' v BY S. B. ROW. GLEAEFIELD, PA., WEDNESDAY, APEIL 21, 1858. VOL. 4-JvO. 34. FAINTLY FLOW THOU FALLING MVEE. Faintly flow tbou falling River, Like a dream that dies away, Down the ocean gliding ever Keep thy calm, unruffled way. Tim hath such a silent motion, Floats alon ; on wings of air. To Eternity's dark ocean, Burying all its treasures there. Ito3es bloom and then they wither. Checks are bright, then fade and die ; Shapes of light arc wafted hither, Then like visions hurry by. Qaick a clouds at ev'ning driven, O'er the tunny clouded west. Tears are bearing us to heaven, Home ot happiness and rest. TITE CATACOMBS OF ROME. From an interesting article concerning the Underground Burial-Places of the Ancients at Koine, published in the Atlantic Monthly, we make the following extracts : The Roman catacombs consist for the most part of a subterranean labyrinth ot passages, cut through the soft volcanic rock oi theCam pagna, so nairow as rarely to admit ot two per sons walking abreast easily, but here and there on either side opening into chambers of vary ing size and form. The walls of the passages, through their whole extent, are lined with narrow excavations, one above another, large enough to ailiijit of a body being placed in each; and where they remain in their original condition, these excavations are closed in front by tiies, or by a slab of marble cemented to the rock, and in roost cases bearing an inscrip tion. Nor is the labyrinth composed of pass, ages upon a single level only; frequently there are several stories, connected with each other by sloping ways. There is no single circumstance, in relation to the catacombs, of more striking, and at first night perplexing character, thai their vast ex tent. About twenty different catacombs are now known ar.d are more or less open, and a year is now hardly likely to passwithout the discovery of a new one ; for the original num ber of underground cemeteries, as ascertained from the early authorities, was nearly, if not quite, three times this number. It is but a very few years since the entrance to the famous catacomb of St. Callixti s, one of the most in teresting ot all, nas found by the Cavaliere do Rossi ; and it was only in the spring of 1S55 that the buried church and catacomb of St. Alexander on the N'ometitan Way were bro't to light. Earthquakes, Coeds, and neglect, have obliterated the openings ot many of" these ancient cemeteries, and the hollow soil ol the Campagna is full "of hidden graves, which men walk over without knowing where they are." Each cf the twelve great highways which ran from the gates of Heme was bordered on either side, at a short distance from the city wall, by the bidden Christian cemeteries. The only one of the catacombs of w hich even a partial fctirvey has been made, is that of S'. Agnes, of a portion of which the Padre Marchi published a map in 184-3. "It is calculated to contain About an eighth part of that cemetery. The greatest length of the portion thus measured is not more than seven hundred feet, and its greatest width about five hundred and fifty; nevertheless, if we measnre all the streets that it contains, their united Jeng'h scarcely falls short of two English miles. This would give fifteen or sixteen miles for all the streets in the cemetery of St. Agnes." Taking titis as a fair average of the size of the catacombs, for some are larger and some smaller, we must assign to the streets of graves already known h total length of about three hundred miles, with a probability that the unknown ones are at least of equal length. This conclusion ap pears startling, when one thinks of the close arrangement of the lines of graves along the walls of these passages. The height of the passages varies greatly, and with it the num ber of graves, one above another : but the Pa dre Marchi, who is competent authority, esti mates the average number at ten, that is, five on each side, for every seven feet, which would give a population of tho dead, for the three hundred miles, of not less than two mil lions and a quarter. No one who ha3 visited the catacombs can believe, surprising as this siuniber may seem, that the Padre Marchi's calcalatii n is an extravagant one as to the number of graves in a given space. Wc have ourselves counted eleven graves, one over an other, on each side of the passage, and there is no space lost between the head of one grave and the foot of another. Everywhere there is economy of space, the economy of men working on a hard material, difficult to be re moved, and laboring in a confined space, with the need of haste. Descending from the level of the ground by a flight of steps into one ot the narrow under ground passages, one sees on either side, by the light of the taper with which be is provi ded, range upon range of tombs cut, as has been described, in the walls that border the pathway. Usually the arrangement Ss careful, but w ith an indiscriminate mingling of larger and smaller graves, as if they had been made one alter another for young and old, according as they might be brought for burial. Now and then a system of regularity is introduced, as if the jossor, or digger, who was a recognized officer of the early Church, had had the leisure lor preparing graves before they were needed. Here, there is a range of little graves for the youngest children, so that all infants should Imj laid together, then a range for older chil dren, and then one for the grown up. Some times, instead of a grave suitable for a single body, the excavation is made deep enough in to tho rock to admit of two, throe, or four bodies being placed side by side, family graves. And sometimes, instead of the sim ple loculus, or coflin-like excavation, there is an arch cut out of the tufa, and sunk back 0 ver the whole depth of the grave, the outer side of which is not cut away, so that, instead of being closed in front by a perpendicular ulab of marble or by tiles, it is covered on the top by a horizontal" slab. Such a grave is cal led an arcosolium, and its somewhat elaborate construction leads to the conclusion that it was rarely used in the earliest period of the catacombs. The atcosolia are usually wide e nough for more than one body ; and it would seen, from inscriptions that have been found rtDon their coverinc-slabs. that thev were not infrequently prepared during the life-time of persons who had paid beforehand for tncir graves. It is not improbable that the expen aes of some one or more of the cemeteries may have been borne by the richer members of the Christian community, for the bake ol tlr penr brothers !s tfce fsith. The em- ple of Nicodemus was one that would be read ily followed. But beside the different! forms of the graves, by which their general character was varied, there were oiten personal marks of affection and remembrance affixed to the narrow exca vations, which give to the catacombs their most peculiar and touching interest. The mar ble facing of the tomb is engraved with a sim ple name or date ; or where tiles take the place of marble, the few words needed are scratch ed upon their hard surface. It is not too much to say that we know more of the common faith and feeling, of the sufferings and rejoicings of the Christians of the first two centuries from these inscriptions than from all other sources put together. As we walk along the dark pas sage, the eye is caught by the gleam of a lit tle flake of glass fastened in the cement which once held the closing slab before the long since rifled grave. We stop to look at it. It is a broken bit from the bottom of a little jar (am jmlla); but that little glass jar once held the drops of a martyr's blood, which had been carefully gathered up by those who learned from him how to die, and placed here as a pre cious memorial of his faith. The name ol the martyr was perhaps never written on his grave; if it were ever theie, it has been lost for cen turies ; but the little dulled bit of glass, as it catches the rays of the taper borne through the silent files of graves, sparkles and gleams with a light and glory not of this world. There are other graves in which martyrs have lain, where no such sign as this appears, but in its place the rude scratching of a palm branch upon the rock or the piaster. It was the sign of victory, and he w ho lay within had conquered. The great rudeness "in the draw ing or the palm, often as if, while tho mortar was still wet, the mason had made the lines upon it with his trowel, is a striking indication of the state of feeling at the time when the guve was made. There was no poir.D or pa rade ; possibly the burial of him or her w ho had died for the faith was in secret ; those who carried tho corpse of their beloved to the tomb were, perhaps, in this very act, preparing to follow his steps, were, perhaps, preparing themselves for his fate. Their thoughts were with their Lord, and with his disciple who had just suffered for his sake, with their Saviour who was coming so soon. What matter to put a name on the tomb ? They could not forget where they had Iain the torn and wearied limbs away. In pare, they would write upon the stone ; a palm-branch should be marked iu tho mortar, the sign of suffering and tri umph. Th.eir Lord would remember his ser vant. Was not his blood crying to God from the grouinl ? And could they doubt that the Lord would also protect and avenge 1 In those first days there was little thought of relics to be carried away, little thought of material suggestions to the dull imagination, and pricks to the failing niemorv. The eternal truths of their religion were too real to them ; their faith was too sincere; their belief in the ac tual union of heaven and earth, and ol the presence of God with them in the world, too absolute to allow them to feel the need of that lower order of incitements, which are the re sort of superstition, ignorance, and conven tionalism in religion. In the earlier burials, no differences, save the ampulla and the palm, or some equally slight sign, distinguished the graves of the martyrs from thos'J of other Cli. istians. On other graves beside those of the martyrs there are often founil soma little sign? hv which thev could be easily recognized by the friends who might wish to visit them again. Sometimes there is the impression of a seal upon the mortar ; sometimes a ring or coin is left fastened into it; often a lerru-coita lamp is set itt the cement at the head of the grave. Touching, tender memorials of love and pity! Pew are left now in the opened catacombs, 1 tit here and there one may be se"n in its original place, the visible sign of the sorrow and the faith of those who seventeen or eighteen cen turies ago restel upon that support on which we rest to day, and lound it, iu hardest trial, unfaihi'g. But the galleries of the catacombs are not wholly occupied with graves. Now and then thev open on either side into chambers (cu- biatlti) of small dimension and of various form, scooped out of the rock, and furnished with graves around their sides, the burial-place arranged beforehand for some large family, or for certain persons buried w ith special honor. Other openings in the rook are designed for ch:pels, in which the burial and otner services of the Church were performed. These, too, are of various sizes and forms; (generally a bout ten feet square ;) tho latgest of them w ould hold but a small num'. cr of persons ; but not unfrequently two stand opposite each other on the passage-way, as if one were for the men and the other lor the women who should le present at lhe services. Entering the chapel through a narrow door whose thres hold is on a level with the path, we sec at the opposite side a recess sunk in the rock, olten icircular, like the apsis of a church, and in this recess an arcosolium, which served at the sama time as the grave of a martyr and as the altar of the little chapel. It seems, in deed, as if in many cases the chapel had been formed not so much for the general purpose of holding religious service within the catacombs, ai for that of celebrating worship over tho re mains of the martyr whose body had been transferred from its" original grave to this new is impossible to ascertain the date at which these chapels were first made ; probably some time about the middle of the second cen tury they became common. In many of the r.tfaromiis thev are very numerous, and It is in them that the chief ornaments and decora tions, and the paintings which give to the cat acombs an especial value and importance in the history of Art, and which are among the most interesting illustrations of the state of religious feeling and belief in the early centu ries, are found. Some of the chapels are known to be of comparatively late date, of the fourth and perhaps of the fifth century. In several even of earlier construction is found, in addition to the altar, a niche cut out in the rock, or a ledge projecting from it, which seems to h ive been intended to serve the place of the credence table, for holding the articles used in the service ot the altar, and at a later period for receiving the elements before they were banded to the priest for consecration. The earliest services in the catacombs were undoubtedly those connected with the com munion of the Lord's Supper. The mystery of the mass and the puzzles of transubstautia tionbad not yet been introduced among the believers ; bnt all who bad received .apt,sm as f j"0w'i of Christ, all fire thec who had fal len away into open and manifest sin, were ad mitted to partake of the Lord's Supper. Pos sibly upon some occasions these chapels may have been filled with the sounds of exhortation and lamentation. In the legends of the Ro man Church we read of large numbers of Christians being buried alive, in time of per secution, in these underground chambers where they had assembled lor worship and for counsel. But we are not aware of any proof of the truth of these stories having been dis covered in recent times. This, and many oth er questionable points in the history and in the uses of the catacombs, may be solved by the investigations which are now proceeding. Pew of the chapels that are to be seen now in the catacombs are in their original condi tion. As time went on, and Christianity be came a corrupt and imperial religion, the'siui plc truths which had sufficed tor the first Chris tians were succeeded by doctrines less plain, but more adapted to touch cold and material ized imaginations, and to inflame dull hearts. The worship of saints began, and was promo ted by the heads of the Church, w ho soon saw how it might he diverted to the purposes of personal and ecclesiastical aggrandizement. Consequently the martyrs were made into a hierarchy of saintly protectors ol the strayed flock of Christ, and round their graves in the catacombs sprang up a harvest of tales, of vi sions, of miracles, and of superstitions. As the Church sank lower and lower, as the need of a heavenly advocate with God was more and more impressed upon the minds or the Christians of those days, the idea seems to have arisen that neighborhood cf burial to the gaveof some martyr might be an effectual way to secure the felicity ot the soul. Con sequently we find in these chapels that the la ter Christians, those perhaps of f he fifth and sixth centu'ies, disregarding the original ar rangements, and having lost all respect for the Art. and all reverence for the memorial pic tures which made the walls precious, were of ten accustomed to cut out graves in the walls above and around the martyr's tomb, and as near as possible to it. The instances are nu merous in which pictures of the highest inter est have been t hus ruthlessly defaced. No sacredness of subject could resist the force of the superstition ; and we remember one in stance where, in a picture cf which the part that remains is of peculiar interest, the body of the Good Shepherd has been cut through for the grave of a child. so that only the feet and a part of the head of the figure remain. There is little reason for supposing, as has frequently been done, that the catacombs, even in times of persecution, afforded shelter to any large body of the faithful. Single, spe cially obnoxious, or timid individuals, un doubtedly, from time to time, took refuge in them, and may have remained within them for a considerable period. Such at least is the story, which we see no reason to question, in regard to several of the early Popes. But no large number of persons could have existed within them. The closeness of the air would very soon l ave rendered life insupportable ; and supposing any considerable number had collected near the outlet, where a supply of fresh air could have reached them, the diffi culty of obtaining food and of concealing their place of retreat would have been in most in stances insurmountable. - The catacombs were always places for the few, not for the. many; for the few who followed a body to the grave : for the few who dug the narrow, dark passages in w hich not many could work ; for the few who came to supply the needs of some huuted and hidden friend; for the lew who in better times assembled to join in the service com memorating the last supper of their Lord. It is difficult, as we have said before, to clear away the obscuring fictions of the Roman Church from the entrance of the catacombs; bnt doing this so far as with our present knowl edge may be done, we find ourselves entering upon paths that bring us into near connection and neighborhood with the first followers of the founders of our faith at Rome. The reality which is given to the lives of the Christians ol the first centuries by acquaintance with the memorials that they have left themselves here quickens our feeling for them into one almost of personal sympathy. "Your obedience is come abroad unto all men," wrote St. Paul to the first Christains of Rome. The record of that obedience is in the catacombs. And in the vast labyrinth of obscure galleries one be holds and enters into the spirit of the first fol lowers of the Apostle to the Gentiles. A CntlSE AMONG THE CANNIBALS. A late number of the Advertiser, published at Ilon olula, Sandwich Island?, contains an account of a cruise made by the sailing packet Morn ing Star, among the Pacific Islands. It touch ed at several ports of the Marquesas ; thence to the Island ol Fatuhiva, in one of the val leys of which a desperate battle had taken place, a short time before the vessel reached there, between two hostile tribes. The Ad vertiser says : "One of these contests lasted nine days, at the close of which the bodies of the captured and dead were eaten. The cannibal custom prevails throughout this group. They do not have a great feast over these human bodies as is generally supposed to be the case ; but the bodies are cut to pieces on the battle field, and each warrior takes his piece an arm, a joint, a rib, according to his merit raises it on his gun over his shoulder, and marches home. Here he calls his relations, and together they devoi r the flesh some cooking it in slices like pork, but most eat it raw. The motive which induces them to eat the bodies or their enemies is revenue ; they reel that their re venge is not satisfied until they have tasted or their blood and flesh. When their hatred, anger and revenge are at their highest point, and their enemy lies dead before them, then it culminates in the fiendish act of eating human flesh ; and it may be imagined the quivering heart that cringes and grates be tween their teeth is the sweetest morsel that a heathen warrior can taste. The cannibalism is confined mostly to tho older natives. The younger people appear to be ashamed of the practice, and it is probable that before many vcarsitwiil be extinctamongthe Marquesans." "Why are there so few convicts in the Mi chigan penitentiary this year?" asked Sam's friend, a day or two since. "Why," said Sam, "they send them by the Pontiao Railroad, and their time expires be fore they get there." A saddle and harness manufactory in New ark, N. J., has recently received an order from government for the equipment of 800 horses for the Utah army. THOMAS II. BENTON. Thomas Hart Benton was born on the 14th of March, 1782, at his father's residence, near Hillsborough, Orange county, North Carolina. He was sent to college at Chapel Hill, but left it before completing the regular course, and commenced the study of the law at Wil liam and Mary College, under St. George Tucker. His father having died when he was only eight years old, his mother removed to Tennessee, where he began to practice bis profession. It was there that he first became acquainted with Andrew Jackson, who was then a Judge of the Supreme Court and after wards Major General of the Militia, lie was appointed one of Jackson's aides-de camp, and when the war with England began, he raised a regiment of volurteers of which he was chosen Colonel. In 1813, the volunteers having been disbanded, President Madison appointed him a Lieutenant Colonel, but be fore he had any service, peace was proclaimed and he resigned his commission. In 1815 he removed to St. Louis, where be combined with the practice of his profession the conduct of a newspaper, called the Missouri Jlrgus. Those were stormy times for Western editors, and he had to engage in severalduels, in one of which he killed his antagonist. When Missouri was admitted to the Union, in 1821 he was one ol her first Senators, having been elected by the Legislature, which had met in 1S2'J, previous to the admission. For six suc cessive times he was elected to the same post, retiring finally from it in 1831. He supported the administrations of Presidents Jackson and Van Buren with great energy ; especially sus taining Jackson in his war upon the United States Bank, and afterwards vindicating him ly obtaining the passage of the resolution ex punging the resolution condemning the remo val of the deposits. As the apostle of a hard money currency, Mr. Bentou became an idol among a large por tion of the most radical or the Democratic party. Afterwards, when he chose to enter tain opinions on certain questions differing from those of tho party leaders, and when oth er aspiiing Missouri politicians had grown weary of his monopolizing the seat in the Senate, he came into disfavor, and this caused his defeat in the Senatorial election in 1851. But during all thct period of thirty years, Mr. Benton was one of the most conspicuous ac tors in the numerous exciting political scenes that successively arose. After leaving the Senatc.Mr. Benton return ed to St. Louis, and in 1852 he was nominated for a scat in the national House of Representa tives, and was elected. He at first supported the administration of President Pierce, but that having become wedded to an extreme system that he could not approve, he aban doned it. The consequence was, that the ad ministration made war upon him and his friends in Missouri, and when he ran again for Congress, in 1854, he was defeated. In 1859, he ran for Governor, in opposition to the regular Democratic candidate, a third candidate (American) being in the field. The consequence was that he was defeated, and Mr. Polk, the regular Democratic candi date, was elected. After 185G, Col. Benton devoted himself to the completion of his "Thirty Years' View" a narrative of the political events that occur red during his Senatorial career. It is color ed, in many places, by his political and per sonal prejudices ; but is, nevertheless, a most valuable contribution to our political history. Since that was finished, he has been engaged on an abridgment of the Debates in Congress, which occupied him to the last. An incurable disease, (cancer of the bowels,) has for some time preyed upon him, and though he labored and dictated for the work, with marvelous en ergy, in the midst of agonizing suffering, death overcame him before his task was done. Col. Benton was married, subsequent to his first election as Senator, to Elizabeth, daugh ter of Col. James M'Dowell, of Rockbridge county, Va. His surviving children are four daughters Mrs. William Carey Jones, Mrs. John C. Fremont, Mrs. Sarah Benton Jacob, and Madame Susan Benton Boileau, now at Calcutta, wife of the French Consul-General. Mrs. Benton died in 1854, having been struck with paralysis in 1844. He was a devoted husband and father, and since his wife's de cease has avoided all gayety and public amuse ments. His political life is part of the na tional history. He was a laborious zealous and able member of the Senate, and a skilful, impressive and dignified orator. There are few public men living who enjoy to a greater degree than he did, the confidence and re spect of the unprejudiced of all parties. Benjamin Fhaxrlin ash nis Gig. It is now about a century since Benjamin Franklin, Postmaster General of the American Colo nies, by appointment of the crown, set out in his old gig to make an inspection of ihe prin cipal routes. It is abont eighty years since lie held the same office under the authority of Congress, when a small rolio, now preserved in the department at Washington, containing but three quires of paper, lasted as his account book for two years. These simple facts bring up before us, more forcibly than an elaborate description, the vast increase in post office fa cilities within a hundred years. For if a post master general were to undertake to pass over all the routes at present existing, it would re quire six years of constant travel at the rate of one hundred and twenty miles daily ; w hile if he were to undertake the job in an "old gig,'" he would require a performance of years, it not ot a lifetime. Instead of a small folio, with its three quires of paper, the post office accounts consume every two years,three thou sand of the largest sized ledgers, keeping no less than one hundred clerks constantly em ployed in recording transactions with thirty thousand contractors and other persons. Randolph of Roanoke Outwitted. Hon. Jno. Holmes, now dead, for many years U. S. Senator from Maine, was an intimate friend of John Randolph of Virginia. Holmes was a man of broad humor, not at all so satiric in his turn as the Man of Roanoke, but still with enough points of contact with him in temper ament and modes of thought, to occasion a lively mutual liking. One day as the two were entering the Capitol grounds at Wash ington, Randolph pointed to a drove of donkies passing by and said, in bis quaint way, "Mr. Holmes, there arc some of your constituents going along." "Yes," said Holmes, "they are going to theOldDominion to teach school." The quickness ot the retort was admirable ; and its fitness may be found in the fact that in those days Yankee emigrants to the South osuallv took np School teaching as a Tocation. The Union Enlarged. The bill for the admission of the new State of Minnesota into the Union has been passed finally by the Sen ate, and will pass the House, so that the Union may be regarded as consisting of thirty-two States. Before the year 1858 is over it will probably consist of thirty-four States, as Kan sas and Oregon are to be admitted. In anoth er j-ear we may have Ontonagon composed of parts of Michigan and Minnesota apply ing for admission. Then will come Nebraska and, perhaps, Washington, and the Texans will probably be asking for a separate State to be made out of part of their extensive territo ry. The chances arc fair that w ithin four or five years, the Union will consist of thirty-six or thirty-eight States. In this calculation we do not include Cuba, or Mexico, or any of the annexations from foreign territory that enter into the visions of the progressive Democracy of these times. It these visions are fulfilled, the number of new commonwealths may be much larger than we have stated it to be. Since the original confederacy was formed, nineteen States have been added to the Union. Their names and the ordor of their admission have been as follows: Vermont, . . 1791 Missouri, . .. 1S21 Kentucky, . . 1792 Michigan. . . 1830 Tennessee, . . 17W5 Arkansas, . . 1830 Ohio, . . 1802 Iowa, . . 1845 Louisiana, . . 1811 Florida, . . 1845 Indiana, . . 1810 Tosas, . . 1S4C Mississippi,. . 1817 Wisconsin,. . 1848 Illinois, . . 1818 California, . . 1850 Alabama, . . 1819 Minnesota,. . 185S Maine, . . 1820 Minnesota, tho last of the States added to the Union, is a most striking illustration of the rapid growth of population in our Western regions. So late as the year 1845, there were no white inhabitants except the garrison at Fort Sn-llMig, a few trappers and Indian tra ders, and a party of settlers at Pembina,which was then supposed to be in the Btitish pos sessions. In 1S13 emigrants from the East and from Europe began to pour into it ; in 184'J a territorial government was organized, and now, in 185S, it has four or live hundred thousand inhabitants, with many rising and prosperous young cities, and is to be a mem ber of the American Union, with two repre sentatives in the lower house of Congress, and an equal voice in the Senate with the oldest and most populous of the States. The Boomerang. This curious weapon, pe culiar to the natives of Australia, has of ten proved a puzzler to men of science. It is a piece of carved wood nearly in the form of a crescent, from thirty to forty inches long, pointed at both ends, and the corner quite sharp. The mode of using it is as singular as the weapon itself. Ask a black to throw it so as to let it fu!i at his feet, and away it goes full forty yards before him, skimming along the surface at three or four feet from the ground, when it will suddenly rise in the air forty or sixty feet, describing a curve and fi nally dropping at the feet of the thrower. During its course it revolves with great rapid ity on a pivot, with a whizzing noise. It is wonderful so barbarous a people have inven ted so singular a weapon, which sets laws of progression at defiance. It is very dangerous for a European to try to project it at tny ob ject, as it may return and strike himself. In an native's hand it is a formidable weapon, striking without the projector being seen. It was invented to strike the Kangaroo, which is killed by it with certainty. "Governor Gilmer, of Georgia," so says a Georgian contributor, "had a passion for bay ing old iron truck, broken down wagons, and such rubbish, which he had piled np iu the yard, under the impression that it would come into use some time or other. It annoyed his wife excessively ; ami one day, when the gov ernor was away from home, she had the whole pile carted oil to auction. It so happened that just as the auctioneer had put up the lot, the governor was riding by, and buy he would, for as he looked at it, he declared that he had a lot at home in which there was several things to match. He bid ten dollars and the whole thing was knocked down to him. A few days afterwards he was admiring Mrs. Gilmer's new bonnet, and asking her its cost, she said "ten dollars, husband ; the same ten you paid for your old iron, and if you don't clear it out of the yard, I shall sell it again !" The Gover nor shortly f fter that, retired from the iron business." SnnrT.n this Country re vadk the World's Prison House ! Too long have the countries of Europe adopted a practice of inducing the the rogues and felons infesting them to emi grate to this country. This thing has gone on to an alarming extent. It is time measures were adopted to prevent it. Our self preser vation demands it. From late reports it ap pears that the Porte of Turkey is about to follow in the same game, that he is atiout to purge his land of a horde of Italian malefac tors, who have become the scourge of societ3'. lie has determined to send them to "America or Australia." There is said to tie some eight hundred of these desperadoes, and it would be well to sea, that if sent from Turkey at all, America does not receive them. Because this glorious land is the "asylum of the op pressed," it does not follow that it should be come t!ie workhouse for all the vagabonds of the Old World. The best anecdote of Lorenzo Do'.t that he have seen is, that oue evening at a hotel kept by one Bush, in Delhi, N. Y., the residence ot the late General Root, he was importuned by the latter gentleman, in the presence of the landlord, to describe heaven. "You say a good deal about heaven, sir," said the General, "pray tell us how it looks." Lorenzo turned his grave face and long wav ing beard towards the General and Mr. Bush, and replied with impurtuibable gravity: "Heaven, my friends, is a- vast extent of smooth, rich terr.tory. There is not a root nor bush in it, acd there never will be." Before the Mormons abandoned Jackson co., Missouri, a chosen number secretly laid the foundation of the future temple, and then care fully covering all traces ol their work with dirt, planted it over. The locat ion of this spot is held as a chuich secret. The idea ot short ly returning to build this temple is continual ly fostered by the leading saints in Utah, ac cording to a letter from California. The St. Pauls Minnesotian published a list of eighty-four of the lakes of Minnesota.which vary in cUe from one to' thirty miles in length. SVBDriNti VICIOUS HOUSES. All kinds of theories have been formed in relation to the peculiar method of subduing the wild spirit of horses, so successfully prac tised in Europe by Mr. Rarey, who is general ly known as the "American Horse Tamer.' At first many attributed las power to such a system of force as should strike terror into the animal, and thus render him more liable to be influenced by li is master ; but since the declaration of Sir Richard Airey that "there is nothing in the treatment but what any horse man would approve of," it is generally conce ded that this influence is obtained solely thro some mode of appealing directly to the more generous impulses of the horse, and thus con ciliating his affection and confidence. It is well known that animals generally have an al most instinctive passion forcertainodors.wbich appear to have a subduing influence over them. The most familiar illustration of this fact is the power in this respect exercised on horses by the rank and musty smell emitted by tho goat, which enables the latter animal to enter the stall and pass between the legs of the most vicious ol them. The ammon'ucal effluvia con centrated in the warts or excrescenses formed on the fore and hind legs of horses, appears to have the same attractive and subduing influ ence. The oils of cumin and rhodium have these peculiar properties in a more marked degree, and as soon as the horse scents the o dor of either of these substances ho is instinc tively drawn towards them. Mr. Rarey lias in timated that his power over the horse is ob tained solely through herbs or drugs which op crate on the senses of smell and taste, and we have no doubt but that the herbs or drugs em ployed by him, if not the same, are of an an alogous nature to those we have mentioned. The following directions are given for the taming of horses by the system suggested : Procure some finely grated horse castor, and oils of cumin and rhodium, and keep the three seperxte in air-tight vessels. Rub a little of the oil of cumin upon your hand, and approach, the horse on the w indward side, so that he can smell the odor of the cumin. The horse will then suffer you to approach him without any trouble. Immediately rub your hand gently on the horse's nose, getting a little of the oil on it, and you can lead him anywhere- Givo him a little of the castor on any substanco lor which ha has a taste, and in the most suitablo manner manage to get ight drops of the oil of rhodium upon his tongue, and be will at once become obedient to the most exacting commands with which horses are capable ot complying. Be kind and gentle to him, and your permanent supremacy will be establish ed, no matter what may have been liis previ ously wild and vicious character. We under stand that Mi. Rirey, has been challenged by D. Sullivan, also a horse tamer, (grandson of the celebrated "Sullivan the Whisperer,") to a trial ol his powers in Cork, Ireland. A Hard Story. There is a doctor in the North-western part of Philadelphia who is es pecially remarkable lor being, as the women term it, "short and crusty." A week or two since he was called upon to visit a patient who was laboring under a severe attack of cheap whiskey. "Weli, doctor, I'm down, you see com pletely floored I've got tho Tremendous De lirium, you perceive." "Tremens, you fool; where'd you get the rum ?" queried the doctor. 'All over in spots broke out promiscuous ly, doctor." "Served you right. Where'd you get your ruin ?" "Father died of the same disease ; took him under the short ribs aud carried him off bodily." "Well, you've got to take something imme diately." "You're a trump, doctor here, wife, I'll take a nip of old rye." "Lie siill blockhead. Mrs. B., if your hus band should get worse before I return, which will be in au hour, just give him a dose of that trunk strap; maybe that will fetch him to a sense of his folly." Tho doctor sailed out grandly, and within an hour sailed iu again, and found his friend of the "Delirium Tremendous" in a terrible condition, writhing and struggling with pain. His wife, a female of the plain but ignorant school came forward, and laying her hand upon the doctor's arm, said : "Doctor, I gave him the strap as you di rected." "Did you thrash him well ?" 'Thrash him !" exclaimed the astonished woman ; "no, but I cut the strap into bash and made him swallow it." "Oh, Lord ! doc or," roared the victim, "J. swallowed the leather, but but ," "But what V "I swallowed the strap, but I'm blowed If I could go the buckle !" The doctor administered two bread pills and made his exit. Tue Power of Monosyllable. To one whose attention has not been drawn particular ly to the subject, it will lie surprising to call to mind how many of the most sublime and comprehensive passages in the English Lan guage consist wholly or chiefly of monosylla bles. Of tt.e sixty-six words comprising the Lord's Prayer, forty-eight are of one syllable. Of the seventeen composing the Golden Kule, fifteen are of one syllable. The most expres sive idea of the creative power of Jehovah, and the most sublime sentence ever w ritten, is expressed entirely in monosyllables: "But God said, Let there bo light, and there was light." One of the most encouraging prom ises of Scripture is expressed in fifteen words, all but one ol which are monosyllables: "I love them that love me, and those that seek me early shall find me." Pkater. Prayer is a haven to the sbip wrecked man, an anchor to them that are sinking in the waves, a staff to the limbs that totter, a mine of jewel to the poor, a healer of diseases, and a guardian of health. Pray er at once secures the continuance of our bles sings, and dissipates the cloud of our calami ties. Oh blessed prayer ! thon art the uuwear ied conqnerer of human woes, the firm foun dation of human happiness, the source of ever-enduring joy, the mother of philosophy. The man who can pray truly, though languish ing in extremest indigence, is richer than all beside ; whilst the wretch w ho never bowed the knee, though proudly seated as monarch of all nations, is of all men the most destitute. Ckrytottom. Wjthcmt friend, the world is a wilderness.
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