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THE DEPARTED.
BY PARK BENJAMIN.
The .departed the departed':
They in dreams,
. •
; And they glide above our memories
11 Like shadow's over dreams :
But wheie the cheerful lights'_of home
In constant lustre burn,
The departed:- the departed
Can never more return:
The good,',the brave, tile , beautiful;
How, dreamless is their sleep,„ -
Where,rolls the dirge-like music
Of the-ever-tessing deep!
Or where tlie'hurrying night-winds
Pale winter's robes have spread
Above their narrow .palaces,
In the cities of the dead !
I look around and feel the awe
Of one who walks alone
Among the wrecks of former days,
In mournful ruin strown ;
I start to hear the stirring sounds,
Among the cypress trees, •
For•the•voice of the departed
Is borne upon the breeze.
That,solemtivoice 1 it mingles with
Each. free arid 'careless strain ;
searce.eari think earth's minstrelsy
' Will cheer - my heart again.
Theinelody of summer waves,
.The thrilling notes of birds,
Can never be.so•dear to . me
As their remember'd words. -
I sometimes dream their pleasant smiles
• Still 'on ine Sweetly fall,
- Their tone's oflove I faintly hear
. .
My naive' in sadnes's call.
I. know that they are happy,
. - With their angel-plumage on,
But my libart is very desolate
To think that they arc gone.
"She has Chitlived her Usefulness."
Not long :since, a good-looking man, in
middle life, - came to : our door asking for "the
minister." When informed that he was out
of town, he seemed disappointed and anxious.
On being questioned as. to,his business, he re
plied :: "I have lost my mother, and as this
,place used to be her home, and my father
lies here, we have come to lay her beside
him."
Our heart rose.in sympathy, and we said,
'You have met with a great loss.'
"Well—yes," replied the strong man,
with hesitancy, "a mother is a great loss in
general; but our mother has outlived her use
fulness ;.she was in her second childhood,
arid her mind was grown as weak as her
body, so that she was no comfort to herself,
and was a burden to every body. There
.were seven of us sons and daughters; and as
we could not find anybody who was willing
to board her, we agreed to keep her among
us a year about. But I've had more than my
share of her, for she was too feeble to be mo
ved when my time was out and that was
more.than three months before her death.—
But -then she was a good . mother in her day,
and toiled very hard to bring us all up."
Withont looking at the face of the heart
less man, we directed him to the house of a
neighboring pastor, and returned to our, nur
sery.. We gazed on . the merry little faces
which smiled-or grew sad in imitation of
ours—those-little ones to whose ear no ward
in our language is' half so sweet as 'Mother;'
and we wondered if that day could ever cone
when they would say of us, .'She-has outlived
her, usefulness—she is no comfort to herself
and a burden to' everybody- else and we
hoped that before such a day would dawn,
we might be taken to our rest. -God forbid
we should outlive the love of our children !
Rather-let us die while our hearts are a part
of their own, That our grave may be watered
with their . tears., _and our love linked with
their hope of heaven. •. '
When the bell tolled for, the mother's buri
al, we went to the sanctuary to pay our only
token of respect to the aged stranger; for we
felt that we could give her memory a tear,
even though her .own children had none , to
shed:. . - - _ -
'She was a good mother in her day s and
toiled hard to bring us all . up—She was no
comfort to herself, and a burden to everybodY
else P These cruel, heartless words rang in
our ears as we saw the coffin, . borne up the
aisle. The bell tolled long and loud, until
its iron tongue bad chronicled the years of
the toil-worn'. mother. One—two—three--
lour—five. How clearlycand almost merrily
each stroke told-of.her once peaceful slumber
In her mother's..bosom, and of. her . seat at
night-fall on her weary 4atiter's knees. Six
—seven—eight—nine—ten-rang out the tale
of the sports upon the green sward, in the
meadow, and by the brook. Eleven—twelve
—thirteen--fourteen--fifteen, spoke more
gravely of school days, and ' little household
joys and - cares. Shiteen—seven teen—eigh
teen, sounded out the :enraptured visions of
maidenhood, and the dream of early love .--.-
`Nineteen, brought before us the'happy bride.
- Twenty spoke of the young mother whose
-heart was full to bursting, with the. new
strong love which God had awakened in her
bosom. And then . stroke after stroke told of
her early womanhood; of the love and cares,
and hopeS, and fears; and toils through
_which she passed during those long years,
till fifty , ratter out harsh and loud.. From
that to sixty each stroke told - of the warm
hearted • mother and grand-mother, living
over again 'her own - joys and , sorrows• in
those. of her children and children's, children.
Every family of all the group wanted grand
mother then, and the only strife was who
should secure the prize; but, hark ! the 'bell
tolls •on 1 .Seventy—seventy'-one—two---
three—four. She begins to grow :feeble, re
quires Some, care, is not always perfectly pa
tient or satisfied ; she goes from 'one 'child's
house to another, so that no one place seems
like-home. She murmers in plaintive terms.'
,aud after all her. toil and •weariness, it is hard
she cannot be allowed a home to die,in e that
'see must be sent; rather than invited, from
hoiese• to. house..- Eighty—eighty-one; _two,
three, four---ah, she is now a second child";
uow 'she has outlived herusefulne,s . s, she has
now ceased to be a comfort to herself or any
bolly'else ; that is, she has ceased to be .- pro-,
-fitable to• her earth-craving and money-grasp e
ing children. Now sounds tout, reverbera
ting through our lovely forest, and, echoing
bac from our 'hill of the dead,' Eighty-nine!
there she lies now in the cafin, cold and still;
she makes no trouble now, demands no - love,
no soft words, no tender little offices. A look
of patient endurance, we 'fancied also at ex
pression of grief for unrequited love, sat on
her marble features. Her childred werethere ;
clad in weeds of woe, and in irony we re
membered the strong man's _words. 'She was
a good mother in her -day.' •
When the bell -ceased tolling, - the strange
minister. rose in the pulpit. • His form--was
very erect, and his voice strong, but hishair
was silvery wßitee 'He read several paseages
of Scripture expressive of God's •obinpa.ssion
to feeble man, and especially of his' tehder
ness when grey hairs are on him;
.and :'hii
strength failethe He then made some touch
ing remarks on human frailty, and of 'depen
dence on - God, urgiite all present to make their
peace with their- Master while in health, that
they might - claim his promises- - When' heart
and flesh should fail them. he' said,
'the eternal God shall. be thy refuge, and be
neath thee shall be the everlasting
Leaning over the desk, end gazing intendy
on the coffined form before him, he then said
reverently, 'From a child have honored the
aged ; but never till grey hairs covered • ray
own head, did I know truly , how much lore
and sympathy this class- have a right to de
mand of their fellow-creatures. Now I feel
it. Our mother,' 'he 'added most tenderly,
'who now l'es in death before us, was a stran
ger to me, as are all these, her descendants.
All I know of her : is what her sop • has. told.
me to-day ;'that she 'was brought to this 'town
from afar, sixty-nine years ago; - a happy
bride; that here she - has passed most; of her
life, toiling as only mothers ever have strength
to toil, until she had reared a large
sons and daughters ;:that she left her home,
here, clad in the weeds of, widowhood, to
dwell among her. children ; and that till health
and vigor left her, she,lived for you,.. her de
scendants. You, who together have: shared
her love and care,
.know how xyell•yote have
requited her. God forbid that . conscience
should accuse any of you of ingraiitude, or
murmuring on account of the, care : she has
been to you of late. When yon go back to
your homes, be careful of your own children,
for the fruit of your own doing you will sure
ly reap. from them when you yourselves tot
ter on the brink of,the grave. I entreat you
as a friend, as one who has himself entered
the evening of life, that you may never say,
in the presence of your families nor- of, hea
ven, "Our mother. has outlived her useful
ness—she was a. burden .to us." . Never, nev
er ; a mother cannot liveteso long as that 7
No ; when she can no longer labor - for her
children, nor yet care for herself, she can fall
like a precious weight on their bosoms, and
call forth by her helplessness all the noble,
gacerous feelings of their natures. .
'Adieu, then, pear toil-worn mother; there
are no more sleepless night, no more days of
pain forthee. Undying vigor and everlasting
usefulness are part of the inheritance of the
redeemed...-. Feeble as thou wert on earth; thou
wilt be no burden on the bosom of Infinite
Love, but there shalt thou find longed-for
rest, and receive glorious sympathy' from
Jesus and his ransomed fold.'
MEM
Stutz of KNOW-NoTEriictsm.—The Louis
ville Courier, edited by Walter Haldeman,
Esq.,•formerly a Whig, but more recently a
Know-Nothing, has repudiated. his party.—
Hear him. •
"The nexi election will SEAL THE DOOM
OF KNOW-NOTHINGISM [N KENTUCKY.
Thousands of Whigs who voted the Know-
Nothing ticket last. August, are now utterly
disgusted with the party, -and will work with
a will at the next election to secure its defeat.
Within the last five ,months such changes
have been gaing,on as to leaye, not the, sligh- ,
test doubt as to what will be the,yositipn of
our noble State in the next . contest."
There is not a TRUE PATRIOT in
~the laud
that "doubts it.n Kentucky is just as cer
tain to cast her electoral vote for
,the notni;
nee of the Democratic National Convention,
as that the day of the election will come.
was a pertinent and forcible saying,
of the Emperor Napolecin,. that a ( hansilothe
woman pleases the eye 2 but' a good .women
pleases the heaat one is a jewel and the oth
er a treasure."
[l:7 - Never joke with ladies on matrimony
or bread making, 'it is 'very wrong. One re;
fers to the highest interests) of the heart and
the other to those 'of ' the stomach. Young
men will please chalk it down in their hats.
.r
The Garrulous Yankee Wido*.
,
If you_have ever. met in your traveling,
reader 'With a garrulous old woman•` 'Whose
tongue it was wholly -impossible - to ',keep
from running all the-while, you,wil4 laugh: as
we have laughed at- the annexed sketch „of
NeW-England stage coach corepank. , The
extract may seem a little long at first,: bat
never mind that-; you will think it too short
when you get7through with it. .
The day was remarkably, fine ; our road lay
through the pleasantest part of the Housa.tort
ic—our cattle were sleek and fine looking-:
the driver was civil and dressed well—while
the coach itself was a miracle -of comfort,
In the.midst of this prospective and pre
sent enjoyment an elderly lady, with a: mon
strous band-box, a paper-covered trunk; and
a little - girl, are stowed away in the coach:—
And here began the .trouble.. Before getting
in however— "Driver," said . the lady, "do
you know Deacon Hitchcock-V 7
• "No ma'am?' replied the driver, "I've on
ly druv on this road, a fortnight." .
"I wonder if neither of ,them_ gentlemen
kon't know him !" she said,lnittitig, her...head
into the coach. '
don'V said one, whom:we will call the
wag . ; "but I know Deacon Hotchkiss : if that
will answer your purpose.'?
"Don't either of them other gentlemen
knoW-him - • -
No reply. s .
h"Well., t en, I don't know whether to go in
or not," said the lady. ; "because I must see
Deacon Hitchcock before Igo holism. - I am
from the state of New-Hampshire,. and - the
deacon was a partictlar friend of 'my hus
band:—this little girl's father, who has been
dead two ion°. years, and I should like-to see
him 'mazingry."
"Does he live about here _ ?" inquired the
driver.
"Well, I don't know 'for sartain," said, the
l'ady; "but lie lives somewhere in Connecti
cut. This is the first time I was .ever so far
from home. I live in the' State of New-
Hampshire, and it-is dreadful unpleasant. I
feel a Attie dtibersome aboiit tiding all', alone
in a stage with gentlemen that have' never
- saw before in all my life."
' "There is no danger, ma'am," said - the dri
.ver, "the gentlemen won't hurt - you."
"Well perhaps they
. wan'; but it's very
unpleasant - for a lady fo.be' so far from home.
I live in the State of New-Harnpshire; and
this little girl's 7;
"You had better get in ma'am," said the
.driver, with praiseworthy moderation:.
"Well, I - don't kno - w, but I may as
she replied ; and, after- informing.' us once
more,that she - was front 'the 'State of,' Isretv-
Hampshite,'and that 'her husbarid had been
.dead two years, she'gntiti and took her seat.
'How much is icstr i ". asked the.. Lady. .
* :"Four and; sixpence," said the driver, "for
yours - elf and hide gill."
"Well, now, that's a monstrous sight of mo
ney for a little girl's pas Sage like that; her
father, my husband, has been , dead these two
Icinc7 years, and I never' was "sofar from home
in all my life. • I live it the State of New-
HamPshire. It's very unpleasant for a lady;
but I dare .say; neither .of these gentlenien
,would see rrie, lone Widol,v,„iinposed on."
"I'll take your fare if yeti please," repea
ted the driver. • • ,
,"11.0.N.- much did you 'say it was-three and
,sixpence :// 7 asked the lady.,
"F.our and 'sixpence, if you please,' ma'am',"
politely answered . the driver.
"Oh 1 Totir and' SixPende." And after a
good deal of fumbling and - shaking of her
poelrets, she" at last produced .a half dollar_and
a York shilling and put them in the driver's
hand. '
"That's not enough, Ma'am Said the driver;
"I want ninepence more."' .
"What ! aln',t we •in York State'?" she as
ked, eagerly.
"No ma'am," replied the driver, "it is six
shillings, York money." -
"Well," said the lady, "I used to :be quite
gpod, at reckoning when I was at home in
New-Hampshire ; but since I've gbt so : ',far
from home, b'live I'm beginning lo losC thy
menlarfaculties."
"I'll take -that other ninepence, if You
please," said the driver in a voice approach
ing a little nearer to impatience. At last, af
ter 'making allusion three or four times to her
native State, and her deceased husband, (hap
py man) she handed the driver ninepence,
and we were once more in motion. .
. "Do you think it's dangerous on this road???
began the lady, as soon as the door was clo
sed. "I'm a very lengthy way from home,
in the State of New-Hampshire, and if any
thing should happen . I don?t know •what I
should do. I'm. quite Unfamiliar with travel
ing. I'm a Widow lady. My husband, this
little girl's father, has been dead these two
years coming, this spring, and I'mgoing with
her to the Springs sh has got a .dreadful
bad complaint in her stomach. Are yOu go
ing to the Springs, sir 'I" she asked of an' in:
valid passenger. •
He shook his head feebly in reply.
"Are pin going, sir?" said she, addressing
the humorist.
"No," replied he, "I am not; and if were
but, the contingency was inwardly
pronounced.
"ArS'youl" she asked, turning tome.
"No !" •
"Ah ! Pin very sorry ; I should like to put
payself,under the care of some clever gentle
.man, ts so awful unpleasant for a lady to
be so Tar • from home without a•protector. I
'am from the State of New-Hampshire, and
this is the first time I ever went traveling in
Do you. know. anybody in New
.
Hampshirer
' "No, madam,"
,answered the wag; "I do
not, andl hope you will excusezne for saying
that I never wish to."
"Well, now, that's very strange," contin
ued the old gossip,' "I haven't met 'a single
soul that I knew since I left home. I ain ac
quainted with all the first people in the State.
I am very • well .known• in Rocky Bottom,
Sockingham county, in the State of . New
liampshire. • I'know all the firet gentlemen
in the place ; there's Squire Goodwin, Squire
Cushman, Mr. Timothy Havens, Mr. Zachary
Upham, Dr. David,"
HUNTINGDON, APRIL 3,. : 1 . 806. , ' ,
"Hold.on, driVei ! hold on !I' exclaimed
the humorist, "I can't stand this ! Stop for
mercy's sake, and let me out?"
The driver reined up, -and the wag took
his valise in, his hand and jumpect out—the
discomfit ed victim of a garrulous old woman.
CREDULITY;
Or, the Dangers •of Delusions,
The-present age is evidently a progressive
one, and that it is so, is,. generally speaking,
a matter of exultation and aciagratulation.—
But there is semetimesfalse progress as well
- as; real. 'Fanaticism often takes the place of
truth, imposture thatrof science, and bigotry
that dame. And hence it is : -that
the isms of theday are so numerous; so va
ried and - So remarkable. There are thous
ands and tens of thousands of the human
family at this moment, who are monomaniacs
upon one subject or anether t who are con
verts'to 'false theories, enthusiasts of some
delusion, and, in fact, insane upon some ab
surdity. . Ever and anon a-. specious doctrine
is started, and "troops of believers" are found
among the weak and the credulous. Bit a
-little while has gone by since "the Miller
'mania," which fixed the expiration of time
arid the destruction: of the world at a certain
period, beguiled and deluded a considerable
portion of .the American people., Many.sur
rendered their property, were - deceived by the
mercenary and base, and only aroused front
the folly and infatuation,-when they. had.re
duced themselves to a condition of compara
tive beggary._
The great direr, of the time is a belief in
spiritualism, andits kindred delusions. The
extent to which this prevails . is incredible to
those who do not pay any attention to the
subject. The
.most preposterous doctrines
are sometimes disseminated, while at - seasons
madness 'rules the hour, and notaons of a
truly revolting character are promulgated.—
It is not our
- purpose to enter into an analyti
cal examination of any' - of the isms or delu
sions that have exercised so Much influence
upon the human mind, but merely to admon
ish . the susceptible, .the excitable, and the
credulous. There are in every community
'individuals who are constantly seeking out
some novelty.- 'They' fancy that they Were
born' to make discoveries, to suggest and ac
complish reforms., Nevertheless, too many
Of them lack all the. essentials, are excitable,
eager and impulsive, -rather than calm, tho't
ful and practical, and thus they may be found
either advocating or participating, in every
delusion - dile hour. The 'hUman
moreover, may-readily_lose its balance, and
when - once- disordered -thraughafanaticism,
I credulity, or impo,sturp, -the effects are. sad
indeed. The dangers of delusion are many
and - imminent, ,The victims may be counted
by thousands.' There is scarcely any indi
vidual- in the community who cannot point
out somesad-case. - In ahrisiness'and social
-point of-,view, the- error is-one of a serious
character.. The. merchant or, the mechanic
Who - negleats his regular avocation, trifles
with his 'friends and his Credit for the:purpose
of mingling - with every excitement that oc
curs, will very soon-be looked upon with sus
picion and distrust, and, then treated with
caution and coldness.' Nothing, indeed,
Mil:mid-be regarded as more important than
common sense views, regular habits, cairn
opinions- and deliberate= purpoSes. - The'
excitable and ereduloui are rarely reliable.—
They may be deceived and led away 'at any
moment: , Every new ism may captivate,
Occupy their time and attention, disturb the
even, tenor of their way, and induce them to=
neglect - some positive duty. Look, for ex
ample, at the:itinerant adventures of the day,
who-, possessed of fancy and talent, wander
through the country, and advocate, first one
reform :and then another. At the beginning
they mean -well, and are really benevolent,
:but as .they go on, step by step,- they become
inflated with vanity, or maddened by notori
ety, -untilat- last they-are willing to mingle in
any cause, provided it shall serve to make
them conspicuous. They are themselves de--
hided, and. they.endeavor to delude others.—
In-many cases, too, they adopt eccentricities
of - manner and of dress, and often of morals.
In ,other words, they wander from the regular
paths of life, and the ordinary usages of so
ciety; and in the end, fancy that peculiarities
are indications of genius or philosophy,
whereas they only betoken a tottering condi
tion of intellect. The aspiring, the ambitious
and .the weak, who endeavor to grasp subjects
beyond their reach, ar to penetrate mysteries
that are- wisely 'veiled by the Creator from
mortal ken, too often become either infidels
or monomaniacs,-,and -instead of being guides
and lights to mankind, they
. should serve as
beacons to admonish and to warn. Many of
the new'doctrines of the day are not only
.immoral, but they are :irreverent, mocking
and blasphemous. They are, moreover, cal
culated to do infinitely more harm than good,
and therefore they should be' distrueted and
discountenanced by all who wish well to the
human' family.
Dickens' Picture of Woman.
The true woman, for whose ambition a hus
band's love and her children's adoration are
sufficient, who applies her Military instincts
to the discipline of her household, and whose
legislative exercise themselves in making
laws for her nurse; whose intellect has field
enough for her in communion with her hus
band, and whose heart asks no other honors
than his love and admiration; a woman who
does not think it a weakness to attend to• her
toilet, and who does not disdain to be beauti
ful; who believes in the virtue of glossy hair
and well fitting gowns, and who eschews
rents and raveled edges, slip-shod shoes and
audacious make-ups, a woman who speaks
low and does not speak• much ; who is patient
and gentle, and intellectual and industrious;
who - loves more than she reasons, and yet
does not love blindly ; who never scolds and
never argues, but adjusts with a smile; such
a woman is the .wife we have all dreamed of
once in our lives, and is the mother we still
worship in the backward distance of the past.
B U six drachms make_ a penny-weight,
how many will make a creditor wait An
swer expected next moon.
The Retreat from Long Island.
The second voluine of Living's Life of
George Washington has just appeared. Alm
though' largely occupied by military affairs,
the volume contains .many ,fine sketches of
private character, and life-like _pictures of
American society as it was iii the time of the
Revolution. The narrative of the unfortu
nate battle of Long Island and of the subse
quent retreat may be selected as a specimen
of the graphic style in which Mr. Irving de
scribes military operations. We extract a
few paragraphs :
Never did retreat require greater secrecy
and circumspection. Nine thousand men,
with all the munitions of war,. were to be
withdrawn from before a victorious army, en
caniped SD near that every stroke of spade
and pick-axe from their trenches could, be
heard. The retreating troops, moreover,
were to be embarked and conveyed across a
strait three-quarters of a mile' wide,•swept:by
rapid tides.: The leasLalarm of their move
ment would. bring ; thp enemy upon them, and
produce a terrible scene of confusion and par
nage at the place of embarkation.
Washington made the preparatory' arrange
ments with .great alertness, yet profound se
crecy. Verbal orders
. were sent to Colonel
Hughes, who acted as quartermaster-general,
to impress all water-craft, large' and small,
from Spyinden - Duivel, on the Hudson, round
to Hell-Gate,-on'.the Sound, and have them or:
the east side of the city by evening. The
order was issued r at noon, and so promptly
executed that, although some of the vessels
had to be brought 'a distance• of 15 miles,
they were all at Brooklyn at 8 o'clock in the
evening, And put under the management of
Colonel Glover samphibiousMarblehe . ad regi
ment.
.. -To !prepare the , army for a general move
ment without, betraying, the object, orders
were issued for the troops to.hOld themselves
in readiness for . b. night attack upon • the ene
my. The Orders caused surprise, for the
poor -fellows were exhausted, and their arms
rendered nearly useless by rain ; all, hew
ever., prepared to obey, but, several made nim
cupative wills, as is customary among sol
-diers on the eve of sudden and deadly peril.
According to Washingten's plan of retreat,
to keep the enemy from,discoverin,g the with
draWal of the Americans until their main
body should have embarked in the boats and
pushed off from the shore, Gen. Mifflin was
to-remain at the lines, with the Peunsylvania
troops, and the gallant remains of -Haslet,
Smallwood and Hand's reginnerirs; with guards
posted and sentinels alert, as if nothing ex•
traordinary was ,taking place, ; when the main
embarkation was effected, they, were there-
Selves to move off - quietly, march briskly to
the ferry, and'einbark. -In case of any alarm
that. might. disconcert the arransements,
Brooklyn Church was to be the rallying place,
whither all Should repair, so as unitedly to re
sist any attack. '
It was late in the evening 'when the troops
began to retire from-the breastworks. As one
regiment quietly withdrew from their station
on. guard, the troops on the right and left mov
ed up and filled the vacancy. There was a
stifled murmur in the camp, ainavoidable in
'h. movement of the kind; but it gradually
died away in the direction of the river, as the
main body moved on in silence and order.—
The youthful Hamilton, whoSe military mer
its lead won the favor of General Greene, and
who had lost his baggage and a field-piece in
the battle, brought up the rear of the retreat
ing party. In the dead of the night, - and in
the midst of this hushed and anxious move
inent; a cannon went off with a tremendous
roar. -" The effect," says an American who
was present, was at once alarming and sub
lime. If - the explosion was within Our lines,
the gun was probably dischthged in the act
of spiking it, and could have been• no less a
matter of speculation to the enemy. than to
ourselves." -
"What with the greatness of the stake, the
darkness of the night, the uncertainty of the
design, and the extreme hazard of the issue,"
adds the same writer, " it would be difficult
to conceive a more deeply solemn and inter
esting. scene."
The meaning of this midnight gun was
never ascertained ; fortunately, though it
startled the Americans, it failed to rouse the
British camp.
In the meantime the embarkation went on
with all possible dispatch, under the vigilant
eye of Washington, who stationed himself at
the ferry, superintending every movement.
In his anxiety for dispatch, he sent back Col.
Scarnmel, one of his aids-de-Camp, to hasten
forward all the troops that were on the march.
Scammel blundered in executing his errand,
and gave the order to Mifflin likewise. The
general 'instantly called in his pickets and
sentinels, and set off for the ferry.
- By this time the tide had turned; there was
a strong wind from the north-east; the boats
with oars were insufficient to convey the .
troops; those with sails could not make head
way against wind and tide. There was some
confusion at the ferry, and in the midst of it,
Gen. Mifflin came down with the whole cov
ering party, adding to the embarrassment and.
uproar.
' "Good God !" Gen. Mifflin !" cried Wash
ington, "I am afraid that you have ruined us
by so unseasonably withdrawing the troops
from the lines.9l`
" I did so by your order," replied Mifflin,
with some warmth. "'lt cannot be!" ex
claimed Washington. ‘! By G—, I did !"
was the blunt rejoinder. " Did Scarnmel act
as aid-de-camp for the day, or did he not ?"
"He " Then," said Mifflin, " I had
orders through him." "Itis a dreadful mis
takej"•rejoined Washing,ton ; "and, unless
the troops can regain the-lines before.their
absence is discovered by the enemy, the most
disastrous consequences are to be apprehend
ed."
Mifflin led back his men to the lines, which
had been completely deserted for three quar
ters of an hour. Fortunately, the dense fog
bad prevented the enemy from discovering
they were unoccupied. The men resumed
their former posts, and remained at them un
til called to cross the ferry. " Whoever has
seen troops in a similar situation," writes
Gen. Heath, "or duly contemplates the human
VOL 111,.N0. 44.
heart in such trials, know low to appre
ciate the conduct of these' brave men'on the
occasion."
The.fog which prevailed, all this time seem
ed almost providential. While it hung . over
Long Island, and concealed the movement of
the Americans, the atmosphere was Clear on
the. Netv-York side of the river. The adverse
wind, too, died away ; the river became so
smooth that the row-boats could be laden al
most to the gunwale; and a favoring breeze
sprang up for the sail-boats. The whole erit
barkation of troops, artillery, ammunition,
provisions, cattle, horses and carts was hap
pily, effected ; and, by 'daybreak, the greater
part had safely reached the citythanks to
the aid of Glover's Marblehead men. 'Scarce
anything was abandoned to the enemy, ex
cepting a few heavy pieces of artillery. At
a proper time Mifflin, with his covering
party, left the lines, and effected a silent re
treat to the ferry. Washington, .thobgh re
peatedly entreated, refused. to enter a boat un
til all the troops were embarked, and crossed
the river with the last.
i , Slavery Extensionists."
The Cincinnati Enquirer, remarking upon
some of the cant phrases so common with
the Black Republican, organs and speakers in
referring to the Democracy, says with truth
and force that the question of difference be
tween the two organizations is simply this :
whether the subject of slaVery extension
shall be determined by the residents of new
Territorial communities, or. by non-residents
living in other- States. The Democracy
maintain the first proposition—the Black,-
Republicans the Becund. Accordino , to Black
Republican logic, every person who is in fa
vor of allowing the people of Kansas or Ne
braska to make their own laws and institu
tions is a slavery extensionist. By the same
authority he is oppo,sed to " freedom " _who
does not advocate the right and duty of non
residents to model the institutions of the Ter
ritorieg alluded to withoUt reference to the
wishes of those inhabiting them. The En
quirer adds:
The Democracy insist that, while_ the
North may entertair. such abstract 'views as
it chooses adverse to slavery extension, and
the Sleuth in its favor, the matter, after
to, be determined by the `pioneers who re
move to the Territory which is the field of
dispute. Neither the North nor the South
should impose their peculiar Views upon the
former. The distinction - bet Ween allowing
the people of the Territorieeto decide the sla
very question themselves—as they .do
; other matters of legislation affecting their in
terests—and advocatinii directly, its extension
into new *territory, .is so broad and marked.
that the man who does not
,perceive and rec
ognize it, must be either grossly ignorant or
very dishonest. Into one or the other of these
categories should be placed all those.partisans
who are eternally harping about the Democ
racy being in favor of th extension- of sla
very. . , . .
The falsehood,
.however, has done about all
the mischief it is capable of performing. It
is becoming exploded. The discussions of
the Kansas-Nebraska Bill in Congress and in
the journals of the day are opening the eyes
of the people to the fraud that has been per
petrated upon their credulity. The true issue
will soon be generally- and clearly compre
hended, and upon it the Democracy are des
tined to win glorious and lasting victories.—
The common sense and patriotism of the
country will - pronounce in favor of reposing
political power in the hands of residents of
new States and Territories rather than non
residents, who have not that deep interest in
their welfare and prosperity. 'The opponents
of Territorial sovereignty seem to be actua
ted by the old Federal idea that the people
are not capable of self-government, and will
not exercise its functions aright if intrusted
with it. The Democracy have no such fears
—no such apprehensions. The experience
of seventy years has convinced them that
there is intelligence sufficient iii the popular
masses to maintain free institutions, and they
can see no necessity in keping the Territories
under the tutelar guardianship and protection
of those who do not live in them, and, of
course, do not understand all their local wants
and necessities. .
Teaching and Tr-4ining
Many teachers fail to accomplish what
they wish, because they do not understand
the difference between teaching and training.
To teach is to communicate instruction, to
impart information ; to train is to " exercise,
to discipline, to teach and to form by practice,')
says Webster. With those who are already
educated, measurably-, mere teaching or pre
cept may suffice ; but for young persons,
those who are to be educated, training, prac
tice, must be supetadded, or much of our
labor will be lost.
GOOD NATURE redeems many faults.—
More than beauty, wealth, power, genius, it
causes men and women to be loved. If there
are no shining qualities whatever in the Char
acter, even should there be considerable intel
lectual deficiency, yet if a goodtemperbeamev
brightly on the countenance, we ask fur noth
ing more. We pause not ;we do not ques
tion, nor hesitate, but surrender at once to '
the fascination of the good and honest soul,
that has set upon his face the seal of this ad
mirable quality. —[Newark Advocate.
[CP'Whatever children hear read, ar spo
ken of in terms of approbation, will give a
strong bias to their minds. Hence the neees
sity of guarding conversation in families as
well as excluding hooks and companions that'
have a tendency to vitiate the heart.
0:71 think it must be somewhere written
that the virtues of mothers shall occasionly
be visited on their children, as well as the
sins of fathers.
fC7 - An advertisement for a "saddle-horse'
for a lady of 950 pounds" is going the, rounds - .
Who is the giantess.
I:c'Humble—the husband who does his
wife's churning, the wife whO blacks her
husband's boots, and' the . man who thinks
you do him so much honor.