I u BY S. P. KOW. VOL. 5 -NO. 31 CLEARPLELD, PA , WEDNESDAY, APRIL 20, 18-59. ALLITERATIVE VERSES. There la a good deal of ingenuity displayed in the construction of the following lines : Fluttering friend, farewell forever, Hope hath hung her harp on high, Every effort or endeaver Starts loue serious, sobbing sigh. When with wannest wishes wooing. Lingered long love's languid look, Eilenee still sublimely shewing, Firmest faith for forms forsook. - - rieasing prospects prove protecting Innocency is innate Deserts dear delights directing, Far from former frowning fate. Pleasure's pleasing path pursuing, That through tearless time I tread ; Vagrant virtues vainly viewing, S?he still pseudo shining shed. False, fallacious friend farewell ! Shall sorrowing sighs still silent sleep ? ' To truant time thy troubles tell Why with wearied wanderings weep! THE FORGED PATENT. The changes which the last twenty years have wrought in Illinois, would be incredible to any one who had not witnessed them. At tbat titue the settlements were few, and the spirit of enterprize which now prevades every corner of the State had not awakened. The bluffs of the beautiful Illinois river had never sent back the echo of the steam engine. Without a market for their own produce, the farmers confined their labors to the wants of their own families. Corn was nearly the only crop raised, atid from the time it was "laid by," near the end of June, till "pulling time," in November, was a holiday, and the intervening period was passed in idleness, except Satur days. On that day, duly as it arrived, the settlers at the distillery amused themselves with shooting at a mark, trading nags, and. too ol ten, when the tin cup passed freely round, in fighting. This is by no means a picture ot all the settlements ot that early period, but that it is graphically true of many, none of the oldest settlers will deny. One Saturday afternoon, in the year 1819, a young mail was seen approaching, with slow and weary steps, the house, or rather distillery, of Squire Crosby, of Brent's Prairie, an ob scure settlement on the Military Tract. As usual on that day, a large collection of peo ple were amnsing themselves at Crosby's who owned the distillery in tbat region, and, being a magistrate, was regarded by the settlers as rich, and consequently a great man. The youth who now came up to the group was ap parently about twenty-one years of age, and of sleuder form, fair and delicate complexion, with the air of one accustomed to good socie ty, and it was evident at a glance that he was not inured to the hardships of frontier life, .r labor of any kind. But his dress was in lAnge contrast with his appearance and man ?:eis. lie wore a hunting coat of the coarsest i'"rt-y woolsoy, a common straw hat, and a pa r of doeskiD moccasins. A large pack cwir picrted his equipments. Every one gazed wirii curiosity upon the new comer. In their oTigerbefcs to learn who he was,whencehe came, and what was his business, the horse swap was left unfinished, and the rifle laid aside, and rren the busy tin cup had a temporary respite. The young man approached Squire Crosby, whom even a stranger could distinguish as the principal person among them, and anxiously inquired for a house w here he could bo ac commodated, saying that he was extremely i!!,snd felt all the symptoms of an approaching fever. Crosby eyed him closely and suspi ciously for a moment without uttering a word. Knaves and swindlers had been recently a broad, and the language of the yonth betray ed tbat he was a "Yankee," a name at that time associated in the minds of the ignorant with everything that is base. Mistaking the silence of Crosby for a fear of bis inability to pay, the stranger smiled and said, "I am not without money," and putting his hand to his pocket to give ccular proof of his assertion, he was hrrror-struck to find that bis pocket book was gone. It contained every cent of his money, besides papers of great value to him. Without a farthing, without even a pa per or letter to attest that his character was honorable, in a strange land, and sickness rap idly coming upon him, these feelings nearly drove him to despair. The Squire, who had prided himself on his sagacity in detecting villains, now found the use of his tongue. With a load and sneering voice, he said : 'Stranger, you arc barking up the wrong tree, ir yon think to catch me with that 'ere Yankee trick o' yourn." He proceeded in that inhuman strain, sec onded by nearly every one present, for the "Squire was powerful, and few dared to dis please him. The youth felt keenly his deso late situation, and casting his eyes around the gronp, and in a tone of deep anxiety.inqnired: "Is there none who will receive me V "Yes, I will," cried a man among the crowd ; "yes, poor, sick stranger, I will shel ter you." Then, in a lower tone, be added, "I know not whether you are deserving, but I do know that you are a fellow-being, and in eickness and in want ; and for the sake of II nn who died for the guilty, if not for your own eake, will I be kind to you. poor stranger. The man who stepped forth and proffered a home to the youth in the hour of suffering, vii Simon Davis, an elderly man, who resid ed near Crosby, and the latter was his deadly enemy. Uncle Simon", as he was called, nev er retaliated, and bore many persecutions of lii vindictive neighbor without complaint. His family consisted ot himself and daughter, bis odIt child, on affectionate girl of seven teen. "The youth heard the offer ol Mr. Davi3, and beard no more, for, overcome by his feel ings and extreme illness, he sank insensible. He was conveyed to the bouse of his benefac tor, and a physician called. Long was the struggle between life and death. 1 hough un conscious, he called upon his mother and sis ter, almost constantly, to aid him. hen the youth was laid upon her bed, and she beard nim calling for his sister, Lucy Davis wept and said to him, "Poor young man, your sis ter is far distant,but I will be to you a sister. Well did this dark-eved maiden keep her promise. Day and night she watched over him, except during the short intervals when she yielded her post at bis side to her father. at lonn-fh h rii rf ih disorder arrived the day tbat was toj decide the question of lifA ap death. Lncv bent over him with in tense anxiety, watching every expression of his features, hardly daring to breathe, so iear- fnlwas she of awakening him from tnoomy aennd aleep he bad enjoyed for nine long days and nights. At length he awoke and gazed np into the face of Lucy Davis, and faintly inquired, "Where am 1 1" There was intelli gence in that look. Youth and good consti tution had obtained the mastery. Lucy felt that he was spared, and bursting into a flood of tears, rushed out of the room. It was two weeks more belore he conld sit np even for a short time. He had already ac quainted them with his name and residence. but they had no curiosity to learn anything. iurtner, and forbade him giving bis story un til he became stronger. His name was Charles Wilson, and his parental home Boston. A few days afterward, when Mr. Davis was absent from home, and Lucy engaged about her household affairs, Wilson saw close beside his head his pack, and, recollecting something that he wanted, opened it. The first thing he saw was the identical pocket-book whose loss had excited so many regrets. He recollected having placed it there the morning before he reached Brent's Prairie, but in the confusion of the moment the circumstance was forgot ten. He examined it, and found everything as he had left it. The discovery nearly re stored him to health, but he resolved at pres ent to confine the secret to his own bosom. It was gratifying to him to witness the entire confidence they reposed in the honor and in tegrity of a stranger, ahd the pleasure with which tbey bestowed favors upon one whom they supposed could make no return but thanks. Night came, aud Mr. Davis did not return. Lucy passed a sleepless night. In the morn ing she watched hour after hour for his com ing, and when sunset approached he was still absent. Terrified at bis long and unusual stay, she was setting out to procure a neighbor to go in search of him, when the parent came in sight. She ran to meet him, and was bestow ing upon him a thousand endeariug expres sions of affection, when his haggard, woe-be-gone countenance Mai tied her. lie uttered not a word, and went into his house, and seat ed himself in siletce. It was in vain that she attempted to cheer him. Alter a leng pause, during which there was a powerful struggle going on in his feelings, he rose and took his daughter by the band and led her into the room where Wilson was seated. "You must know all," be said, "I'm ruined ; I am a beggar ; in a few days I must quit this houso the farm which I have so highly improved and thought my own." He proceeded to state that a few days before, Crosby, in a fit of ungovernable malice, taunted him with being a beggar, and told him that be was now in his power, and he would crush him under his feet. When Mr. Davis smiled at what he regarded only an im potent threat, Crosby, to convince him, told him that the patent of his farm was a forged one, and that he, Crosby, knew the real owner of the land, had written to purchase it, and ex pected a deed in a few days. Davis immedi ately went home for his patent, and during his long absence had visited the land office. Crosby was right. The patent, beyond all dis pute, was a forged one, and the claim of Davis to the farm was not worth a farthing. It may be proper to observe that counter feiting soldiers' patents was a regular business in some of the eastern cities, and hundreds had been duped. "It is not for myself," said the old man, "that I grieve for this misfor tune. I am advanced in life, and it matters not where or Iidw I pass the remainder of my existence. I have a little home beyond the stars, where your mother has gone before me, and where I would have loved to lollow, had it not been that I would have left unprotected her child, my own aftectiouate Lucy." The weeping girl threw her arms around the neck of her father, and poured her tears upon his bosom. "We can be happy still," said she, 'for I am young, and can support us both." A new scene followed, in which another in dividual was the principal actor. I shall leave the reader to form his own opinion of it, arid barely remark that, at the close, the old man took the hands ol Lucy and young Wilson.and then joining them said: "My children, I cheer fully consent to your union. Though poor, with a good conscience, you can be happy. I know, Charles, you will be kind to my daugh ter, for a few nights ago, when you thought that no human car could hear you, I heard you fervently implore the blessings of heaven up on my gray hairs, and that God would reward my child for all her kindness to you." Taking down the family Bible, the venerable old man added, "It is a season of affliction, but we are not forsaken. Let us look for support from Dim who has promised to sustain us." Ho then opened the look and read : 'Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines, the labors of the olives shall fail, and the fields yield no meat ; the flocks shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herds in the stall, yet will I joy in the God of my salvation " Charles and Lucy knelt beside the venera ble old man, and while he prayed they wept tears of giateful emotion. It was a sleepless but not unhappy night to the three inhabitants of the neat, cheerful dwelling they were about to leave, and go they knew not where. It was then that yonng Wilson learned the real value of money. By means of it he could give shel ter to those who had kindly received him when every other door was closed upon him. All night long bo had thought of the forged pat ent. There were a few words dropped by Mr. Davis which he could not dismiss from his mind ; that Crosby had written to the real owner of the land, and bad now obtained the promise of the deed. It is now time for the reader to become ful ly acquainted with the history of the young stranger. His father, Charles Wilson, senior, was a merchant in Boston, who had acquired an immense fortune. At the close of the war, when the soldiers received from the govern ment their bounty of one hundred and sixty acres of land, many of them offered their pat ents to Mr.Wilson for sale. Finding that they were resolved to sell them, he resolved to save them sacrifice of their hard earnings, and he purchased at a fair price all that was ottered. In three years no small portion of the Military Tract came into fcis possession. On the day that Charles became of agc,hc gave him a deed of the principal part of this land in Illinois, and insisted that he sould go out and see i it.and if be liked the country settle there. W ishing him to become identified with the people, he recommended his son to lay aside his broad cloth and dress like a backwoodsman. In compliance with this suggestion, the vounz man had assumed a rude and rustic ;nnnmnriate to his appearance and maTnWs as7oJ cite some suspicion that be had motives for concealing his reai cnaracier n- th morning of his son's departu re Mr.Wil .on received a better from a man in Illinois who had frequently written. Ho wished to purchase a certain section at government price, which Mr. Wilson promised he should have on the terms, provided he forwarded a certificate from the judge of the circuit court that the land was worth no more. The letter just received in closed the certificate in question. Mr.Wilson had given this tract to Charles, and, patting the letter and certificate into his hand, enjoin ed npon him to deed it to the writer, accord ing to promise, upon bis arrival in Illinois. The remarks ol Mr. Davis forcibly reminded yonng Wilson of this incident, and on the next morning after be had become acquainted with the plan of Crosby, with a trembling band he examined the letter and certificate. It was written by Crosby, and the land he wished to purchase, the identical farm of Davis. Aston ished that his friend the judge should certify that the land was worth no more, Mr. Davis asked to see the certificate, and after a mo ment's examination, unhesitatingly pronounc ed its signature a forgery. An explanation from the youup man now became nccesary,and, calling Lucy into the room, he told them bis story, and liid before them a pile of patents aud benk notes, one after another, till the sum reached thousands. It was a day of thankful happiness to Simon Davis and his daughter, and not less so to young Wilson. Not . long after this scene, Crosby entered. His air was that of a man who has an enemy in bis power.and intends to trample upon him. lie scarce noticed young Wilson- except with a look of contempt. After pouring out all of his maledictions upon the family, the old man inquired if he would give nothing for improve ments made. The answer was, Not one cent.' "You certainly would not," said Wilson, "drive out this man and his daughter penni less into the world f" "What's that to you ?" replied Crosby, with a look of malice and contempt. "I will answer that question," said l ilson, and he acquainted him with what the reader has already learnt. , Crosby was at first petrified with astonish ment, but when he saw that all his schemes of villainy were defeated, and proof of his having committed a lorgerv could be established, his assurance forsook him, and he threw himself npon his knees, and begged first the old man, then Lucy and Wilson to spare him. Much as they pitied, it was impossible for them not to despise the meanness of this application. Wilson told him that he deserved no mercy that a moment since he would have driven the family of Davis from their home without even means of temporary support. He would pay Crosby a fair price for his property, and lor bear prosecuting him on condition of his in stantly quitting the country. Crosby accept ed the offer. The writings were made on that day, and before morning he and his family were on their way to Texas. Why should I spin out the narrative. Lucy and Charles were married, and though a splen did mansion soon rose upon the farm of Mr. Davis, both loved far better the little room where she had so anxiously watched over the sick bed of the houseless stranger. Mr. Wil son was rich, but never forgot those who were in want. Cheered by the kind and affection ate attentions of his children, Simon Davis al most seemed to have renewed his existence. He lived many years, and long enough to tell the bright-eyed son of Charles and Lucy the story of the" forged deed. And when he told the listening boy how his father, when poor and friendless, was taken home and kindly treated, and in turn became their benefactor, he impressed upon the mind of his grand child that even a cup of cold water, given from a good motive, shall not lose its reward. FARMING MEMORANDA. ExiiAt sTixa the Soil. It is well known that if the same kind of crops are planted or sown for several years in succession on the same soil, they will at last cease to yield. This is called "exhausting the soil," for which a par tial remedy is found by the use of manures, but even with thorough manuring every sea son, the soil will fail to yield, if the crops are not frequently changed by what is called ''ro tation ot cropping." To account for this, it is believed that each crop exhausts the soil ot the peculiar nutritive matter which it re quires, and thus it takes, some years to bring back or restore such matter to the land. It Is well known that some soils are so rich in cer tain salts as to be capable of raising a succes sion of crops for a number of years, but this is not the case generally. A rotation of crops and frequent mauuring can alone ensure any soil from becoming exhausted. A grain crop should always be succeeded by a root or a green crop, and vice versa. Thus wheat, then grass, oats, potatoes, corn, wheat, turnips, bar ley, potatoes, rye, clover. Manures. Guano is a powerful fertilizer, but it is too concentrated to bo nsed singly. It is found to produce superior eflects when mixed with equal quantities of common salt, and then stirred up with about four times their quantity of moist loamy soil. The superphos pLotcs are coming into more general use for root crops, and they are valuable for such pur poses. . They should be applied as early in the season as possible, as they require considera ble moisture, to ensure their absorption by the plants. There are many adulterations of gu ana sold, and us it is an expensive fertilizer, deception in its quality is a heinous crime. In burning Peruvian . guano, it should looso from bo to DO per cent, of its weight ; its ash should be white, and dissolve readily without effervescence in dilute muriatic acid, leaving an insoluble residue of only about 2 per cent. A bushel of pure guano weighs about 70 lbs. ; if adulterated with clay, marl or sand, it will weigh more than this. This latter test will detect gross adulteration; the former a more refined adulteration. Weeds. Farmers should be careful not to cultivate weeds, as tfcey steal that nutriment from the soil which should otherwise be taken up by 'genuine plants. To prevent weeds, great care should be exercised in securing clean seed. In clover seed there are as many at '20,000 weed seeds in every pint. As about from twelve to fourteen pints of seed are sown to the acre, over forty weed seeds are sown upon every square yard. Seeds. In seeds, as in live stock, defects are handed down from generation to genera tion, and constant care is theref ore required to remove any hereditary taint. Seeds from blighted straw should never be used, because this is an indication of disease, and yet this feature is not sufficiently understood. Some r.,,m,r. entertain the idea that shriveled wheat and corn will do well enough for seed ; this is an unscientific and incorrect notion. The verv soundest seed, and nothing else, houM evor be sown. SENATORIAL PORTRAITS. Sax ator Hamlin. In the far corner of the Republican side, just back of Simmons of Khode Island, writes the Washington corres pondent of the Boston TVancrt7',is seatedja bil lions looking gentleman, clad in black, bis raiments not over neat with a rather full and heavy face, and a piercing, coal black eye. He has a light stoop and is somewhat awkward in his movement and gesticulation. His voice is sharp and shrill, and the intonation gives decided evidence of his Northern origin ; his words being replete with the usual character istics of Yankee land. Able, clear and logi cal, and perhaps a fluent speaker, though not a frequent one, he always commands respect. Personally, he has mncli the appearence, at a distance, of a seedy Methodist preacher ; but when he talks, that is all forgotten. It is Senator Hamlin, of Maine. Wm. H. Seward. What man is there who can pretend to describe him ? We see a short delicate made man, with a singular looking, wrinkled fnce, and Jioman nose, a head calcu lated to puzzle Spurzheim, covered with coarse and rather short, gray hair, not very tidily brushed ; busy,gray eyebrows overhang ing eves most remarkable for their brilliancy of expression clothed in attire neat to pre cision, but negligently worn. We hear him speak, and his voice is poor, evidently injur ed by the long prodigal use of snuff his de livery careless even to slouchiness leaning against his desk with his hands in his pockets his only gesture made with his head, which rolls about almost independently of his body thus deliberately ,and more in the tone or con versation than that ot debate he pours out the most beautiful specimens of rhetoric, the clearest logic in language of Saxon purity, the profoundest axioms, prophecies that nev er fail, legal aphorisms true as the statutes, illustrations drawn from every source which literature has reached all clothed in lan guage, not one word of which need ever be blotted out. He never says a foolish thing. Senator Shields. Some weeks ago I took occasion to drop into the Senate galleries, and as I seated myself I was conscious of an unusual silence throughout the ball. lhe spectators were numerous, and most of the Senators ia their places. One of them was speaking in measured tones, and was appa rently much ahected. lie was aetivering a eulogy on a distinguished soldier and le gislator, and brother in arms. He spoke of the dreadful foray of Cero Gordo, ol a wound there received, (one which even now aston ished the surgical world, that any one could be so fearfully stricken and yet survive) he spoke of lying in a rude hut, with the blood streaming from a ghastly wound in his chest expecting every moment to be summoned in to the presence of his God, when he was ap proached by an officer, begrimmed with the smoke of battle and flushed with the con sciousness of a victory just gained. Taking the hand of the suffering soldier, he said to him ; "My gallant friend, be of good cheer. If you must die, and I survive this war, I will take good care of your memory at home 1" The Senator of another day that day of twenty battles, when the city of Mexico fell at last beneath our arms, and be lay again woun ded the same man came with the same sooth ing words. "And now," said the speaker "let it be my duty to add my voice in testimony of the worth of the noble, gallant Quitman, and do justice to his memory." As he spoke bis voice trem bled and he sat down overcome by the memo ries of the past as they crowded thick upon him. He is a plain looking person, of medi um height, rather slender, and with strongly marked features. He has a pleasant voice,and an open, smiling kindly face. He is not a great debater, nor is be among the first men of the Senate, but he is one of those per sons whose voice, manner and expression draw you insensibly towards him whatever difference you may entertain politically. I fancied that a slight accent betrayed his for eign birth j but this may be mere fancy. lie is of Minnesota. Senator Hale. A visitor to the gallery of the Senate cannot have failed to notice the entrance of a full, hearty, ruddy, bluff, bale looking man, who generally walks nearly to his chair belore removing his hat from off his head, where he usually hangs it. After taking his seat he pulls up his sleeves, as though a bout to dip his hands into a sugar barrel throws about the papers on his desk for a mo ment, and then commences to write most fu riously. Perhaps ere long he jumps up to make some remarks in reply to a gentleman on the other side who has the floor, and when he does so there is a laugh all over the house. It is a sugared pill he has shot forth probably ; but a pill nevertheless. He appears to be a well to do farmer a jolly sort of husbandman, with granaries full of common sense, and a ci der press streaming with fun. Need I say that it is John P. Hale ot New Hampshire 1 Senator Clat. In the midst of the demo cratic side of the Senate Chamber, next to Jefferson Davis is a gentleman whose singular appearance attracts the attention of the stran ger. Quite slender, rather tall and with a dark complexion, a thin, pale facp, black eyes, and jet black hair inclined to curl and worn rather long and a very full prominent fore head he gives one the impression that he is more fitted for the closet than the legislative hall. He looks the poet, or perhaps the artist, rather than the statesman. He does not speak often, and when he does he is not particularly profound, nor his style particularly oratori cal. He is not a first class Senator. It is Clay of Alabama. Senator Broderick:, the colleague of Mr. Gwin, personally, does not afford any of the characteristics, as seen on the floor of the Senate, which are to be looked for in the cide vant bar-tender and rowdy. He is tall, manly looking; with an oval face, a heavily whisker ed countenance, short bair and full under lip. He is when not in debate, as quiet and digni fied, apparently as need be. When be speaks, however, you can but feel that he does so with an effort, and cautiously lest he overstep the line drawn between stump speaking and Sen atorial debate, and betray by his language the "old Satan" which is said still to be lurking within. His grammer is not immaculate, as at times he trifles Jwith Lindlay Murray most unwarrantably, and his pronounciation is cer tainly not Websterian. Still, I think Mr. Broderick deserves very much credit for what he has done, and I think he is fully as honest as many gentlemen who would perhaps call themselves his betters. I know that he is a man with whom it will not do to trifle. Some honorable Senators are aware of this too, as thoy found that an attempt to embarrass him by laughing and other means was a rather d:ino-prnii nantime. Kcv.i-nn JirvTFR. On the other side of Mr. Davis is seated another gentleman, who from his prominence before the public, and the bare possibility of bis being the next Democratic candidate for the Presidency, commands a passing notice. R. M. T. Hun ter, of Virginia, is perhaps the slouchicst Senator in Congress. Rather short and stout, swarthy, with black bair, apparently not even yet sprinkled with gray, be is what would be considered an ordinary looking man except perhaps for his extreme negligence in his at tire, which in a person in his position is some what extraordinary. His hair is full and un kempt, his collar apparently unconscious of starch, and his limp cravat tied and banging in the extreme of the negligent style. His enunciation is not good, being thick and in distinct, and his gesticulation and manner un graceful. That he is a man of ability, how ever and great ability, no one, at this late day, can dispute. Some twenty years ago, I be lieve, he was Speaker of the House, and be stands now the acknowledged head of Virgin ian statesmen. MODERN CROAKERS. History is a frog pond, full of croakers. From Thucydides and Herodotus down to Grote and Buckle from Moses down to Mot ley, the lugubrious plaint resounds from the marshes of all eras. Things have always been going wrong ; death has ever been in the pot. If we are to rely upon writers, there never was a time when the earth turned smoothly on its axis, and there never will be. The past is one wide field of crime and desolation, and the future an endless vista of woes greater than any yet experienced by the hapless human race. How wearily and soul-sick sounds the voice of the wisest of men, Solomon, "There is nothing new under the sun." How the prophets, the poets, the historians of all nations echo back the cry, "All is vanity and vexation of spirit." A certain mournful comfort is to be derived from the sad experience of mankind as attest ed by the chronicles of old. If things have always been in a bad, a very bad way, it is something to know that people managed, after a fashion, to live on and worry through their trials. In spite of wars, pestilences, and famines innumerable, the powers of nature were kept steadily at work, the seasons came in due order, the children of men were born, and food and raiment adequate to their wants were vouchsafed unto them. Life has never ceased to be a grateful. boon to the sons of Adam. There never was an hour when man kind with one consent songht release from the angnish of existence in universal suicide. Nay, there was never a moment when the vast majority of mankind did not find the "fever called living" a delight, worthy of indefinite protraction. And yet the croakers have never ceased to croak. The moralists and immoral ists alike have abused the very thing of all others which they most highly prized; the thing for which the most of them would have bartered bouse and lands, name and fame, family and friends, even honor itself. Why is this ? The sufficient answer will be found in the fact that man was not born to be satisfied. "Fool!" exclaims Carlyle, "dost thou not know that the very universe itself would not ease thy cravings r" The further answer is, that life is too olten misspent, not indeed wilfully misspent, but, by reason of "ill annexed opportunity" and carelessly guarded passion, brought to a profitless conclusion. No wonder then that there should have been and should still continue to be an abundance of croakers. But, if croaking still continues, this much may be said in favor of the modern croaker. He cannot croak with the hearty good will, the vim and vociferousness of his predecessors; and this because the one all important essential of successful croaking has been taken away. I be croaker, like any other professional artist, needs a large and ap preciative audience. Such an audience is rather hard to find now a-days, owing not to the fact that the lovers of good croaking have ceased to exist, but because they have been so dispersed and intermixed with hopeful ac tive mortals, that the modern croaker though he croak so sweetly, can attract few admirers in any one community. The modern croaker does not differ material ly from the ancient croaker, except in this that it has become a sort of new dogma in the croakological faith to predict "a good time coming." This important change in the croaking tune produced for a time some good effects. It "drew." But the general diffu sion of knowledge and the still more general necessity of working pretty hard for a living, with the success which for the most part at tends hard work in this country, has thrown such a damper on the modern croaking ver sion tbat an entire change of programme is needed. How the croaker will set about ef fecting this change it is impossible to tell ; but the experience of the past assures us that it will be done. Perhaps a return, to the good old fashion of croaking, of which the burthen is "nothing is there to come and noth ing past," will be relished by a sorrowful pub lic, and have a run equal to hoops. Who can say ? If it were worth one's while to do so insane a thing as argue with a croaker, it might be said that although things have always gone wrong, and are always going to worse, that is no reason why we should trouble ourselves a bout them. On the contrary, it is a good and cogent reason why we should not trouble our selves. The sun will certainly set to-morrow night, and very likely there will be a great many after it, but that is no reason why we should go supperless to bed. Nay, if we are too poor to get up anything so biilliant as gas, we can at least set fire to a camphene lamp, and be as jolly as it is possible to be in view of an explosion which may consign us to a horrible death. But we have no quarrel with the croakers. Some of them mean very well and all of them think themselves very wise. There is donbt less a nsc for frogs in the spring of the year, their cacophonetic concerts are trnly musical. We are not so supersensitive as the French nobility, who. while residing temporarily in their chateaux, forced the peasants to whip the ponds all night to keep the frogs from croaking. No, the batrachian croakrs may have fair play so long as their complaints do not affect the growth of early peas, and their human brethren, so long as they do no posi tive harm, may go scot free, so far as we are concerned. Oil and truth will get uppermost at last. COURT SCANDALS. . The Sickles tragedy, with its subsequent developments, says the Philadelphia Bulletin, has startled a good many people by the expo sure it has made ot the gross immorality tbat exist in a certain class of people of whose lives we usually see but the political side. It is, perhaps, fortunate that there is not a more f intimate knowledge among the people of the private life of our publie men ; tor what little of popular respect they still retain would bo still further diminished. It is something to be proud of that amid the general depravity that has prevailed at Washington, onr Presi dents have rarely created scandal by their private lives ; and it may be also said with 'some pride, that no man, however superior he might be in intellect, could be elected Presi dent of the United States, if be was notori ously loose in bis morals. In European countries, the heads of govern rocnt are rarely men of purity of character. The kings of England, with very rare excep tions, have been grossly immoral, and Victo ria is almost the only British sovereign whose virtue has never been suspected. Her hus band, too, has never created any scandal ; bat ber cousin, the Duke of Cambridge, now bead of the army, is notoriously profligate. The Russian Emperors and Em pres.ecs have been celebrated as much for their immorality as for any other qualities, though the. present Czar seems to be a decided improvement, in this respect, on his predecessors. The Ger man Emperors, kings and petty princes have also been famed for licentiousness, and as for the French, Spanish and Italian monarcbs, they seem to have regaid.d libertinism as one of the sacred prerogatives of the crown. , Of living continental sovereigns there aro very few who have escaped scandal. The reigning Qneen of Spain and the ex-Queen Christina, if they were not royal ladies, would not be received in any decent soeiety. The King of Sardinia, whose public life bas been so much commended, is, and always has been, a gross sensualist, and the tales of his secret amours are numerous and shocking. The profligacy of the Bavarian royal family, and especially of the ex-King Louis, is well known. The reigning family in France emulates in immorality the Bourbon and Orleans families. The emperor has not escaped scandal, even since his marriage. His uncle, the old Prince Jerome, has for some years bad bis mistress living in the Palais Royal.and there she would have remained undisturbed, but that the young princess Clotilde, on hearing of it, insisted successfully on having ber banished to distant apartments in the palace. Jerome's daughter, the Princess Mathilde, who is separated from her Russian husband, Prince Demidoff, has often given good reason for doubts as to her purity. Her brother, Trince Napoleon, has led a scandalous life among the lorettes of Paris, as well as among the ladies of the court who have not stood highest as models' of vir tue. His marriage to the Sardinian princess is not regarded as having destroyed' his taste for his former mode of life. There are but few courts on the continent of Europe where the sovereigns and -their fami lies set an example of virtue to their people, and the secret memoirs of these times, that may appear fifty or a hundred years benice, will tell as shameful stories as do the memoirs of the French, English and German courts of the last century. It is something for Ameri cans to congratulate themselves on, that, with all the degeneracy observed in our Presidents and leading public men, we have not got so law as to tolerate in them such gross immorality" as prevails so generally in the reigning famil" ies and the courts of Europe. TIMBER AND ITS DECAY. The present century has been marked by very active inquiry into the nature of wood, the structure of its fibres and cells, the de rangements to which the fibres arc subject, tb effect of these derangements on carpentry and; ship building, and the best mode of removing the evil. There have been many curious facts ascertained concerning ihe qualities of differ ent kinds tf timber, and especially in relation to its decay. The explanation of dry rot rasy be stated as follows : All trees contain within their pores a kind of albumen, which contrib utes to the sustenance of the growth ; but when the tree is felled, and the trunk and branches converted into timber, this albumen becomes an evil instead of a good. When the albnmen is moist which it always is before the timber is seasoned it has a tendency to enter into a sort of fermentation ; if this state commences, the albumen becomes a favorite relish for cer tain minute animals, who forthwith bore for themselves invisible passages through the wood, to attain the otject of their search ; these passages admit air and moisture, which so act upon the chemical constituents of the sap as to afford a kind of soil in which minuto parasitical plants grow ; these plants, sprout ing out, force holes for themselves through, the wood, and appear on the surface as dry rot. Attempts innumerable have been made to find out some chemical mode of protecting tirtber from ruinous decay. Sulphate . of irCn has been recommended, also sulphate of copper, as a steep-preservative of wood. Cel. Con greve proposed the adoption of a coating of oil of tar. Afterwards, a mode was brought forward of extracting the air from the" pores of the wood, and forcing chemical agSntr into the pores thus vacated ; then came a mefritude of proposals respecting the substance' to be em ployed coarse whale oil, oil of birch bark, unslaked lime, pyroligneous acid, etc. Bat the albumen cannot be driven out; and if dried, it has a tendency again to absorb mois ture. Hence chemists have recommended, and practical men have adopted, modes of ren dering the albumen insoluble, by combining it chemically with some other substance ; being made insoluble it defies moisture. Some contemptibly mean scamp, week be fore last, stole the pulpit lamps and collection baskets out of the United Brethren church in Dallastown, York county. i President Buchanan has- ordered 3Tr. Bull of Pennsylvania, one of the special mail agents dismissed by Mr. Holt as useless, to be re stored to his position. Since the death of young Weaver, who bad been bitten by a road dog, quite a number ot the canine tribe have been killed by poison In Harrisburg. ;I .J: A carpet bag, belonging to Judge Gilli vwss recently stolen from the C. S. Hotel, UarrLi burg, Pa. . - - - - -' - i ; r flf
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers