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BY W. LEWIS.
COURT AFFAIRS.
NOVEIIIIIBEFL TERM 'ISM , .
TRIAL LIST.
FIRST WEER.
'John Brown vs Caleb Brown.
H. Mytingcr vs P. Livingston.
'J. Simpson Africa vs Daniel Flenner et al.
Hirst for Cal dwell vs Daniel Africa,
Hon. John Stewart vs Love & Smith.
D. Caldwell vs Dell 6- Crotsley.
Comth: for Bratton vs M. Crownover.
Joshua Johns vs Blair, Robison, 4 Co.
Horatio Trexier, 4 Co. vs J. 4- W. Saxton.
Thomas Clark's heirs vs Brison Clark.
Charles S. - Black vs D. MeMurtrie q. tam.
Adolphus Patterson vs John Doughenbcugh
Comth. for Kyler vs Robert Madden.
SECOND WEEK
George Jackson vs Sassaman's Ex'rs. et al.
Sterritt & Potter vs J. Alexander, Garnishee.
John Lee vs Joseph P. Moore.
Amos Potts vs James Neely.
S. Creek & Philipsburg I'-. Co. vs W. Graham
Waterman, Young ,S Co. vs John Jamis..n •
James Entrekin vs Brison Clark.
•
Grand Jurors.
Samuel Barr, farmer Jackson.
David Beck, Jr., farmer, Warriorsmark.
Samuel Book, farmer, Tell.
William Coleburn, farmer, Franklin.
John Carver, mechanic, Barree.
Jos. Cremer, mason, Clay, now Huntingdon
John Flenner, farmer ; Henderson,
Samuel Gregory' farmer, West.
Henry Horton, farmer, Tod.
John S. Isett, iron master, Franklin.
Richard Madden, farmer, Clay.
Berriamin McMahan, farmer, Barree.
William McLain, farmer, Dublin.
John B. Morrow, farmer, Tell.
James Neely, farmer, Dublin.
Henry Orlady, physician, West.
'Samuel Rolston. Warriorsmark.
John G. Stewart, carpenter, West.
William Sims, clerk, Franklin.
Samuel Stewart, drover, Jackson.
Andrew Wilson, farmer, West.
John S. Wilson, farmer, West.
Jonathan P. Doyle, Shirley.
David McGarvey, farmer, Shirley.
Traverse Jurors
FIRST WEEK
Thomas N. Barton, farmer, Shirley.
Samuel Beaver, farmer, Hopewell.
Jacob E. Bare, miller, Springfield.
George Cresswell, merchant, West.
James Duff, farmer, 'Jackson.
Henry Davis, blacksmith, West.
William Dowlan, farmer, Penn.
Adam rouse, farmer, Hopewell.
John Gehrett, Brady.
Charles Green, Esq., farmer, West.
Henry Garner, farmer, Walker.
Augustus Green, farmer, Clay.
Adam Heeter, farmer, Clay.
Thomas Hooper, farmer, Cromwell.
Thomas B. Hysk ill, farmer, Warriorsmark.
Adams Houch, farmer, Tod.
Asahel Flight, laborer, Huntingdon.
Samuel Harnish, farmer, Morris.
Jacob Hicks, farmer, Walker.
Samuel 'lsenberg, carpenter, Porter.
John Jamison, merchant, Dublin.
Daniel Knode, farmer, Porter.
Adam Keith, farmer, Tod.
James Long, farmer, Shirley,.
~James Lane, farmer, Cromwell.
James Lynn, mechanic, Springfield.
Joseph Mingle, farmer, Warriorsmark.
.John Mash, farmer, Jackson.
George Miller, farmer, West.
Reuben Massey, farmer, Barree.
!Robert Madden, merchant, Springfield.
Samuel Neff, farmer, Porter.
John Piper, farmer, Tod.
,John Reed, farmer, Hopewell.
•Henry Rhodes, farmer, Shirley.
Jonas Rudy, farmer, Barree.
Abraham Shaw, farmer, Union.
Abednego Stevens, merchant, Warriorsmark
Samuel Sharrer, farmer, Tell.
David Stevens, plasterer, Springfield.
Isaac Taylor, farmer, Dublin.
Walter C. Van Tries, clerk, Warriorsmark.
John Whitney, manager, Tod.
Simeon Wright, Esq., farmer, Union.
Isaac Yocum, farmer, Penn.
Lewis Knode, farmer, Porter.
John Bisbin, mason, Porter.
'Daniel Perghtal, farmer, Penn.
SECOND WEEK.
William Appleby, farmer, Dublin.
David Albright, milrer, Porter.
Henry Boyles, farmer, Penn.
Samuel Bell, farmer, Shirley.
Basil Devor, farmer, Cromwell.
John Eberly, farmer, West.
Jaime Fleming, farmer, Jackson.
Thomss Fisher, merchant, Huntingdon.
Samuel Garner, farmer, Penn.
JameS Hutchison, farmer, Henderson.
Samuel Harris; farmer, Penn.
Archibald Hutchison, farmer, Warriorsmark
Evans Jones, gentleman, Franklin.
William gritler, farmer, Warriorsmark.
Daniel Kyper, farmer, Walker.
Thomas Locke, laborer, Springfield.
John Long, merchant, Shirley.
John Murphey, shoemaker, West.
William Morgan, farmer, Warriorsmark.
James Morrow, farmer, Franklin.
Charles H. Miller, tanner, Huntingdon.
Joseph Marlin, farmer, Porter
George McCrum, Jr., farmer, Barree.
George W. McClain, farmer, Tod.
Jesse McClain, farmer, Tod.
James S. Oaks, farmer, Jackson.
Samuel Pheasant, farmer, Porter.
Andrew Smith, farmer, Union.
Martin Shank, farmer, Warriorsmark.
William Stewart, farmer, West.
Wm. B. Smith, farmer, Jackson.
Dorsey Silknitter, farmer, Barree.
Peter C. Swoope, Huningdon
George L. Travis, mechanic, Franklin.
Michael Ware, farmer, West.
William Hutchison farmer, Warriorsmark.
rpH E handsomest assortment of Dc - lanes, Per.
sian Cloth, Larilla Cloth, Beragc de Lanes,
Paramette Cloth, and all wool Merinocs, all
wool de lanes, of the best styles and selected
with the greatest care, for sale by
s. & W. SAXTON.
THE HUNTINGDON GLOBE, "The oldest inhabitant could not recognise
Per annum, in advance, $ 1 50 it now. Climbing up the .Redan which
" if if not paid in advance, 200 was fearfully cumbered with the dead, we
No paper discontinued until all arrearages witnessed the scene of the desperate attack
arc paid.
and defence, which cost both sides so much
A tailure to notify a discontinuance at the ex- blood. English dead, some of them scorched
piration of the term subscribed for will be con.:
sidcrod a new engagement. and blackened by the explosion and others
Terms of Advertising I lacerated beyond recognition. The quantity
1 ins. .2 ins. 3 ins
of broken gabions arid gun carriages here
:
25 37a 50 , was extraordinary; the ground was covered
50
75 1 00 i with them. The bomb proofs were the same
100 150 205!as in the Malakoff, and in one of them a
150 225 300 i music book was found, with a woman's name
3 ni. 6 rn. 12 i n.,- 1 i it, and a canary bird and vase of flowers
$3 00 $5 00 880.: re outside tht entrancie
..
500 800 120 0- „ -•
7 50 10 00 1 5 00 l An Indian Execution In Michigan--
900 14 00 23 001 Avenging the IVlurder---Horrible Cru
-15 00 25 00 38 00 elty.
Six lines or less,
1 siaare,l6 lines, brevier,
•) 41 1,1.
=
I square,
.6
3 ill
4 "
5 i.
10 "
" 25 00 40 00 60 00
Professional and Business Cards not exceed
ng 6 lines,one year, 4 00
Horrible Scenes Within Sebasto pol
From the Sebastopol correspondence of the
Londen Times;
"Of all the pictures of the horrors of war
which have been presented to the world the
hospital of Sebastopol presents the most hor
rible, heartrending, and revolting. It cannot
be described, and the imagination of a Fuseli
could not conceive anything at all like unto
it. How the poor human - body can be muti
lated and yet hold its soul within, when ev
ery limb is shattered, and every vein and ar
tery is pouring out the life stream, one might
study here at every step, and at the same
time wonder what little will kill. The buil
ding used as a hospital is one of the noble
piles inside the dock-yard wall, and is situa
ted in the centre of the row, at right angles
to the line of the Redan.
"The whole row was peculiarly exposed
to the action of shot and shell bounding over
the Redan, and to the missiles directed at the
Barrack Battery, and it bears in sides, roofs,
windows, and doors, frequent and destructive
proofs of the severity of the cannonade. En
tering one of these doors I beheld such a sight
as few men, thank God, have ever witnessed!
In a long low room, supported by square pil
lars,. melted at the top, and dimly lighted
through shattered and unglazed window
frames, lay the wounded Russians who had
been abandoned to our mercies by their gen
eral. The wounded did I say I No, but the,
dead, the rotten and festering corpses of the
soldiers, who were left to die in their extreme
agony untended, uncared for, packed as close
as they can be stowed, some on the floor, oth
ers on wretched trestles and bedsteads, or
pallets of straw, sopped and saturated with
blood, which oozed and trickled through upon
the boor, mingled with the droppings of cor
ruption.
"•With the roar of exploding fortresses in
their ears, with shell and shot forcing through
the roof - -d sides of the rooms in which they
..e roof and sides of the rooms
lay, with the crackling and hissing of fire
around them, these boor fellow's, who had
served their loving friends and master the
Czar but two well, were consigned to their
terrible fate. Many might have been saved
by ordinary care. Many lay, yet alive, with
maggots crawling about their wounds. Many
nearly mad by the scene around them, or
seeking escape from it in their extremest ag
ony, had rolled away under the beds, and
glared out on the heart-stricken--oh ! with
such looks. Many, with legs and arms bro
ken and twisted, the jagged splinters sticking
through the raw flesh, implored aid, water,
food, or pity, or, deprived of speech by the
approach of death, or by dreadful injuries on
the head and trunks, pointed to the lethal
spot.
"Many seemed bent alone on making their
peace with Heaven. The attitudes of some
were so hideously fantastic as to appal and
root one to the ground by a sort of dreadful
fascination. Could that bloody mass of clo
thing and white bones ever have been a hu
manbeing, or that burnt black mass of flesh
have ever been a human soul 3. It was fearful
to thirk what the answer must be. The bod
ies of numbers of men were swollen and
bloated to an incredible degree, and the fea
tures distended to a gigantic size, with eyes
protruding from the sockets, and the black
ened tongue lolling out of the mouth, com
pressed tightly by the teeth which had set
upon it in the death rattle, made one shudder
and reel round.
- "In the midst of one of these chambers of
horrors,—for there were many of them—
were found some living English soldiers, and
among them poor Captain Vaughan, of the
90th, who has since succumbed to his wounds.
I confess it was impossible for me to stand
the sight which horrified our most experien
ced surgeons—the deadly, clammy stench,
the smell of gangrened wounds, of corrupted
blood, of rotten flesh, were intolerable and
odious beyond endurance. But what must
the wounded have felt who were obliged to
endure all this, and who passed away with
out a hand to give them a cup of water, or a
voice to say one kindly word to them !
"Most of these men were wounded on
Saturday—many perhaps on the Friday be
fore ; indeed, it is impossible to say how long
they might have been there. In the hurry
of their retreat the Muscovites seem to have
carried in dead men to get them out of the
way, and to have put them upon pallets in
horrid mockery. So ~that this retreat was
secured the enemy cared hut little for the
wounded. On Monday only did they receive
those whom we sent out to them during a
brief armistice for the purpose, which was, I
believe, sought by ourselves, as our over
crowded hospitals could not contain, and our
overworked surgeons could not attend to, any
more. .
'The Great Redan was next visited. Such
a scene of wreck and ruin All the houses
behind it a mass of broken stones—a c lock
turret, with a shot right through the clock—
tl a pagoda in ruins—another clock tower with
all the clock destroysd save the dial, with
the words ‘Baiwise, Louden' thereon—cook
! houses, where human blood was running a
mong the utensils; in one place a shell had
lodged in the boiler and blown it and its
;
' contents, and probably its attendants, to
pieces; everywhere wreck and destruction.
This evidently was a beauquartior once.
HUNTINGDON, OCTOBER 81,- 1855.
The Clinton county (Michigan) Express
publishes the following and vouches for its
authenticity. It is certainly a curious his
tory :
In the different parts of Central Michigan
there are two tribes of Indians, the Ottawas
and Chippewas. They are friendly to each
other, and during the huntinc , season, fre
quently encamp near each other. In the fall
of 1853, a party of one tribe built their cab
ins on the banks of the Maple river, and a
party of the other tribe, about eighty in num
ber, encamped in what is now called the
town of Dallas. It. is unnecssary to speak of
their life in these camps—suffice it to say
that the days were spent in hunting, and the
nights in drinking "fire water" and carousing.
In one of the revels at the camp on Maple
river, an Indian, maddened by liquor, killed
his squaw, and to conceal the deed threw her
body upon the fire. Recovering from the
stupor of the revel, he saw the signs of his
guilt before him, and fearing the wrath of his
tribe, he fled towards the other encampment.
His absence was noticed—the charred re
mains of the poor squaw were found, and the
cry for blood was raised. The savages were
sour. upon his track—they pursued him into
the encampment of their neighbors—he was
found, apprehended, and in solemn council
doomed to the death which, in the stern old
Indian code, is reserved for those who shed
the blood of their kin. ft was a slow, tortu
ring, cruel death. A hatchet was put in the
victim's hands, he was led to a.larg,e log that
was hollow, and made to assist in fixing it
for his coffin. This was done by cutting in
to it some distance on the top, in two pla
ces, about the length of a man apart, then
slabbing off, and digging the hollow until
larger, so as to admit his body. This clone,
he was taken back and tied fast to a ti ee.—
Then they smoked aril drank the "fire wa
ter," and when evening came they kindled
fires around him, at some distance off, but
so that they would shine full upon him. And
now commenced the or g ies—they drank to
intoxication—they danced and sung in their
wild Indian manner, chanting the dirge of
the recreant brave. The arrow was fitted to
the bowstring; and ever and anon, with its
shrill twang, it sent a missile into the quiv
ering flesh of the homicide; and to heighten
his misery, they cut off his ears and nose.
Alternately drinking, dancing, beating
their rude drums arid shooting their arrows
into the victim, the night passed.
The next day was spent in sleeping and
eating, the victim meanwhile still bound to
the tree. What his reflections were, we of
course cannot tell, but he bore his punish
ment as a warrior should.
When night was closed around, it brought
his executioners to their work again. The
scene of the first night was re-enacied, and
so it was the next night, and the next, and so
on for a week. Seven long and weary days
did he stand there tortured with the most cru
el torture, before his proud head dropped up
on his breast, and his spirit left its clayey
tenement for the hunting grounds of the Great
Spirit. And when it did, they took the body,
wrapped it in a new clean blanket, and pla
ced it in the log coffin he had helped to hol
low.
They put his hunting knife by his ' side_
that he might have something to defend him
self on the way, his whiskey bottle that he
might cheer his spirits with a draught now
and then, and his tobacco and pipe that he
might smoke. Then they put on the cover,
drove down the stakes each side of the logs,
and filled up between them with logs and
brush. The-murdered squaw was avenged.
The camp was broken up, and the old still
ness and quiet once more reigned over the
forest spot where was consumated this sin
gular act of retributive justice.
Our informant has visited the spot often
since then--the log is still there with its
cover on, and beneath may be seen the skele
ton of the victim.
Mr. Clay's Successor in the Senate.
Senator Dixon, of Kentucky, formerly a
Clay Whig, but who, during the recent elec
tion in that State, addressed several Know
Nothing assemblages, announces in a recent
letter his determination hereafter to act with
the Democratic party of the Union. Mr.
Dixon is the successor of Henry Clay in the
United States Senate, and is a gentleman of
great weight of character and influence:
HENDERSON, Sept. 24, 1855.
GENTLEMEN :-I am in the receipt of your
favor of the 15th inst., requesting me to be
present and address a mass meeting of the
Democracy, to be held at Paducah on the
27th inst. You are right ir. supposing that
it is my intention to cooperate in future with
the Democratic party. The Whig party,
with which I have so long acted, has rto lon
ger a political existance. have no party
now but my country. To this I shall not
cease to be faithful. The American• party,
divided as it is into two great sectional par
ties, the one northern and the other southern,
can only injure where it would serve the
country; for, instead of strengthening the na
tional men of all parties, it can only divide
them in all the elections, when union and
concert of action are necessary to the very
salvation of the country. As far as I can
judge, the Democratic party, although weak
ened in the free States, is still national, and
still co-operates with the southern Democra
cy in opposition to the Abolitionists and Free
soilers of the north, who, to deOpoy the ineri-
tution of slavery, would tend the union as
sunder, and bury beneath the ruins of the
Constitution the liberties of the country.
I regret, gentlemen, that circumstances
over which I have no control will prevent
my being with you on the occasion alluded
to. I am very truly,
Your obedient servant,
ARCH. DIXON.
L. C. TRIMBLE, R. I. f. T WYMAN, and
others.
How They Plow at Agricultural Fairs,
The following good natured communica
tion to the _New York Tribune upon the sub
ject of plowing is quite interesting. We
ticet know what there may be to be said on the
other side, but in the matter of plowing we
rather like Mr. WARINGS idea of "running
his thing into the ground."
Srß—The old fogies are not all dead yet,
and this is how I know it. But first let me
explain my position ; it is all about a "plow
ing match" in which I was one of the com
petitors—the first premium being $B, and I
having received at this exhibition awards to
the amount of 5415, a diploma and a book, I
cannot be accused of pecuniary disappoint
ment. I write this for the benefit of farmers
in general, and old fogies in particular. Yes
terday being the day for the plowing match
of the Westchester County Society, at White
Plains, N. Y., I was on the ground with my
large plow, three heavy horses abreast, and
teamster. The lands, of one-eighth of an
acre each, having been laid out and our po
sitions selected, we started—there being two
other competitors with small plows and two
horse teams. The time allotted was an hour,
and the result was as follows : One man (Mr.
Van Wart, I believe,) plowed his land in
thirty-five minutes ; the depth of his furrow
was not more than five inches. The second
plowed his land, at about the same depth, in
about forty minutes ; I plowed my portion in
twenty-eight minutes, at an honest and uni
form depth of over ten inches. lam within
bounds in my figures, for I think that I plow
ed nearer a foot than ten inches deep, and
I think that five inches is a very lib
eral estimate for the others. When comple
ted my land lay at least eight inches higher
than that joining me ; showing clearly that I
had loosened more soil and left it lighter.--
The remarks that I heard as my furrows
were rolling up most gloriously were edify
ing—to antiquarian philosophers. These are
some of them: `.That fellow is a fool." "You
needn't tell me that it will do to bring that
dead land to the surface." "What-is he do
ing? Digging graves 1" etc. Of course there
were many who commended the work, and
my own neighbors testified to the good re
sultsof the same plowing (only much deeper,)
on my own farm, but perhaps a majority of
those present„ hooted at the idea of—what
Why, of plowing in a way that was impos
sible in the days of the "wooden bull-plows"
of their grand-fathers and incurable in their
traditional coarse.
I left my surface roughly broken up, while
the others were flatly turned upside down.--
Mine was in the best condition for the action
of the frost of winter and for immediate har
rowing. Theirs were simply samples of pa
rallel lines, which are more useful mathemati
cally than agriculturally. The next crop will
indicate my land in the middle of the field,
and will do more than any writing can do to
assert the force of scientific truths, even in
such every day business as farming. I leave
further discussion of the subject to the seed
' which Mr. Fisher may put on the land next
'spring.
I write the foregoing not for self laudation,
nor from any personal motive, but merely
that those who save files of the Tribune for
twenty-five years may see that a committee
of farmers in the county adjoining New York
awarded the third premium to the matt who
plowed his land over ten inches deep in twen
ty-eight minutes, and gave the first to those
who plowed less than one half as deep, and
required a longer time. My prize is a work
of .some kind on agriculture, and I herewith
publiely devote it to the "Committee on
Plowing," hoping that they will profit by
the instruction it may contain on the supject
of thoroughly disintegrating the soil to a
sufficient depth. I have no space to say why
I plowed no deeper at this time, but I wish
that those who doubt the expediency of such
plowing would come and see my corn, grown
on ground plowed fifteen inches deep, and
my Lirna beans, where my furrows averaged
more than eighteen inches in depth. They
can't beat it with five inch plowing.
G. E. WARING, JR.
Chappagau, N. Y., Sept. 29 1855.
Success in Life
It is the peculiar vice of our age and coun
try to put a false estimate on the mere acqui
sition of riches. Ido not undervalue either
wealth or the dilligence and enterprise so
often exercised in its attainment. I wonld
not say a word to throw doubt on the impor
tance of acquiring such a measure of this
world's goods as to render one independent,
and able to assist others. The young man
who thinks he may amuse or employ himself
as he sees fit, at the same time throwing the
buithen of his support on others, or leading
a precarious life, on the verge of debt and
bankruptcy, is a dishonor to his species. Rut
I assert that the too common mistake, which
makes men look upon the acquisition of a
fortune, or the having a fine and fashionable
house, as constituting success in life, is ex
tremely pernicious. Success in life corsists
in the proper and harmonious developement
of those faculties which God has given us.—
Now, we have faculties more important to
our welfare than that of making money—fac
ulties more conducive to our happiness, and
to our health of body and soul. There are
higher and better modes of activity than those
which are exhibited in multiplying dollars.
Men, can leave to their children a better pat
rirany than money; they can leave to them
the worth of a good example, good habits, a
religious faith, a true estimate of the desira
ble things of this life; resources of mind and
heart, which will shed sunshine on adversity,
and give a grace to prosperous fortune. "It
is not wealth which is deserving of homage,
but the virtues which a man exercises in the
slow pursuit of wealth—the abilities so cal-
led forth, the self-denials so imposed."
I have heard of two brothers, whose father
died leaving them five hundred dollars apiece.
"I will take this money, and make myself
a rich man," said Henry, the younger broth
er. "I will take this money, and make my
self a good man." said George, the
elder. Henry, who knew little beyond the
multiplication table, abandoned all thoughts
of going to school, and began by peddling, in
a small way, over the country. He was
shrewd, and quick to learn whatever he gave
his attention to; and he gave till his attention
to making money. He succeeded. In one
par his five hundred dollars had become a
thousand. In five years it had grown to be
twenty thousand; and at the age of fifty he
was worth a million. George remembered
the words of the wise man : "With all thy
gettings, get understanding." He spent
two-thirds of his money in going to school,
and acquiring a taste for solid knowledge.—
lle
then spent the remainder of his patrimony
in purchasing a few acres of laud in the
neighborhood of a thriving city. He resol
ved on being a farmer.
After the lapse of thirty-five years, the
two brothers met. It was at George's house.
A bright, vigorous, alert man was George,
though upwards of fifty-five years old. Hen
ry, though several years younger, was very
infirm. He had kept in his counting-room
long after the doctors had warned him to
give up business, and now he found himself
stricken in health beg and repair. But that
was not the worst. He was out of his ele
ment when not making money. George took
him into the library and show him a fine
collection of books. Poor Henry had never
cultivated a taste for reading. He looked
upon the books with no more interest than
he would have looked upon so many bricks.
George took him into his garden, but Henry
began to cough, and said he was afraid of
the east wind. When George pointed out to
him a beautiful elm, he only cried, "Pshaw !"
George took him into his greehonse and talk
ed with enthusiasm of some flowers, which
seemed to give the farmer great pleasure.—
Henry shrugged his shoulders an yawned,
saying, Ah ! I dont care for these things."
George asked him if he was fond of paintings
and engravings. "No, no ! Don't trouble
Yourself," said Henry, "I can't tell one daub
from another." "Well, you shall hear my '
daughter Edith play upon the piano; she is
no ordinary performer, I assure you." "Now,
don't brother—don't, if you love me I" said
Henry, beseechingly; "I never could endure
music." 'But what can Ido to amuse you?
take a ride?" "I am afraid of a horse. But,
if you will drive me carefully down to your
village Bank I will stop and have a chat
with the President." Poor Henry ! Alor.ey
was uppermost in his mind.
To it he had sacrificed every other good
thing. When, a few days afterward, he par
ted from- his farmer brother, he laid his hand
on his shoulder, and said, "George, you can
just support yourself comfortably on the in
terest of your money, and I have got enough
to buy up the whole of your town, bank and
all—and yet, your life has been a success,
and mine a dead failure !" Sad, but true
words.—Osborne.
Do it Yourselves, Boys
Do not ask the teacher, or some classmate
to solve that hard problem. Do it yourselves.
You might as well let them eat your dinner,
as "do your sums" for you. It is in study
ing, as in eating; he that does it gets the
benefit: and not he that sees it done. In al
most any school, I would give more for what
the teacher learns, than for what the best
scholar learns simply because the teacher is
compelled to solve all the hard problems,
and answer the questions of the lazy boys.
Do not ask him to parse the difficult words
or assist you in the performance of any of
your studies. Do it yourself. Never mind,
though they look as dark as Egypt. Don't
ask even a hint from any body. Try again.
Every trial increases your ability, and you
will finally succeed by dint of the very .wis
dom and strength gained• in the effor 1, even
though at first the problem was beyond your
skill. It is the study and not the answer that
really rewards your pains.
Look at that boy who has succeeded, after
six hours hard study, perhaps; how his large
eye is lit up with proud joy, as he marches
to his class. He treads like a conqueror.
And well he may. Last night his lamp
burned late, and this morning he waked at
dawn. Once or twice he nearly gave up.—
He had tried his last thought ; but a new
thought strikes him as he ponders the last
progress. He tries once more and succeeds ;
and now mark the air of conscious strength
with which he pronounces his demonstra
tion. His poor, weak s3hoolmate, who gave
up that same problem af:er his first feint tri
al, now looks up to him with something of
wonder, as a superior being. And he is su
perior. That problem lies there, a great gulf
between those boys who stood yesterday side
by side. They will never stand together as
equals again. The boy that did it for him
self has taken a stride upward, anti what is
better still, has gained strength to take other
and greater ones. The boy who waited to
see others do it, has lost buth strength and
courage, and is already looking for some good
excuse to give up school and study forever.
Conn. School Journal
TIIE LAST SNARE STORY.—The States
Rights Democrat, published at Elba, Alabama
narrates the following: "Two gentlmen were
lately in the woods, when their attention was
attracted by an uproarious noise of hogs.
Thinking that something uncommon was to
the spot, and found that the hogs had been in
a fight with a very large rattle snake. The
fight, from appearances, had been a long and
desperate one. The snake vas torn to pieces,
three hogs dead ; and a fourth dying. They
say thst, as the last hog would groan, the
snake would raise his head, being unable to
do anything else. The snake and fourth hog
soon died. They report that for thirty yards
around the grass and ground were torn up.
The snake was sir and a half or seven feet
long. The hogs, in the fight, had demolished
all the rsttles except two !"
VOL. ii, NO. 19.
Grant Thornburn on Tom Paine
k We select the following about the celebra
' ted author of the "Age of Reason," written
by the venerable Grant Thornburn, in March
I last, in the New York Observer.
I 1 will tell you the truth, as I shall stand
l before the Judge of all the earth in a few
months ; being now In my 83d year—a step
between me and death. To make the narra
tive plain, 1 must first say a few words about
William Carver, with whom.l.ll.r. Paine and
I boarded. From, my youth I liked Mr.
Paine's political writings ; and in my twen
tieth year was a prisoner in Erienburgh, for
reading and preaching his "Rights of Man."
I arrived in New York in June, 1794. A.
few weeks thereafter William Carver arrived
from England. He wrought a journeyman
blacksmith, in the same shop' with myself,
he making wrought (not cut) nails. Mr.
Paine and I boarded with Carver; hence our
intimacy. He, his wife and Mr. Paine were
natives of the same town in England. I of
ten sat with them on winter evenings, hear
ing them relate their youthful pranks and
deeds of riper years. Thus I learned hie
history from his cradle, traced him through
'life, and followed him to his grave in 1809.
We agreed on politics, and parted by natural
consent on the "Age of Reason," never in
anger.He married a respectable woman in
the town of Lowis. She died in eleven
months thereafter; a premature delivery from
brutal treatment. lie then married the
daughter of the collector of the port-of Low
is : after three years she obtained a „divorce
for like treatment. In 1773, while he held
an office in the custom house. (given him by
his fatherin-in-law,) he was detected in ta
king bribes from smugglers, and fled to
America. He was appointed Secretary
to the Secret Committee of the House of
Congress, and took the oath of office not!to
divulge their secrets. He broke his oath by
publishing in the Philadelphia Bulletin the
project of a secret mission to the court
of France by Silas Dean. He was summon
ed before Congress, acknowledged himself
the author, and was dismissed with disgrace.
[See the Journal of Congress of 1794 or 5.]
Ills treachery occasioned much trouble to
Congress, and in the court of Louis XVI,
and nearly frustrated the earning of Gen. La
fayette, with the French fleet and army.
Mr. Paine now went to Franca and was
chosen a member of the first Convention.—
For a time he helped Robespierre to establish
the freedom of the press, the liberty of speech
and the rights of conscience, by means of
the guillotine. Robespierre quarrelled with
Mr. Paine ; he was marked for the guillotine,
and escaped by a miracle. Mr. Jefferson
sent a frigate to bring home Mr Paine from
the hands of his enemies. He arrived in the
spring of 1802. I spoke with him in the
City Hotel, a few hours after his arrival. He
found letters urging him on to Washington.
A. feast was got ready, and those of like
thinking were invited.
Paine entered late, his face unwashed, his
face unshorn, and reeling like a drunken
man. A look of consternation shone forth
from every face, mirth ceased ; one by one
they went out, leaving Paine on his chair
fast asleep. Next day he received letters and
instructions to return to New York. When
Aaron Burr came back from Europe, whither
he had fled after his duel with Hamilton, he
kept his law office in Nassau street, near my
seed store. From him I obtained the ac
count as above stated.
Mr. Paine was absent eight or ten days.
Meantime the waiters spread abroad the fame
of his intemperate, slovenly and filthy hab
its. The City Hotel and every decent house
refused to board him. In this dilemma Wm.
Carver took him in.
Mr. Paine was a man of strong mind, and
having seen the gutters of Paris flooded with
blood, his company was very interesting
when snot under the influenCe of brandy. He
told me that when Louis XIV was comiemn
ed by the Convention to suffer death, each
member on voting was requested to state his
reasons. When it came to Mr. Paine, he
voted against his death. "I think, gentle
men," said Mr. Paine, "we are not making
war on the person of the king, as a mar.
We are contending for principle. Unfortu
nately for Louis, he was bout a king; he
could not help it. Let us banish him to
America, there he can do NO harm. Let us
spare his life and give him a sum of money
to live on." I think this is the bright "spot
in Paine's history. In consequence of his
very intemperate habits, he was shun
ned by the respectable portion of his friends,
many months before his death. He asked
permission from the Trustees of the Society
of Friends, to have his bones laid in their
burying ground ; they refused. He was
much hurt by their refusal. His father was
a member of the society of friends in -Eng
land. Paine died of delirium tremens. Mis
last words were, "Lord Jesus, help." He
was buried on his own farm, near New York.
Carver, his warm friend and admirer, assured
me that Mr. Paine drank two gallons, of
brandy per week, during the last three
months of his life. T. A. Emmet, one of
his executors, told me, when Mr. - Paine's af
fairs were all settled, a balance of $4OO re
mained for his relations in England.
CONSUMPTION or GoLn.--lt has been as
certained that in Birmingham, England, not
less than one thousand ounces of fine gold are
used weekly, equivalent to some $900,000
annually; and that the consumption of gold
leif in eight manufacturing towns to 584 oun
ces weekly. gur gilding metals by the elec
trotype and the water gliding processes not
less than 10,01)0 ounces of gold are required
annually. A recent English writer states the
consumption of gold and silver at Paris at
over 18 ; 000,000 of francs. At the present
time the conumption of fine gold and silver in
Europe and the United States is estimated at
500,000,000 annually.
A VENERABLE CLERGYNAN.—The Tennes
see Conference of the Methodist Episcopal
Church, South, met at Nashville on the 10th.
In addressing the candidates for the ministry,
the Rev. Joshua Soule, the senior Bishop,
said, that he had been fifty-six years in the
ministry.