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BY W. LEWIS.
The Vermonter's Wife,
OR AN UNPROFITABLE TRIP TO
THE GOLD REGIONS.
'I think,' said Mr. Dana, as he pushed back
his chair from the breakfast table, and looked
hard at his wife, a pretty little woman with
large, blue eyes, rl think that I should like to
go to California and try my luck. Darn it
all, every body is going about here. Do you
think you could spare me for a year, Nel131"
Mrs. Dana made no immediate reply, she
appeared to be very busy turning' out a cup
of tea, although a keeper observed that her
husband would have noticed art uncommon
tremulousness in her hands, as Mr. Dana
ceased speaking.
'I think I might do well there,' the hus
band coDtinued, as though speaking to him
self?'
'Are you not doing well here on your
farm?' the wife asked at length.
'l'm making a living, perhaps, but its only
by hard work. . Now, if I should go to Cali
fornia, ar.d be lucky, why, we could have a
great many more cornfotts than we are bless
ed with at present.'
'We have everything that we could wish
for to make us contented, and I'm sure I sigh
for no luxuries, excepting what we can well
afford,' Mrs. Dana replied.
'Yes, we have enough to eat, and clothes
to wear, but we can't buy lots of good furni
ture, and have a piano, like Squire Bolton.—
Darn it, I want to he rich as he is, and then I
should be contented,' Mr. Dana said, rising
from his chair, and walking back and forth
in the kitchen with energy.
'Mr. Bolton is far from being happy, with
all his wealth,' said the wife.
'Well, I k.iow that; but then who could be
contented with such a wife at he has? She's
either crazy half the time, or else—'
'Hush!' cried Mrs. Dana, with a reproach
ful look; 'remember if she has faults, so have
we all.'
`But what I meant, Nelly, is that if he had
such a Wife as I've got, and with his wealth,
he couldn't help being happy.'
`And " yet you want to leave a wife you
-think so highly of,' Mrs. Dana said, with a
reproachful look.
'But don't you see that it is for your com
fort and benefit in the end. You know, Neily,
that nothing in the world would induce me
to quit you, unless it was the hope of making
a fortune in a short time; 'I wouldn't be gone
longer than a year, and if I liked the coun
try, and I thought you would be contented
there, Pd semi for you.'
The young wile strove hard to retain her
- composure, as she asked—
'And what will you du with the farm while
gone?'
I=,
will get my youngest l-rother to come
and live here and carry it on. You shall be
left in fall charge, Nelly, with power to do as
you please.'
'Give me a week to think of it,' the wife
replied; 'at the end of that time make up
my mind whether to consent to your going
or not.'
Mr. Dana was too well pleased to obtain
even this concession, to argue any further
that day, and after bidding his wifd read the
accounts in the newspaper, onntaining the
latest news from California, he st,irte.l off to
his work.
Mr. Dana owned a farm of about one hun
dred acres, near the town of ' Windsor, Ver.,.
mont. He was a young man, and a person
of considerable energy. and had, during his
minority, saved a small sum of money,
which he had safely deposited in the saving's
bank, until such time as he should wish to
use it.
After he became of age, he had added to
his capital, and when he thought he should
like Jane Perkins for a wife, and proposed to
her, and was accepted, he bought the farm
which we find him occupying; and was doing
as well as any young farmer in the neighbor
hood.
He had been married two years when the
gold fever of 1848 and '49 broke out, sweep
ing off thousands of our must industrious
mechanics and farmers, and leaving many a
hearth-stone desolate, and many a wife to
mourn an absent husband.
How few have returned with their antici
pations fulfilled? Thousands who left the
New England States, expecting to win a
competency in a: short time, have been glad
to work their passage back in some slow sail
ing tub, while others, too proud to return
empty-handed, have toiled on, barely gaining
a livelihood, and now rest from their cares
and troubles by the banks of some river, with
nothing but a rude board to mark their grave.
After Mr. Dana left-his wife, she washed
her dishes and put them away, and sat - down
to read the glowing accounts of the gold dis
coveries. The more she read, the more
fascinated did she become, until she at last
came to the conclusisn _that if she were a
man, she would be tempteVii try her luck.
Twice during the forenoon did she peruse
the paper, and each time her resolution of
not consenting to her husband's departure
grew weaker, until she finally made up her
mind, if he asked her consent again she would
give it.
Mrs. Dana was a woman of considerable
mind. Ever since she was a child she had
been obliged to labor, and by her contact
with the world she had acquired knowledgd
of business, which did net, however, impair
or detract from the natural modesty of a good
gwornan's heart or mind.
A week had not passed before the husband
again alluded to the subject uppermost in his
mind. A company was about to leave Wind.,
sor, and many of the young men of the town
were enrolling their names. Mr. Dana
thought that it would be a good chance for
him, as he would have acquaintances to lend
a helping hand in case he was taken sick.—
His wife thought the same thing, and deligh
ted her husband by giving her consent to his
going.
• They were not aware of the selfishness ex
hibited in the gold regions, - where each man
struggled for himself, and though it waste of
time to help his feverish friend to a cup of
cold water, or make him a mess of gruel, to
keep WM from starving.
Mr; Dana's arrangements were soon made.
He had some money on hand, and with it, he
determined to cross the Isthmus, in company
with' his townsmen, as he thought he could
make enough in a weeks time ; after his arri
val, to pay his passage.
They wrote to enga g e steerage berths, and
received answer that the steamer would sail
on such a day, and that they must be prompt
ly on the spat. This news caused the party
to hurry their arrangements, and the day be
fore they were to start, Mr. Dana requested
his wife to accompany him to a lawyer's.
'Pm going a long journey,' he said, 'and
may , be gone longer than I anticipate. I shall
leave you the farm, to do with it - as you
please. If you get tired of carrying it on,
sell it to the best advantage; I shall make
money enough while gone to buy a larger
one when I return. But I hardly think I shall
live on a farm when I come back. We'll get
one cf the grand new houses in town, and live
like 'Squire Bolton.'
His wife thought at the time that there
might be a failure in his schemes; but she was
hopeful, and would not say any thing to dash
his bright anticipations.
The day of parting came, and with it tears
and mournful looks; but it was not until
Dana had left the house, never perhaps to re
turn, that the young wife felt the loneliness
of her condition:
Fora week or two she was low-spirited
and sad, but as she received letters from her
husband in New York, written in a lively
vein, and bidding hero be of good cheer, as
he should certainly rejoin her in tae course
of a year, she became more composed and re
con tiled to his absence.
We will not follow him in the crowded
steamship, nor cross the Isthmus, where he
narrowly escaped drowning, while ascending
the river; nor will We tell of his arrival at
San Francisco, and departure for the mines,
where he worked in the bed of the river, and
was quite fortunate, until attacked with the
fever and ague, which roasted him. at one
moment and froze him the next.
He would lie in his tent, and wish that the
gentle hands of his wife could wipe the mois
ture_ fiom his brow, or cover him with blan
kets when shivering with cold. All of his
adventures might be written out, and perhaps
Mr. Dana will, some day, give the world an
account of his doimzs in the land of gold.—
They will, possibly, serve_ as a warning to
other husbands, and thus prevent many a
heart from mourning for the absent.
Mr. Dana's fever got no better, and at last
fhe doctor told him he had better seek a change
of climate, 'as he might shake himself to death.
Dana thoUght the same thing; for it appeared
to him, when the chills came on, that every
bate in his body would be wrenched apart,
and when the fever returned, ho imagined
himself in an oven.
He considered the subject, one day, and de
termined to start for home. A team was to
leave next day for-Sacramento city, and, as
soon as his resolution was formed, he engaged
a passage, sold off all of his clothes, excepting
enough to reach Vermont, and foUnd that he
was the master of a capital of only five hun
dred dollars, after working is the mines for
four months. To be sure, his sickness had
cost him a large sum, and his doctor's bill
was frightful to contemplate.
He started the next day for home. He de
termined to live a farmer and die one, if the
Lord spared his life. He had seen enough of
the gold mines, and as he was going in the
cart, and jolted over the uneven roads, he
thought what a n inny he had been, to leave
a comforthble home, and a loving wife, for
the sake of trying to accumulate a fortune.
The "offing of the cart may have benefitted
him, for the fever rapidly left him, and by the
time he reached San Francisco, he felt like a
new 'man. He had a mind to turn bsck and
try it again, but he thought of his wife, and
nature and love conquered. He went imme
diately to the office of the steamship compa
ny, and e S ecuied a passage fer home.
It was a cold b!ustei tug day in the middle
of winter when Danda reached Windsor.—
He pulled his cap over his eyes to prevent be
ing recognized, and then started on foot,
to his home. He had heard from his wife
but once since hehad been absent, and he
hardly dared to hope that shewas well.
He quickened his pace, and came in
sight of the house in which he had spent
so many happy hours. He glanced over his
farm, and saw that everything , appeared to be
well cared for. The stone walls were in good
order, the barns• looked neat and well repair
ed, and just as - he was thinkint , that his wife
arid brother had done remarkably well, the
train on which he had - ridden from Boston
whizzed past, directly across his, farm. He
groaned in anguish at the sight. His beauti
ful meadow was ruined, he thought, and it
was all owing to his wild goose chase for a
fortune. His wife could not be expected to
know how to attend to such things, and he
had no doubt but what the ra-ilroad company
had swindled her.
He , approached the house and knocked tim
idly at the door. It was opened, and there
stood his wife, as handsome as ever, but she
looked at him with surprise. He had forgot
ten that he had not shaved since he left her.
He spoke and held out his hand, then- his
arms. There was a shriek, and then the lat
ter were well filled. Two hours afterwards
they were talking seriously and solely upon
matters of business.
'I am sorry that the railroad passes over our
meadows,' he said, 'it renders it almoSt use
less.'
=They have the right of way, but it has not
injured ' as much as you think,' she replied.
'I don't suppose they paid you more than
one hundred dollars for the land.'
'There is where you are mistaken. They
gave me twelve hundred dollars for merely
the right of way.'
'I suppose they paid you in stoeleP Dana
said, suprised to think she had got so large a
sum.
'Yes, they gave me part stock and part
cash,' the wile replied, trying not to look tri
umphant.
'And the stock, what is that worth, a mere
song, I suppose.'
4 sold mine the very day I received it, at
ITUXTINGDON, JAXUARY 80, 1856.
an advance. It is not worth so much per
share now. I thought I had better have the
money than to trust to an uncertainty.'
The husband was slightly astonished. He
had received for a narrow strip of land as
much as he had gtven for the whole farm.
'And what did you do with the money,
Nelly?'
took six hundred and bought the rich
meadow of 'Squire Bolton's. You remember
how you used to wish you owned it?'
Dana did remember_ perfectly well. He
had thought of the land when in California,
and Was in hopes of getting back with money
enough to buy it.
'The other six hundred and fifty I placed
in the saving's bank, where it is at interest.'
'You are the best wife in the State,' the
husband cried, with admiration.
But I have not given a full account of . my
stewardship as yet. You remember the forest
to pines on the hill just back of the meadow?'
Dana nodded an assent. He was wander
ing what was to come now.
'Well, there is no longer any forest there.
I sold every tree just as it 51.00,1. 1
'Why, who was a fool enough to buy Nile
wood?' Dana asked with a laugh.
'The railroad company. They must have
wood to get up steam. They gave me four
hundred dollars for the privilege of chopping
down the trees, and [ was glad to get rid of
them, for the purpose of making a sheep pas
ture?'
'A sheep pasture?' cried the husband in as
tonishment.
'Yes, it makes a very fine one. I bought
one hundred and fifty sheep, and then had
some money left, which I added to that in the
bank. Last summer I sold four hundred
pounds of wool, at forty cents per pound.
'That amounts to one hundred and 'sixty
dollars,' said Dana, after a sligt:t calculation.
'Precisely without counting the increase of
lambs, I think I did very well by that Italie.'
'You are a better manager than I am, Net
ly; Hereafter you shall be the head of the
house.'
'Thank you, but 1 am perfectly contented
to.resign, now that you have arrived.'
'Then you have no more wonderful bar
&ains to relate?-' he asked.
'Yes,' she replied, with a slight hesitancy,
cf have made one more trade, but perhaps it
is one that will displease you.
'What, after my hearty welcome? You can
do nothing in future; that I'll not approve of.
Remember, Netly, I've returned poor in pock
et, and none too well in health.'
'I will take such excellent care of yOu that
your health will be quite restored 'by fqtri;rg,
and aS4 . Cir , -being , poor, why that is absurd,
when'Yoti r - have*lood farm, well stocked,
and nearly a thOuand dollars in the bank.'
'Besides a treasure of a wife.'
'Thank you. But will you step into the
parlor and see my latest trade?'
Dana followed his wife, and as she open
ed the door, she pointed significantly to a
dark object in one corner of the room.
'A piano!' cried the astonished husband.
'Yes, a good, well toned piano. But be
fore you express your surprise let me tell you
how I earned it. I sold all the butter that I
made during the last nine months, and inves
ted the proceeds in an instrument that I knew
you longed for, and, to tell the truth, I was
rather anxious to own myself, but I never
said so, and until I found myself able I never
thought of buying one. Now, are you an
gry?'
'Angry?'
Mr. Dana has never expressed a' wish to
roam again. He is perfectly satisfied that he
can find more happiness on his farm, and in
the society of his wife, than he could if sur
rounded by all the gold mines of California.
Beautiful and True.
In a late article in Frazer's Magazine; this
brief but beautiful passage occurs: "Educa
tion does not commence with the alphabet.—
It begins with a mother's look—with a fath
er's smile of approbation or a sign of reproof—
with a sister's gentle pressure of the hand, or
a brother's noble act. of forbearance—with
handfulls of flowers in green and daisy mead
ow—with bird's nests admired but not touch
ed—with creeping ants and almost impercep
tible emmets--with humming bees and glass
beehives—with pleasant walks in shady
lanes, and with thoughts directet in sweet
and kindly tones, and words to mature to acts
of benevolence, to deeds Of virtue, and to the
sense of all good, in God . himself."
LET THE PEOPLE RULE.—The following is
one of the resolutions adopted by the Ohio
Democratic State Convention, which met at
Columbus on the Bth:
Resolved, That slavery (being the creature
of positive law, cannot exist without it,) is a
domestic institution, and that Congress has
neither the power to legislate it into any ter
ritory or State, nor to exclude it therefrom,
but to leave the people thereof perfectly free
to form and regulate their domestic institu
tions in their own way, subject only to the
Constitution of the United States.
SITE SELECTED.—The Secretary of the
Treasury has selected as the site of the near
Custom House, Post Office, and United 'States
Court, to be erected in Detroit, Mich., a lot
at the corner of Lamed and Griswold streets,
the property of Henry Barnard. The price
the Government is to pay for it is' $24,000.
Cuprous ELCTEMENT.—The Chicago Dem
ocrat of Tuesday says that a woman arrived
in that place a few days 'previous, with the
dead body of her husband, which she was ta
king East for burial. On the route, she fell
in with a young man and, on the arrival of
the cars at Chicago, they went off together,
leaving the deaf body of the husband in the
depot, where it has remained since.
A NEW variety of Wheat from Chili., has
been received ,by the Commissioners of Pat
ents. This wheat is very.productive—a crop
of five hundred bushels having-been raised
from thirty-four bushels of seed.
The power of faith will often ,shine forth
the most where the character, is naturally
weak. There is less to intercept and inter
fere with its workings.
Dr. Kane.
A SKETCH BY Diti.''WlLLlADel ELDER.
When a man's lifels heroic, and his name
has passed into history, the world wants to
know him personally, intimately. The
"grave and reverend chronicler," passing
over his beginnings, presents him abruptly
in his full-grown greatness; men render the
admiration earned, but the sympathetic em-
elation awakened is concerned to know how
he grew into his maturity of excellence.—
This curiosity is not an idleness of the fancy,
but a personal interest in the facts that
springs out of those aspirations which put
every man upon the fulfillment of his own
destiny. How came this man to excel—
what was in him—what happened to (level
lop it? "Some men are born great; some
achieve greatness; some have greatness thrust
upon them." flow came this man by it 2 -
In it within my reach also and, by what
means? History provokes us with such
queries as these : Biography answers them.
Doctor Elisha Kent Kane is not quite thir
ty-four years old, yet he has done more than
circumnavigate the globe; he has visited and
traversed lndia, Africa, Europe, South Amer
ica, the islands of the Pacific, and twice pen
etrated the Attic region to the highest lati
tude attained by civilized man. He has en
countered the extremest perils of sea and land,
in every climate of the globe ; he has dischar
ged in turn the severest duties of the soldier
and the seamen ; attached to the United States
Navy as a surgeon, he is nevertheless, enga
ged at one time in the coast survey of the
tropical ocean, and in a month or two, we
find him exploring the frigid zone; and all
the while that his personal experiences had
the character of romantic adventure, he was
pushing them in the spirit of scientific and
philanthropic enterprise.
As a boy, his instinctive bent impelled him
to the indulgence and enjoy ment of such ad
ventures as were best fitted to train him for
the work before him. His collegiate studies
suffered some postponement while his phy-si
! cal qualities pressed for their necessary train
ing and discipline. It " was almost in the
spirit of truancy that he explored the Blue
Mountains of Virginia, as a student of geolo
gy, under the guidance of Professor Rodgers
and cultivated, at once, his hardihood of vi
tal energy and those elements of natural sci
ence which were to qualify him for his after
services in the field of physical geography.--
But, in due time he returned to the pursuit
of literature, and achieved the usual honors,
as well as though his college studies had suf
fered no diversion—his muscles and nerves
were educated, and his brain lost nothing by
the indirectness of ifs development, but was
rather corroborated for all the uses which it,
has served since. He graduated at the Uni
versity of Pennsylvania—first, in its collegi
ate, and eterwards, in is medical, depart
ment. His special relishes is study indica- '
ted his natural drift : chemistry and surgery:
natural science in its most intimate converse
with. substance, and the remedial art in its
most heroic function. He went out from his
Alma Mater a good classical scholar, a good
chemest, mineralogist, astronomer, and sur
geon. But he lacked, or thought he lacked
robustness of frame and soundness of health.
He solicited an appointment in the navy, arid
upon his admission, demanded active service.
He was appointed upon the diplomatic staff
as surgeon to the first American Ernbassay to
China. This position gave him opportunity
to explore the Philippine Islands which he
effected mainly on foot. He was the first
man who descended into the crater of Tael ;
lowered more than a hundred feet by a bam
boo rope from the overhanging ?cliff, and
clambering down some seven hundred more
through the scorim, he made a topographical
sketch of the interior of this great volcano,
collected a bottle of sulphurous acid from the
very mouth of the crater; and although he
was drawn up almost senseless, he brought
with him his portrait of this hideous cavern,
and the specimens which it afforded.
Before he had returned from this trip, he
had ascended the Himalayas, and triangula
ted Greece, on fool.; he had visited Ceylon,
the Upper ile, and all the mythologic re
gion of Egypt ; traversing the route, and ma
king the acquaintace of the learned Lepsius,
who was then prosecuting his archmological
researches.
At home again, when the Mexican war
broke out, he asked to be removed from the
Philadelphia Navy Yard to the field of a more
congenial service ;but the government sent
him to the Coast of Africa. Here he visited
the slave factories, from Cape Mount to the
river Bonny, and through the infamous Da
ouza - , -- got access to the baracoons of Dahom,..
ey, and contracted, besides, the Coast Fever,
from the effects of which he has never entire
ly recovered.
From Africa he returned before the close
of the Mexican war, and believing that his
constitution was broken, and his health rap
idly going, he called upon President Polk,
and demanded an opportunity for service that
might crowd the little remnant of his life
with achievmentl in keeping with his ambi
tion; the President, just then embarrassed by
a temporary non-intercourse with General
Scott, charged the Doctor with despatches to
the General, of great mornant and urgency;
which must be carried through a region occu
pied by the enemy. This embassy was mar
ked by an adventure so romantic, and so il
lustrative of the character of the man, that
we are tempted to detail it.
On his way to the Gulf he secured a horse
in Kentucky, such as a knight errant
would have chosen for the compannio
and sharer of his adventures. Landed
at Vera Cruz, he asked for an escort! to
convey him to the capital but the officer in
command had no troopers to spare—he must
wait,-or he must accept, instead, a band of
ruffian Mexicans, called the Spy Company,
who had taken to the business of treason and
trickery for a livelihood. He accepted them,
and went forward.—Near Puebla his troops
encountered a body of Mexicans escorting a
number of distinguished officers to Orizaba,
among whom were Major General Gaona,
Governor of Puebla; his son, Maximilian, and
General Torejon, who commanded - the bril
liant charge of horse at Buena Vista. The
surprise was mutial, but the Spy Company
had the advantage of the ground. At the
first instant of the discovery, and before the
rascals fully comprehended their involve
ment, the Doctor shouted in Spanish, "Bravo!
the capital adven:nre, Colonel, form your
line for the charge !" And down they went
upon the enemy ; Kane and his gallant Ken
tucky charger. ahead. Understanding the
principle that sends a tallow candle through
a plank, and that a momentum of a body is
its weight multiplied by its velocity, he dash
ed through the opposing force, an turning to
engage after breaking their line, it e found
himself fairly surrounded, and two of the en
emy giving him their especial attention.—
One of these was disposed of in an instant
by rearing his horse who, with a blow of his
fore foot, floored his man; and wheeling sud
denly, the Doctor gave the other a sword
wound, which opened the external iliac ar
tery, and put him hors de combat. This sub
ject of the Doctor's military surgery was the
young Maximilian. The brief melee termi
nated with a cry from the Mexicans, "We
surrender." Two of the officers made a dash
for an escape, the Doctor pursued them, but
soon gave up the chase. When he returned,
he found his ruffians preparing to massacre
the prisoners. As he galloped past the young
officer whom he had wounded, he heard him
cry, "Senor save my father." A group of
the guerrilla guards were dashing upon the
Mexicans, huddled together, with their lan-,
ces in rest. He threw himself before them
—one of them transfixed his horse, another
gave him a severe wound in the groin. He
killed the first lieutenant, wounded the sec
ond-lieutenant, and blew a part of the col°.
nel's beard of with the last charge of his six
shooter; then grappling with him, and using
his fists, he brought the party to terms.—
The lives of the prisoners were saved and
the Doctor received their swords. As soon
as General Gaona could reach his son, who
lay at a little distance from the scene of the
last struggle, the Doctor found him sitting by
him receiving his last adieus. Shifting the
soldier and resuming the surgeon, he secured
the artery, and put the wounded man in con
dition to travel. The ambulance got up for
the occasion, contained at once the wounded
Maximilian ; the wounded second-lieutenant,
and the man that had prepared them for slow
traveling, himself on his litter, from the lance
wound received in defence of his prisoners!
When they ieached Puebla, the Doctor's
wound proved the worst in the party. He
was taken to the government house but the
old General, in gratitude for his generous
services, had him conveyed to his own house.
General Childs, American commander at
Puebla, hearing of the generosity of his pris
oner, discharged him without making any
terms, and the old general became the princi
pal nurse of his captor and benefactor divi
ding his attentions between him and his son,
who lay wounded in an adjoining room.— I
This illness of our hero was long and doubt
ful, and he was reported dead to his friends
at home.
When he recovered and returned, he was
employed in the Coast Survey. While en--
gaged in this service, the government by its
correspondence with Lady Franklin became
committed for an attempt at the rescue of Sir
John and his ill-starred companions in Arctic
discovery. Nothing could be better address
ed to the Doctor's governing sentiments than
this adventure. The enterprise of Sir John
can exactly in the current of one of his own
enthusiasm—the service of natural science
combined with heroic personal effort; and ad
ded to this that sort of patriotism which
charges itself with its own full share in the
execution of national engagements of honor;
and besides this cordial assumption of his
country's debts and duties, there was no lit
tle force in the appeal of a noble brave spiri
ted woman to the chivalry of the American
navy.
He was "bathing in the tepid waters of the
Gulf of Mexico, on thq, 12th of May, 1850,"
when he received his telegraphic order to
proceed forthwith to New York, for duty up
on the Arctic expedition. In nine days from
that date he was beyond the limits of the
United States on his dismal voyage to the
North Pole. Of the first American expedi
tion, as Is well known to the public, he was
the surgeon, the naturalist, and the historian.
It returned disappointed of its main object.
after a winter in the regions of eternal ice and
a fifteen months' absence.
Scarcely allowing himself a day to recov
er from the hardships of this cruise, he set
on foot the second attempt, from which he
has returned, after verifying by actual obser
vation the long questioned existence of an
open sea beyond the latitude of 82', and be
-3 and the temperature, also, ofloo' below the
freezin ,, point. His "Personal Narrat;ve,"
published early in 1853, recounts the adven
tures of the first voyage, and discovers his di
versified qualifications for such an enterprise.
The last voyage occupied two winters ir.
the highest latitudes, and two years and a
half of tmintermitted labor, with the risks and
responsibilities attendant. He is now prepa
ring the history for publication. But that
part of it which best reports his own personal
agency, and would most justly present the
man to the,reader, will of course be suppress
ed. We would gladly supply it, but as yet
this is impossible to us. His journal is pri
vate property, the extracts which we may ex
pect will be only too shy of egotism, and his
companions have not spoken yet, as some day
they will speak, of his conduct throughout the
terrible struggles which together they endu
red.
To form anything like an adequate esti
mate of this last achievement, it is to be re
collected that his whole company amounted
to but twenty meh,-and that of this corps or
crew he was the commander, in naval_phiase;
and when we are apprised that his portfolio
of scenery. sketched on the spot in pencil,
and in water colors kept fluid over a spirit
lamp, amount to over three hundred sketch
es, we have a hint of the extent and variety
of the offices he filled on this voyage. He
was in tact the surgeon, sailing-master, as
tronomer and naturalist„ - as well as captain
and leader of the expedition.
This man of all work, and desperate, da
ring and successful doing, is in height about
five feet seven inches; in weight, say one
VOL. 11, NO. 32,
hundred and thirty pounds or so, if health and
rest would but give him leave to fill up
natural measure. His complexion is fair, his
hair brown, and his eyes dark gray with a
hawk look. He is a hunter by every gift and
grace and instinct that makes up the charac
ter ; an excellent shot, -4nd a brilliant horse
man. He has escaped with whole bones
from all his adventures, but he has sevetal
wounds which are tronblesome; and, with
such general health as his, most men v , ould
call themselves invalids, and live on furtoi,oh
from all the active duties of life: yet he has
won the distinction being the first civilized
man to stand in latitude i:l2 - 30' arid gaze up
on the open Polar Sea—to repch the nother
most point of land on the globe—to ieport
the lowest temperature ever endured—the
heaviest sledge journeys ever performed—and
the wildest life that civilized man has suc
cessfully undergone ; and to return after all
to tell the story of his adventures.
The secret spring of all this energy is itt
his religious enthusiasm—discovered ;dike in
the generous spirit of his adventures in pur
suit of science; in his enthusiastic fidelity to
duty, and in his heroic maintenance of the
point of honor in all his intercourse with
men.
In his department there is that mixture of
, shyness and frankness, simplicity and fastid--
1 iousness, sandwiched rather than blended,
which marks the man of genius, awl the monk
of industry. He seems confident in himself
but not of himself. His manner is remarkable
for celerity of movement, alert attentiveness,
quickness of comprehension, rapidity of ut
terance and sententious compactness of dic-:
Lion, which arise from a habitue! watchtuleess
aaainst the betrayal of his own enthusiasms.
He seems to fear that he is timing you and is
always discovering his un willingness •"to sit"
for your admiration.- If you question him
about the handsome official acknowledge
ments of his services by the British and Amer
ican governments, or in any endeavor to turn
him upon his own gallant achievements, he
hurries you away from the subject to some
point of scientific interest which he preshmes
will more concern and engage yourself ; or-he
says or does something that makes you think
he is occupied with his ow:: inferiority in
some matter which your conversation pre
sents to him. ()he is obliged to struggle with
him to maintain the tone of respect -which
his character and achievements deserve; and
when the interview is over, a feeling of'disap•
pointment remains for the failure in your c'-
fort to ransack the man as you wished, and to
render the tribute w hich you owed him.
We wish we could be :tire that he will not,
in his forthcoming work, give us 'the drama
without its hero ; or we wish that the expe ,
dition and its hero had a chronicler as worthy
as he would be were he not the principal char
acter in the story.
Dr. Kane's Narrative of the 'Expedition,.
now preparing, and nn process of publication
by Messrs Childs &. Peterson of Philadelphia
will embtace the important discoveries made
in the frozen regions far beyond the reach of
all the predecessors of the American explor
ing party, and their perilous adventures,
crowded with romantic incidents, which, in
the language of the secretary of the Navy,
"not only excite our wonder, but borrow a
novel grandeur from the truly benevolent con
siderations which animated and net ved hiirr
to his task."—Graham's Magazine, Feb.,
1856.
THE SCHOOL MASTER OF OUR REPUBLIC:
—Whet: our republic rose, Noah 'Webstet-b , ..
came its school master. There had ne‘tr
been a great nation with a universal lang,ua ,, e
without dialects. The Yorksbireman cant,6t
now talk with a man from Cornwall. Tire
peasant of the Liguarian Appenines, drives;
his goats home at evening, over hills tLat
look down on six provinces, none of wlrl,se
dialects he can speak. Heie, five thousai:Ll
miles change not the sound of a word.—
Around every fireside, and from every tribime,
in every field of labor, and every factory of
toil, is heard the same tongue. We owe it
to Webster. He has done for us more than
Alfred did for England, or Cadmus for Greeco.
His books have educated three generations.—
They are forever multiplying his innumera
ble army of thinkers, who will transmit his
name from age to age.—Glances ct the
tropolis.
ALL FUDGE.--At the County Know Noth
ing public meeting, held at Uniontown, on
Wednesday night of last week, .the speakers
declared that the secrecy of the order had new
been abandoned; but, before the meeting ad
journed "Sam" showed his cloven focit. A
motion was made to appoint Dr. Smith Fuj- ,
ler, with the concurrence of Washington and
Greene counties, a congressional delegate to
the Philadelphia Convention, where- upon
Mr. Veech arose and said, that the meeting
had no power to act in the matter, that the
council managed such affairs !! So the mat
ter ended. Secrecy is abandoned with a yen
t„cieance.—Deniocratic Sentinal.
THERE are, in the United States, 750 pa
per mills in actual operation, havicg 2.000
engines, and producing in the year 270,000,-
000 pounds of paper, which is worth, at ten
cents a pound, 27,000,000. To produce this
quantity of paper, 405,000,000 pounds of
rags are required, 1 pounds of rags being
necessary to make erre pound of paper. The
cost of manufacturing aside from. labor and
rags, is 54,050,000.
ACORNS WILL KILL CATTLE.-R. J. Lam
born, of county, Pa., lost fifteen head
of bullocks, worth a thousand dollars, asit
was thought, from eating acorus, the' tannic
acid of which produced constpation, and a
disease riQembling dry murrain. Wild chei
ry leaves, which contain prussic acid, will
produce the same effect. Cure :'Mix a pint
of molasses with a pint of melted lard, and
pour down the animal's throat. 'lf the body
is much bloated, add soapsuds:•
g::7`' At a late celebration of the old bache
lors at Bloomington the following toast wao
drank :
'The fair—saints in church—angels in ter
ballroom—and devils in the kitchen'
m