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. . - - - - -' -
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