling hero at
So per bushel ; chickens. 50 cents apiece i
corn, $1.50 per bushel; and other articles of
the season at the same rate.
Telegram. This uort word has lately
come iuto general newspaper use in Great Brit
ain as a substitute for the long compound terra
telegraphic despatch. We like it, and are glad
to perceive by recent London papers that it is
to become a recognized word of our language,
aud that it wilt appear as Mich in a new edition
of Johnson's Dictionary about to be published
under the care of the eminent Dr. Latham.
A young woman in Cincinnati got drunk the
other day and was taken to the station ; whilst
there she had constant convulsions, during
w hich two men could not hold her,' and she
afterwards died. The doctors said the fits
were caused by lrco indulgence in strychnine
whiskv.
"Johnny docsyou love me V "Well, Susy,
I does." "How do you know that you loves
me V "Kase, Susy, whenever I looks at yoa
my heart jumps np and knocks agin my stum
mick so hard, that I don't have my appetite
for a week afterwards." Love like this Is
certainly economical.
The latest census of Oregon exhibits a re
markable disparity of the sexes. While tho
males number 26,000 there are only 16,000
females. This excess of males is one of the
peculiar phenomena of our new territories,
and is to be found, more or less, in all of them.
A Sure AVay to try Bologne Sausages Is, to
carefully take one up in your fingers, at tho
same time give a sharp whistle, and should
there Le a slight squeak, drop 6aid sausages
and make tracks for tho door. ,
Thinking to quiz some Irish draymen, a gen
tleman shouted to one :
"Has the railroad got in t"
"One iml has, sir," was the prompt response