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r.K.OkifkAl , ,
A Prayer for Strength.
Give me thy strength, my Father: I am frail,
' - And weak, and helpless; unto thee 1 pray
For strong upholding power, lest by the way,
My footstep.falter and my courage fail.
I need Thy strong assistance—many foes .
Are waging warfare with a fearful strife,
While I, devoid of strength—almost of life—
May not attempt such numbers to oppose.
Giro me the guidance, Father! round my way
So many dangers lie, and hidden snares,
That I am tearful oft, lest, unawares,
My feet into somo secret pitfall stray.
The wrong so oft in guise of right appears—
The evil often bidden from my view,
That 1 am doubtful sometimes what to do—
My brain bewildered arid confused by fears.
how oft o'er duty's pathwtiy clouds like night
Spread darkest shadows! and no single ray
A.ppcars to show the better way—
Father, 'tis thou alone can guide aright.
Give me thy grave, my Father, day by day,
As newer trials come, and earthly cares
Increase the burden which my spirit bears•--
%Thy grace to lighten care and cheer the way.
Give me thy grace when hose's glad ray appears,
Gilding the future with its golden light,
While I. enchanted gloriou3,
Know nought of sorrow or foreboding fears.
Ohl then I need thy grt.e.:l to guide aright,
Lest, quite bewildered by the brilliant ray,
I tread unheedingly the 'flow'ry way;
Till duty's safer path be lost to sight.
Give me..thy guidance over on my way
Throughout the chequered path of life ;
Thy strength to conquer in the hour of strife,
And all•sulticient grace for every day.
My Old Companions.
heart yearned, like other hearts,
With all the fervor Youth imparts;
And all the warmth that feeling lends
Has freely cherished 'troops of friends.'
A change has passed o'er them and me,
We are not as we used to be;
My heart, like many another heart,
Sees old companions all depart.
I mark the names of more than one,
But read them on the cold white stone ;
And steps that followed where mine led,
Now on the far•off desert tread ;
The world has warped some souls away,
That once were honest no the day;
Some dead—some wandering—suroe untrue;
0 ! old companions are but few.
But there aro green trees on the hill,
And blue flags sweeping o'er the rill,
And there are daisies peeping nut,
And dog-rose blossoms round about,
Ye were my. friends '•long, long ago,"
The first bright friends I sought to know;
4nd yet ye come—rove where I will,
My old companions faithful still.
And there are sunbeams, rich and fair,
As cheering as they ever were ;
And there are fresh winds playing nigh,
As freely as in time gone by;
The birds come singing as of yore,
The waves yet ripple to the shore;
Howe'er I feel, where'er I range r
These old companions never change.
I'm glad I learnt to lore the things
That fortune neither takes nor brings ;
I'm glad my spirit learnt to prize
The smiling face and sunny skies;
'Twas well I clasped with coating hand
The balmy wild flowers of the land;
For still ye live in friendship cure,
My old companions bright and pure.
Though strong may be the ties we make,
The strongest mortal tie may break ;
Though warns the lips that love us now,
They may perchance foreswear the vow ;
We see pale death and envious hate,
Fling shadows on Life's dial-plate;
Notmng the hours when dark sands glide,
And old companions leave our side.
But be we sad, or be we gay,
With thick curls bright, or thin locks grey;
We never find the epring bloom meet
Our presence with a smile less sweet.
Oh! 1 am glad that I learnt to love
The tangled wood and cooing dove ;
For these will be, in good or 111,
My old companions, changeless still.
Influence of the Press.
It is a fact, that a newspaper, in the humbled
I n cabin in the land, is an engine of great
utility and good, in forming the manners and
strengthening the morals of the rising genera
tion. It id, indeed, the palladium of our lib
tidies, civil and rebgioun ; and every man who
is the head of a family, should patronize at
least one well conducted newspaper. In a
family, where there are children, it exerts a
vast influence, and the esrlv impressions. (al
ways the mom lasting,)im baled ft-eon it, produce
results in after-life, little dreamed of at the time
by parents. It produces a love of reading, of
thought, of inquiry and investigation; and the
-child who in reared in such a family, will go
into the world nnschackled by the chains of
euperetition, bigotry and intolerance. Its will
stand forth n. !Luz,. as able to inatruct, an wil
ling to be instructed; and in him his conntrr
Er.,d art and reliz:Lra .d
Inc. an ardent and ciacele supporter.
',-',..r/ 1.„,4„. ). • ~,,, , , .
,‘ _..._ •
( '' . 7 , 1 .1 ! 1 11 L 7 . ri titigbiol.:.• '' 11 :111111:TIltir, i
"I SEE NO STAR ABOVE TIM nomox, PROMISING MOIST TO GUIDE US, BUT THE INTELLIGENT, PATRIOTIC, UNITED WIIIU PARTY OP TUE UNITED STATES."-[WEBSTER.
The Ambitions Matrons.
[The Boston Journal translates from the Ital.
ian a story pertinent to the times :]—
It is said that when King Alboino reigned in
Verona, a great desire came in the heads of
the matrons of Verona that they should be ad.
omitted to seats in the Senate, and decide with
the Senators amid the King on the affairs of
"And why," said they, "shOuld the men on
ly he reputed worthy of this honor, though ig
norant and cowardly—whilst we, although in
formed and corageous are wholly excluded
from it? Well may it be said that, till now,
women have been considered as very fools
not to have aspired to a participation in the
government. But the time has arrived when
we should acquire for our sex this glory, and
which no generation has granted. Certainly
Albumi) shall not have a moment's peace till
he grant no thip privilege, we will so torment
hitn that he shall tinnily permit us to sit and
net with the senators."
With these and similar discourses they exci
ted each other and raised quite a tumult; and
then ran in a body to the gates of the palace,
bawling and screaming at such a rate that Al
bobs° was on the point of leaving them all
hanged, teat he might be no snore annoyed by
them. But they, the more they saw Alboino
moved to anger, the more they vociferated.—
At length, not knowing what better to do, the
king called the queen to pacify them; who,
leaving given audience to some of the matrons
she was affected by their pretentions and rea
sons, and so transported by their loquacity,
that indeed it appeared to her great injustice
lead been done to her sex by not being permit
ted to the privileges which the matrons now
wished to obtain.
Having then dismissedthem, she hastened to
the apartment of her husband; whom she no
sooner saw approaching than she began to
scold and say—Truly, the matrons had a thou
sand good reasons why they should be permit
ted to seats in the Senate, and to discuss with
the men the affairs of the kingdom.
"And what? We women are considered as
so many foolsl yet, if we should sit in your
councils of state, you would not make to many
foolish decisions—for we should make such an
uproar against them, that the laws should not
be passed till they were just and perfect, that
is, APPROVED BY us."
"Oh fools!" exclaimed Alboino at this dis
course, walking with great strides across the
hall, and stamping violently. "I will have you
all shut up in a tower, and there you shall
learn to govern from the jailer."
"What tower? what jailer ?" screamed the
Queen, turning her back upon him, and run
ning away frightened; but in fleeing she repeat
edly looked back and exclaimed :—"Yes, we
will sit in the senate, or see will turn the seas
and the mountains upside down."
Alboino was on the point of giving orders to
have all these women bound—whets behold
Bertoldo entered. He Was the buffoon of the
court, and nature endowed him with a shrewd
genius, and he had often given good advice to
his sovereign. As Bertoldo entered he was
laughing immoderately; and the king, having
asked him what made him laugh so, he said:
"I am laughing at those ladies who, .seeing
your simplicity, grow bold almost to the de
gree of rendering you foolish. But, if I were
you, I would soon make them silent and
"And how would you do it?" •aid the King.
Bertoldo replied "If you would make use of
a little trick I will tell you of, you would in a
few hours free yourself of their importunity nod
foolish ambition, without using violence or shed
The king requested him to make known to
him the lit►:c trick—and, if it succeeded in rid.
ding him from this annoyance, ho promised
him a large reward. Bertoldo then ran direct
to the market, and bought a little bird and put
it in a little box, which he delivered to the king,
telling hint his design.
Alboino caused the queen to be called; he
gave to her the box and directed her to deliver
it to the matron, and promise them, on the part
of the king, that their request should be grant.
ed, if, on the next day, they should return to
him the box just as they received it, without
having opened it. The queen took the box,
and only waited a moment to be alone, that she
might gratify her curiosity, by teeing what
was in it. But all the matrons returned in a
crowd to the door of the palace, before she had
time to gratify her own curiosity. She called
two of them, and confided to theta the little
box, with the king's instructions. The two
matrons departed, full of joy, saying that the
king's injunctions should be implicitly °User.
red. But they had hardly descended the steps,
when they stopped a little, looking each other
in the face and silily laughing.
'What is it ?' said one.
should admire to know,' said tht, other;
`but I dare not open it.'
Ou reaching their companions, they showed
the box with great mystery, explaining the or
ders of the king. Behold, now, all these ladies
'knotted together, some on tiptoe, thrusting
their heads between each other, to get a peep
' at the little box, and to touch it and shake it.
One said, 'What can it be ?'
'Another, 'Oh, what can it be? Let me touch
it a little.
'Oh, softly, it may be an egg, or- perhaps a
'Do you hear anything mute ?'
'Oh, well indeed, yes this is truly wsrshy of a
king I to orderJadies not to open a little box,
not worth two cents I And lie thinks, perhaps,
that we are so- silly, that, opening it; we shall
not know how to shut it again I aad do you
not see that this is a banter? Come, let Us see
it a little.'
'Oh, no, no; said she who held it—but at
! the same time she raised thece , er a little.
.E 11! -hat arc pmt afrai4 cf tart ant.th.n—
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, JULY 20, 1853.
give it to me, and you shall see how I will do
it; I am the oldest, and most used to find out
mysteries—give it to me, I will open the cover
very gently—and if I see anything move I will
quickly shut it again.'
Meanwhile she who hold it opened the cover
entirely, when out flew the bird! The ma•
trons stood like so many fools. After a short
silence—Well,' said one of the boldest, 'is
there anything here to trouble us ? Here was
a little bird, and it hos flown away; it will not
be difficult to buy another and carry it to Al-
boino, in the same little box.
At this all the matrons skipped for joy; but
then there was one who resumed a serious and
'Alas 1' said she, 'and who saw what kind of
bird it was ? and if we carry back to the king
another, then, indeed, he will have reason to
punish us. It is better, since we have been so
foolish, to confess our error and implore his
There being,however,different opinions,it was
concluded to postpone the decisions,to the next
day; when, being assembled, and after a long
discussion, they adopted the best course—a
thing very rare among the ladies of that time.
They went then to the palace and presented
themselves to the queen—related to her the
sad event of the escape of the bird, beseeching
her to intercede with the king for their par-
The queen was very much displeased to find
her hopes of n scat in the senate thus at an
end; and, without reflecting that she herself, if
she had time, would have first opened the box,
she began to scold them and reproach them Ibr
their curiosity.. The wretched women wept,
scratched their faces, and tore out their hair
in great despair. But the queen, who had a
good heart, gave pp their anger, and consoled
them; and then she went with them to the king
to entreat for their pardon- The queen pre
ceded them, with the little empty box in her
hand, the matrons following, two by two, hold
ing„ each other by the hand, with downcast eyes
and mortified hearts.
When the king saw the empty box, it was
with difficulty that he refrained from laughing;
but, preserving his dignity, he, on the con
trary, broke forth in complaint and up-braid-
The queen by degrees, pacified him, and ob
tained the pardon of the matrons, who were so
mortified that they never more dared to speak
of the senate, or of the government. For two
days the trivia of Bertolno was lauded; but af
ter that no one dared to speak of it. •
Clod has sent some angels into the world
whose office it is to refresh the sorrows of the
poor, and, and to lighten the eys of the discon
solate. And what greater pleasure can we
have than that of bringing joy to our brother;
that the tongue should. be tuned with heavenly
accents and make the weary soul listen for
light and ease; and when be perceives there is
such a thing in the world, and is the order of
things, as comfort and joy, to begin to break
out from the prison of his sorrows at the door
of sighs and tears, and by little and little begin
to melt into showers and refreshment—this i 3
glory to thy voice and employment fit for the
brightest angel. So I see the sun kiss the fro
zen earth, which was bound up wi)fthe ima
ges of death, and the colder breathe the north,
and the waters break from their enclosures,and
melt with joy and run in useful channels, and
the flies do rise from little graves in the walls;
and dance a little while in the air, to tell that
joy is within, and that the treat mother of
creatures will open the stock of her new re
freshment, become useful to mankind, and sing
praises to her redeemer. So is the heart of a.
man, under the discourse of wise comfort; be
krcaks from the despair of the grave, and the
fetters and chains of sorrow; he blesses God,
and Ile blesses thee; and he feels his life re
We sometimes meet with men who think that
any indulgence in an affectionate feeling is a
weakness. They will return front a journey
and greet their families with a distant dignity,
and move among their children with the cold
and lofty splendor of an iceberg, surrounded
with its broken fragments. There is hardly a
more unnatural sight on earth than one of these
families without a heart. A father had better
extinguish his boy's eyes than take away his
heart. Who that has experienced the joys of
friendship and value sympathy and affection
would not rather lose all that is beautiful in
nature's scenery; than to be robbed of the hid
den treasures of his heart! Cherish then, your
heart's best affections. Indulge in the warm
and gushing and inspiring emotions of filial,
parental; fraternal love- Think it not a weak
ness. God is love. Love God; everybody and
every one that is lovely. Teach your children
to love—to love the rose, the robin; to love
their parents, to love their God. Let it be the
studied object of their domestic culture to give
them warm hearts and ardent affections. Bind
your whole family together by these strong
cords. You cannot make them too strong.
To Youso Mrs.—Don't rely upon friends.
Don't rely upon.the good name of your an
cestors. Thousands have spent the print° of
life in the vain hope of those whom they
called friends; and thousands have starved
because they had a rich father. Rely.-upon
the good name which is made by your own
exertions, and know that better than the best
friend you can have is unquestionablu, deter
mination, united with decision of character.—
And remember that without God's blessing
you cannot truly prosper. In all thy ways ne
knowledge hint, and le will direct thy paths:
nek„Mix ignoram with sadden wealth, and
we produce a chucklehead whose insolence
will ba ere! to a !itlalcEd pooniL to a evare
A Custom Wirth Imitating.
It is a custom, among certain tribes in Sibe
ria, that, when a woman is married, she must.
prepare the wedding dinner with her own hands.
To this feast all the relatives and friends, both
of her own family and of that of the groom, are
invited. If the viands are well cooked, her
credit as a good housewife is established. But
if the dishes are badly prepared, she is disgra
ced in that capacity forever. The result is that
a Siberian wife is generally a good housekeep
er, whatever else she snag be, nod thus is com
petent, beyond her sex generally, for the prac
tical duties of life.
We are accustomed to call the Siberians
"bmi-barbarous, and incapable of furnishing an
example in anything to a people so civilized as
ourselves. But we might imitate their custom
to considerable advantage. Since the clays of
our grand-mothers, the education of American
females, considered in a practical view, has
greatly deteriorated. In their time girls were
instructed to become good housewives. stow
they are brought up to chatter French or study
the fashions. Sixty years ago the aim of
young woman was to fit herself to be a good
wife. At the present day young ladies think
only how to catch a husband.
We are not opposed to cultivating the female
intellect, or to adorning woman with smecom
.plishments. We repudiate the Rea that she is
merely the slave of man. Her destiny is high
er, nobler, snore divine. She was designed, by
the Great Author of all, to be the helpmate of
man, in the full meaning of that good old Sax
on term. It is her mission to share Isis sor
! rows, to participate in his joys, to cheer him in
his moments of depression, to be his confident,
his counsellor, his best earthly friend. That
I she may bo competent for all this, she should.
have a wise head as well as a loving heart. If
her intellect is uncultivated, she may become
a pretty plaything for a while, but nothing
more; and when her youthful loveliness has
departed, her influence is gone irrevocably.—
All the women of history, even the most beau
tiful, who have exercised power, have owed
their success to the intellect. A handsome
fool, married to a man of ability, can scarcely
escape being despised. But even an ordinary
face, if united to sweetness, sense, and a culti
vated mind, not only wins esteems, but retains
it to the close of life. A wife, in a word, can
never lie truly the companion of a refined hus
band, unless her intellect is improved also.—
And if there were more such companions for
men , there would be fewer brutes among the
13nt woman should nevertheless remember
that a wife has sunny duti, to fulfil, aml that
to cultivate the mind alone is not preparing for
their future lot. As men must learn a trade,
acquire a profession, or fit themselves to earn
a livelihood its some other way, so should wo
men render themselves competent for the posi
tion of a housewife, in case they should be call
ed to fill it. And as it is no excuse for a bus.'
band, who neglects his business, or refuses to
master its unpleasant details, that he is a cap
ital Greek scholar, a critic in the fine arts, or a
capital amateur musician, so it is no palliation
for a wife, who is ignorant of household affairs,
or scorns to supervise them, that she can sing
like a Sontag, dress herself to look like a prin
cess, or even do as motels good among the poor
as a dozen Lady Boeutifuls. For it is never a
sufficient plea, in behalf of either man or we
man, that, if they avoid their immediate duties,
they perform superogatory ones. Those who
enter into the married relation, solemnly un
dertake, first of all, to fulfil the duties of this
state: and it is as criminal, therefore, in a wife
to neglect her house, as it is in a husband to
neglect his business.
Fortune sometimes, we know, places a wo
man above the need of personal labor. But,
even in this ease, a knowledge of housewifery
is necessary, if not to supervise the servants, at
least to be ready for the always possible con
tingency of poverty. The health of a woman,
moreover, is all the better for having some
manual occupation to occupy a portion of her
time. Many a fine lady, who stow suffers from
dyspepsia, hysteria, or other disorders common
among rich females, would flied benefit in ex
changing her crotchet work, her novel reading,
and her fashionable calls, for a few hours hear•
ty exercise daily. Many a wealthy husband or
father would oftener eat at home, and care less
for frequenting the club, if his wife or daughter
was accustomed, as their grandmothers were,
to prepare for hint, with her own hands, some
delicate and favorite dish.
But the majority of women cannot taint to
delegate their household duties to servants.—
That so many do it, whose husbands are still
comparatively poor, is one of the social evils
of the age, especially in great cities. While,
therefore, every female ought to cultivate her
mind, and even learn as many accoinplishments
as possible, she should remember that a knowl•
edge of housewifery should attend these acqui
sitions, if she expects to fulfil her ditties in life.
The Siberian custom might he introduced here
without injury.—Publie Ledger.
The Crateur Lakes, in the town of Manlius,
Onondagun co., N. Y., are curiosities, and are
supposed to be of volcanic origin. They are
by the inhabitants about there called the 'Green
'Lakes.' One of them is on the top of a hill
and is in the form of a tin cup. The banks.
are 200 feet high, and the water 400 feet deep.
The water appears of a deep green, but when
taken up in a glass it is perfectly clear and
transparent. Trees nod limbs which full into
the water 80011' become encrusted, with n bright
green substance, which on being exposed to
the air becomes hard. The timber decays and
leaves the incrustation iu the shape of hollow
tubes. Wood saturated with the water and
burned, emits u strong odor of sulphur. A far
mer, who resides near, once heard a great rush
of water, and rouud saw the lake rising
over the banks. Ile was alarmed, and fled
with his team; but tbe rater retoled to
it; ulna' I,el.
"This day a year," said Frank Atley, "I shall
be a happy man."
As the wind lifted his brown curls from a
brow ofperfcct moulding, I thought I never
looked upon a prouder, brighter, more beaming
"I have seen Paris and my future wife," he
added, laughingly; "two eras from which one
may fairly date his existence. One year from
to-night, I promise to show you as fine a house
and as beautiful a bride, as , any other man
in this fair country."
"Ood willing !"
Frank Alley turned with a toss of his head,
and bent his flashing eye on the pale speaker.
"Myßey willing," he exclaimed, with angry
emphasis.—"/ know no ND"
There was a look of almost mortal anguish
in that white face as the young brother turned
from the little group. He heard Frank's im
pious wager with his gay friend, that if he
failed to appear on the very night designated,.
in high health, and with his young Parisian
wife, he was to forfeit fifty thousand dollars!
Alas ! poor Atley, the model of every thing
in man generous, heroic and princely, had re
turned from his European tour—au atheist.
"I now no God!"
Night after night I woke up with that fright
ful sentence ringing in my ears.. The sneer
that darkened Atley's handsome face with the
stormy hate of a fiend, seemed to float palpa
bly before me in the darkness,
* * * * * * *
"A note of invitation to Frank Atley's bri.
dal, I shall go I"
Varicolored lights blazed along the avenue
fronting the princely mansion, and through the
old trees whose branches the south wind stirred
not, rang strains of inspiring melody.
The bride was more lovely than Frank had
painted her. Her robes were almost royal in
their shining and costly beauty. A rich veil
fell half way from her tresses of gold. The or
ange wreath, braided with jewels, gave a beau.
tiful lustre to hnr white, happy brow. But
when she looked up with such childish confi
dence into those deep loving eyes—trustingso
wholly in the man who "knew no God," horror
thrilled all my veins.
"Won my wager," exclaimedFruk, exulting
ly, when the guests were departing. 'You
might as well transfix lightning, as tie my
mind down to,those old orthodox notions.—
Here you see lam in my own house—yonder
is any wife. My loin would have it so, and I
tell you there is no God tat will. Come over
and help me drink my first bottle in a social
way. Bring Mary, and we'll compete brides.
English and French beauties are quite dissimi•
lar, you know." Bidding his friend good bye,
I limit,' his merry lough, no I left, mingling
with the thrilling strains of Von Weber's last
I was about retiring, when the startling cry
of "fire I" broke the stillness of the night.
I sprang to the window. The whole heavens
were kindled into a flame. On, on rolled the
red light, till every oldectseemed dyed in blood.
For a while it hung with a quivering glow, as
if its heated wings were tired—then faded and
sunk with fitful flashes into gloom again.
In the morning, almost before daylight, I
received the sad intelligence that Frank Atley's
new mansion was a heap of horning cinders—
and, more horrible than all, his wife had per
ished in the Haines, and he himself was a raving
No consolation for the bereaved husband—
no penitence for hie awful boast—no altar had
he; no star of mercy to lead him out of the
Oh! it is a fearful thing to "know no God."
The word mina is the Malayan name fir
gum, and percha is the Malayan name of the
forest tree which produces it.
The shapeless lumps in which it is imported
are 'reduced to a pulp by various methods, and
this pulp is moulded or pressed into such shapes
as shall fit ik for the various purposes to which
it is to be applied—as rods, tubes, blocks,
sheets, ke. In its usual condition it is brown
color, and resembles very tough leather. Its
surface is capable of great smoothness and
hardness, so as to bear paint, gilding, japauing,
Among the many articles made of gutta-per
cha are the following t soles for boots and shoes,
tubes fbr various purposes, water pipes, lath
and wheel bands, reins and harness, whips,
whip thongs, fishing lines, nets, and floats, em
bossed work in every variety, printing types;
mouldings, picture frames, calms, eases, flasks,
inkstands, firemen'. hats, all sorts of trays, va
rious garments, baskets, watch stands, medals,
Like many other useful substances and in
ventions, gutta-percha seems to have had two
discoverers almost the same time. The one Was
Mr. Thomas Lobb, who visited the East Indies
on a botanical mission, in the year 1842 or '43.
The other was Dr. Montgomerie, a Surgeon of
Singapore, on the Malay eninsula. He ob
served one day, ht the baud of a native woods-'
man, a parting, or wood-chopper, the handle of
which was composed of a singular looking sub
stance. This excited his curiosity. I clues.
timed the workman, says the doctor, "in whose
possession I saw it, and heard that the materi
al of which it was framed could be moulded
into any form by dipping it into boiling water
until it was heated through, when it became
plastic as clay, regaining, when cold, its origi
nal hardness and rigidity."
Dr. Montgomerio further ascertained that
the substance, like enoutchoac, exuded from a
forest tree, and having procured specimens in
various stages of preparation, transmitted them
to the Society of Arts in London. They were
there subjected to close and testing examina
tion; and at length the gold modal of the Soci
ety was awarded to
,the doctor, ns for a very
valuable discovery. Scientific men speedily
perceived a few of the great capabilities of pit
ta-percha, and a demand for it commenced,
which has now ranched to many hundreds of
tuns in a year!
niir Kind words nre the brightest flowers of
earth's. existence; they make a very paradise
of the humblest home that the world can show,
ties them, and especially round the fireside cir
cle: They are jewel', beyond price, nod make
plad : thin 01l ether
earth con gi,e,
Dying f where the rustle of brocade breaks
the solemn silence. Where pendants of flash
ing crystals wave their warm lustre over the
ghastly face. Where couches of satin line the
wall, and the amber-sunlight plays upon gold
and purple and fine linen.
Dead! And the funeral light falls over the
shining rose-wood and satin lining of the cost
ly coffin. In all the splendor of sable drapery,
the rich man sleeps—rpbed in the latest fash
ion from Death's royal court. And pride—
wealth—fame—beauty—lay their garlands of
cypress on the silver plating. And the solemn
crowd keeps swaying from the door to the cof
fin, from the coffin to the door. Friends look
at his costly furniture and sigh, "poor man,
this made death hard." And there IS no lack
Buried! Through the solemn aisles, and
vaulted roof, the funeral anthem dies in wail
ing whispers. The surpliced priest,—the chief
mourners is their stately . carriages—the long
procession of titles and honors—the pompous
pall-bearers—the haughty plumes--and proud
folds of wavinikvelvet—all have paSsed to the
place of monfithents. The new tomb receives
its silent tenant—the• widow returns to her
wealthy home where sighing condolence mea
sure its grief, and steps softly through the sha
ded rooms. _
Burled ! And the solemn moon reads on his
white tombstone, how good and great he was
—what charities he gave—what churches he
founded—what temples he reared. But no wid•
ow. no orphaned child drops on that golden epi•
taph the warm tear of gratitude.
Dying! Where every inhalation drinks poi-
son. Where horrid pestilence clutches the
mouldy straw. Where little children herd with
brutes—and the soother cannot moisten the
lips of her starving child. Even as we write,
the miserable outcast dies.
Dead I—with anus out•flung, and bead lying
on the filthy floor. . .
They wrap the poor carcase in a sheet, and
hustle him into a box of pine. The starving
baby moans the death requiem—the haggard
children sob a little and turn away to hunt offal
with the swine. And nobody mourns, though
he that sleeps is a man and a brother.
Buried l—by careless hands in a Potter's
field. A cart jolts cruelly over the stones.—
The woman with her babe, a meagre couple of
want's own rearingthey are the only follow
ers. Moveless they gaze at the blank space of
sky above, and the rank growth of weeds that
struggle out of the crusted earth. A. broken
stone festering in a heap of rotten leaves—a
crooked tree with .worms at its roots—foul
bones strewn here and there—these mark the
last resting-place of the poor beggar for whom
Lo I the veil is rent—and yonder the full
glory of heaven. See! in that light passing
the light of the sun, stands the outcast. Born
to poverty, baptism and csime, bled to infamy
—nobody cared for his soul. He never knelt
in robes of innocence, fo'diog his dimple hands
at a mother's knee. He never heard the lan
guage of the stars, or 'looked through nature
up to Nature's God." Shall then his soul be
No! For the drops of salvation full even up
on the highway—the flowers of God's mercy
bloom along the hedges where the Christ-child
planted the seeds with his own sinless hand.
He is up there—ye who scorned him, so that
ye deemed him unfit for mercy. Whom ye
could not pity, an infinite God so loved that he
has taken him into his fold. And you, earth's
floor dust, if you can ever wade through your
riches, your learning, your honors, your world
ly wisdom, your Pharisee•alms-giving, and
your seltrighteousness, to heaven, you will see
there him whom von despised, washed him of
his impurity in the blood of that Holy One who
came 'not to call the righteous, but sinners to
repentance."—Bostott Olive Branch.
A Capital Incident.
The Williamsburg Times relates an incident
narrated by Dr. Whiting in one of his lectures
in that city, in whirls he stated that in one of
the eastern cities, he was visited by a lady who
was iu the greatest distress of mind from a cir
cumstance which she learned upon consulting
a spiritual knocker. 'He told me,' said she,
'that my liver had fallen below my diaph•
said the doctor, preserving a grave
countenance, 'Did he say how far down it had
'Yes, about four inches.'
'Did he think you could ever get it up
a gni ?'
'He did not.give me much encouragement'
replied the lady, 'but what is your opinion of it,
Doctor?' she implied.
"Well, ma'am, it has got down pretty low
but so long as there is life there's hope—noth
ing like trying. Perhaps if you come and hear
my next lecture, and learn where the liver is,
you will be able to suggest some way yourself
of getting it up.'
The lady did attend the lecture. and took a
seat in front. The doctor eommenced his dis
course by stating that the diaphrain was on top
of the liver, and that it was therefore impossi
ble for the liver to falllielow the diaphram.—
The lady hearing this dropped her eyes, and
never took a front sent again. This incident
was narrated to illustrate the importance of
khowing something of the physical construc
tion of our bodies, and to show that spiritual
knockers were sometimes mistaken..
The Doctor, when lecturing at the Brook.
lyn Institute had described the manner in
which persons destroy their stomachs, and
produce indigestion and dyspepsia. A gentle.
mini sits down to his dinner, and partakes of
a multitude of dishes, each seemingly prepar
ed for the purpose of coaxing the stomach to
accept more than it can digest. Being com•
pletely loaded. it sets to work to agitate the
heap, and put it through the process of di.
milieu. The gentleman starts from home,
and sees some seductive looking apples on a
stand, which he thinks he should like to eat—
lie purchases a few, and commences to gulp
thorn down. 'Hallos!' says the stomach, look
ing up iu alarm, 'what are you about up there?
I have more work than I eanattendto already.'
However, remonstrance is in vain nnd, with a
gripe or two, the stomach goes to work as be
fore. The gentleman next meets with a friend;
a glass of wine, a brandy smash, or some other
liquid compound is gulped down, aided by
some tobacco fumes. Supplies are lowered in.
to the stomach like bales of cotton into the hold
of a Mississippi steamer, until the organ, wea•
ried and overburdened gives up in disgust, and
leaves the mass to indigestion and dyspepsia,
and its train of accompanying evils. Thus the
harmony of the system is destroyed, which
miett have been prevented by a little prudence
warty fond mothers anti frugal
housewifes keep their pretty daugliters and
their preserves for some extra occasion, or for
some "big Lug" or other, until both'are sour.
This seems to us marvelously poor eeonotuy.
crati7l7 . wiich even the cow.
science is rocked to sleep. his only the first
crime that causes pain. A chentbecomes
thief as naturally as the pollywog becomes a
of the rich utsns .n 4 night braal-
• To Clean Chess out of Seed Wheat.
We commend the following to every wheat
grower who believes that wheat will turn to
chess. The simple fact that the writer (and
many others have done the same thing,) has
eradicated chess from his farm, is sufficient to
show the fallacy of the popular belief that
"chess is only degenerated wheat." We have
given great attention to this matter for more
than twenty years, and we have never been
able to find an instance of the conversion of
wheat to chess; and the result of these investi
gations has convinced us that no such instance
of transmutation ever did occur. We have
often alluded to it, because we believe the point
one of great practical importance; for so long
as a man believes in the doctrine of transmu
tation, he will not take the pains necessary to
extirpate chess from his grounds.
Masses. Enemas :—I have thought of send
ing you something like the following, for the
last twenty years and over, but always put it
oft To clean all the chess out, take the rid
dles out of the fanning-mill, leaving the screen
in—take off the rod that shakes the riddles and
screen; pour the wheat slowly into the hopper
with a basket or a half-bushel; turn the mill a
little quicker than for ordinary cleaning, and
every grain of chess will be blown out, unless
where three chess seeds stick together, which
is sometimes the case with the top seeds.
If every farmer will clean his seed wheat in
this way, it will never turn to chess after the
land is once clear of it; but the difficulty will
be to get the farmer to try it. It is too simple
to be believed. I have seen some men who
stand high as agriculturists, whom I could not
make believe it until I went to their barns and
showed them that it could be done, and that
effectually. This fact itself is worth much to
wheat farmers ' if they will only try it. Two
men will clean from 10 to 15 bushels per hour.
If the wheat is light, say weighing from 50 to
55 lbs. per bushel, considerable wheat will blow
away with the chess; but with such wheat as
we raise here, weighing from GO to 64 lbs. per
bushel, little if any of the wheat will be blown
out. In some cases it is better to raise the
hind end of the fanning mill about two inches
from the floor: more wind can be given, and
not blow away the wheat. Every man that
tries this will find it answers, and every reader
of your paper should tell his neighbor that
I have not raised a wine•glassful of chess in
more than twenty years. Before that I had
lots of it, and was sure wheat turned chess.
A very extensive wheat raiser has agreed to
come tins fall, and make a part of one of my
fields grow chess without sowing it, for which
I have agreed to give him the remainder of my
crop. He may destroy the wheat, but he can
not make chess of it. JOHN JORNSTON', Near
timers, May 30, 1853.—The Country Gentle
The Black Knot of the Plum.
Many causes have been assigned for the dis
ease in iio,tion, none of which, so far es my
information extends, are satisfactory. Some
have suppased it to be occasioned by diseased
sap. or vegetable ulcer, some, with more plaus
ibility, assert it is the result of poison infused
by the minute sting of an insect. But none of
these entertaining the latter opinion have de
scribed the kind of insect, or its characteristics;
and it is therefore fair to assume that their be
lief rests upon conjectures alone. The latter
opinion, however, with the exception of the
minuteness of the sting, is correct. It will be
permitted me to say, that I believe myself to
be the first in determining the fact, and in as
certaining, certainly, the habits and character
of the insect. I will therefore proceed as brief
ly as may be, and without regard to possible
charges,of egotism, for asserting in opposition
to many scientific men on the subject, what I
know beyond a doubt to be the origin of the
excresence, or tumor, and to describe the in
sect which causes it, its habits, and the beet
method of guarding against its attacks and in
The insect here referred to belongs, I believe
to the Hemeuoptera class, and is about an inch
in length; color, pale yellow; has fonr wings,
and hind legs resembling those of the grass
hopper, which seem designed for similar use;
and, although furnished with wings, it uses
them only, so far as I have discovered, to call
its mates. This it effects by shrill notes thro'git
the medium of vibrations, created by a rapid
motion of them, and which affords the means
of tracing it. The abdomen of the female is
much larger than that of the male, in the ex
tremity of which is concealed a sting of about
a quarter of an inch in length, with which it
pierces any shrub or limb selected as a recep
tacle for its eggs—often numbering a dozen or
more, which are deposited with some acid poi
son in seperate cells, longitudinally. From
these eggs the larvie are hatched—changed to
the pupw, or chrysalis state, and emerge during
the ensuing June.
The excresence does not appear until after
the escape of the insects, the swelling of which
is caused by the circulation of the sap being
arrested in its natural course by the poison in
fused, which flows round the punctured parts,
extravasates, and gradually forms the tumor.
On dissecting one of these tumors, a grub may
sometimes he found, but it does not cause the
excrescence. Any one may satisfy himself of
the truth of the foregoing remarks by observing
the appearance of the insect during the months
of August and September, when it may be,
found making its deposits; these, on being coin
' pleted, are varnished over with a water-proof
sub Stance, presenting a dark, glazed appear.
ince, by which it may he known, and on care
fully splitting a stung limb in the direction of
the perforinations early in June, the insect may
be found in the lame state,,—Horticattirist.
Growing Trees from Cuttings:
A French gentleman, named Delacroix, has
discovered a new mode of propagating trees
from cuttings, which has proved successful for
pears, apples, plums, apricots, rtc., as well as
for roses and other plants that are tenacious a
life. This method is to bond the cutting in the,
form of a bow, and to put it into the ground at
the two extremities, leaving only the middle
part exposed, akd on a level with the surface
of the ground. There must at that point be
good bud or shoot. All other parts being pro
tected by the earth from drying, give vigor to
the bud, which is soon transformed into leaves,
by which, in its turn, it draws from the atmos
phere the carbon necessary to the formation of
the roots. The method of planting is to form
two ridges. turd placing the cutting across the
ffirrow between, cover the ends with earth.—
Press it upon them, and water freely. The
cuttings should be of last year's growth.
A 0001, FEEDER.—Isaac lLandis, a Lancas
ter (Pa.) farmer. recently sold forty head of fat
cattle to a Philadelphia butcher, at $ll5 per
head, amounting in all to $4,600.
ai`Don't forget to give your Mock salt at
least twice a week, with their green feed. AL,
see that they ure regularly watered.