' 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.