r t
' ' f' Sjj llE' ct Sil S 1
II
i
i
j. TODD lilTCIIIASO.Y, Publlsbcr.
VOL. 1.
.iiAitta EXPItKSSLY KOIl "THE ALLEUH AXIA.V."
LIST O
Pjj.' 0 Has.
n.Mi is Creek,
r i'osr officcs.
Post jr.tsferr. Districts.
Joseph (Jraliam, Yoder.
Joseph .S Mardis, Riacklick.
Roiijaiuiti Winner, Carroll.
D.iul. Litzinger, Chest.
Joha J. Troxell, Washint'n.
Mrs. II. M'Cague, Ebensburg.
li.iac Thompson, White. "
Cirrolltowu.
f.'li-S StK'iag?,
).L,
L j.-.i.-V.ir,'.
i'.i i 'l'i.-i'jr,
; i.iitiin,
C'.i.-a Council,
IK-mlock,
Jaiiae.jiva,
I. r .:!.
Mia-.-.-.d i'oiat,
Mi:i-r r.
r.-:-,;i:u r.
ilji.-! 1.1 J,
S.. A i j.iitiu?,
j l ii i.i,
j a a.-raiil,
S ; a
Y.. j u?,
J. M. Christy,
Joseph Gill,
V.'.u. M Gough,
H. A. Bo ggs,
in. G wiuti.
Gallitzin.
Chest.
Washt'n.
Johnst'wu.
Loretto.
Conem'gh.
K. Wissinger,
A. Durbin,
Francis Clement,
An h ew J. Ftrra!
G U . li.nvui.ia,
Joseph .Mover,
e;c. ipr Coiir.id,
V. M Cl,1 -an
-Minister.
Conein'gh.
Susq'bau.
White.
ClearfiV.i.
Richland.
Washt'n.
Croyle.
Win. Murray,
Aoss .U. Gillespie
Washt'n.
.Vu.lrew Uock,
S'uiuierhill.
CIII 11C3IES, MIXISTCRS, &c.
yvt;Jv;'.-i i.i Rev. I. ll.vmusox, Pastor.
r.-? ::..:!' every Sabbath morning at 10
o .-b.-k. a id in tlie evening at 2 o'clock. Sab
tu:!i .::i.),A at 1 o'clock, 1. M. Prayer mett
ti'ery Thursday evening at G o'clock.
.'! r't .: J-ise.-.j,il C'lurch Rev. J. iHiNE,
r:.'i'.!...r in charge. Rev J. M. Smith. As-
'l: t- Pre-ichir.g every Sabbath, alternately
'. i u'cloi k in the morning, or 7 in the
g. Sabbath School at 'a o'clock, A. M.
meeting every Thursday evening at 7
tr.J.-i Tn:1rpenhntY.f. I.l. R. Powell,
P;i-:or. Preaching every Sabbath morning at
Ijocloek, and i:i the evening at G o'clock.
SSy.-iih School at I o'clock, P. M. Prayer
r.v:ing on the first Monday evening of each
an-.'i; aul oi every Tuesday, Thursdav
iuJ Friday evening, excepting the first week
i-i r.i'-h inonth.
(:ti.i-ic M'ihodiit Rev. Jouv Williams,
P-ii jr. Preaching every Sabbath evening at
: a-.d j o'clock. Sabbath School at 10 o'clock,
A. M. Prayer meeting every Friday evening
t: 7 o'clock. Sa:icty every Tuesday evening
tt o '. lock.
'.j:-.7'.Vj IUv. Wi. Lloyd. Pastor Proach
i:ia' very Sabbath morning ut 10 o'clock.
I' -c.'.:ir Jiiviiftt Rtv. Daviu Jenkins,
i'liior. I'rt'Tc'.jing every Sabbath eveniug at
: ..'c-'jck. Sabbath School at 1 o'clock, P. M.
C.r.U:tc I;Ev. M. J. Mitchell. Pastor.
c;rvi.;as tverv Sabbath morning at 10.4 o'clock
. ) . . , . . .
"J ":-iers ino Ciocx iu tue evening.
MAILS ARRIVE.
pv.-.r i, daily, at 12'. o'clock. A. M.
W.'eru, 1 V A. M.
MAILS CLOhK?
-'-n. d idy. at i: o'clock, A. M.
--rr.. ut " A. M.
r-x l'i.f "-I.t"I s fron Ilutb-r. Indiana. Srror.s
.1 arrive oa Tis.sd v aal Friday of
' ': ' -ic. 3 o'clock, P. M.
t,o;:i',li'i.-,; oa Mondays and Tlinrs-
" oV:-.;k, A. M.
rri. l":i-: y.:.iy fror.i N-.-wrnan's VilN. Car
r ' '. L :.. n. i'v,. M:;i.. ir and Friday of
- t :i o'clock, P. M.
i.be.i .burg on Tuesdays and Situr-
. . ..! T o'cioca. A. M.
' - i'o-.t Olice opra on Suudayt from &
,J ' . k. A. M.
WILM.j.iE SI'ATIUN.
"-r!i;.r.-"s Train, li.ivcs at P. 4a A
M.
.ii Tiaiu, " 8.4S P. M
' ;.. rc Train, " 8.24 P. M
V . Train, 10.00 A. M
F.i.-t '.ic., " cJ'j A. M
'(.i tut Cuum. l'rc.i lent, Hon. G-o.
:. II ir.tlugdou ; A iSo'.ialcs, GergeW.
c- lit- har t Jsmes, Jr.
, t;ru. Jo-.-jdi M'Donald.
' I'rot'.oTo -' ri. R.,l.-rt A. M'Cov.
t n- llscor.hr. Mi. liacl Iiassor.."
J ll'jii'.tr und i:?crJtr. John Sean-
llc,,'Tl P. Linton.
i' -'J SnjV. George C. K. Zahm.
' .:: .rn';. I'hilip S. Noon.
.,- ''7 (.'.unixiinv.rrs. John Rearer, Abel
' I' wi 1 T. Storm.
r ; i , Cmmii-iionert. George C. K. Zhm.
T to L''jM,ninhnrs. John S. Rhey.
' i-'f-r. John A. RIair.
Inus IHrertorr. William Palmer,
U-v.j O H..rro, lia.r i M'Guirc.
Jf-'itc Trruturrr. George C. K. Zahm.
,,JJr Ilt-ue Steward. James J. Kaylor.
' lf'J'ru'l'tr- Thomas M'ConnclI.
A 1 ' Rces J. Lloyd, Daniel Cobaugii.
(.1 :,
. . . .i .
t"-o,.r ictt;r Dougherty.
.yrn.t.-ndent of Common Schools. S.
urmick.
B.
Cni:si-Rc iiuk. oiticlrs.
fWrs of the Peace. David II. Roberts,
prison Kinkead.
i-tr3,s Andrew Lewis.
p . oun CV.,ri7.ViUiain Kittell, William K
Shn7' Vhrlrlcj Owens, J. C. Noon, Edward
(-r!. tli council. T. Litzinger.
1'1T?':ih Treasurer. C, eorge Gurley.
"yh .V.itter. William Davis.
j P s' Re"e S. Lloyd, John J. Llovd, Morris
"aa3, Thumns J. IHri?.
rt.tT, of School Board.
-Evan Morgan.
. viviiiifc iuriev.
Co"'cor.Gtorge Gurley,
J'oi-.ttichird TT Davis. '
yJ of ruction. JfMc. Evans
r'rT,or Johr. S. RhVr, Jolin J Evans-
Written for The Alleguamax.
Adds i ss to a "Misanthrope.
Wandering as fallen snow,
Where the wild myrtles grow,
Would I were not.
Life is a troubled dream,
1 urbid and restless stream
Gone aud forgot.
Loud roars the angry wave,
Parting it shows a grave,
Cheerless and deep ;
'Tis the bold sailor's tomb,
Where the "sea-flowers" bloom,
Wrapped iu his sleep.
There sleeps the fair-haired bride,
Where the blue waters glide,
Cotlinlcss. dead
Waves close the eye-lids now,
Sea-corals kiss the brow,
Kind friends instead.
Where the long shadows creep,
Where the dark cedars weep,
Low o'er the L'ru,
Graves, and pale marble white,
Lreak on my weary sight,
Where e'er I turn.
Earth is one lengthened bed,
For the white sheeted dead,
Lifeless and pale ;
Dorn, but to bud and Uoom,
Pule for the opening tomb
Is that the tale?
From the first feeble cry,
From the first opening eye,
O weary soul,
Has this life proved to thee,
What it is said to be
Naught but a "goal?"'
lias the dove's plaintive moan,
In the deep forest lone,
Said to thy heart, .
' Gather earth's blossoms fair,
Quick; for with passing air,
They will depart?"
Has the palm's glossy green,
Where the vine's fruit is seen,
But for a day,
Mocked thee, by fading soon,
''Neath the pale tropic moon
Fading away ?
Rack from the voicclt-ES tomb,
Come--, in the fathering gioom,
Thousands in one,
Of the wild thoughts that roll,
Fraiitic-like o' r the soul
Luc's
wo: k is dc ue.
O, could the thecte 1 dc.id
RIjc from their lowly bed,
What wcul l they tcil?
Ah ! we mu-,1 drop the vai!,
Know not the hidden tale,
Soul it i.t v. ell ;
ThAt e'en this troubled dream,
Dark as its wives may see 1.1,
Yet i.5 not e'er ;
How could your aching heart
Hear the dread ord, "depart,"
Forevermorc.
Earth's more than one vast bed.
For the pale sheeted dead,
'Ntath the white I'm
Look ! 'tis a goodly sod,
Fre-h from the hand of God,
Where'er you turn.
Danish the idle dream,
Catch the first sunny beam
Rreaks orer thy sky.
Life is our harvest-time,
Soon will its ending chime,
Come: we must die.
Low c'roops the cypress green,
Many the graves, I ween,
Of those we love ;
Reautcous is life to ir.e,
For, if like the troubled sea,
Rest is above.
Sweet are the flowers bright,
Calm the soft hush of night;
Who says "alone,"
When a kind Fathef's car
Lieudj each low prayer to hear
Answers each moan. Je.nnie.
Wedded Like. He cannot be an un
happy man who has the love and smile of
woman to accompany him in every depart
ment of life. The world may look dark
and cheerless without enemies may gath
er in his path hut when he returns tolas
fireside, and feels the tender love of wo
man he forjrets his cares and troubles, aud
is comparatively a happy man. He is only
half prepared for the journey of life who
is without a loving companion, who will
forsake him in no emergency who will di
vide his sorrows, increase his joys, lift the
veil from his heart, and throw sunshine
amid the scenej. Xo, that man cannot bo
miserable.
I WOULD RATIIER EE RIGHT THAN PRESIDENT. IIe.nry Clay.
EBENSBUIIG, PA., THURSDAY, MARCH
LOVE A.Xi WOLVES.
Oh, the glories of a sleigh-ride in the
sparkling, hracingair of a Canadian winter!
The sky clear and exhilarating keenly
bright, but with a different degree of lu
cility from that of a bright summer day.
Broad expanding plains the city receding
behind us, t;s th horses, leaping onward
to the music of the chiming bells, made for
the broad, boundless country. The lir for
ests are clasped in a shadowy, ghostly slum
ber. Far away on our right are those
pathless funereal groves where the wolves
congregate in hundred. To the lef 1 es
a ridge of hills sloping down to the river,
which is locked up in the iron manacles of
the Winter King, Ahead, and right be
fore us whither we are bound over waste
and plain, and clearing lies a snutrly
sheltered village, the head quarters of the
"lumberer" and the vnyuyrur. Our desti
nation is not quite so far.
This said destination is a broad ly-Fpread,
low-lying farmstead, with its almost num-
berle-
s out-liouses.
1
consisting
of cattle-
sheds and dairies, corn stores, roofings for
winter fodder, wood stacks, and other con
comitants surrounding the dwelling, all
palisaded by zig-zag fences, as so many
out-works to protect the comfortable cita
del. Within it, warm fires blaze and
sparkle from the huge and odorous logs
crackling on the broad, bounteous hearth.
Iu the great common chamber, raftered
and picturesOjUed as an antique gothic hall
ar3 warm hearts and flashing eyes. Jear
de 1 men and fair women are there lauch
ing maidens and strapping young hunters,
who had just shaken the snow off their furs
at the portals. Despite the stern, yet mu
sical baritone of the singing wind, as it
goes by, stinging cheeks, biting noses into
purple, and making the blood tingle, shouts
of mirth and laughter ri.-e above the bo
real blasts; and our leaping sleigh, fly
ing along, rather to the music of the
soft musical bells, is last, fast approaching
its terminus.
"In the meantime," asks the reader,
"who occupy this sleigh?" I hasten to
answer.
First, there was your humble servant,
the uarrator, Dick Harding, by name, but
a few months back from the banks of the
Isis, with the "bar" in propect. 1 add a
few to my personal items', llather good
looking; a lair shot ; can hit with wonder
ful vigor straight out from the shoulder ;
am five-feet-t ju and growing ; can plav
the liddle, a game of 1 !, and have the
temper .f an r.i.-l. I lttn u!le f a
party of
iu" "f-.r s
ad ciiturous sportsmen.
unething w
rt'.y ,f
Mexunder.
an J, with liimg-tucklc, spears, and ".-hooting
iron.." had dxae no incon.-iderab'.e ex
ecution among the denizens of the Cana
dian woods and sounding '-rapids," and
hunted the bear in his ou bold and pic
turesque fastness.
F.nough of myself. Xow for my com
panions. Nestling by my side, wrapped
up in rugs and warm furs, is Lota d'Ar
vjHe a bright-eyed, rosy-lipped, laughing
Canadian, as lovely a girl-woman of sev
enteen as glance of man ever rested com
placently upon. The Canadian mother
and the French f.vher were expressed in
iier name. Her playful lambent eyes had
exercised their sorcery upon me ere this;
and the modulation of a voice unequall
ed for its low, soft sweetness, completed
the young syren's triumph. This by the
way ; for we ha 1 exchanged no confidence
as yet on a subject very near my heart.
We were bound to a merry sleighing
party at Windy-gap Farm ostensibly to
a hunt upon a vast scale, Avhieh accounts
for my two rifljs and ammunition King in
the sleigh, and for the noble deer "hound,
the "individual" v ho had curled up his
great body at our feet, and aided to keep
them warm. I had known her brother
a young officer in the Canadian Rifles
Kad killed "bar" at the ".Salt-licks" with
him ; and met Lota and her family on board
a St. Lawrence steamer, and was now a
guest at their house, enjoying their frank
and bounteous hospitality.
"Hurrah !" Through the keen sonoro
us air, sleigh and horses bound along I
"Cling clank I" go the chiming bells.
"Crick crack 1" goes the long-thonged
whip, with a sharp, cheery significance.
3Iy "Madawaska Cariole," a sleigh which
is the perfection of locomotion, is not less
perfection than the fiery steeds, with their
sinews of elastic stcjl, which I drive.
Driving sleigh-tandem is the easiest
thing in the world, when you arevsrd to it.
I was a member of the "Tandem Club,"
and reckoned a crack hand, of course. I ex
ulted in my skill now, as I bore my rosy
companion through the air, and the whip
went "crick crack !" like a double-barrel
going off, and the sweet bells ang and
chimed. "Oh! sweet echoes of far dis
tant wedding-bells !" I thought and the
crisp snow was split and shattered into di
amonds under the grinding of the hoofs
and the attrition of ihe "runner ;" and
with an exhilaration I could not repress, 1
gave a vigorous "hurrah !" which convey
ed itself to Lota, wrapped up in moose
and bear-skins, and warm as toast. A
sweet, girlish laugh echoed my exultiug
shout. c
"You appear to enjoy this, Mr. Har
ding !" she said.
"If I don't." "Crick crack !" filled
up the hiatus. What a pair of beauties !
l'hocbus Apollo never drove th'-ir like
down the steeps of heaven ! The wily
Ithican never 'raised' sueli cattle when he
cleared the stables of Rhesus of his horses.
"Crick crack !" and the horses neigh and
toss their arching necks, and the bells are
chiming and tinkling, and the mad exult
ing rush uplifts one like wine.
I retnaik, to myself, that the sky has
deepened iuto an intense, still darkening
blue darkening with a strange, unearth
ly, tenebious inkiness, betokening a com
ing snow-storm. Xo matter -"Windy
ap" is right ahead, aud the welcome
lights will blaze out of the casements soon,
for the afternoon is wearing.
On we go but I do not see them jet;
and yet but no it's all right !
"Are you warm quite snug, dear Lo
ta !" said I, half turning to look at the
rosy, exquisite face peeping forth with so
much furtive coquetry from its encradem
iht of white cosy furs.
"Oh, so comfortable!" she answered
with a nestling movement, and a smile
which made my heart leap joyously up
ward. Rut my attention was called awaj to
the creeping, crepuscular inkiness of the
sky. It was light, yet not day-light, but
6Ac-light to coin a word; that wintry
hue of livid darkening steel, always the
precurser to a fierce change in the weath
er. This only made the long level plain
of snow gleam with a lustre the more
dazzling and iutense. I remarked this,
but with a momentarily and divided seuse.
I had never (familiar as we had grown,
and I was 'honest as the skin between
your brow,' as wa in fact) I had
never said ld.,tr Lota' before, and the
words were yet in mine ears like a sweet
old burthen. I. loved her with all my
heart and soul, but I never told it. I yearn
ed to tell her so now; but 1 thought it
scarcely fair not up to the mark of my
maiihotid to take what seemed an unfair
advantage c-f the protection I Wa ;uppo-cd
t. extend over lo r. I magnanimously re
solved to wait choking down the ord
but not long.
Meantime, 'Crick crack !' went tlo-
I.. - 1 r 1 .-11. 1
onig wiiip. ;:ni sun 'cl.nu c::;riu vcul
the chiming bells, and the hows bold on
with unabated pace j:nd splendid vig r.
but ici, h:id 'Wiml v-g ip' gone to nli
this time ? fir time was up, aud we should
be there by this.
"(iodiie-s !' exclaimed Lota, all at once,
"how strai:-e the sky looks : we shall have
more snow a heavy fall too."
"I fear so," I replied ; '-Lut nii.ijyort,;
we'll soon be out of it."
"We.ii re very long, I fancy," she con
tinued, reflectively ; "you have driven
there quicker than this before. Oh, Hea
ven !" she cried, with the suddenness of a
revelation, "can we have ff th- Ir-td; f '"'
The blank question harped with a hor
rible jar on my most vivid nerves. Now
or never was the time to be quite cool.
"Xo, I think not," I replied with assumed
carelessness; "we shall come to our laud
mark presently."
A clump of firs an old mill farther
on ; yes," she added, "I recollect; but we
should have passed them long ere this.
Oh, I fear we are lost!"
A cold chill seized me as I tacitly ad
mitted thatshe was in the right. I could
not account for my error, if such was the
case. I looked round the horizon, but
beheld no friendly sign; it was only a cir
cle gathering closer, and growing darker
the while.
Suddenly my brave deer-hound lifted
up his head, and uttered a low growl.
The horses gave a startled swerve just as
suddenly. A strange, lugubrious, but ap
palling sound came all at once from wind
ward, wailinglike a death-cry a prolonged,
a w f u 1 . groa n i ng d i scor d a n ce 1 vc r t h e w h i t e
gleaming snow; and then it died away.
Tlie horses halted, trembling; only the
shivering tinkle of the bells broke the
death silence that fell, like an eclipse over
all.
"What is that?" asked Lota, in a shud
dering whisper, as she clutched my arm.
I listened. "It is the wind sighing aud
dying away in the pine forest," I answered.
"And we do not go near the forest," she
said. "Hark ! there itis again. Oh, what
icliat can it be?"
Again the indescribably hideous aud lu
gubrious sound broke forth, clearer near
er. It increased ; it multiplied ; the hor
rible crescendo, howling, shrieking, and la
ving, was not that of the wind this time.
"Merciful God!" gasped Lota; "The
Wolves!" '
, J8G0.
1 never understood until that moment
what the concentrated essenre of literal
deadly horror might mean. I never exne-
iciieeo me stiock Letore, or since; and I
have, in my hunting excursions, faced my
danger and played out the game manfully,
lo have lost the way was terrible enough ;
but the wolves! and Lota! An instant
I was numb and dumb.
It was true, however. The severity of
the weather, the migration or scarcity of
the animals on which the.se unclean crea
tures preyed, had made their hunger a
raging, devouring madness. They "were
encroaching on civilized territory, and, los
ing their usual characteristic and craven
cowardice, were approachin g the habitations
of men, haunting village and settlement.
Yoe to those in their path ! As the in
fernal howl ros2 lingeringly again, the hor
ses darted away with a shrill neigh of fear,
and 1 guided them, beginning to recover
myself, in an opposite direction, while
"Terror," my nobie hound, stood up with
every fang bared, and every hair on end,
waiting for the enemy he had already
scented.
If my good horses had gone on so ad
mirably at first, they sped off now li ke arrows
from the bow ; for the madness of fear
added wings totheirspecd as thatof hunger
did to our panting pursuers. I was grow
ing cold ; Lota was pale but calm. I felt
proud of her, though it was certain that if
we escaped uot speedily the brutes woul 1
run us down, and then, horrors ofhorrors!
what a fate for her!
I had two rifles, a revolver, ammunition,
a spear and a wood-hatchet in the sleigh.
I conveyed my intentions to Lota. "Can
you load these weapons with those cartridg
es?" I asked.
"Yes," was the answer ; and she loaded
a "Fuller" and a "Mantou" with true
hunter's skill. I took one rifle looked
back the pack was increasing. I fired,
and Lota loaded; one after another fell, to
be devoured by their ravenous comrades;
and still the hores sped on.
Tlie accursed tilings were, fir all this,
g liningground. Doubts, fears, hopes, and
tremblings were at my heart as I turned
to the sweet girl whose life or death were
all in all to me, and said :
"Iota! if we die together, irmrmhrr
tit-tt I tnrrd ymi nftu but you! I tell YOU
now if I may never again."
"Kill ine fir-t," she whispered. "I hear
your words ; I echo t!. :u. You Lave wv
heart. Richard "
"Oh, L-ia! b . -t L, loved! what .1 mo
ment to e .ntess; and 1 ktlo'.V Hot if I feci
j :::.n or gI.:dno- in :."
''1 h t- are now no seen N between us,"
sail Lota, smiling; "take this rifle; give
me
Save
-the pistol ; one ki- Oh ! they eo:
me
liom them at a;.v cot.
I though! my e.n- would have split
3t
their ilrcadi'il veils, tor tliev
were now
out to surround us ; aud
thong 11 the hows hell bravely on. I
dreaded every instant that sheer terror
would paralyze I hem. It is scarcely pos
sible to conceive the unutterable horror
that was encircling us both ; young lovers
with beating hearts, forever, from that
hour, interchanged with each other.
With lolling tongues, eyes of flame, and
hoarse, tleep growls, they had ceased to
bay and howl : they were closing in upon
r.s. I remarked one huge monster in ad
vance of . the rest; his object evidently
being to leap into tlie sleigh from behind.
I fired, and miwd. him ! The next mo
ment his huge bulk caine scrambling over
the back ; his paws were on me ; his fiery
rueath on my cheeks; and I expected, as
I murmured a short prayer, to feel the
fangs of the abhorrent brute in my flesh.
A Hash ! a crash ! a gush tf blood and
the creature tumbled baekward, shot
through the neck, to the spine, by my
brave Lota ! Then I plied the hatchet,
and split skull after skull, while the sleigh
tore on ; but I was giving up all hope, and
turning round oh, Heaven ! to spare
my darling a more hideous fate, when
shot and shouts rang around, and troops
of dogs and hunters came swiftly to our
aid. and we were sit id !
Providence had directed the sleigh to
'Windy Cap ;'. our firing reached tlie hear
ing of our friends, and brought them out
in hot haste to aid us. We were saved ;
and as I bore her fainting form into the
hospitable hall, and clasped her tenderly
to my bosom, you may guess how sincere
was the gratitude I breathed iu silence to
Heaven.
It was the prelude to a wedding, which
occurred soou afterwards ; and you may
bo sure, I never forgot my fight with the
wolves, and how pluekily my noble Lota
backed me, or the somewhat original but
ajrojos mode in which "I Told my Love."
Wisdom from above, like the love
of Cod, passeth knowledge. Even those
who are best instructed, can stretch their
line but a little way iuto the unfathoma
ble depth.
tfpvo.JS2.oo pen Axxrsi.
,Mb' lSI.50 IX AUVAXCC.
Ucsnonsibliity of I'arcnts.
"Time was, when setting on thy leaf, a fly
Could shake thee to the root ; and tiiae has been
When temjjesa could not."
If to pilot a ship across the ocean be a
work of great responsibility, requiring
prudence and judgment, as well asknowf
edge and experience, much more is it to
such a work t guide an immortal sj irit
through the tumultuous sea of youthful
passion and childish impetuosity, and to
secure for it a safe passage through the
dangers and perils of manhood and old
age. A ship on the ocean may founder
and go to the bottom, and no one, per
haps, suffer a single pain, or breathe a
single sigh; but an immortal soul, wrecked
upon the shores of time, may spend an
eternity in sighs and groans, but they
eann-t undo the past, or rectify a single
mistake.
What the pilot is to the ship, the pa
rent is to the child. 'Ihe one conducts tha
frail bark far out to sea, beyoud the reach
of special dangers, and then surrenders his
charge into other hands. The other guides
a deathless spirit through the perils and
quicksands of childhood aud youth, and
then leaves it to the mercy of a treacher
ous world, to drift upon the tide of cir
cumstances, or to follow the bent of its
inclinations, given to it by parental train
ing and discipline. Though the parent
cannot insure a successful issue, yet he is
iu a great degree responsible for the future
career and fate of his child ; for it is ex
pressly commanded, "Train up a child in
the way he should go, and when he is old,
he will not depart from it." If, then, tho
words of the wise man are true, aud if tha
children do depart from the way they
sdiould go ; or rather, are never taught to
walk in it, and go down to destruction
and to e ternal death, whose fault Is it, if
it is not the parents' ?
Parents cannot be too deeply impressed
with the weight of responsibility which
presses upon thein, or of the imjxrUneo
of the early religious training of the im
mortal spirit entrusted to their care. Next
to their own salvation, there is no subject
of so great importance, or that should com
mand so much of their attention, their
time, their labor, as the spiritual nd in
tellectual education of their children. It
is their duty to train tbciu up f..r heaven
to fit them for usefulness in this world,
and for tlie enjoyment of the felicity
of the redeemed. This obligation is laid
upon them; and it is in their iower, in a
iiu-a.urt', so to d , else the injunction cf
the apotle had never been given them to
bring up their children in the nurtureand
admonition of the Lord. Yet how many
there are in every c mmunity, children
even of profe.-ning Christians, who, thro'
the negligence of their parents, or the
force of their evil example', or the want of
timely and judicious instruction, have
grown up in ignorance ; to become vicious,
profligate, aud wicked men ; a cause of
grief to their parents, and a source of
moral contagion to the wide circle of ac
quaintances in which they move. Many
parents there are who see these evils, and
charge them to their proper source, who
at tlie same time are little conscious that
the course which they arc pursuing with
their own children is tending to the sazno
result to profligacy and ruin.
Marvels eF the Mississippi. The
difference of level between high and low
water at Cairo is 53 feet. The" width and
depth of the river from Cairo and Mem
phis to New Orleans is not materially in
creased, yet immense additions are made
to the quantity of the water by large
streams from both. The question natu
rally arises, what becomes of this vast
adeled volume of water? It certainly
never reaches New Orleans, and as cer
tainly does not evaporate; and of course
it is confined to the channel of the river,
for it would rise far above the entire re
gion south of us. If a well is sunk any
where in the Arkansas bottom, water is
found as soon as the level of the Missis
sippi is reached. When the Mississippi
goes down, the water sinks accordingly in
the we ll. The owner of a saw-mill, soma
twenty miles from the Mississippi, in
Arkansas, dug a well to supply the boil
ers of his engine during the late flood.
When the waters receded, his well went
elown till his hose would no longer reach
the water, and finally his well wcut dry.
He dug a ditch to an adjacent lake, to let
water into his well ; the lake was drained,
and the well was dry again, having liter
ally drunk ten acres of water in less than
aSvcck.- The inference is, that the whohl
valley of the Mississippi, from its banks
to high lands on either side, rests on a
porous substratum, which absorbs the
redundant waters, and thus prevents that
degree of accumulation which would lon
since have swept New Orleans into the
Gulf but for this provision of nature, to
which alone hor safety in attributable.