Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, September 10, 1850, Image 1

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"It rose before them, the most beautiful Island
in the world."—luvres COLUMBUS.
It was a sweet and pleasant isle—
As fair as isle could be;
And the wave that kissed its sandy shore
Was the wave of the Indian sea.
It seemed an Emerald set by heaven
On the ocean's dazzling brow—
And where it glowed long ages past,
It glows as greenly now.
I've wandered oft in its valleys bright,
Through the gloom of its leafy bowers,
And breathed the breath of its spicy gales,
And the scent of its countless flowers.
I've seen its bird of the crimson wing,
Pont under its clear blue sky;
I've heard the notes of its mocking bird
On the evening waters die.
In the starry noon of its brilliant night,
When the world was hushed in sleep,
I've dreamed of the shipwrecked gems that lie
On the floor of the boundless deep.
And I gathered the shells that buried were,.
In the heart of its silver sands;
And toss'd thesis back on the running wave—
To be caught by viewless hands.
There nre sister spirits that dwell in the sea,
Of the spirits that dwell in the air;
And they never visit our northern clime,
Where the coasts are bleak and bare.
But around the shores of the Indian isles
They revel and sing nlonc;
Though I saw them not, I heard by night
Their low, mysterious tone.
Elysian Isle! I may never view
Thy birds and roses more,
Nor meet the kiss of thy loving breeze,
As it seeks thy jewelled shore.
Yet thou art treasured in my heart,
As in thine own deep sea;
And in all my dreams of the spirits' home,
Dear Isle! I'll think of thee!
We are told of "ministering spirits" by the lip,
that cannot lie; and it wore a sacrilege to doubt
their mission. fiat they coin° never to torment or
terrify—they hold no communion with the eye or
Car of atom. In that solemn hoer, when the soul
hovers half-way between two worlds, when the
veil of earthly vision grows transparent with the
dawning light of eternity, it may be—it must be—
that revealings through that light are sometimes
A little girl in a family of my acquaintance—a
lovely and precocious child—lost her mother at an
age too early to fix the loved features in her re
membrance; she was frail as beautiful; and as the
hnd of her heart unfolded, it seemed as if won by
that mother's prayers, to turn instinctively heav
enward. The sweet, conscientious, and prayer
loving child was the idol of the bereaved family.
lint she faded away early. She would lie upon
the lap of the friend who took a mother's kind
care of her, and winding one arm around berneek
would say, "sow tell me about my mammal"—
And when oft the tale had been repeated, she
would ask, softly, "Take me into the parlor; I
want to see my mamma !" The request was ne
ver refased, and the affectionate child would lie
for hours, contentedly gazing on her mother's
portrait. But, as the poet says—
"Pale and wan she grew, and weakly—
Bearing all her pains so meekly,
'That to them she still grew dearer,
As the trying hour grew nearer."
That hour cm= at last, and the weeping neigh
bors assembled to see the little child die. The
dew of death was already on the flower, as its life
Inn was going down. The little chest heaved
"Do you know me, darling?" sobbed close in
her ear the voice that was dearest; but it awoke
no answer. All at once, a brightness, as if from
the upper world, burst over the child's colorless
countenance. The cyclists flashed open, the lips
parted, the wan, curdling hands flew up, in the
little ono's last impulsive effort, as she looked pier
cingly into the far above.
"Mother:" she cried, with surprise and trans
port in her tone, and passed with that word to her
mother's bosom.
Said a distinguished divine, who stood by that
bed of joyous death—"lf I had never believed in
the ministration of departed ones before, I could
not doubt it now."
The Sunny Side.
How much more pleasant it is to the pure to do
good—to kindle the more gentle and noble feelings
of our nature—than by misrepresentations, hints,!
or dark inuendoes, to break in upon long estab
lished friendships, and disturb the good feelings of
years of intimacy! In all our associations, com
mend us to him who always presents the sunny
side of life's picture to the gaze; he who has ever
"a pleasant word to speak," and is disposed to fling
the mantle of oblivion over the foibles of erring
men; such a man we could wear in our "heart's
core—aye, in our heart of hearts." But from the
mischief-maker, whose bosom is filled with a can
ker worm which knows no pleasure except that
which torments others, deliver us!
IWA little girl, walking one day with her mo
ther in a grave-yard, reading one atter another the
praises of those who slept beneath, said, "I won
der where they bury the sinners"'
c( /
. r •
I'l l lllllf ' - " 4:- t
, -
I saw him but twice, the hero of the Mexican
war, the chief man in power in the United States,
the late President ZACHARY TAYLOR; but enough
to feel that I saw in him—
"An honest man, the noblest work of God I"
The first time was a beantiful evening, on the green
grounds around the White House. The Potomac
glistened in the setting son, a band of music in the
grounds was playing the "Star Spangled Banner,"
and a gay crowd of men and women, and children,
with nurses and negroes, were walking about, en
joying the evening, the music, the green grounds,
- and the view of the noble river, with the Washing
ton Monument in giant proportions rising on its
banks. President TAYLOR was among them, not
as the Kings of Europe when they come down am
ong the people, surrounded by guards or star
spangled attendants; no, but unattended, alone,
plain in attire as the plainest of the citizens around
him, the greatest part of them strangers to him.—
Yet he seemed to feel that he was among friends,
and his honest face, and his unassuming bearing,
his straight-forward, friendly manner, the firm and
cordial pressure of his hand, made a friend even of
the stranger who was for the first time introduced
to him. He stood there serene, smiling to the
children who were running about and tumbling in
the grass in unconstrained liberty. He spoke of
the pleasure they gave him.
It was truly a Republican scene—one of those
we would fain see more often on earth—where all
distance between men, all difference of rank and
fortune are done away with, and life is again an I
Idyl full of innocence and beauty in the lap of great
nature. May the "Star Spangled Banner" float
wider and wider over such banquets of life!
The next time I NM President TAYLOR, it was
in one of the splendid rooms of his mansion, and
with him his beautiful daughter, the Sister of the
Graces, Mrs. Blass. Political questions, to which
he was called to attend, detained him for some time
from us. When he came, he Was cordial and sim
ple in his manner, as, before on the green grounds.
Yet he seemed to me not quite well, and as if he
was trying to east off from his mind a cloud. And
so lie did, as a gallant man and a true American
gentleman attending to ladies. He spoke to us of
the Indians, nmong whom ho had been so much,
and whom he knew so well. And as he spoke he
brightened, and his speech flowed on so pleasantly
and so cheerfully, flat • hogl we, Loon n e ,04L“..,
would have forgotten how time flowed on, as we
forgot the stem which gathered without, and rat
tled at the windows.
It was a few days afterwards that I heard, in the
Senate, the low, thrilling tones of DANIEL WEB
STER interrupt the discussion going on, to announce
that "a great misfortune threatened the land"—
that the President of the United States was dying
—was not expected to outlive that day. And that
very evening, how changed was the gay scene in
the White House! Death was there, was laying
his heavy hand on the beloved tither of the family
—on the elected head of the Republic!
Yet serene was he even now. In death he took
the hand of his wile, and said "My dear wife, I
DUTY !" And that stern monitor—so fearful to
many—came to him on his death-bed as a com
forter, as a soothing angel. But he had long since
made of !dm a friend. DUTY 'had been, and was,
the spring of his life and actions. His friends and
his foes (and he had such in was and in politics,)
must join in acknowledging that TRUTHFULNESS
and cos SC IIiNTIO USN Esti were the unswerving qual
ities of his mind. In these virtues he was UREA,
I saw hint hut twice, and for a little while, but
as I saw him, and with what l have heard of him,
I can well understand that brave men,—his com
panions on the battle-field,—have wept as children
at his death; and that there is a heart who, after
that death, never more will feel the joy of life.
Yet happy is she, who can live and glory in such
memories ! And happy the man who lived and
died as he, who, on his death-bed, looking over a
life of great military import, could serenely say—
31Y DUTY !"—Graham's Magazine.
Work, if You would Rise.
Richard Burke being found iu a reverie, shortly
after an extraordinary dispiny of powers, in the
House of Commons, by his brother Edmund, and
questioned by Mr. Malone as to the rause, replied,
"I have been wondering how Ned has contrived to
monopolize all the talents of the family; but then
again, I remember, when we were at play, lw was
at work!" The force of the anecdote is increased
by the fact, that Richard Burke was considered
not inferior, in natural talents, to his brother.—
Yet the one rose to greatness, while the other died
comparatively obscure. Don't trust to your gen
ius young man, if you would rise to honor and dis
tinction in the world; but work! work! work!
Pride of Consistency.
A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little
minds. If you would be a man, "speak what you
think to-day, and to-morruw speak what to-mor
row thinks, though you shall contradict all you
have said to-day." Here is a maxim of philosophy
it would be well for the world to see boldly acted
up to. In politics, how much mischief would be
avoided, had men the courage to act always on
the convictions of the hour. 110 w much obstinate
perseverance in what is wrong, would be spared
the witnessing, if the bugbear "consistency" did
not haunt meu us it does.
eir A bachelor friend of ours being asked by a
sentimental Miss why he did not secure some fond
one's companionship, in the voyage on the ocean
of life, replied : "I would, if I were sure such nu
ocean would be the Pacific."'
Morning again lifted up the dark veil of night,
and the pale rosy hues of early dawn, mingled with
the golden beams of the rising sun, bathed in rich
tints the hills and files , the groves and streams
around. The clear Zew-drops, sparkling like dia
monds in the morning beams, still clustered on
every leaf and blossom, and the whole air was per
fumed with the delicate fragrance of sweet flowers.
Bright birds of glittering plumage caroled their
morning hymn in notes of sweetest cadence, until
the mild air was vocal with their melody.
In a low cottage home, on that bright morn, a
fair young infant had just been cradled, and bend
ing over it stood two angel watchers. Fairer than
aught we dream of, seemed they, clad in robes of
silvery brightness, and each brow wearing the light
of holy purity. They touched a harp, and a low,
soft melody was gently borne on the breath of
summer, while they wove, fur the new-born babe,
Time trcials not slowly, and years are gone.—
Childhood has placed its glad seal on that infant
brow, and to her the earth reflects nought but hap
piness. Bright skies o'crarch her path-way, and
in the web of life are woven golden threads. The
guardian angels hover near her, and she treads the
earth with a happy, guileless heart.
Again, years have passed away. In that glad
cottage-house, one summer eve, she stood with the
chosen partner of her life by her side, uttering the
low response that binds two hearts together. An
gels were at that bridal—the same who bent over
the cradle of the fair infant. Softly they whisper
ed blessings in her ear, then spread their pinions
and fled,—and on the morrow the bride went forth
front her childhood's home. There were threads
of silver in the web of life.
Still time sped on. A sable mantle was spread
over the earth, and nought was to be heard save
the murmur of the night wind, as it swept through
the trees. Bright gems decked the blue expanse
above, and the glorious moon rode high in the
starry heavens, bathing nature in its silveryht.
Within the room of a lofty dwelling sat she who
was last the happy bride. But a change is on her,
for the dark thread of sorrow is woven in the web
of life. The Angel of Death has crossed her path
way, and he whom she so fondly loved and trusted
is smitten and laid low. Oh! how fearfully she
struggled through all that long and weary night,
else morning dawned, the beams of the rising sun
glanced upon a lifeless form, and she was alone
upon the earth. Yet no, not alone; the angel
watchers were still near her, whispering kind words
of comfort in her hour of trial, and girding her with
strengths to tread the world's rough path-way.
Years again had passed. Evening was drawing
on—the quiet, holy eve—and her first star was
glimmering in else sky. On a low couch in the
curtained room of else little cottage home, reclined
a dying woman. The silvered locks of threescore
years fell on her wrinkled brow, and the form of
graceful symmetry was bowed beneath the heavy
harden of tissue, but the same pure light that had
danced in the cherub infitnt's eye, stow beamed
with a serene ray in those of the happy wanderer
who had come to die. The Guardian Angels ho
vered o'er the lowly couch, with their wings spread,
waiting for else spirit to take its flight. THE WEB
or sr.we WAS Fmsunn—and when else last thread
was severed, a strain of triumphant music rang out
from the "Harp of a thousand strings!"
Live for Something.
Thousands of men breathe, move, and live—pass
Mr the stage of life, and are heard of no more.—
Why? They al nut a particle of good, and none
were blessed by them; none could point to them
as the instrument of their redemption; not a line
they wrote, not a word they spoke, cotdd be re
called, and so they perished; their light went out
in darkness, and they were not remembered more
thou the insects of yesterday. Will you thus live
and die, 0 man immortal? Live for something!
Do good, and leave behind you a monument of
virtue, that the storms of time can never destroy.
Write your name by kindness, love, and mercy,
on the hearts of thousands you come in contact
with year after year, and you will never be forgot
ten. No, your name, your deeds, will boas legible
on the hearts you leave behind, as the stars on the
brow of evening. Good deeds will shine as bright
ly on the earth as the stars of heaven.
The Great Salt Lake.
According to Mr. Spencer, of the Salt Lake set
tlement, the territory contains about twenty thou
sand inhabitants, thirteen thousand of whom com
pose the population of the chief city. The soil of
the valley is represented to be so productive, that
it averages seventy-five bushels of wheat to the
acre, when sown broad-cast, which we should cull
a miraculous kind of average. One hundred and
sixty bushels, says Mr. S., have been produced
from a single bushel of seed, whon planted in drill,
which is not so improbable, if the bushel was al
lowed land enough. Water power is abundant,
and there are already six flour and six saw mills
in operation. The climate is salubrious, and out
of n population of thirteen thousand, there occur
red but seven deaths in 1849. The several set
tlements in the valley are reported to be in a very
healthy and flourishing condition.
Cr To become witty ourselves, we must asso
ciate with wits. The very best of pumps will not
play till water is thrown in to start them. One
funny man_in_a
. - party will in a short time make
every body funny, while a melancholy youth will
soon set every body to yawning.
cir Earth is so kiwi, that just tickle her with a
hue ; anti. she laughs with a harvest.
A fatty ho the St. Louis Union, over the signs•
tare of "Inez," portrays her thoughts in the follow
ing beautiful verses, on the eve of her marriage.
Father, I come before Thy throne,
With low and beuded knee,
To thank Thee, with a graceful tone,
For all thy love to me.
Forgive me, in my heart this hour,
I give not ALL to Thee,
For deep affection's mighty power
Divides it now with Thee.
Thou knowest, Father, every thought
That wakes within my breast,
And how this heart has vainly sought
To keep its love suppressed;
Yet when the idol, worshipped one,
Sits fondly by my side,
And breathes the vows I cannot shun,
To me, his destined bride,—
Forgive me, if the loving kiss
He leaves upon my brow,
Is thought of in an hour like this,
And thrills me even now;
Re's chosen me to be his lore
And comforter through life;
Enable me, oh God, to prove
A loving, faithful wife.
Ile knows not, Father, all the deep
Affections I control—
The thousand loving thoughts that sweep
Resistless o'er my soul;
lie knows not each deep fount of love
That gushes warm and free;
Nor can he ever, ever, prove
My warm idolatry.
Then guard him, Father—round his way
Thy choicest blessings cast,
And render each successive day
Still happier than the last.
And, Father, grant us so to live,
That when this life is o'er,
Within the happy home you give,
We'll meet to part no more !
The Golden Times of ISSO.
Talk of the age of hold being past—this is the
age of Gold! Not to speak of the fresh resources
reportedin California—more "inexhaustible" than
the first discoveries ifpossible—we have gold
mines turning up m parts or MC moue: virgin.,
Venezuela, Bolivia, and South Australia; while
the old mines of Russia, Peru, &e., have taken a
new start, and become more productive, as if em
ulous of the prolific superiority of the young "dig
gings." What is to be done with all this gold, now
becomes a serious question. "Too much of a good
thing is good for nothing," says the old aphorism;
and if it can apply to the increase of precious me
tals, we pity the nervous state of small aumuitants
to whom such new golden revelations must be a
source of unamiable dejection.
Can it be possible that the supply of wealth call
ever surpass the demand? What a millenium of
peace, plenty, and content, does the idea conjure
up! But this can never be, while human stature
remains as universally selfish as it has pleased
Heaven, for its own inscrutable ends, to make it.
If "the love of money is the root of all evil," en
lightenment and civilization are its fruits. Will
men forsake this, their steadfast and only enduring
'love?" Will they become satiated by posseSsion
or disgusted at their facile triumphs? Will they
turn to other idols, after the relenting Mammon
showers abundance of lucre upon them?
It will be a melancholy sight, yet only in keep
ing with the proverbial fickleness of man ; and it
will surely be, if ever Gold is too easily won. It
must be degraded from its high position as the
representative of wealth, and another—perhaps a
baser—metal, set up in its stead.
The Loved Faces.
Happy thoughts come stealing upon us when we
look upon the faces of those we loved in other
days—those we have been separated from for lung
years, and who return again with all the changes
of tima and thought upon their brows. The joy
ous feelings that arise upon meeting with old fa
miliar faces, cordial shaking of hands, tutu hearty
congratulations that follow—who does not remem
ber them'? But when those we love and cherish
leave us forever—when their spirits pass away from
earth to heaven, who would not . give all on earth
fur a picture—even a faint resemblance—of their
features, ever so animated and beautiful! How
many bright eyes grow dim—how many cheeks
grow pale—how many lovely forms fade away into
the tomb, leaving not - a shadow of their loveliness
behind :—Literary Messenger.
Irradiation of Light.
It is a curious fact that if the smile letters of the
same size precisely, are painted on two boards, the
one white on a black ground, anti the other black
on a white ground, that the white letters will ap
pear larger, and be read at a greater distance than
the black. This is owing to what is called the ir
radiation of light. It depends on this, that the im
pression made on the bottom of the eye by bright
objects, extends a little wider than the actual por
tion of the organ struck by the light, and invading
the space occupied by the darker objects, makes
the brighter appear larger than they really are.
The best BOARD in the world for dyspeptic
young ladies, iesaid to be a WASH BOARD. It
gives them strength of muscle and exuberance of
spirits, a good appetite for their meals, and super
cedes the necessity of painting their faces.
ELT Why is a man charged with a crime, like
types'? Because he should flit he /achd up till
the mallet is ',raced,
4 -9 °'1,111111141 1
We ate not at all surprised at 'ta(tnt', in this
country, is most foolishly called the conceit and
vanity of the Americans. What people in the
world have so fine, so magnificent a countryl—
Besides that, they have some reason to be proud
of themselves. We have given the chief features
of their eastern and inland territory; if the reader
has any imagination for ideas of this kind, let him
picture to himself what will be the aspect of things
when the tide of population has crossed the long
range of the Rocky Mountains, and, occupying the
valleys of the western coast, has built other Bos
tons and New Yorks in the harbors of Oregon and
California. This tide of population is now tulvan
ring along a line of more than a thousand miles,
at the rate of eighteen miles a year; and every
year, as the populationbehind becomes larger, the
number of new settlers is increased, and the rate
or advance is aeceherated. This vest crowd of
ever -onward-pressing settlers is not formed of the
same materials as the inhabitants of an European
province; that is, there are not at its head a few
intelligent, but delicately brought-up men of capi
tal, while all the rest are ignorant laborers; but
every one of these pioneers of civilization can han
dle the axe and the rifle, and can "calculate." If
ever these magnificent dreams of the American
people are realized—and all that is wanted for their
realization is that things should go on as they have
been going on for the two last centuries—there
will he seated upon that vast continent a popula
tion greater than that of all Europe, till speaking
the same language, all active-minded, intelligent,
and well off. They will stand, as it were, the cen
tre of the world, between the two great oceans,
with Europe on one hand, and Asia on the other.
With such a future before him, we must pardon
the Yankee if we find a little dash of self-compla
cency in his composition; and bear with the sur
prise and annoyance which he expresses at finding
that we know so little of lihnself or of his country.
Our humble opinion is that we ought to know bet
ter. Great as is the influence which America has
already had 'pots Europe, we conceive that this is
a mere intimation of the influence which it is des
tined to have upon the world.
The Soft Answer.
A husband who, in a moment of hasty wrath,
said to wife, who but a few months before had
united h e faith to his, "If you ara_not
Imo my consort, retain itt pnit menus mot your
happiness." "Anil will you give the back that
which I brought to you?" asked the despairing
wife. "Yes," he replied, "all your wealth shall
go with you—l covet it not." "Alas!" she an
swered "I thought not of my wealth. I spoke of
my maiden affections, of my buoyant hopes, of my
devoted love. Can you give these back to me?"
"No!" said the man throwing himself at her feet.
"No, I cannot restore these; but I will do more;
I will keep them unsullied sod unstained; I will
cherish them through life, end in sleuth, and never
again will I forget that I have sworn to protect and
cheer her who gave up to me all site held dear."
Wives, was there not more than poetry in this WO
man's heart? Was there not angelic sweetness—
grace divine? "A soft answer turneth away wrath."
Go thou and do likewise ; then how many of wed
lock's fierce battles would be unfought, how much
of unhappiness and coldness avoided.
Married Life.
If we consider carefully the condition of a mar
ried man, and that of an old bachelor, we shall see
how little reason the latter has to congratulate
himself that he has never been "caught." The
nutnied man has some one to think of all his little
comforts ; to sympathize alike in his adversity and
in his prosperity; to soothe his ill-humor when he
is annoyed; to amuse him when he is dull, and to
nurse him when he is ill. But who cares for an
old bachelor?—unless, indeed, ho should chance
to be rich, and then he is surrounded by courtiers,
all eager to please him, but with what hope? only
that they nuty benefit by his death.
Hannibal and Taylor,
At the battle of Thrasyntene, fought some three
hundred years before Christ, between the greatest
General the world ever saw, and the Romans, the
Carthagenians are said to have formed into a fork
or triangle, with their edges outwards, and as the
Romans wedged theinselves in, they were hewn
down like cattle. It is stated as a remarkable fact
that during this horrible massacre, so great was
the rage of the combatants, that an earthquake
rolled beneath them unheeded. Gen. TAYLOR, at
Buena Vista, imitated the able Hannibal, and pla
ta;tl his troops in a similar manner, and by these
means defeated the heavy squadrons of Santa Anna.
'Wipers: 9
Some vipers, (as we hear or read,)
Are of so eenemom a breed,
That, when enraged, they oat of spite,
Will on themselves inflict their bite!
A"generation" we may trace
"Of vipers. in the human race;
Whether they bite, or sting, or charm,
The 0000 MAN is above their harm.
There is a great deal of philosophy in a dog's
tail. It is as great a tell-tale as a lady's fun. If
a slog is pleased, his tail is immediately iu a wag
ish humor—if he is afraid, it dupes—if angry, it
"sticks out." You can tell the character and dis
position of a dog by his tail, as well as a Phreno
logist can decipher yours from the "bumps."
ti(ir Dean Swift said, the reason of so many un
happy marriages was, "became young ladies spend
more time in making nets than cages."
cir A man may travel through the world and
: ow it thick with friendship.
VOL. XV.---NO. 36
High walls and huge the body may confine.
And iron gates obstruct the prisoner's gaze,
And massive bolts may baffle his design,
And vigilant keepers watch his devious ways;
Yet scorns the immortal mind this base control
No chains can bind it, and no cell enclose:
Swifter than light, it flies from pole to pole,
And in a flash from earth to heaven it goes!
It leaps from mount to mount; from vale to vale
It wandors, plucking honey'd fruits and flowers;
It visits home, to hear the fireside tale,
Or in sweet converse, pass the joyous hours.
'Tis up before the sun, roaming afar,
And, in its watches, wearies every star!
Human Sacrifices in India.
There is a ferocious tribe of natives inhabiting
Goosmor, in Bengal, called Khonds. The earth
goddess, one among the multitude they worship,
can be propitiated, as they believe, only by human
flesh and blood. The miserable victims are pur
chased on false pretences, or kidnapped from the
poser classes of Ilindoos in the low country.—
These are often children, great numbers of whom
are kept on hand in reserve, as they shall be want
ed. At the time appointed for the sacrifice, the
victim is bound to a stake, and after scenes of
most revolting drunken and obscene introductory
services, at an appointed signal the crowd rash
with maddening fury upon the sacrifice, wildly ex
claiming, "We bought you with a price, and no
sin rests upon us." They then cut his flesh in
pieces front the bones. Thus the horrid rite is
consummated. Each man then bears away his
bloody shreds to his field, leaving them there as an
acceptable offering, in fuvorof their fertility, to the
bloodygoddess. The British government has act
ed with great energy against this dreadful custom.
In January, 1849, their agent, by en armed force,
rescued one hundred and six of these devoted vic
tims. A great sacrifice had been determined on,
in anticipation of his coming; but he appeared in
their midst suddenly, twelve days before the ap
pointed time, and staved the bloody work. Under
date of February, 1850, we learn that up to Janu
ary 27, one hundred and forty-three victims had
been rescued by a young British officer, named
Frye. At a later date, we learn he had rescued
one hundred aud fifty victims, in addition to the
one hundred and forty-three previously rescued.—
' Tu l l evil, and no Farwill bo sparedto cause Its
entire cessation. Some of these rescued victims
have received a Christian education, in the schools
of the English Baptist Mission, and promise great
usefulness to their benighted countrymen.
The Trials of Married Life:
We have at friend—an excellent husband and
doming father—who came into our office the other
day, looking rather sleepy.
"'What is the matter'?" we inquired.
"Oh—nothing—that is to say," he replied in a
hesitating voice, babies arc sonic trouble, after all,
ain't they t"
Of coin, w•e nodded an indifferent assent, but
!ould not help asking "howl"
"Why. the fact is," said our friend, "that little
!now of ours is getting to he very knowing, and
kill he husnored now and then—so I get upoccu
annuity and walk him to sleep—but last night both
4 Lie and myself had to carry hint alternately—"
`Surely two are not required—"
"Hear me out. You see the child wanted nov
alty, and so I lighted the candle, and as my wifo
carried him up and down the room, I walked after
icr, making all sorts of queer manomvers with
he light."
"Well, did that pacify him?"
" , Why yes, after a fashion. It stopped his cry
ing, but we consumed a whole candle, and the best
portion of the night before he fell asleep, and the
consequence is, I feel wretched this morning."
Now, old bachelor, laugh, if you feel like it, and
let this he a scorning to you.
Good Advice to Boys.
Truth is one of the rarest gems. Many a youth
has been lost to society, by suffering it to tarnish,
and foolishly throwing it away. If this gem still
shines in your bosom, suffer nothing to displace it
or dim its lustre. Proflutity is a mark oflow breed
ing. Slum us the nut who commands the most
respect. An oath never trembles on his tongue.—
Read the catalogue of crime. Inquire the char
acter of those who depart from virtue. Without an
exception you will find then to be profane. Think
of adz, end let not a vile word disgrace you.
NOTHING PERFEVT.-Rev. Ralph Waldo Emer
son has written and published that "there is a crack
in everything God has made."—Boston Post.
lir If the Reverend Ralph Waldo Emerson has
written and published such a sentiment as the a
bove, it is clear that his head is not an exception.
CZ" "Medicine," said Bonaparte at St. Helena,
"is a collection of uncertain prescriptions, the re
sults of which, taken collectively, aro more fatal
than useful to mankind. Water, air, aud cleanli
ness, are the chief articles of my pharmacopoeia."
Wdohn Foster was a strong writer, and pack
ed his sentences with meaning. Iledisliked fancy
work, and, on being shown a bit of worsted work
with a great deal of red in it, he said that "it was
red with the blood of murdered time."
0 — To keep up with the times, a schoolmaster
down east has just invented a machine for licking
his scholars. By means of a crank, a boy is put
through his discipline in ono quarter of the time
the rattan used to consume.
fir A man in Pittsburg has been tined $1,62
for squeezing a young lady's bond. lL re I t costs
malting—the girls love it: