===
.r....„
-c- t A ~' -
. ~ . „ ittr,, 41,1
?t.i.
- ~-,
.....
„.:
~...? ~,,,. [-,
.y.-...- ,
... e_ ,
. . ,
ft.t ... ..• ' \•;.".".,.%. .ir:e •
—'• -.-1.--- Niss.'x,.l-....2„, .' i1.. :,1'g,•. '..171 :' ''.4 z.:
•‘F ;•, , N, '4
'
..xr,t, Ti
' 1
, •••;11 . ,
-11.e 7e=" 4 `.4: 44-' 4 • 4. t C •
. ,
~,,, . :1 ) ;
~...
5'.. , f; '' . 44. f,,. ..7,i-A ,;./S: '.` .. ' 1F.4 , ::
' ',":i ,- 1 . •
•
gf. - P4 kr.-1: ~,,,, ~!1i.34,
.34, ~,5 4.4e. . . .''
* if? A, „
0-. -.41- ‘4) . '''',,,•: . 2 . ., '.---
L,.,:6::ii.;,:"..7. ..::..?:.. ••!• • r•`,..' • I,cf:' i 1 .1, :::,. ' 1 4. v
f ' , ...5• - "^ l'''
•.'
".... i sc.;,l
. :II . 1r. ,"4.1 : 4 :r .,... j r , ii. zi;;,,,
~7.,:6:f,...t.
, .
. -i l.l - ..• :n.. - .f.:
:. i,i;:.;
-4:' , „., ..„4:7,:,
\i'f , - - .. ,-,,., ::. ..,
!.... P
.., ,
. .....
• . ..,,
, Ir ' . • $..?..
..,.. , .
'''''" •• • .,t
::::
..
....I.l',
11.4 e,
•r,11,7 .1.. 7 77 : ?ft.... '^''''. . . t .... .. ' . o '. ' 11? ..i t
.., , ' "V.::i':. 1
..V .....r
-'
' .;;' -' ' ' ef ;5 ..
• :0
~ ::.,..-:
.....,,
1 .,..,. ,
: it. , ''''
•,,-..:,.
,
..,„:" ,_,.,41g . ,t. '';,''.`.-.. : 4, ,. C -&• ".%; i.. -..!;,•;,..",'...;;
~.... f........-, .
.141 , , •.,.'.i.: ~ ...4.
'
.-",x,., ~ ! ..1 7 . ;;;,- :;• . .7.,•
~.....„,,.
.. ~
~6... ~..„. ....;.,-,,, .i , .4
~... ...... -,,,r,
*.f.t.
a zo
I
. . ft r;. : ...: ::‘ ,..1 i .A.
...,„... ...:,...
~
~,
.: ,4,, 7/. 1 ,„,,
.....„ ..,..
,r,::,.71,. .!..f :x..
..: .....,.,
.., ....
...., i. ..!:,
... e ,...,...„.
....... ,;,,
... ,a,r .. .
'..:: .' . ..." , ' -. C...' :
.....„
, .
--,
...-.. Ae. -Z'7-'
':.:
~...4 . • ::?=T;.? .:r"'"
~......,, ~i•
al. -."•.. ...., •- ,, ,t ,
: 4. : ~
, ~.
*l ••;,•E •,.....75 I =r'
, .
a •••• ''
•••,.
. • . - • .:,7,:.•:...,
, " ••.:,
'..r,g;a:.,
t.
:. • ;
.• ... ; '
~ . ,
, i. , , , !.. ~t,,.,: ,W,..,.1 -; :','"4 4 ' , „ " : "..,%••.i. :.,., ~•••"' .
~•., • ~4•*; i•.,,,,.:....... ~,..; ... ....; :r. .t•
f-, ;.t.
N , • , ,
,L. -:' ,..-ob , •-,.;:.'"'••• ';..",:%. .•',..'
.‘'.5..5. - i:',.. 'Z - - r-r
-',....-:•': 5,.?6.1.,..,.,i...„
----.\-;„.-
...
:.,....,.
4
....
....i -...
BY W. LEWIS.
The Scientific American,
EMIEVENTEt ¶IEAR.
Splendid Engravings and Prizes.
r IHE Eleventh Annual Volume of this useful
publication commences on the 17th day of
september 1855.
The "Scientific American" is an Illustrated
Periodical, devoted chiefly to the promulgation
of information relating to the various Mechanic
and Chernic Arts, Industrial Manufactures, Ag
riculture, Patents, Inventions, Engineering,
Millwork, and all interests which the light of
Practical Science is calculated to advance.
Reports of U. S. Patents granted are also pub
lished every week, including Official Copies of
all the Patent Claims, together with news and
information upon thousands of other subjects.
The contributors to the Scientific American
are among the most eminent Scientific and prac
tical men of the times. The Editorial Depart
ment is universally acknowledged to be con
ducted with great ability, and to be distinguish
ed, not only tbr the excellence and truthfulness
of its discussions, and for the fearlessness with
Which error is combated and false theories arc
exploded.
Mechanics, Inventors, Engineers, Chemists,
Manufacturers, Agriculturalists, and people of
every professsion in life, will find the Scientific
American to be of great value in their respec
tive callings. Its counsels and suggestions will
save them hundreds of dollars annually, besides
affording them a continual source of knowl
edge, the experience of which is beyond pecu
niary estimate.
The Scientific American is published once a
Week , every number contains eight large quar
to pages, forming annually a complete and
splendid volume, illustrated with several hun
dred original engravings.
Specimen copies sent gratis.
TEILUS.—Single Subscriptions, $2 a year, or
$1 for six months. Five copies, for six months,
$4 ; fora year, $B.
For further Club rates and for statement of
the fourteen large Cash Prizes, offered by the
publishers,' see Scientific American.
Southern, Western and Canada money, or
post Office Stamps, taken at par for subserip.
Lions.
Letters should be directed (post paid) to
MUNN & CO.,
128 Fulton StLeet,New York
ID' Messrs. Munn & Co.. have been, for many
years extensively engaged in procuring patents
lOr new inventions, and will advise inventors,
without charge in regard to the novelty of their
improvements.
To Persons of t of Employment.
The lest "Boons for Agents.
Send for a few Copies and try them
among your Friends.
I°BERT SEALS publishes the following
popular illustrated works, and ibr the sa]i
of which he desires an active Agent in ever 3,
county of the United States. A small capital
of $2O or $25 only is required.
The most Elegant and Useful Volume of
the 'Year
Scars' Great Work on Russia. Ju•t pt:blish
d, an illustrated description of the Russian
Empire. Being a physical and political history
o f it s governments and provinces, productions,
resources, imperial government, commerce,
literature, educational means, religion, people,
manners, customs, antiquities, cte„ etc., from
the latest and most authentic sources. Em
bellished with about 200 engravings, and Maps
of European and Asiatic Russia. The whole
complete in one large octavo volume of about
700 pages, elegantly bound. Retail price $3.
Persona wishing to act as agents, and do a
safe business, can send for a specimen volume,
and a Subscription Book (price of both $3,25,
sent free of postage,) and obtain from one to
two hundred subscribers, to be delivered at a
pertain time to be agreed on, say in thirty or
forty days from the time of signing.
Also, a deeply interesting volume, entitled
Remarkaule Adventures of Celebrated
Persons," embracing the romantic incidents
and adventures in the lives of sovereigns, States
men, Generals princes, warriors travellers, ad
venturers voyagers, &c., eminent in the history
of Europe and America, including sketches of
over fifty celebrated heroic characters. Beau
tifully illustrated with numerous engravings.
1 vol. 400 pages, royal 12mo. cloth, gilt.—
Price, ..$1,25.
New Pictorial History of China and India—
comprising a description of those countries and
their inhabitants,--embracing the Historical
Events, Government, Religion, Education, Lan
guage, Literature, Arts Manufactures, Produc
tions, Commerce, and Manners and Customs of
the people, from the earliest period of authen
tic record to the present time. Illustrated with
200 engravings, 600 pages large octavo.—
Price $2,50.
New Pictorial Family Instructor, or Digest
of General Knowledge—Comprising a corn
plcte circle of useful and entertaining informa
tion. Designed for Families, Schools and Li
braries. Price $2,50.
"Pictorial History of the American Revolution.
A buok for every family in the Union ! It con
tains an account of the early history of the
Country, Constitution of the United States, a
Chronologicalmdex, &c. Several hundred en.
gravings. Price $2,00.
With a variety of other Pictorial works, of
such a moral and religious influence, that while
good men may safely engage in their circula.
tion, they will confer a public benefit, and re.
ceive a fair compensation for their labor.
To men of enterprise and tact, this business
offers an oppoitunity of profitable employment
seldom to be met with.
Persons wishin4 , to engage in their sale, will
receive promptly by mail, a Circular contain
ing full particulars, with "Directions to per
sons disposed to act as Agents." together with
terms on which thcy will be furnished, by ad.
dressing the subscriber, post paid.
ROBERT SEARS, Pußrastrmt, - -v
181, William . Street, New York.
Send for onc copy. —Single copies of the
above works will be carefully enveloped in stoct
paper, and forwarded at our risk and expense to
any post office in the United States, on the re.
ceipt of the retail prices.
SHER'S Ague powdees, just received and
_Li for sale by J. W. SAXTON
MI
THE 11UNTINGDON GLOBE,
Per annum, in advance, $1 50
if not paid in advance, 200
No paper discontinued until all arrearages
are paid.
A failure to notify a discontinuance at the es
piration of the term subscribed for will be con
sidered a new engagement.
Terms of Advertising
1 ins. 2 ins. 3 ins
Six lines or less, 25 37:1 50
1 square, l 6 lines, brevier, 50 75 100
2 4,4, 100 150 205
3 lt
2m. Gm. 12 m.
1 square, " $3 00 $5 00 $BOO
2 .‘ " 500 800 12 00
3 4. 4. " 750 10 00 15 00
4 "
5 " " 15 00 25 00 38 00
10 " " 25 00 40 00 60 00
Professional and Business Cards not exceed
ing 6 lines,one year, 4 OU
A. BAD SPECULATION ;
OR,
THE PARS STR.4NGER
CRA.PTER I
Angely, I am ruined—utterly ruin
ed !" exclaimed Robert Wilson to his young
and devoted wife.
Ruined ! why, Robert, what can have hap
pened 1 I thought you were doing so well
in your businessi" returned the wife, with
the deepest anxiety depicted upon her 'fair
features.
"And so I am, my love; but in an uulucky
moment, I embarked in a speculation which
has proved unfortunale, and every dollar I
possesss is bone."
"Why have you not told me of this be
fore Robert P 7
"I wished not to pain you, love."
"I fear you have•been imprudent ; nay, I
will not reproach you."
"I have hoped that until now I should be
able to redeem myself. By risking a few
hundred dollars I feel confident that I could
retrieve my losses, and come out bright
again ; but alas! I have not another dollar in
the world."
And the young husband looked anxiously
at his wife.
"What kind of speculation was it, Rob
ert 3" asked his wife. as a slight misgiving
crossed her confiding heart•
"0, it was a strictly business transaction,
rather complicated in its details, and f don't
think you would understand it if I explained
it," replied Robert.
1. am not so dull of comprehension, that I
cannot understand an ordinary business tran
saction."
"No, my dear, I know you would under
stand it better than ladies generally would,
but it is very intricate—very."
"I will not insist, Robert, upon knowing
anything you desire to conceal,' said Mrs.
Wilson, with a gentle reproach in her tone—
"but methinks a wile ought to know the oc
casion of her husband's sorrows."
"Forgive me, Angely," replied the hus
band, imprinting a tender kiss upon her lips ;
"forgive me and I will tell you all."
Nay, love, [ ask it not; I am satisfied now.
And is there no hope 1 0
"If I had two hundred dollars, I feel per
fectly confident that I should redeem my
self."
"fs there no tisk, Robert ?"
"I will be candid, Augely ; "there is some
risk.",
"[ will give you the money, Robert."
"My own true wife l"
This conversation occurred at the house of
a young New Yolk f,liopkeeper. He had
been married to a young, gentle-hearted girl
only a year before, during which period they
had lived in uninterrupted happiness.
The young wife had no suspicion that the
clouds of adversity were lowering over their
joyous home until her husband had commu
nicated the fact. For some weeks, however,
she had noticed that Robert was more than
usually dull. Once or twice a week he had
absented himself from her side in the evening
alleging that he had business demanding his
attention.
Angeline Wilson, at the time of her mar
riage, 'was the possessor of a small sum of
money, bequeathed to her by her father. It
had been settled upon her so that her husband
could not control it, and could spend no por
tion of it without her sanction.
The young shopkeeper's business had pros
pered beyond his most sanguine expectations,
so that his devoted wife, who would willing
ly have placed her little fortune in his hands,
saw no occasion to withdraw it from her un
cle, in whose hands it was not only deemed
to be safely invested, but was producing a
handsome interest. •
Robert Wilson was a whole-souled young
man, without a selfish thought in his compo
sition. He had married Angelina for herself
alone, and had hardly bestowal a thought
upon her portion.
But the "bad speculation" had worried him
exceedingly. All the ready money he could
command had been exhausted, and in his ex
tremity, the thought hdd oecerred to him that
his wife could supply his wants. The idea
of asking her Tor relief, was, to a man of his
high-strung temperament, so highly repug
nant, that he only had the courage to hint at
the service she might render him.
CHAPTER II
With the money in his pocket, which
Angely had procured for him, Robert Wilson
hastened down Broadway. At the corner of
Park Place he paused, and cast a furtive
glance around him, evidently much agitated.
He thought of his loving wife at home.
He had deceived her; and his conscience
smote him. She was all love and gentleness,
and sincerity, and confidence, and he had
basely deceived her.
Should he not return, throw himself at her
feet, and beg her forgiveness? Such a course
was certainly the most grateful to his erring,
_penitent soul; but he had made a "bad specu
lation," and while there was hope of retriev
ing himself, the demon of mammon within
prompted him to sin again.
150 225 300
" 900 14 00 23 00
HUNTINGDON, NOVEMBER 28, 1855,
Turning down Park Place, he entered one
of those gambling hells, which are the curse
of enlightened America. Again he paused
on the steps of the magnificent establishment,
to silence the upbraiding of his conscience.
The beautiful, loving expression of his wife,
mguishing away the tedious hours of his
absence in lonely misery, haunted him.
But the usual consolation, the oft-repeated
resolution of the errin g soul: Only this time,
and then I will forever abandon the way of
the transgressor," came to urge him or..
By the gas light in the street, he observed
a dark fotm, closely muffled in the ample
folds bf a Spanish cloak, approaching the spot
where he stood. The stranger paused by his
side, glanced intently at him, and then enter
ed the saloon!
He followed him; the hall flashed with bril
liant lights, and the gay and fashionable of
the metropolis thronged the scene. Men
smiled as though the place was not the gate
of hell itself. The old and respectable of the
bar and forum, and tire exchange, where
countenancing, by their presence and exem
ple, the iniquity practised within those gilded
walls.
Robert Wilson shuddered as he entered the
saloon. Yet why should he shrink from a
scene, in which the respectable men of the
community hesitated not to mingle?
Poor, simple, young man! his soul had not
yet come to believe that wealth, station, and
the honors of the world can sanctify sin and
hollow iniquity.
In art unguarded hour he. had been lured
into a "den of thieves," by a man of good
standing in society—the importer from whom
he purchased many of his goods, and who
held his notes in payment of them.
He had hazarded a few dollars, though his
conscience smote him all the while. He
-won; he was in the hands of those who were
experienced in the manageZent of unsuspect
ing dupes. He went away with his pockets
well lined with the fruits of his unhallowed
gains.
Inflated by the ambition to become sudden
ly rich, he went again, and again he won.
The devil lured him on. With a firm
resolution to abandon these visits when he
should have added the gains of *one more
night to his previous accumulation, he went
a third time. Tf he succeeded on this occa
sion as he had on the two, previous nights, he
should be able to pay the only note he owed.
The prospect of freeing himself entirely from
debt, suddenly and without labor, tempted
him to engage once more in the exciting
game.
But the gamblers had permitted him to run
the whole length of his rope. On the third
night he lost—lost all he had before won!
All his fine fancies were thus dashed to the
ground. But the hope of freeing himself
from debt, had taken strong hold of his imagi
nation, and he could not so easily resign it.
Again he went, trusting that the chances
of the game would again favor him—again
and again he went, till all his available
'means were sacrificed. The gain biers adroit
ly permitted him to win a few dollars occa
sionally, and thus his hopes were kept buoy
ant-
All were gone, but the passion of gaming
had gained intensely as his worldly goods
had melted away.
Uneasily he strolled among the gambling
tables, now pausing to glance an instant at
the game, and then hurrying nervously on
again.
He had two hundred dollars in his pocket
and—humilliating reflection)—it had been
given by his wife. He must be careful of it;
he could hope for no more.
As he paced the gaily thronged hall he dis
covered the dark-looking stranger, who had
confronted him at the entrance of the saloon,
alone, at one of the marble tables.
The eye of the dark being suddenly rested
sharply upon him. It was a dark, deeply,
expressive blue eye—it seemed not unfamiliar
to him. The glance=he knew not why—,.
riveted him to the spot, and he stead trmen
lously gazing at the stranger.
The complexion of the myster ions person
age was decidedly white. His beard, Jet
black, entirely covered the sides and lower
part of the face, even to the contour of the
mouth. It was very long and curled grace
fully down the chin. Over his head he wore
a cap, from beneath which long, black, glossy
curls floated down over his coat collar. In
stature he was below the medium size.
CHATTER 111.
"Play 1" Said the strancrer, in a low, gut
tural voice, not unmingled with softness.
Robert Wilson involuntarily seated himself
opposite the dark being.
With his gloved hand the stranger placeed
a fifty dollar bill on the table.
"Highest wins," said he laconically, as he
pushed the dice-box over to Robert.
This was certainly an irregular method of
proceeding-7-but it was simple, and in this:
respect was preferable to him, so he placed a
corresponding amount by the side of it.
Robert shook the dice, and cast them upon
the table.
"Twelve," said the stranger, as he shook
up the box and made his throw.
"Eighteen," continued he, sweeping stakes
from the table.
The next throw Robert won. The stake
was doubled; he won again. Maddened by
excitement he placed all the money he had
on the table. The dark-visaged stranger,
without moving a muscle of his brow, cov
ered it.
At one fell swoop Robert was penniless
again !
Rising from the table in a paroxysm of
disappointment, he was about to rush from
the scene.
"Stay 1" said the stranger.
"I have not a dollar," replied Robert, bit
terly.
"Your watch."
"No," replied Robert, firmly, "it is my
wife's."
"Your luck will change again."
The young man hesitated.
"Sure to change," continued the stranger.
With a desperate effort, Robert drew the
watch from his pocket.
"Seventy-five dollars," said he, tremulously.
The stranger placed the amount on the ta
ble.
The dice descended—Robert won !
For several successive throws he won ; but
staking all, again he was once more penni
less.
The watch was put down again,--it was
lost ! Robert was in despair.
"You have a wife?" said the stranger.
"I have—God forgive me !" replied the
ruined husband, in a burst of bitterness.
"Of course, you love her not, or you would
not be here," continued the stranger, care
lessly.
"I do love her—as I love my own soul !"
exclaimed Robert, perplexed by the singular
turn the conversation had takent
The character of the professional gambler
was too well known to him, not to suspect
that the dark stranger had some object in
view in these inquiries. Those fearless tales
of gamblers who have staked money against
the honor of a wife, flashed across his mind,
and he shuddered to think how near he stood
to the fatal precipice, which might hurl him,
in his madness, into deeper dishonor.
"You would have her know what you have
done?" said the stranger calmly.
"Not for the world."
"Then play again; your chance is good."
"I have not a shilling."
"I will lend you."
"On what security ?" asked Robert, trem
bling for the answer.
Mortgage me your stock of goods."
"You know me, then r
"No; you are a shop-keeper."
"1 will."
The stranger threw him three hundred dol
lars.
In ten minutes it was all lost I
"The mortgage," said the dark being.
"Can we make it here?." said Robert, over
whelmed with anguish.
"No; I will go to yout, house."
"Impossible! not for the world.'
"But I will!" sa.4d the stranger, sternly.
"By fleaven, you shall not !"
"Hist ! you shall be exposed."
Robert was obliged to consent, and borne
down by the terrible agony that preyed upon
him, he conducted his mystelious compan,
ion to his once happy home. The clock
struck eleven as they entered.
"Your wife is not at home," said the stran-
ger. •
Robert was surprised to find that Angely
was not in her accustomed seat by the fire.
Full of painful misgivings, why, he knew
not, he hastened to her apartment to see if
she had retired; there was no trace of her to
• be discovered.
Returning to the sitting-room, he found
the strange gambler seated by the fire, in
tently poring over the pages of a book he
had taken from the centre-table.
"Left you, I should say ; woman are so
tame," replied the stranger, sternly.
"Left me! no!" exclaimed Rohe' t, casting
himself into a chair, and venting deep groans,
the anguish of his soul.
"The mortgage," continued the stranger,
sharply.
"1 will write it in my room" replied the
young man, leaving the apartment.
Wiping away the tears which coursed in
great drops down his haggard cheeks, he
picked out a blank mortgage from his papers,
and proceeded to fill it out. The task com
pleted, he turned to the sitting-room.
As he opened the door, he started back
with astonishment at beholding Angely seat
ed by the grate, reading the last number of
Harper !
"Why, Robert, I did not know you had got
home," said she, rising and placing a chair
before the fire where his slippers lay, ready
for him to put his feet into.
The dark stranger was not there.
" What is the matter with you, Robert,
how strangely you appear," continued his
wife.
"Do I !" and looked round him in wild
amazement. Where was the stranger ?
"I did not know you were here, Angely,"
stammered lie.
"I have been out awhile, this evening; but
I came in just as the clock struck eleven."
"So did i," answered he, more confused
than before. "Where is Mr. —, the gen
tleman who came home with me '?-"
"I have not seen any gentleman."
"1 came in at eleven with ---- 23
s'What time is it now, Robert 1"
The watch—his wife's watch—it was
gone !
"Your watch—l . left--e"
"I have it; it is half-past eleven," said An,
gely, taking the watch from her pocket.
"What is the matter with you, Robert?
you are crazy, I should say.
"That watch"—Robert paused.
"Well," said Angely, beginning to wear a
mysterious, mischievous look, "how goes
your speculation ?"
"Badly, my dear," replied Robert, with a
look of wonder.
"What paper have you in your hand'?"
"Nothing—that is—l will put it in my
secretary," and he left the room to get the ug
ly document out of the way.
He was not absent more .than five min
utes, bet when he returned the dark stranger
of the gambling hell sat at the fire.
Robert began to think he was dealing with
the devil.
"The mortgage," said the stranger, in his
low, deep tones.
"Who are you, sir 'I man or devil--.-who
are you ?" exclaimed the bewildered young
man, rushing toward the dark form.
But before he could reach it, the form
shook off the cloak, and the whiskers and the
wig, and his WIFE stood before him !
The spell was dissolved. He understood
it all.
"Are you cured, Robert," said she, smiling
mischievously. And thee. using the deep
tones of the dark stranger, she continued :
"You have a wife; of course, you love her
not, or you would not be here. Ah, Robert,
that alone saved you • you confessed your
love even in your gambling hell. In making
haste to be rich, you have been led astray.
But I forgive you, Robert," and the gentle
hearted wife twined her arms around his neek,
and kissed his check.
"Always forgiving as the spirit of mercy,
I do not deserve your forgiveness, Angely."
A Grievous National Wickedness.
When we consider how happy we are in
this country, how abundantly supplied with
all the means and resources that contribute to
sustenance, how well taken care of at home,
how respectable abroad, how fortunate in our
State and municipal governments, and how
united as one people by the Constitution
which was formed by the patriots and sages
of better days—when we remember these
things, how we marvel at the great wicked
ness of those vile fanatics and unprincipled
demagogues who disturb our peace and men
ance our Union on account of of the negroes
of the .South ! Their inquiry is great and
crying. These incendiaries do not complain
of any burdens imposed on them, of any op
pressions by which they are crushed, but they
complain that negroes, whom their very ac
cestor s brought here and sold to Southern
men, are held in servitude: negroes, who, in
the main, are contented with their lot, and
abhor an Abolitionist as they do an evil
spirit.
If these men who are seeking to break
down all our institutions, and dissolve our
Union, because of the bondage of the African
race, were actuated by humanity, there
would be some excuse for them. But hu
manity has nothing to do with ther move
ments. They maltreat and oppress the free
negroe among them, and leave them_to wal
low in the mire of degredation, and to perish
in the pangs of hunger. The very negroes
that they steal, and make heroes of, are cast ,
aside the moment they cease to be novelties.
When we calmly contemplate the wanton
mischief that these men cause, the agitation
they get up, the sectional antagonism they
cause, and the great perils that they . menace
us with, we wonder at the great wickedness
qf man. Surely if great crimes call for great
punishments, their punishment, like that of
Cain, will be more than they can bear. May
the curse fall on them, and not on the coun
try.—Washn. Sentinel.
AGE.- But few men die of old age. Al
most all die of disappointment, passional,
mental, or bodily toil or accident. The pas
sions kill men sometimes, even suddenly.
The common expression, "choked willi pas
sion," has little exaggeration in it ; for even
though not suddenly fatal, strong passions
shorten life. Strong bodied men often die
young—weak men live longer than the
strong, for the strong use their strength, and
the weak have none to use. The latter take
care of themselves, the former do not. As it
is with the body, so it is with the mind and
temper. The strong are apt to break down,
or like the candle to run; the weak burn out.
The inferior animals, which live, in general,
regular and temperate lives, have generally
their prescribed term of years. The horse
lives 25 years ; the ox 15 or 20 ; the lion
about 20 ; the dog 10 to 12 ; the rabbit 8 ;
the guinea pig 6to 7 years. These numbers
all bear a similar proportion to the time the
animal takes to grow to its full size.
When the cartillginous parts of the bone
become ossified the bones cease to grow.
This takes place in a man at about twenty
years on the average; in the camel at eight :
in the horse at five; in the ox at four; in the
lion at four; in the dog at two; in the cat at
eighteen months ; in the rabbit at twelve; in
the guinea pig at seven. Five times these
numbers give the term of life; five is pretty
near the average; some animals greatly ex
ceed it. But man, of all the animals, is the
one that seldom comes up to his average.
He ought to live a hundred years, according
to the physiological Jaw for five times twenty
are a hundi el; but instead of that, he scarcely
reaches on the average four times his grow
ing period; the cat six times ; and the rabbit
even eight times the standard of measurment,
The reason is obvious—man is not only the
most irregular and the most intemperate, but
the roost laborious and hard worked of all an
imals. He is also the most irritable of all an
imals ; and there is reason to believe, though
we cannot tell what an animal secretly feels,
that more than any other animal man cher
ishes wrath to keep it warm, and consumes
himself with the file of his own secret refiec
tions.—Blackwood's Magazine.
How To Admonish
We must consult the gentlest manner and
softest seasons of address; our advice must
not fall, like a violent storm, bearing down
and making those to droop, whom it is meant
to cherish and refresh. It must descend, as
the dew upon the tender herb, or like melting
flakes of snow ; the softer it falls, the longer
it dwells upon, and the, deeper it sinks into
the mind. If there are few who have the
humility to receive advice as they ought, it
is often because there are few who have the
discretion to convey it in a proper vehicle ;
and can qualify the harshness and bitterness
of reproof, against which corrupt nature is
apt to revolt, by an artful mixture of sweet
ening and agreeable ingredients. To probe
the wound to the bottom with all the bold
ness and resolution of a good spiritual sur
aeon7 and yet with all the delicacy and ten
derness of a friend, requires a very dexterous
and masterly hand. An o'll - able deportment
and a complacency of behaviour will disarm
the most obstinate; whereas, if instead of
calmly pointing out their mistake, we break
out into unseemly sallies of passion, we cease
to have any influence.
A YANKEE TAKEN ingenious down
easter, who has invented a new kind of "Love
Letter Ink," which he had been selling as a
safe-guard against all actions for breach of
promise of marriage, inasmuch as it entirely
Lades from the paper in two months after
date, was recently "done brown" by a broth
er down-easter, who purchased 100 boxes of
the article, and gave him his note for 90 days.
At the expiration of the time, the inventor
called for payment, but on unfolding the
script, found nothing but a piece of blank
paper. The note had been written with his
own ink.
13:7' Ignorance is the mother of Supersti
ion.
VOL 11, NO. 28
Beautiful. Sentiment.
God has sent some angels into the world
whose office is to refresh the sorrow of the
poor, and to enlighten the eyes of the deso
late. And what wester pleasure can we
have, that' we should bring joy to our
brother ; that the tongue should be turned
from heavy accents, and make the weary
soul listen for light and ease; and when we
perceive that there is such a thing in the
world, and in the order of things, as comfort
and joy, to begin to breat - out from the pris
on of his sorrows at the door of sighs and
tears, and by little begin to melt into show
ers and refreshments; this is glory to the
voice, and employment for the brighest angel.
Co I have seen the sun kiss the frozen earth
which was bound up in the images of death—
And the colder breath of the north—and then
the waters break from their enclosures and
melt with joy and run in useful channels, and
the flies do rise again from their little graves
in the walls, awhile in the air to tell that joy
is within, and that the great mother of crea
tures will open her store of new refreshments,
become useful to mankind, and sing praises
to her Redeemer; so is the heart of a sorrow
ful man under the discourse of wise counsel ,
he breaks from the despair of the grave, and
the fetters and chains of sorrow—he blesses
God and fie blesses thee, and he feels his life
returning ,—for to be miserable is death; but
nothing is life but the tenforter. God is
pleased with no music below so much as the
thanksgiving song of relieved widows and
supported orphans—of sejoicing, comforted
and thankful persons.—Bishop Taylor.
An exchange says, and says truly, that if a
young man wants to engage in a business
that a will insure him, in middle life, the great
est amount of leisure time, there is nothing
more sure than farming. If he has an inde
pendent turn of mind, let him be a farmer.—
If he wants to engage in a healthy occupa
tion let him till the soil. In short, if he
would be indeprn lent, let him get a spot of
earth, keep within his means, shun the law
yer, be temperate to avoid the doctor, be hon
est that he may have a clear conscience, im
prove the soil so as to leave the world better
than he found if, and then if he cannot live
happily and die contented, there is no hope
for him.
No Goon DEED LOST.—Philosophers tell
us that since the creation of the world not
one single particle has ever been lost. It
may have passed into new shapes it may
have floated away in smoke or vapor—but is
not lost.—lt will come back again in the dew
drop or the rain—it will spring up in the fibre
of the plant, or paint itself on the rose leaf.—
Through all its formations, Providence watch
es over and directs it still. Even so with
every holy thought or heavenly desire, or
humble aspiration, or generous and self-de
nying effort. It may escape. our abseryation
—we may be unable to follow it, but it is art
element of the moral world, and it is not
lost.
DAILY LABOR.—God !lever allowed any
man to do nothing. Flow miserable is the
condition of those men who spend their time
as if it were given them, and not lent; as if
hours were wasted creatures, and such as
should never be accounted for—as if God
would take this for a good bill of reckoning;
Item spent upon my pleasures forty years!
These men shall once find that no blood can
privilege idlenest, and that nothing is more
precious to God than that which they desire
to cast away—time.—Bishop hail.
IC - "The lazy man's bedstead" is the title
given to an article of furniture which attracts
much attention at the Fair of the American
Institute in New York. It is described as a
newly-invented bedstead attached to the head
of which is a small alarm clock, so connected
with the bed, that at a given moment the
alarm bell will ring., and, in five minutes
thereafter, if the sleeper dose not arise, the
mattress upsets, and Le is straightway, and
without any ceremony, tumbled out of bed.—
The difficulty will be in getting the arti&es
into practical use. Will a lazy man buy it?
I:a — A. Goon EDUCATION.—That man alone
can be truly called well educated, who pos
sesses sound and general information upon a
variety of subjects bearing directly upon the
daily wants of life; and if for that kind of
knowledge is substituted an acquaintance, no
matter how profound, with subjects which do
not beat upon the daily wants of life, the per
son who has received exclusively such a kind
of edcation, is, we submit, anything tither
than admirably educated.
BEAUTIFUL THOUGHT.—"When
1 gaze into the stars, they look down upon,
me with pity from their serene and silent
spaces, like eyes glistening with tears over
the little lot of man. Thousands of gener
tions' all as noisy as our own have been
swallowed by time, and there remains no,
record of them any more, yet Arcturus and
Orian, Sirius and Pleiades are still shining in
their courses, clear and young as when the
Sheparii first noted them from the plains of
Shinar! What shadows we are, and what
shadows we pursue;"—Carlyle.
f_G*The following advertisement under the
head of a Wife Wanted, is in the Batesville,
4rkansas News
f 'Any gal, what's got a bed, coffee-pot, and
skillets, knows how to cut her britches, can
make a huntin' shirt. and knows how to take
care of children, can have my services until
death parts both of us."
11. THE FuroaE.--How we sometimes
yearn to draw aside the veil which conceals
futurity from our view, and see what time
has in store for us. Alas !we know not what
we wish ! .?ew, perhaps, would have strength
to press forward through the clouds and dark
ness that often lie in the brightest pathway.
Wisely and well, ther fore, are they concealed
from view.
lady, on being asked to join the
Danght - ers of Temperance, replied that she
intended to join one of the Sons in the course
of the week.
711