ItWi IUI . f-4Z vaV ' avi l warn 1 t W I
BY S. B."R0"W.
VOL. 5.-JT0. 39,
CLEARFIELD, PA., WEDNESDAY, MAY 25, 1859.
"UEVEE SAY TAIL."
Keep pushing 'tis wiser
Thun sitting aside.
And dreaming and sighing;
And waiting tho tide;
In life's earnest battlo
They only prevail,
Who daily march onward
And never say fail.
With an eye ever open.
A tongue that's not dumb,
And a heart that will never
To sorrow succomb.
You'll battle and conquer.
Though thousands assail;
How strong and how mighty
Who never say fail
Ahead. then! keep pushing,
And elbow your way.
Unheeding the envious,
All agues that bray;
All obstacles vanish.
All enemies quail.
In the might of their wisdom
Who never say fail.
In Life's rosy morning.
In manhood's fair pride,
Let this lo your motto.
Your footsteps to guide ;
In storm or in sunshine.
AVhatevcr assail :
We'll onward and conquer,
And never say fail !
coprniniiT SEcrRF.n.l
CLEARFIELD COT-NT V:
. OB, REMINISCENCES OF THE PAST.
John Bel!, wc have said, was a bachelor.
From his diminutive size, he was familiarly
called "little Johnny Bell," and from some lie
received the sobriquet of "Demi-John." lie
commenced the clearing on the north side of
tho River, now owned and occupied by Abra
ham Snyder, Esq., near where the State road,
afterwards located from Huntingdon and in
tersecting the Milesburg & Le Buiufi" road at
Fackersville, crossed. When not stimulated
by drink, John was one of the mildest and
most amiable of men.- Occasional indulgence
led him into difficulties, in which were devel
oped traits that seemed to transform his char
acter. He was 'then irritable, revengeful, pru
dence guided not his actions, and he feared no
man and no danger. When a party of Indians
had crossed the river and encamped near
'Squire McClure's, on their passage from Hun
tingdon westward, John, in company with
some others in that section, paid them a visit.
The Indians were well supplied with liquor, of
which they ar.d their visitors partook freely.
One of the Indians, a large specimen of hu
mauity, being irritated at John, struck him a
blow between the cj-es. This incensed John's
companions, who caught rtic Indian, and, as a
punishment, tied him, intending to leave him
in that situation until he was sobered.- A lit
tle while after, John was not to be found,, and
the Indian was also missing. Fearing- that
some harm might have happened to John, his
companions mado search, am! found him on
the brink of the river, in which there was then
a freshet, and to which point "little Johnny"
liad succeeded in dragging the bound Indian.
When his companions asked him what he was
about, he replied that he was "going to roil
the enssed red-skin in, to be sure." At their
urgent solicitation, he, however, abandoned
his design. John, atone time, cut rather a
ludicrous figure. Whea at a review at Ben.
Jordan's, lie became somewhat obstroperous,
because Daniel McCracken, who was a power
ful man and the "recognized bu!ly' of the
county, met with a first defeat at the hands of
Abraham Hess, one of Johnny's friends walked
behind him, grasped him by either leg, raised
liim in the air, and seating him upon his shoul
ders, carried him off the field in triumph, to
tho no small amusement of the bystanders and
the chagrin, of our hero. On the occasion of
the turning of an ark, which in those days
could not be done by water power altfhe, he
had lain down alongside of a log, and not be
ing missed until the next morning, the cold
ness of the night had nearly brought to an end
his eventful career. Fortunately there was in
the neighborhood a man, well fitted for, and
an orrament to the profession which he had
adopted, who, finding how matters stood, when
lie reached the house, prdcred a barrel of warm
water to be immediately prepared, into which
Johnny was soused. This, with other reme
dies, soon restored his almost suspended ani
mation. Dr. Samuel Coleman was a man of ability.
Though eccentric in his "habits, which, as he
was taciturn and indisposed to take any one
Into his confidence, wero known to but few,
ho had a warm heart. Of his early history,
nothing is known. He was supposed to have
been the son of an'EnglisIi nobleman, who, for
some reason, did not acknowledge his pater
nity, but who provided the means to insure
him a superior, education and maintenance.
Coleman was never known to speak of his
birth-place, or bis parentage. He would some
times remark, "at the place where I was rais
ed, was done," and "the woman who raised
rnc, did," so and so. He practiced medicine
for some years at Williamsport, where be ac
quired considerable reputation. As he was
known by some of the early settlers, to whom
be had formed an attachment, he would occa
sionally, when bis services were needed, come
np here from his Lome, to minister to their
wants. Not liking the practice of medicine,
be removed here, and settled near the resi
st....,.., r his friend Joseph Boone, where he
cleared out the farm now in possession of
ThmH Donehcrty inPenn township.
called his farm "Grampian Hills," because of
the resemblance which his neighborhood 00 re
to those celebrated hills of Scotia; and this
has since given riso to the name of one of the
most thriving and productive agricultural set
tlements in the' county. Here Le labored with
his hands, gaining his bread "in tho sweat of
his face," and only visiting tho sick-bed when
his services were deemed indispensable. In
the earlier part'of his career, he was never
known to use profane language, and invaria
bly reproved the use of it by others. He
led a single life, and died at the early age of
forty years, on his farm, where it was his re
quest to be buried in the middle of a large
field, habited iu his best suit of clothes, in
cluding hat, boots and spurs, without a stono
to mark his resting place, and where the plow
might ever after move over his remains.
For a few years, tliere were no roads known
in the county, the River being tho only source
or communication. About the year 1800, an
Indian path, leading from Chinchaclamoose to
Milesburg was discovered, and this brought
the scltleis ic closer connection with a civil
ized community, from whom they could get
their necessary supplies. Paths served for a
few years lor the only means of land transpor
tation then known packing on the backs of
horses. Travelling along this path, Mrs. Lew
is, known by the later settlers as "Granny
Lathers," found her way to the bank of the
Susquehanna, where she settled at a place af
terwards used by A. B. Reed, Esq., for a
spring-house, which was destroyed by fire in
1S3G. Granny Lathers was probably the third
or fourth settler: Sho is represented as a mild
and kind old lady, who hid seen better days,
and was respectably connected in Cumberland
county, from whence she originally emigra
ted. She remained here until about the time
of the war, when she went to Bellefonte, there
married her third husband, named Stevens,
and removed to the Sinnemnhoning, where she
died. Mrs. Lewis was the mother of one well
known in the annals of crime. Her ton, Da
vid Lewis, after committing many de, rcda
tions, became the terror of those who traveled
on the thoroughfares leading from Eastern to
Western Pennsylvania. Clearfield county was
not the scene of any of his exploits; but it is
said that whilst remaining here, sheltered by
the paternal roof, he displayed that disposi
tion, which led him on to ruin. 1 1 is mother
and a neighbor, Mrs. Collins, had prepared
some stores of dried fruit, which were intend
ed for winter consumption, and locked them in
an old-fashioned sea-chest, which had a double
spring-lock, and the key of which was placed
in the custody of Mrs. Collins. When the
season had arrived, in which it was thought
that the use of the fruit would add a zest to
the meal, the old chest was unlocked and,'to
the utter amazement of the dames, not a ghost
of a plum was to be seen. How they had dis
appeared, remained a mystery until Mrs. Lew
is found, in the pockets of David, a wooden
key, which upon trial unlocked the chest.
The last exploit of Lewis, on the Seven
Mountains, in 1820, in company with Connelly
and McQuirc, which led to his capture and
death, was that of robbing the wagons of
Hammond & Pago, merchants of Bellefonte.
Steps were immediately taken to go in pur
suit of Lewis and his companious, who were
then supposed to be making their way to the
domicil of Lewis' mother, on the Sinncmaho.
ning. Jamos McGhee, who afterwards settled
near Chest creek it) this county, and was the
owner of the well known property, "McGhee's
Mills," headed a party, which consisted of
John Hammotidj Wm. Armor, Paul Lebo, Pe
ter Dysell and Joseph Butler, citizens of Belle
fonte. They stopped the first night at Kart
haus, where they obtained as a guide, "Andy
Walker," the great hunter of Bald Eagle.
William Hanna joined them at Karthatis, and
on starting the next morning, their company
was increased to eleven by the accession of
John Koons, Samuel Karncll and Peter Bodey.
On the 20th July, McGhee's party lost its way,
and during the night had to encamp; or, rath
er, roost, as they took to the trees. The next
morning, striking Trout Run, which empties
into Bennet's Branch, they followed it. Walk
er and Karnell started ahead of the rest to see
if Lewis had made his appearance at his mo
ther's, and finding that he had not, they re
joined the party,' crossed Driftwood Branch
that evening, opposite to Shepherd's, and
found upon inquiry that two men, answering
the description of Lewis and Connelly, bad
breakfasted there. The party, accompanied
by Shepherd, proceeded np tho Driftwood
Branch about 8 miles, when, not being satis
fied that they, were on the right track, the ma
jority proposed going further down and ma
king" inquiry of any ono whom they might
meet. About five miles below, they fell in
with a man named Brooks, who was engaged at
gigging, snd who informed them that Lewis
and another man. had passed that way. They
again ascended the Branch, in company with
Brooks, nntil they came within hearing of tho
robbers, who were then engaged shooting at a
mark. Brooks took the party to an eminence,
where, unobserved, they had a view of what
was going on. ' Finding it nseless to remain
secreted, McGhee and his followers approach
ed the worthy pair, who, when asked to sur
render, replied, "shoot and bo d-d, we will re
turn yonr -fire." Lewis was shot twice, bro't
to the ground, and then secured. Connelly,
trying to cflect an escape, reached the brink
of the stream, and, when in the act of plans-
ing in, was struck in the abdomen by a ball,
said to have' been fired by Dysell, which caus
ed his entrails to protrude, aiid resulted in his
death on the 2d of August, 1820, just after
the party reached the Big Island. Lewis was
conveyed to Bellefonte, where, refusing to
have his arm amputated, his wound mortified,
and he died on the 13th of August, and was
buried in the Baptist cemetry at Milesburg.
to be CONTINUED.)
WOULD YOU HAVE GOOD FRUIT 1
From the eai liest ages there has ever been
resting in the heart of mankind a desire for
good fruit indeed, the first thing that tempt
ed our first Parents was the sight of tho "for
bidden" apples which loaded that beautiful
tree in the garden of Eden ; and although the
results of that false step, on the part of her
who seemed so perfect in the eyes of Adam,
proved so disastrous, yet wc have no evidence
that the apples themselves caused any bad ef
fect ; but the curse was rather the "fruit of
disobedience." From that time it was de
creed that "by the sweat of his brow man
should earn his daily bread," anil that if he
would enjoy the good things of earth, it must
Ik; by an effort and the richer the reward, the
greater that effort.
If the husbandman wishes a good crop of
corn, how well he fits the ground, supplying
the lack of such fertilizers as are requisite ;
and how diligently he stirs the soil, that no
weeds may steal away the strength which the
coming crop needs. ..Now, if we would raise
a thrifty fruit tree, we must remember that
nothing either vegetable or animal over lived
without something to lite on. A fruit-tree
needs culture very much like a hill of corn.
Its energies must be derived from the soil a
bout it, and if we would nourish a tree wc
must not forget that the tree is to be supplied
by the fibrous roots out a little distance from
it, and not by direct application of fertilizers
to the collar of the tree, or in other words, the
trunk where the roots joiu. For if we do this,
the tree obtains the strength of the applica
tion too fast, which induces a rank growth,
rendering the tree more tender than when tho
roots supply it model ately as it needs suste
nance. It is always better to obtain trees which have
been grafted or budded when the seedlings
weie only a year old, as the stock and graft
being nearly of an age, grow equally last, and
consequently make a more durable tree.
There is a very common error practiced of
putting out - trees too old, as they can
not sustaina healthy growth in the nursery
alter a certain time. They should always be
in a thriving condition when transplanted.
Apples are more successful'wheii two to "four
years from graft pears and cherries one lo
three peaches one, and plums one to two. It
is the universal belief -of successful fruit
growers at the present day, that trees should
be invariably transplanted from a northern to
a southern locality ; for being more hardy than
native trees, tho .sudden changes of weather
affect them less ' unfavorably. Trees may be
shipped thousands of miles with perfect safe
ty if projerly packed, and it is better by tar
to be at the expense of getting choice varie
ties and lmrdy thrifty trees, though they cost
four times the price of a tree whieh after a few
years fails, or produces second-rate fruit.
We may wonder whether it will pay to raise
fruit ? Certainly it will. A farmer of West
ern New York, I understand, obtained last
season several hundred barrels of fine Baldwin
apples from a small orchard. In April last I
saw them selling in Philadelphia at one dollar
per peck. There is always a demand for good
fruit. Downing states that he knew of a large
family of children who were raised chiefly on
apple dumplings, and I verily believe that if
tliere was as much interest manifested in rais
ing good fruit as tliere is in raising children,
then those that do grow np would have rud
dier cheeks, and nurses would have less to say
about "squalling brats." Every farm should
have two or three hundred good fruit trees on
it, and I never have known an instance where
an orchard of well selected fruit, if properly
cared for, did not in the course of ten years
pay the owner over five hundred per cent, in
terest upon tho money invested. Get good
trees, good varieties ; set them out well; work
the ground with hoed crops for the first five or
six years, and you will not fail to have good
fruit. E.
Clearfield Co., May Ulh, 18-30.
WHY DON'T HE DO IT!
When the farmer knows that a gate is bet
ter, and, as a time and labor-saving fixture,
cheaper than a set of bars, and without call
ing on a carpenter he can himself make one ;
Why don't he do it 1
When he has no other fastenings to hi3 gates
and barn doors than a stcno rolled against
them, and in a single evening, alter supper, is
able to make a better one ; Why don't he do it f
Or when he sees the boards dropping from
his barns and out-buildings, and like heaps of
rubbish lying in piles about his premises, and
need only nailing on again; Why don't he
do it ?
Or if he is afraid of the expense of nails,
and is always crying up tho maxim of Dr.
Franklin, to "save pence and the pounds will
take caro of themselves," and he knows that
the same Dr. Franklin also said "niany men
are penny wise and pound foolish," and he is
not caretnl to think of the precept contained
in the latter ; Why don't he do it I
If it is a saving of nearly half the manure
of a farmer's stock by keeping them shut up
in yards, instead of running at large through
most of the winter ; Why don't he do it I
If he knows that many of his fields would
be greatly improved by ditching, and by the
removal of large stumps and stones ; JHiy don't
he do it
And when he knows that his pastures would
yield nearly double the feed if the bushes
were all cut and subdued ; Why don't he do it ?
And if he can add fifty per cent, to the
prodnct of his clover fields, and even his pas
tures by the use of gypsum; Why don't he
d0it? u u lx
If a farmer of fifty acres (as he should)
have use for a good corn sheller, and one of
the manv improved fanning mills, and has not
already obtained both ; Why don't he do it T
And if it is cheaper, actually cheaper, to
burn dry wood than green, and to use a stove
instead of an open fire-place ; Wny don't he do
itt ; -
If a man is happily married, his "rib" is
worth all the other bones in his Lody.
D0CT02IKGA PIG.
Mr. Michael Fagan is a very worthy repre
sentative from "Green Eiin," residing in a
small dwelling in a small village near Boston.
Michael is industrious and strives hard to turn
an honest penny to account, whenever, and
however, there may be the slightest prospect
of profit. Michael has a little patch of ground
behind his house, where he supports a few
ducks and chickens; and the freshest eggs in
the neighborhood can always be found on his
premises, for he never allows himself to bo
possessed of more than a single dozen at any
time before disposing of them. In addition
to his stock of jou!try, Michael purchased a
young pig, which after four mouths letting
and nursing, he prided himself upon exhibit
ing to his friends and acquaintances, as one
of the "swatcst and kindest cravthurs in the
wurld." -
But Michael's pig took sick, and from his
coughing and sneezing symptoms, it was cer
tainly evident that he had contracted a very
bad cold.
Close by the residence of this honest Hiber
nian, there dwells the village physician, a kind
hearted mau, and very skillful, whose practice
is none of the largest. As he came from his
house, a short time since, Michael stood at
his gate, ruminating upon the chances in favor
ot his favorite porker, and observing the doc
tor, he hailed him with: "The top uv the
mornin' to ye docthurf"
"Ah, Michael, how are you V
'It's very well I am meself docthnr but
perhaps ye'll be tellin' a poor man what he'd
be aft her, doiu' for his pig; ahone ! ahouc !
he's very sick, docthnr."
"Pig," exclaimed the doctor with a smile,
"what pig, Michael, and what's the matter
with him ?"
"Shure he's very bad indade, so he is. A
cowld, docthur, shneezin' and barkin the head
off him and divil blusht the thing 1 can do wid
him."
"Well, really, .Michael, I can't say, I'm not
a pig doctor!"
"Shure it's myself that knows that. But if
it was a goston instead uv tho darlin' craythur
what would I be afther doing wid him for the
cowld ho has V
"Well," continued the doctor, considerate
ly, "were it a child, Michael, perhaps I should
recommend a mustard poultice to his back,
and his feet pnt in hot water."
"It's meself that's obliged to yo, docthnr,
Iks dad I am," responded Mike, as the physi
cian passed along, and he entered his house.
"Biddy !" he added, addressing his wife,
'we'll cure the pig, so we will." In a short
time the porker Was invested in a strong mus
tard plaster from his tail to his ears. .Not
withstanding his struggles, and his wheezings
and torture from the action of the unyielding
plaster, a tub of almost boiling water was pre
pared, and into it poor piggy was soused a
bove his knees. The result may be easily con
ceived. .Next morning, bright and early, Michael
stood at the gate once more, awaiting the com
ing of the doctor, who soon made his appear
ance. "Good morning, Mike, how does the pig
come on?" ,
"O, be gorrah, do"-' .ur ! it was mighty
oncivil in ye to be tr ling a neighbor in that
way, so it was."
"Why, what is '"'.ic matter,what has happen
ed, Michael ?"
"Ilappen'd is i. I put the powltico on the
pig, so I did, an' Ve squealed murther, nn' be
dad it's no wondt for the wull roll'd oil his
back lrom head to Vul."
"What!" ,
'Didn't I put thU pig's feet in hot wathor
as ye tolwd me, an, .', j j ibers the hoofs tumbled
off uv him entirely
Poor Mike spoke ; ily. Through his ig
norance he had blisteiy i olT tho bristles, and
with the hot water he sValded H" poor grun
ter's feet. He died uniV r this double dose,
and though Michael has nyer since asked the
doctor upon similar matters,' he still insists
that it was "a mane thrick so it was."
Moral Suasion on a Ram. When a friend
of ours, whom we call Agricola, was a boy, he
lived on a farm in Berkshire county, the own
er ot which was troubled by his dog Woif.
The cur killed his shcep,knowing.pcrhaps,that
he was conscientiously opposed to capital
punishment, and he could devise no means to
prevent it. "I can break him of it," said
Asrricola," "if you will give mo leave."
"Thon art permitted," said the honest farmer;
and we will let Agricola tell the story in his
own words. "There was a ram on the farm,"
said Agricola, "as notorious for butting as
Wolf was for sheep stealing and who ? tood in
as much need of moral suasion as the dog. I
shut Wolf up in the t arn with this old fellow,
and the consequence was that the dog never
looked a sheep in the face again. The ram
broke every bone in his body, literally. Won
derfully uplifted was the ram aforesaid, by
his exploit ; his insolence became intolerable;
he was sure to pitch into whomsoever went
nigh him. 'I'll fix him,' said I, and so I did.
I rigged an iron crowbar out of a hole in the
barn, point foremost, and hung on old hat on
the end of it. You can't always tell, when
you see a hat, whether there is a head in it or
not ; how then should a ram ? Aries made at
it full butt, and being a good marksman from
long practice, the bar broke in between his
horns, and came out nnder his tail. This lit
tle admonition effectually cured him of butt-
ins
Eat rp bt their own Dogs. An old story
tells that Action, a famous hunter, kept many
hounds, and they ended by eating him np.
Actaion is an old name it is Greek, besides.
How many Acta;ons do you and I know men
ate up by their own dogs. I know men who
damage their body by their business, so do
you. Many more I know who break down
their conscience, their affection, their higher
manhood. Mechanics sicken of their craft,
painters have the lead colic ; tailors and
shoemakers are-pale and dyspeptic looking;
printers go off in consumption, whieh they
have caught from breathing ink and type-metal.
Is that the worst 1 I know men whoso
ambition, whose vanity, whose covetousncss,
has wronght them worse mischief a consump
tion of the mind, a numb palsy of the affec
tions, gout in tho conscience, a general dys
pepsia of their humanities- Theodore Parker.
The population of the United States, it is
said, increases one milliou a year, or about
two thousand seven bundred and thirty-nine
every day. -
W0XDEKS 0T THE MISSISSIPPI.
The difference of level between high and
low water mark at Cairo, is fifty feet ; at New
Orleans the difference is but twelve feet. The
width and depth ot the river from Cairo and
Memphis to New Orleaus is not materially
increased, yet immense additions are made to
the quantity of water in the channel by large
streams from both the eastern and western
sides of the Mississippi. The question natu
rally arises, What becomes of this vast added
volume of water It certainly never reaches
New Orleans, and as certainly does no evapo
rate ; and of course, it is not confined to the
chaunel of the river, for it would rise fara
bove the entire region south of us.
If a well is sunk anywhere in the Arkansas
bottom, water is found as soon as the water
level of the Mississippi is reached. When the
Mississippi goes down, the water sinks accor
dingly in the well. The owner of a saw mill,
some twenty miles from the Mississippi, in
Arkansas dug a well to supply tho boilers of
his'engine, during tho late flood. When the
water receded, his well went down till his hose
would no longer reach the water, and finally
his well was dry. He dug a ditch to an adja
cent lake, to let water into his well; the lake
was drained and the well was dry again hav
ing literally drank ten acres of water in less
than a week. The inference is,that the whole
Valley of the Mississippi, from its banks to
the highlands on either side, rests on a porous
substratum, which absorbs the redundant wa
ters, and thus prevents that degree of accu
mulation which would long since have swept
New Orleans into tho Gulf, but for this pro
vision of nature, to which alone her safety is
attributable.
The fact is, if the alluvial lnjttoms of the
Mississippi were like tho shores of the Ohio,
tho vast plain from Cairo to New Orleans
would to-day be part and parcel of the Gulf of
Mexico, and this whole valley a fresh water
arm of the sea. Were the geological charac
ter of the valley different, the construction of
levees, confining the water of the Mississippi
to its channel, would cause the rise in the
river to become so great at tho South that
there no sufficient levee could be built. The
current would be stronger and the accumula
tion of water greater as the levees are exten
ded north of us.
Such results were reasonably enough anti
cipated, but the water instead of brcakinj the
levees, permeates the porous soil, and the
overflow is really beneath tho surface of the
swamps. Such it seems to us, are the nise
provisions of natural laws for the safety and
ultimate reclamation of tho rich country south
of ns.
We belicvo that the levee system will be
successful, and that the object of its adoption
will be attained. The porosity of the materi
al used in making them, has caused most if
not all of the crevasses. Men may deem it a
superhuman task to wall in the Mississippi
from Cairo to New Orleans, but our levees are
the work of pigmies when contrasted with the
dykes of Holland. The flood tide of tho
Mississippi is but a ripple on the the surface
of a glassy pool, compared with the ocean
billows that dash against the artificial shores
of Holland. The country to bo reclaimed by our
levees all of which will not, for fifty years,
cost the people as much as those of the Dutch
when originally built would make one-hnn-dred
such kingdoms as that over which Bona
parte once wielded the sceptre. Memphis .1c
alanchc. HUGH MILLEE.
In reviewing Hugh Miller's Geologic Sketch
Book, just published in England and Scotland,
tho London Alhen-tcum s:iys :
Even-attentive reader of this volume n ill
be struck with the full hearted enjoyment
which this gifted wanderer must have felt in
tho scenery of his native land. While ordi
nary tourists roam there in search only of the
grand mountain range, or the dark defile, or
the blue and hill embosomed l ike, Hugh Mil
ler found equal interest in morasse and bogs,
sand-dunes, and igneous rocks. Not a stone
Out had its story for him not a stream but
to him its earlier history. When wearied
with bending down to the earth, he could look
up and admire the cloud laden sky, whether
the sun broke out with hasty glances, or dar
ted flashing across the unlovely moors, or lit
np some bosky recess, or revealed more strik-'
ingly tho rigidity of some abrupt clitf or iron
bound shore. There was no spot which did
not furuish something for his fancy, or facts
for his note book. Patches of brick clay
and boulder clay were searched for minute
shells ; moist, oozing masses of black lias
shale were lifted up for their accumulated or
ganisms; wayfaring men were questioned on
anything that might illustrate his scieuce ;
lonely bays and shores were trodden joyously
in searching for cuttle fish, and these were
dissected and described from eye to tail ; the
theory of tho ocean's level was discussed ;
black, cold marshes were probed for their nu
merous hazel nuts, showered down from for
gotten Yorests ; in fine those aspects of nature
which to common folks most forbidding, to
him were suggestive of fruitful fancies, and
replete with perpetual instructiou.
Such is the latest fruit of Miller's labors of
love, lor this 'volume appears appears to be
the topmost stone of his literary monument.
As such, it is finely chiselled and elaborately
ornamental. In closing the book, we cannot
avoid a retrospective glance at his glorious
career, and at its melancholy termination.
How, we say to ourselves, could such a man
turn aside into the regions of awful darkness 1
Richly gifted as ho was by natural endow
ments; well sustained as ho was by an adequate
income (for we nave learnt from one ot bis
most intimate friends what that income was),
fully supported by a religious faith in things
unseen, on which he could soar as' on an eagle's
pinion ; blessed with an amiable and accom
plished wife, as the preface to the present
volume proves; admired exceedingly by his
countrymen ; commanding roost attentive au
diences, and largely increasing readers how,
we say, could such a man wander into the re
gions of despair where no light is 1 This is
an inscrutable mystery, but it affords a solemn
lesson to writers ami readers. Let literary
men beware of overtasking their energies, and
let readcrs.too often thonghtless and thankless,
remember how finely strung,and how perilous
ly fragile are those delicate instruments from
which is elicited tho sweetest music and ever
nnforgotten melodies.
" X discovery has been mado by a modem
writer, that without a mouth a man coul i
neither eat, drink, bin the girls, . ncr cfcew
tobacco, . . - '
U5DES EHAIlf-WORK.
Overwork of tho brain, against which wo
bear so many people cry, and which we hear
so many cosy-looking men deplore very com
placently in their own persous, is not by a
good deal so dangerous as under-work of tho
brain, that rare and obscure calamity from
which nobody is supposed ever to suffer. Tho
Rev. Onesimus Howl drops his chin and ele
vates his eyes, upsets his digestion with excess
of tea and muffin, and supports, upon tho
doughy face ho thus acquires, a reputation
for great strain on the brains cansed by tho
outponring of a weekly pnddle of words. His
lriends labor to prop up his brain with added
piles of mutiin. Paler becomes his face and
more idiotic his expression, as ha lives from
New Year's-day to New Year's-day rattling s
bout in his empty head the tew ideas of other
men be has connived to borrow, and tranquil
ly claims all the sweets of indulgence on ac
count of the strain put upon his wits. Dr.
Porpice is wheeled about from house to housu
in his "brougham," and prescribes his cordials
and his mild aperients ; treats by help of w hat
knowledge gathered from a past generation
may happen to have grown into his habit of
practice, all the disease he sees; now and then
turns to a book when ho is puzzled, but more
commonly dozes after dinner. Yet very glad
ly does the doctor hear the talk about im
mense strain on his mind, large practice, great
responsibility, and the wondering that ono
Kor head can carry all he knows. He seldom
passes a day without having taken care to con
fide to somebody that be is overworked. Once
a week, indeed, if his practice bo large, be
may be forced into some effort to use his
brains ; but that he docs really exercise them
once a week, I am not certain. The lawyer
elevates his routine into a crush of brain
work. The author and tho merchant flatter
themselves, or account themselves flattered,
by an application to their labors also of the
same complimentary condolence. The truth
is, that hard work of the brain, taken alone
apart from grief and fears, from forced or vol
untary stinting of the body's need of food or
sleep, and the mind's need of social inter
course does infinitely more to prolong lift
and strengthen reason in the workers than to
cut or fray the thread of cither. Men break
down nnder the grind of want, under the strain
of a continuous denial to the body of its half-
a-dozen hours a day of sleep, its few necessary
pounds of wholesome food, and its occasional
exercise of tongue and legs. If an author
spends his whole life in his study, his mind
fails under the pressure of the solitary system.
If a great lawyer refuses himself month after
month the necessary fourth part of the day
for sleep, he wears his brain out, not by reple
tion of study, but by privation of something
else. Under all ordinary circumstances no
man who performs work for which he is com'
petent is called upon to deny himself the firsf
necessaries of life, except during short periods
of encroachment which occur to men in every
occupation, and which seldom are of long du
ration, and can almost invariably be followed
by a period of ease sufficient for recovery.
Healthy men, who have bed and board assured
them, while they can cat, sleep, stir, and bo
merry, will have sound minds, though they
work their brains all day, and provide them
for the other five or six hours with that light
employment which is the chief toil of Dr.
Porpice or the Rev. Onesimr.s.
A Striking Confirmation of ScRircrnE.
One of the most interesting of the monuments
of ancient Rome is the triumphal arch erected
to commemorate the conquest of Jerusalem
by Titus, who, after the destruction el tho
temple, made a triumphal march to Rome,
bringing with him a long train of captive Jews
and the spoils, among which were the sacred
vessels of the temple. This procession is
represented in the beautiful arch, which thus
furnishes an illustration of the Bible no wheru
else to be found, these being the only repre
sentations that exist of the sacred vessels, tho
table of the shew bread, tho golden candle
stick with its seven branches, and the silver
trumpets used by the priests to proclaim tb
year of Jubilee. The Roman Senate and peo
ple iittle thought, when erecting this monu
ment to a deified emperor, that they wero
erecting a monument to the true God in tho
verification of prophecy and divine history.
Not ine of the Jews of Rome of whom tbero
are about six thousand will even to this day
pass under the arch of Titus.although it spans
ono of the thoroughfares of the city ; tbey
shun it as a memorial of a subjugation of
their nation, which has never been retrieved,
and regard it with aversion.
The Ticiso. A name which is in every
one's mouth should be correctly pronounced.
The letters of the Italian language do not all
have the same sounds which they have in
English. The pronunciation of this name Is
Teechecno. It is a small river, connecting
the Lake of Maggiore with the Po, and has its
importance from its being the boundary be
tween Lombardy and Sardinia ; therefore tho
Austrians become invaders the moment they
pass to its western banfe.
The New York Tribune of Tuesday a-week,
says: Mr. Greeley left this city by the Erie
Railroad last evening, on his way to the Paci
fic States. We shall probably receive from .
Kansas the first letters of the scries he pro
poses to write during hisjonrticy. After Kan
sas he will visit the Pike's Faak country, Utah,
Carson Valley, California, and probably Ore
gon, returning by way of Arizona and tho
Southern Overland Mail route. Ho will be
absent about four months.
, Dan Kussel, the Union candidate lor Audi
tor in M!ssissippi, being called on for a speech,
began thus: "Fellow-citizens! -You, have
called on me for a few remarks. -I have none
to make. 1 have no prepared speech. 'Indeed,
lam no speaker. 1 do not desire to. be a
"speaker," I only want to be an "auditor."
An Irishman, says the PittsbmrK Post,
working on the canal, lately walked into the
water, and seeing a large., turtle, with head
and legs extended, retreated under great ex
citement, halloing to Ms companions that bo
badscenaboxfullofsnak.es. ,
There are three dangerous institutions in tb
world, viz: kicking colts, pretty calicof and
gunpowder, , t . 1
Politeness is' like an air-cushion ttef wsy
t nothing iu u;.but ,tt e?:ea ;jonr jgits "frcn.
Mli.iiy. .
. 1