BY JAS. CLARK.
Per the Huntingdon Journal.
Then I Shall be Satisfied.
ZIT =MECCA DICKSON.
If I 'll thy lilteness, 0 Lord, may awake,
And elan a pure image of thee,
.Then I shnll be satisfied, when I can break
The fetters of flesh, and be free.
know this stained tablet must first ha washed
white,
To let thy bright features be drawn ;
I know I must stiffer the darkness of night,
To welcome the coming of dawn.
But I shall be satisfied, when I can cast
The shadows of nature all by ;
When the cold, dreary world from my vision has
past,
To let the soul open her eye.
I gladly shall feel the blest morn drawing near,
When life's dreamy ilmeies shall fade,
If I in thy likeness, 0 Lord, may appear,
And rise in thy beauty arrayed.
To see thee in glory, 0 Lord, as thou art,
From this mortal, perishing clay;
The spirit, immortal, in peace would depart,
And, joyous, mount up her bright way.
When on thine own image in me thou bast smiled,
Within thy blest mansions, and when,
The mines of my father encircle his child,
0, I shall be satisfied then.
Simple, Touching, [leant it'll Lines.
The New England Diadem gives its readers the
following beautiful stanzas, which were suggested
by hearing read an extract of a letter from Capt.
Chase, giving an account of the sickness and death
of his brother-in-law, Mr. Brown Owen, who died
on his passage to California. We have seldom
met anything so painfully interesting in every
line, and it will be read with " teary eyes" by
many who have lost brothers, fathers, husbands
or sons on their way to, or after having reached
the land of Gold and of Graves:
Lay up nearer, brother, nearer,
For my limbs are growing cold,
And thy presence scometh dearer,
When thy arms around me fold;
I am dying, brother, dying,
Soon you'll miss me in your berth,
For my form will eoon be lying
'Neuth the ocean's briny surf.
hearken to me, brother, hearken,
I have something I would say,
Ere the veil my vision darken,
And I go from hence away;
I em going, surely going,
But my hope in God is strong,
I am willing, brother, knowing
That Ha doeth nothing wrong.
Tell my father, when you greet him,
That in death I prayed for hint,
Prayed that I may one day meet him,
In a world that's free from sin ;
Tell my mother, (God assist her
Now that she is growing old,)
That her child would glad have kissed her,
When his lips grew pale and cold.
Listen, brother, catch each whisper,
'Tis my wife I'd speak of now;
Toll, oh tell her, how I missed her,
When the fever burnt my brow;
Tell her, brother, closely listen,
Don't forget a single word,
That in death my eyes did glisten,
With the tears her memory stirred.
Tell her she must kiss my children,
Like the kiss I lust impressed,
Hold them as when last I held them,
Folded closely to my breast;
Give them early to their MmtEn,
Putting all her trust in Gon,
And HE never will forsake her,
For HE'S said so in Has Wonn.
O my children; HEAVEN bless them:
They were all my life to me,
Would I could once more caress them,
Ere I sink beneath the sea;
'Twas for them I crossed the ocean,
What my hopes were I'll not tell,
But I hare gained an orphan's portion,
Yet He doeth all things well.
Tell my sisters I remember,
Every kindly parting word,
And my heart has been kept tender,
By the thoughts their mem'ry stirred ;
Tell them I ne'er reached the haven,
Where I sought the " precious dust,"
Bet I have gained a port called HEAVEN,
Where the gold will never rust.
Urge them to securitn entrance,
For they'll flnil their brother there ;
Faith in Jesus, and repentance,
Will secure for each a share—
Bark! I hear my SAVIOUR speaking,
'Tie, I know His voice so well,
When I am gone, oh don't he weeping,
Brother, here's my last farewell.
The wind is a bachelor, merry and free;
He roves at his pleasure o'er land and o'er sea.
He ruffles the lake, and he kisses the flower,
And he sleeps when be lists in aJasmine bower.
Re gives to the cheek of the maiden its bloom,
Re tastes her warn, kisses, enjoys their perfume ;
But, truant-like, often the sweets that he sips,
kiatti nest mem•nl on lovelier lips.
~1~
. ,:,--fin,qbo-14
01/L.
THE GLASS RAILROAD.
"THERE WAS A MORAL IN THAT DREAM."
The "Milford Bard," during one of his fits of
mania a pots, said
"It seemed to me, as though I had been sud
denly aroused from my slumber. I looked round
and found myself in the center of a gay and lum
py crowd. The first sensation I experienced was
that of being borne along with a peculiar gentle
motion—a soft, gliding motion. I looked around
and found that I was in one of a long train of curs,
which were gliding over a railway, and seemed to
be many miles in length. It was composed of
many cars. Every b, open at the top, was filled
with men and women—all gaily dressed—all hap
py, all laughing, talking, and singing. The pecu
liarly gentle motion of the cars interested me.—
There was no grating, such as we hear on a rail
road. They moved on without the least jar or
sound. This, I say interested me. I looked over
the side, and to my astonishment found the rail
road and cars were made of glass. The glass
wheels moved along over the glass rails without
the least noise or oscillation. The soft gliding
motion produced a feeling of exquisite happiness.
I was so happy! It seemed as if e verythiug was
at rest within me—l was full of peace.
While I was wondering over this circumstance,
a new sight attracted my gaze. All along the rail
road, on either side, within a foot of the track,
were laid long lines of coffins, on either side of the
railroad, and every one contained a corpse, with
its cold white face turned upward to the light.—
The sight filled me with unutterable horror. I
yelled in agony, but could make no sound. The
gay throng who were around me, only redoubled
their singing and laughter, at the sight of agony,
and we swept. on and on, gliding with glass wheels
' over the glass railroad, every moment coming
nearer to the heml of the road which formed an
angle with the road, far, far in the distance.
"Who are those 1" I cried at last pointing to
the dead in their coffins.
" Those arc the persons who made the trip be•
fore us," was the reply of one of the gayest per•
" What trip 7" I asked.
" Why, the trip we are now making. The trip
nn these glass cars over this glass railway," was
the answer.
"Why do they lie along the road, each one in
his coffin V'
I was answered with a whisper and half laugh
which froze my blood.
" They were dashed to death nt the end of the
railroad," said the person whom I addressed.—
' Lou
. know that the railroad terminates at an abyss
which is without bottom or measure. It is lined
with pointed rocks. As each car arrives at the
end it precipitates its passengers into the abyss.—
They are dashed to pieces against the rocks, and
their bodies are brought up here, and placed iu
coffins as a warning to other passengers, but no
one minds it, we are so happy on the glass rail
road."
I can never describe the horror with which
these words inspired Inc,
What is the name of this railroad 7" I asked.
The person whom I addressed replied in the
same low voice.
"It is the railroad of habit. It is very easy to
get in these cars, but very hard to get out. For
once in these cars, everybody is delighted with
the soft gliding motion. The cars move gently !
Yes, it is a railroad Habit, and with glass wheels
we are whirled over a glass railroad towards a
fatlioniless abyss. In a felnionNents we'll be there
and then they'll bring ourlrodies and put them in
coffins as a warnings to others, but nobody will
mind it, will they 1"
I was choked with horror; I struggled to
breathe, made frantic efforts to leap from the cars,
and in the struggle awoke. I knew it was only a
dream ; and yet when I think of it, I can see that
long train of bars move gently over the glass rail
road. I can see the cars far ahead as they are tur
ning the bend of the road. I can see the dead in
their coffins clear and distinct—on either side of
the road—while the laughter and singing of the
gay and happy passengers resound in my ears, I
only see those cold faces of the dead with their
glassy eyes uplifted, and their frozeninds upon
their shrouds.
It wig a lairrible dream.
And the Bard's changing features and brighten
ing eye, attested the emotion which had been
aroused by the very memory of the dream.
It was indeed a horrible dream. A long train
of glass cars, gliding over a glass railway, freight
ed with youth, beauty, and music, while on either
land stretched the victims of yesterday, gliding
over the railway of Habit, towards the fathomless
abyss.
" There was a moral in that dream."
Reader are you addicted to iv sinful habit t
Break it off ere you dash against the rocks.—Lip
' pard.
Or The sons of Chinese peasants could read
and write, when tho princes of England were ig
norant of both. China has since made no advance
while England has reached a height of civilisation
'that no one at that time could ante formed any
idea of. England has had the gospel, China has
been without it. This accounts for their relative
change of position.
tEr It is a remarkable fact, that every man who
has filled the Gubernatorial Chair of the State of
New York, from the days of George Clinton to
Washington Hunt, was a lawyer.
10 - Great bereavements work more refreshingly
upon the spirit than great joys : so, on the contra
ry, minor sorrows weaken more than minor joys
ttNingtheis.
HUNTINGDON, PA., THURSDAY, MARCH 6, 1851.
Nutrition of the Various Grains.
WHEAT is ono of the most important of all
crops. The grain contains from fifty to seventy
per cent. of starch, front 10 to 20 per cont. of glu
ten, and front 3 to 5 per cent. of fatty matter.—
The proportion of gluten is said to be largest in
the grain of warm countries. It is a singular
filet, that in all the seed of wheat and other grains,
the principal part of the oil lies near or in the
skin, as also does a large portion of the gluten.—
The bran owes to this much of its nutritive and
fattening qualities. Thus refining our flour to
the utmost possible extent, we diminish somewhat
its value for food. The phosphates of the ash al
so lie to a great degree iu the skin. The best
tine flour contains about seventy pounds of starch
to each hundred. Tho residue of one hundred
lbs. consists of ten or twelve pounds of gluten, six
or eight pounds of sugar, and gum, and ten or four
teen pounds of water, and a little oil.
lira: FLOUR more nearly resembles wheaten
flour in its composition than any other; it has,
however more of certain gummy and sugary sub
stances, which make it tenacious, and also im
part a sweetish taste. In baking all grains and
roots which have much stanch in them, a certain
change takes place in their chemical compost
tint. • • • By baking, flour becomes more
nutritious, and more easily digestible, because
more soluble.
BARLEY contains rather less starch than wheat, l i
also less sugar than gum. There is little gluten,
but a substance somewhat like it, and containing
about the same amount of nitrogen.
OATMEAL is little used as food in this country,
but it is equal, if not superior, in its nutricious
qualities, to flour from any of the other grains ;
superior, I have no doubt, to moat of the fine
wheaten flour of northern latitudes. It contains
from ten to eighteen per cent. of a body having
about the same amount of nitrogen or gluten.—
Besides this, there is a considerable quantity of
sugar and gum, and from five to six per cont. of!
oil or fatty matter, which may be obtained in the
form of a clear, fragrant liquid. Oatmeal cakes
owe their peculiar agreeable taste and smell t.H
this oil. Oatmeal, then, has not only an awl
dance of subsistence containing nitrogen, but is
also thttening. It is, in short, nn excellent food
for working animals, and as lute been abundantly
proved in Scotland, for workingmen also.
BUCKWHEAT is less nutritious than the other
grains which wo have noticed. Its flour has from
six to ten per cent. of nitrogenous compounds,
about fifty per cent. of starch, and from five to
eight of sugar and gum. In speaking of buck
wheat or of oats, we of course mean without
hanks.
RICE was formerly supposed to contain little,
nitrogen ; but recent examinations has e shown
that there is a considerable portion, sonic six or
eight per cent. of a substance of gluten. The
per centage of fatty matter and of sugar is quite
small, but that of starch larger than in any grain
yet mentioned, being between eighty and ninety
per cent.— usually about eighty-twoi
INDIAN Cons is the last of grains that we shall
notice. This contains about sixty per cent. of
starch, nearly the same as oats. Tho proportion
ofoil and guns is large, about ten per cent.—this
explains the fattening properties of Indian meal
so well known to practical men. There is be
sides these a good portion of sugar. The nitro
genous substances are also considerable in quan
tity, some twelve to sixteens per cent. All these
statements are from the prize essay of Mr. J. H.
Salisbury, published by the New York State Ag
ricultural society. They show that the results of
European chemists have probably been obtained
by the examination of varieties inferior to ours;
they have not placed Indian corn much above the
level of buchwheat or rice, whereas from the
above, it is seen to he "in most respects superior
to any other grains."
SWEET CORN differs from all other varieties,
containing only about eighteen per cent. of starch.
The amount of sugar is, of course, very large.—
The nitrogenous substances amount to the
very large proportions of twenty per cent.;
of gnm, to thirteen or fourteen; and of oil, to
about eleven. This, from the above results, is
one of the most nourishing crops grown. If it
can be made to yield as much per acre as the hard
est varieties, it is well worth a trial on a large
scale.—Prof. Norton's Elements of Scientific Agri
culture.
Mules for Farm Use.
Why are mules not more used by the farmers
of Now York, New Jersy, and the adjacent States ?
We should be glad to get a reply to the above
question. NVo have used mules for three years
for all our farm work, and have thus far found
them preferable to horses.
They do not require more than two-thirds the
amount of food usually required by horses they
will eat nny kind of food and they are seldom, if
ever sick—ours have never been out of health for
a single day. They can endure the extremes of
heat and cold better than horses, and live twice
as long, indeed, so proverbial aro they for long
living, that but few fanners know their ages ei
ther when buying or selling. They do not require
shoeing so often as horses, and in every respect
are less troublesome. We aro often asked if they
are not ill tempered, if they do not kick, &el—
have three pair and we have never known
them to kick, but it is an old proverb "as stubborn
as a mule," and the Scotch have a proverb, "get
a character for early rising and you may lie abed."
So it is with mules—if badly used they resent it,
' and therefore aro thought to be vicious; but if
well cared for, they are as kind as horses and
mach more prothable for the farmer's use.—.
"rm.-.
TAKING TILE CENSUS.
BY OCEANUS.
" Madam,l have called to take the census."
" The senses, is it; and what do you call the
same ?"
" I wish to send a return to Washington of the
number of your family."
"Shure now, it's junking ye are. Is it Con
gressmen ye would make ov us?"
" Oh, no ; it is only to find out how many soul.
there are in the Union."
" Well, thin, ax me the questions, and if they
are decent, it's mesilf as will answer."
"Begin with the eldest, and inform me their
names and occupation."
" Well; first, there is Teddy—and a fine broth
uv a boy ho is—he is forty-five years old, and is
an elevator and diseinder by thrade."
"A what, madam? Ido not understand."
"It's Inglish I'm speaking, pure Malasian
"I do not apprehend you."
"Apprehend me, is it, ye dirty loon? It's
more nor the like uv ye can do, that same. For
two pays I'd skin ye as I would a pratie."
"Don't get into a passion j you misconceive
me. I merely wished to say I don't understand
your husband's trade."
" Why don't you speak Inglish thin. Teddy
carries up bricks for new houses and brings thin
down from old ones."
"I perceive he is a laborer."
"Just that same, vulgarly speaking."
" In what country was he horn?"
"flalinalee county, Longford, in old Ireland,
and may the divil burn the spalpeens that druv us
from its grano sod."
"Never mind, madam ; I would willingly hear
your grievances, but my time is precious. I have
but six months to complete my return. Now,
your name next, if yon please."
"My name's Biddy. Be the same token as I
was blest be the presto be the name of Bridget."
" Now, your age ?"
" The divil roast ye, and is it a lady's age ye
would be after axin her to her own face 7"
"Madam, it is not my intention to insult you;
but these questions must be asked, and there is a
heavy penalty incurred by those who refuse to
answer, which can be recovered by law."
"Is it the law ye would be atter threatening me
wid, and my son Pat one uv the Polace, too 2 Do
ye think it's his blessed mother he'd be saying in
limbo, when it's only a word he would have to
spoke to the Mare to git her
, tt
" Am I to understate?, then, that you refuse to
give your age I"
"It's the very same, and I defy you to find it
out."
" It's not so very material, so I shall put you
down at fifty years."
" Mather ! and a lie is it ye would be after
sending to the Prisidint 7 when ye can see I nut
only forty-two, if ye but tick the trouble to exam
ine the parish register, in Roscommon, where—"
" Thank you, madam, and now we will proceed
with the rest."
" But ye horn% axed all the questions about
mesitf, yit."
" I have got your name, age and place of birth."
Thaw for ye, so ye have, ye cunning divil :
and now don't you want to know my thrade 1"
" Not at all ; I have your husband's."
"But it's mesilf that thinks ye ought to put it
down. I'm a char, and iv yerself or any uv yer
friends have any job in me line, going out to work
and the likes, ye can jist spoke a good word for a
poor docent body I"
" I shall certainly always remember you! Now
for the next oldest."
" That's rat, and ho's twenty-three, baling a
few months."
"I think you said lie is a Policeman'?"
"Yes, share, but can't ye put him down as a
Public Funkshunary, us he calls himself? It
sounds more litigant, and should me friends in the
old country iver happen to sec the book ye are
writing, it's proud they will be."
"Who comes next?"
" The nixt will be Dennis. He is twenty-one."
"What is his occupation?"
Divil the thrade he's got. Isn't lie waiting
for a vakincy in ono uv the departments ? and
he will git it, too, for he has a mighty influence at
the fowls. He runs wid the Fire Ingins, when
they will let him pull the rope ; and when they
won't, why lie jist hayves scones at thim. hiavpin
dent is Dennis—mighty indepindent."
" Who next? Please give them to me in ro
tation."
" Nixt comes Muggy; she's nineteen. Thin
Tim, and Miles, they are siventeen next lady's
day. Tie, share, they were all thray of Haim born
twins; and thin there is Kate, she's fourteen; and
Biddy, she's twelve; and I)an O'Connell, he's
ten; thin comes Sukey, she's eight; and Luke,
he's four; thin Jim, he's two, and—times all at
pristine!"
" Why, madam, you have a large family, and
you are fortunate to have them all living, for I
presume you have had no death in your family
circle."
"And is it the graif uv my heart ye would be
now rain' up about my ehilder that is dead, wak
ed and buried in old Ireland 4 Havn't I lost four
as swate babes as leer was born?"
" Excuse sue, but in ennumerating your family,
I forgot to ask how many were bore in this coun
try I"
"Jist none at all. Didn't we coins over the
deep sae jist a twelvensouth, last Eaysterr
"Indeed t Dow came it, then, that your son
is a public officerl"
" Why, didn't he fight and vote at the ?owls
oenr r
nft
the last election, and what for shouldn't ho be ro•
warded for his patriotistn 7"
" Are there any who cannot read and n•rite 7"
"And why should we do that same, whin the
blessed presto can do it fur us? No, (Evil a one
baring Pat, end he has learned to write his name
jilt to be able to sign the doeiments 7"
" Well, madam, that is all. I believe you have
no more in your family, you say 7"
"Not at prisent ; but there will ho another be
fore your six months are up, and I would like ye
to put it in your book, for it will be a genuine na
tive, and there's no knowiu' what the country may
do for it hereafter."
" I can't do that ; besides I don't know what
gender it will be."
"Array, now, can't yo jist call lit the time ye
finish, and by that time the blessed crayture will
see the light." •
" Well, madam, I will bear you in mind. Good
day."
" Good day, and if you don't come and put in
the baby, thin divil the question I'll answer ye for
the nixt ten years."
Girard College.
Ministers are not admitted. Fortunately for no,
we are only a professor, and leave what few fig
ments of divinity may chance to cleave to us, in
the porter's lodge, while we inquire for President
Allen, our teacher sixteen years ago. He is
grown so portly that we scarcely know him, and,
he, with equal difficulty, recalled tile idea of our
physical man; but once fairly introduced, nothing•
could exceed the pleasure of the mutual reeogni
' don and discourse over the olden time. He con
ducted us, in person, to all parts and through all
the departments of this magnificent establishment.
The main edifice is modelled after the Parthenon
ut Athens. Its colonnade is Corinthian, and sin
gle; that of the Parthenon was double, and Doric.
But here comparison is at an end. The friezes of
the Parthenon were the work of Pidles, and the
pride not only of Grecian sculpture, lint the nr
chitectural glory of the world. The Parthenon
cost six millions; Girard College two! It is,
probably, the proudest monumental pile this side
the Atlantic. Each of these magnificent columns
cost fourteen thousands dollars; sufficient, column
by column, to erect a substantial college edifice !
On entering the lofty door-way, thirty six feet in '
heigh, payyourrespects to Stephen Girard. There i !
he stands, right before you, in marble, with his
hands crossed before him, in plain citizen's dress,
just as he walked the streets of Philadelphia. A
plain iron railing surrounds the statue, and keeps
all comers at a respectful distance. At the right is
the spacious council room of the Board of Direc
tors : at the left, the door-way of the great chapel.
Beyound aro recitation rooms. In one, a profes
sor was lecturing to the larger boys on anatomy.
When he proposed a question, dozens arose from
their seats, and waved their hands in token of be
ing able to answer. The fortunate fellow to whom
he nodded, shouted the reply. In the rooms above
were large classes under the care of female teach
ers. The tender age of the orphans, requires ma
ternal influence ; and this they receive, both at the
hands of their instructora and from the matrons of
the boarding establishments. The rooms upon
the third floor of the College are lighted thorn the
roof. Here is the library, here is the wardrobe of
Girard—the old pantaloons, patched upon the knee
with pieces of different colors, worn by the mil
lionare a short time before his death. Here are
boxes of shipping papers, his secretary, and iron
safe. From thence clamber to the top of the im
mense structure.
A roof of Marble! Six thousand tons of mar
ble in the roof alone will give the imagination or'
calculation of the reader some data for the estima
tion of the enormous weight of other parts of the
building as a whole. The building is all marble.
Only one little staircase, leading to the roof, is of
wood, the rest is all solid masonry. The rever
berations of the lofty ceilings totally unfitted the
room for school purposes. This had to be reme
died by interposing an artificial ceiling of canvass
or cotton cloth, to muffle the sound, or stifle the
echoes which the slightest word or footfall genera
ted by the million, in the vaulted chambers.
In the school rooms, the desks and seats are
elevated by the thickness of 11 single plank, least
the coldness or dampness of the stone-flagged floor
should induce cold feet, and thus injure the health
of pupils.
At five o'clock we went to the chapel for pray
ers. Across the entire west end of the chapel is
an elevated platform. In its centre is a regular
pulpit or rending desk, occupied by the President,
iu isolated dignity. At his left was a splendid
piano : on either hand, on settees and chairs, the
faculty of the Institution, and visitors, of which
they have from one hundred and fifty to two lam
, died a day. Here collected, in quiet and order,
three hundred orphan boys, each section under the
care of its own director. Each had his hymn book
land Bible. Here three hundred voices joined to
1 sing its moving melody,
" Como, let us join our cheerful songs
With angels round the throne."
No chance for infidelity or heterodoxy here
thought we, as the charming volume of infant voice
rolled forth the sentiments, impressing themselves,
doubtless, by the power of the ever-present Spirit,
signally upon the infant heart :
"Worthy the Lamb that died, they cry,
To be exalted thus;
Worthy the Lamb, our hearts reply,'
For ho was slain for us."
When the President took up the Bible, after the
singing, every pupil opened to the chapter named,
and followed the reading with attention; and when
he said, "Let us pray," every one kneeled rever
ently, in hie place before that God who has prom•
VOL. XVL-NO. 9.
iced to be a "father to the fatherless and the wid•
ow's God." The sight was beyond measure af
fecting.
Under the efficient management of President
Allen and the able Board of Directors, every thing
has been reduced to the most perfect system.—
The lads retired from the chapel as quietly as they
entered it. Merry was the shout that arose from
the lawn appropriated fur their play-gruuud, when
the restraints of the day over, they were permitted
to exercise themselves before tea, in the open air.
We saw them at supper. They repair to the din
ing-hall in the Mlle admirable order, section by
section. As the procession, two and two, enters
the door, they divide at the head of the table, and
UDC line goes down one side, and the other the
other, each to his appropriate sent. The faro is
simple. Weak ten or water, bread and butter, or
bread and molasses, constitute the healthful reg
imen.
The waiting room was a curiosity. Every boy
had a tin basin, towel, hair-brush, clothes-brush,
tooth-brush, and looking glass, to himself. -The
supply of water from hydrants was plentiful and
once a week, or oftener, they were required to
bathe in rooms, in tubs prepared for the purpose.
Every boy had drawers for his clothing, labelled
with his name, and in the dormitories every ono
was provided with an iron bedstead, with plenty of
bedding, covered with a counterpane of spotless
whiteness. Nearly all are orphans front the city
and county of Philadelphia. To prevent the in
terference of friends, they are all indentured ap
prentices according to the laws of Pennsylvania.—
Illinois Advocate.
Malicious Valentines.
Last year, just before St. Valentine's anniver
sary came round, an elderly, malicious-lcoking
man might have been observed at one of the prin
epal Valentine depots, busily engaged in examin
ing an almost endless assortment of insulting
pictures, with bitter words appended, which are
termed Valentines—in caricature, we suppose.—
At lenght he selected a device, to which ridicule
and malice, blending together, had formed a most
outrageous libel upon the form of woman, in the
arms of which was fixed a sable specimen of in
fancy. This was mailed by the hoary sinner to
an accomplished young lady, in whom was uni
ted amiability with the most shrinking sensitive
ness. This latter quality luni,oromrted her to
avoid the presence of a would-tse admirer, who
was thirty years her senior, and whose disgusting
manners were the theme of familliar conversation.
In fact, she was obliged, at length, in the hope of
getting rid of further importunities, to trent him
with marked coldness. In revenge, the insulting
missive described above was sent to this pattern
of female loveliness, one whom the black breath
of slander had, as yet, never dared to tarnish. , -
Mortification, on its reception, sank deep in her
sensitive bosom—ft tattling servant told the fact
to a few malicious gossips, and soon the news .was
discussed and commented on throughout the
neighborhood, particularly by those who were en
vious of the fair fame of the lady in question.—
They took every opportunity of repeating the silo
slander, and at length the young lady appeared
completely prostrated by these repeated proofs of
human malice. She became of shadowy form and
tearful face, pining visibly away. Ono morning
the sun arose, but not the invalid—she was dis
covered with the fatal "Valentine" enclosod within
her grasp, with an intensity which the frost of
death had frozen fast! This is no fiction, but
words of sober truth, end the sender of that Val
entine was gailty of murder in a moral, if not a
criminal point of view. No malicious Valentine
' can produce any other feelings than those of mor
tification or sorrow, and by sending one, you but
display that evil in your fallen nature which leads
you to delght in anothers pnin.—Balt. Argus.
First Sabbath School in the U. S.
The first Subbath.Sehool in the United States,
probably—was established in' Ohio. This was
gathered by a Mrs. Archibald Lake, in the stock
ade at Marietta, in March, 1791.
She was grieved to see the children of the gar
rison spending the Sabbath afternoons in frivo
lous amusements; and she collected them together
in her own dwelling, where she taught them the
Westminster catechism, and lessons from the Bi
ble. Her scholars, about twenty in number, and
consisting only of the younger children, were
much interested in listening tb her simple and af
fectionate instruction.
Mrs. Lake continued her school for four or five
years while the war lasted, after which she remo
ved to Rainbow, on the Muskingum, and her
school was broken up. It is not a little singular
that one among the very first, perhaps the first
Sabbath school that was ever established in Amer
ica, should have been found in these western wilds,
far beyond the bounds of civilization, in a garrison
surrounded by hostile Indians, and continued
through all the sufferings and privations of that
Several of the present church members at Ma
rietta were taught in this school.
" Noxn LIVETO TO Hrs , ser.r•."—God has writ
ten upon the flower that sweetens the air, upon
the breeze that rocks it on its stern, upon the rain
bow that refreshes the smallest sprig of moss that
rears its head in the desert, upon the ocoan that
rocks every swimmer in its chambers, upon every
pencilled shell that sleeps iu the caverns of the
deep, as well as upon the mighty sun that warms
and cheers the millions of creatures that live in
his light—upon all he has written, " None of us
liveth to himself."
Sir Charles Scarborough ti,g of alternatives
in his advice
,;o the Duchoss of Portsmouth were,
" You mqvt,oot lees or me more exercise, or take
phy . ste, : eu,ilit *irk " • .
•