Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, March 01, 1854, Image 1

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    VOL. 19.
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P0EVY,4 1 214.
BY MRS. MARY E. 17.51.1..
Yes, tide world is cold and dreary,
And a chill is on my heart;
And my trembling soul is weary,
From the oft repented dart.
I've wept o'er faded friendships,
Till my eyes have tearless grown;
No longer bitter are the words,
Uncared for and alone. •
I've nursed the choicest buds of hope,
And watched the opening flower;
Inhaled the fragrance of its breath—
Ohl blissful was the hour.
But, as I raised the dewy cop,
Its nectar drops to sip,
Dark disappointment rudely came
And dashed it from my lip.
The fadeless wreaths , that fancy twined,
To bind upon my brow,
Like withered, scattered garlands lie,
Nor can be gathered now ;
The gilded hues the future wore,
So datang to my sight,
Eluded each my eager grasp,
And sank in rayless night!
My heart has grieved at other's grief,
31ine eyes Lath wept to see
The sufferer vainly seek relief,
But no one weeps for me;
I've o ft rejoiced; 3t`other's joy,
Yet why should I repine,
That no one cares to heave a sigh,
Because no joy is mine?
For friendship is a smiling mask,
Worn only to deceive,
And ns I thrust it from my heart,
Say wherefore should I grieve?
Its honied words and winsome arts,
The rainbow hues it wore,
And all are past, krever post,
To charm me neler more!
For the world is cold and dreary,
And a chill is on my heart,
While my trembling soul is weary,
And longing to depart.
No tics have I to bind me here,
Or chain me down to earth,
For those that fasten round my soul,
Are all of heavenly birth.
-.- -
Female Piety.
The gem of all others which enriches the
coronet of a lady's character, is unaffected pie
ty. Nature may lavish much on her person— ,
the enchantment of the countenance—the
grace sad strength of her intellect, yet her love
liness is uncrowned till piety throws around
the sweetness and power of her charms. She
then becomes unearthly in her desires and as
sociations: The spell which bound her affec
tions to the things below is broken, and she
mounts on the silent wings of her limey and
hope, to the habitation of her God, where it is
her delight to hold communion with the spirits
that have been ransomed from thraldom of
earth, and wreathed with a garland of glory.—
Her beauty may throw a magical charm over
many princes and conquerors may bow with
admiration at the shrine of her love, the sons
•of science and poetry may embalm her memo
ry in history and song, but her piety must be
her ornament—her pearl. Her name must be
written in the "Book of life," and when the
mountains fade away, and every memento of
earthly greatness is lost in the general wreck
of nature, it may remain and swell the list of
the mighty throng who have been clothed with
the mantle of righteousness, and their voice at
tuned to the melody of heaven. With such a
treasure, every lawful gratification on earth
may be purchased; friendships will be doubly
sweet, pain and sorrow will loose their sting,
and her character will possess a price far above
riches; life will be but a pleasant visit to the
earth, and death the entrance to a joyful per
petual home. And when the notes of the last
tramp shall be heard, and the sleeping millions
wake to judgement, its possessors shall be pre
seated faultless before the throne of God, with
exceeding glory and a crown, that shall never
fade away. Piety communicates a divine lus
tre to the female mind; wit and beauty„like the
flowers of the field, may flourish and charm
for a season; but like the flowers, those gifts
are frail and fading; age will nip the blood of
beauty; sickness and misfortune will stop the
current of wit and humor. In the zloomy sea
sons, piety will support the drooping soul like
the refreshing dew upon the parched earth.—
Such is piety, like a tender flower, planted in
the fertile soil of a woman's heart, it grows, ex
panding its foliage and imparting its fragrance
to all around, till transplanted and sot to
bloom in perpetual vigor or unfading beauty
in the paradise of God. Follow this star—it
will light you through every lybrinth in the
wilderness of life, gild the gloom that gathers
nroenil the dying hoar, and bring you safely
over this thinliestuonn Jordan of death, into the
haven of promise l rest.—/).eshilterrn.
i:,_ . 't
.0 11 . 1 - .. ,tingbon
The American Climate.
It has been suggested by an English Review,
says the Tribune, and with the air of scientific
authority, that there is something in the cli
mate of this country unfavorable to high devel
opement and substantial vigor of the human
organization. We are told that the tendency
of the atmospheric influence to which the
Americans are subjected, is to produce exces
sive nervous activity, without a due proportion
of muscular and adipose substance, and that
the race must rapidly degenerate, in such cir
cumstances, but fur the constant infusion of
fresh blood from the healthier and more vigor
ous nations of Europe. This theme is develop
ed at length in an essay on the climate of the
United States, recently read by M. Desor, be
fore a general meeting of the different learned
Societies of Switzerland. This able naturalist
brings an array of facts to support his theo
ry. He says that when German and Swiss emi
grants arrive in New York, they generally find
that our climate does not differ much from
their own, but after a time, they begin to no
tice little differences, which compel them, in
spite of themselves, to adopt our system of liv
ing—a system, which on their first arrival
here, they invariably condemn. They know in
deed, that our northern States lie is nearly the
same latitude as Central Europe, and the well
informed among them understand that the iso:
thermal circles coincide still more exactly.—
Add to this that they learn by experience that
the winters in the neighborhood of New York
and Boston are about as cold as at Frankford,
Basle or Zurich, and the summers at least as
warm, and yet after all there is a difference
which they cannot understand.
The effects of this difference in climate are
seen as well in some of the most ordinary op
erations of everyday life as in its influence on
certain trades. Our German emigrants find
to their astonishment on a washing day, that
their things dry full twice as quickly, even in
the depth of winter, here as in Europe, Ac
customed too, to bake bread for family use on
ly once in two or three weeks, they are neces
sarily surprised when they discover that hero
on the second or third day it becomes hard,
dry and unpalatable. German housekeepers
find, however, that this dryness of our atmos•
phere has its advantages, inasmuch as vegeta
bles and fruits, of all kinds, are more easily
preserved throughout the winter than in their
own Father-land. The Hamburger, although
it is colder here at Christmas than in his native
city, never sees those frosted windows to which
he has been accustomed from childhood, there
rarely being sufficient moisture in our atmos
phere to produce them. "Many additional in•
stances of the effect of the American climate,
on the ordinary routine of life," observes M.
Decor, "might be given, and I could also point
out others when it affects the person."
. But there are other filets equally . remarks.'
ble. No sooner are the walls of a building
plastered, than the tennaut may move in with
out any fear of rheumatism or those sicknesses
which would he the inevitable consequence of
so doing in Europe. So too, the plasterer bins
self can lay on the second coat nt once; while
on the other hand, the upholsterer and piano
forte manufacturer must be very careful in se
lecting their wood, for what would be amply
seasoned in Europe, would soon crack and
split here. So many instances, however, in
which the dryness of our atmosphere exerts in
fluence on different trades and manufactures,
will naturally suggest themselves to our read
em, that we deem it needless to point out more.
The number of rainy days in the States, if
we except, perhaps, England and Norway, is
not less than in Europe generally. But here
the air never retains the moisture; no sooner
does it cease raining than the hydrometer com
mences at once to sink, and soon shows that
the asmosphere is as dry as ever. This dry
ness of the American climate, is very readily
explained by our savan. In America, as in
Europe, westerly winds prevail. They pro
ceed, however, to the coasts of Europe, loaded
with the moisture which they have collected
during their passage across the ocean. Con
sequently, rain generally accompanies them.—
Here, however,the westerly winds reach us only
after passing over a whole continent, and when
they have lost a large portion of their moisture.
Therefore, they seldom bring rain with then.
In considering the action of our climate on
animals and plants, it would seem as Buffet'
has observed, that while the animals generally
that have been introduced here, have on the
whole, rather deteriorated from the present
stock, plants; on the other hand, have decided
ly improved. From this it is argued that
America is peculiarly the continent for the
vegetable, while Europe is that for the animal
kingdom. The history, however, of the United
States, is of too recent a date to afford any
very just grounds for examining the modifica
tions that the animal kingdom may have un
dergone, and our author prefers rather looking
at, man himself.
In the most Eastern of the New England
States, where the ince have not been so
much mixed as in the more central ones, we
fled that the original form and the features of
the first settlers are entirely lost; that, indeed,
within the last two hundred years an American
type has been produced. That this is not the
effect of any mixture of race, is evident from
the fact that where there has been tho least
mixture of race, this American type. is most
marked. No must consequently attribute it
to the influence exerted on the human frame
by our climate. "Coarse hair, a want of full
ness of body, a long peek, and colorless corn
plexion;" says M. Desor, "are veil, frequent
characteristics of the New Englander, and that
some of these depend on climate, is seen by
the fact that n trip to Europe, will often give
fullness to the frame and color to the cheek,
while the Englishman rarely grows stouter, but
demst, invariably thinner during his soloorii iii
A 'twice."
'Co the dryness of our atmosphere, - too, M.
Demori would attrilmte that feverish activity
which seems to belong peculiarly to the Ameri
can. He considers that the want of moisture
in the air may act to some extent on the ner
vous system, and supports his theory by noti
cing the fact that a long continuance of a
north-east wind—the wind that corresponds in
dryness with our western one—produces the
same kind of restlessness and activity among
the inhabitants of the Jura. If a dry wind,
blowing for a short time only among the Alps,
can exert any such influenccp we can easily
imngino that the comparative thorough dry
ness of our climate may have something to do
with that constitutional activity which is so
rapidly advancing our people. Whether at the
same time it really tends to a certain, though
gradual deterioration of the physical and men
tal system, is a most important question, to
which we invite the attention of those compe
tent to cast positive scientific light upon it.
The Whip Snake.
As the wind was yeering about rather capri
ciously, I was casting my eye anxiously along
the warp, to see how it bore the strain, when,
to my surprise it appeared to my eye to thicken
at the end next the tree, and presented some
thing like a screw, about a foot long, that oc
ensionally shone like glais in the moonlight,
began to snore along the taunt line like a spir
itual motion. All this time one of the boys
was fast asleep, resting on his folded arms on
the gunwale, his head having dropped down on
the stern of the boat. But one of the Spanish
boatmen in the canoe that was anchored close
to us, seeing me gazing at something, had cast
his eyes in the same direction. The instant he
caught sight of the object he thumped with his
palms on the side of the canoe, exclaiming in
a loud, alarmed tone, "Culebra! eukbra !"
"A snake! a snake "—on which the reptile
made a sudden and rapid slide down the line
towards the bow of the boat, where the poor
lad was resting his head, and immediately af
terwards dropped into the sea. The sailor rose
and walked aft, as if nothing had happened
amongst his messnmtes, who had been alarmed
by the cries of the Spanish eanoeman; and I
was thinking little of the matter, when I heard
some anxious whispering amongst them.—
"Fred," said one of the men, "what is wrong
that you breathe so hard?" "Wln-,•boy, what
ails you I" said another. "Something has
stung me," at length said the poor little fellow,
speaking thick, as if he had labored under sore
throat. The truth flashed on me—a candle
was lit—and on looking at hint he appeared
stunned, complained of cold, and suddenly no
sumed a wild startled look. He evinced great
anxiety and restlessness, accompanied by a
sudden and severe prostration of strength—still
continuing to complain of great and increasing
cold and chillness, but he did not shiver. As
yet no part of his body was swollen except ve
ry slightly about the wound; however, there
was a rapidly increasing rigidity of the monocles
of the neck and throat, and within half an hour
after he was bit, he was utterly disable to swal
low even liquids.
The small whip-snake, the most deadly asp
in the whole list of noxious reptiles, peculiar to
South America, was not above fourteen holies
long: it made four small punctures with its
fangs right over the left jugular vein, about an
inch below the chin. There was no blood
oozing from them; but a circle about the size
of a crown-piece, of a dark red, surrounded
them which gradually melted into blue, at the
outer rim, which again became fainter, until it
disappeared in the natural color of the skin.—
By the advice of the Spanish boatman, we ap
plied an embrocation of the leaves of the patina
Christi, or castor oil nut, as hot as the Ind could
bear it: but we had neither oil nor hot milk to
give internally, both of which they informed us
often prove specifies. Bather than lie at an
chor until morning, under these melancholy
circumstances, I shoved out into the rough
water, but we made little of it; and when the
day broke, I saw that the poor fellow's fate was
sealed, his voice had become inarticulate, the
coldness had increased, the legs and arms be
came quite stiff, the respiration slow and diffi
cult, as if the 'Jlood had coagulated, and could
no longer circulate through the heart, or as if,.
from some unaccountable effect of the poison
on the nerves the action of the former had been
impeded;—still the poor little fellow was per
fectly sensible, and Isis eyes bright and restless.
His breathing became still more interrupted—
he could no longer be said to breathe, but
gasped; and in half an hour, like the steam
engine when the fire is withdrawn, the strokes,
or contractions awl expansions of his heart,
became slower and slower, until they ceased
altogether. From the very moment of his
death, the body began rapidly to swell and
to lie discolored; the ffice and neck especially;
were nearly ns black as ink within half an hour
of it, when blood began to flow from the mouth,
and other symptoms of rapid decomposition
succeeded each other so fast, that by nine in
the morning we had to sew Lim up in a boat
sail, with a large stone and launch the body
into the sea.—Prqf Wilson.
A Rolling Stone Gathers no Moss.
Well I what of that? Who wants to be a
mossy old stone, away in sonic dark corner of
a pasture, where sunshine and fresh air never
come, for the cows to rub themselves against
and for snails and bugs to crawl over, and for
toads to stria under among poisonous weeds ?
It is far better to be a smooth and polished
stone, rolling along in the brawling stream of
human life, wearing off the rough corners, and
bringing out the firm crystalline structure of
the granite, or the delicate veins of the agate,
or the chalcedony.
It is this perpetual chafing and rubbing in
the whirling eurretiOthat shows what sort of
grit a man is made of, and what use he is made
of, and what muse he is good for. The sandstone
and soapstone are soon ground down to sand
and mud, but a firm rock is selected fur the
towering fortress, and the diamond is cut and
polished for the monarch's crown,
New York on the Nebraska 4nestion. .
It is due to the populous and wealthy State
of New York that we shatild transfer to our
columns the subjoined resolutions, in which
the Legislature of New York Las officially
made known the voice of its People on the
great public question now pending in Congress.
These resolutions passed both branches of the
Legislature by decisive mnjorites. In - the
House of Assembly the vote upon them was
yeas 80, nays 27. In the Senate the first three
were passed by a vote of 18 to 11, and the last
one by 23 yeas to 6 nays:
Resolved, That we view with deep regret
and with unfeigned alarm the proposition con
tained in a bill to organize the Territory of Ne
braska, submitted on the fwenty-third day of
January, eighteen hundred and fifty-four, to the
Senate of the United States from the Commit
tee on Territories, whereby it is declared that
the "eighth section of the act preparatory to
the admission of Missouri into the Union, ap
proved March sixth, eighteen hundred and twen
ty, was superseded by the principles of the leg
islation of eighteen hundred and fifty, common
ly called compromise measures, and it is here
by declared inoperativei" that the adoption of
this provision would be in derogation of the
truth, a gross violation of plighted filith, and
an outrage and indignity upon the free States
of the Union, whose assent has been yielded to
the admission into the Union of Missouri and
of Arkansas with slavery, in reliance upon the
faithful observance of the provision (now sought
to be abrogated) known as the "Missouri com
promise," whereby slavery was declared to be
"forever prohibited in all that territory ceded
by France to the U. S., under the name of
Louisiana, which lies North of thirty-six degrees
thirty minutes North Latitude, not included
within the limits of the State of Missouri."
Resolved, That inasmuch as it is expressly
and in terms enacted. in an net entitled. "An
net proposing to the State of Texas the estab
lishing of her northern and western boundaries,
the relinquishment by the said State of all ter
ritory claimed by her exterior to said bounda
ries, and of all her claims upon the United
States, and to establish a Territorial Govern
ment for New Mexico," approved September 9,
1850, as follows, viz: "Nothing herein contain
ed shall lie construed to impair or qualify any
thing contained 'in the third article of the sec
ond section of the joint resolution fin annexing
Texas to the United States, approved March 1,
1845, either as regards the number of States
that may hereafter be firmed out of Texas or
otherwise," which said third article of the sec
ond section of the joint resolution for annex
ing Texas contains the following provision:—
"And in such State or States as shall be form
ed out of said territory north of said Missouri
compromise line slavery or involuntary servi
tude (except for crime) shall be prohibited,"
the principle and the application of the com
promise is maintained unimpaired and un
qualified, and that the Legislature and the peo
ple of this State will hold the application by
Congress of a contrary intent, at this time, to
be in derogation of the truth, an arbitrary exer
cise of assumed power, an unjust and unwor
thy violation of good faith, and an indignity to
the free States of the Union.
Resolved, That, although the people of the
State of New York have abolished slavery
within their limits,' and have thereby expressed
their disapprobation of the holding in bondage
of human beings, they are not disposed to in
terfere with the rights of other States to regu•
late their internal policy according to their own
sense of right. But at the same time duty to
themselves and to the other States of the Union
demands that, when nn effort is making to vio
late a solemn compact, whereby the polities'
power of the State and the privileges as well
as the honest sentiments of its citizens will he
jeoparded and invaded, they should raise their
voice in protest against the threatened infrac
tion of their rights, and declare that the nega
tion or repeal by Congress of the Missouri com
promise will he regarded by them as a violation
of right rind faith, and destructive of that confi
dence and regard which should attach to the
enactments of the Federal Legislature.
Resolved, That our Senators and Represent
atives in Congress be requested to oppose any
action which shall look in any degree to a re
peal or to a negation of the binding force of
the provisions known as the Missouri compro
mise, and that they use rill honorable efforts to
defeat the passage of that or any other bill vio
lating said compromise, or authorizing or al
lowing the establishment of slavery in any por
tion of the Territories of the United States
north of the line established preparatory to the
admission of Missouri as aforesaid.
White-washing Extraordinary.
The Rev. James Williams, the well known
and philanthropic missionary, so long residing
iu the South Sea Islands, taught the natives to
manufacture lime from the coral of their shores.
The powerful effect produced upon them, and
the extraordinary uses to which they applied it,
he thus facetiously describes
"After having laughed at the process of burn
ing, which they believed to he to cook the co
ral for their food, what was their astonishment
when in the morning they found his cottage
glittering in the rising -sun, white as snow—they
stlng, they shouted and screamed with joy. The
.whole island was in commotion, given up to
wonder and curiosity, and the laughable scenes
which ensued, after they got possession of the
brush and tub baffle description. The boa toss
immediately voted it a cosmetic and kalydor, '
and superlatively happy did many a swarthy,
coquette consider herself, could she but enhance
her charms by a dab of the whitebresh. And
now party spirit ran high, as it will do in more
civilized countries, as to who was or not best
entitled to preference. One party urged their
superior rank; one had got the brush, and was
determined at all events to keep it; and a third
tried to overturn the whole, that they might ob.
Lain some of the sweepings. They did not even
scruple to rob each other of the little share that
some had been so happy to secure. But soon
new lime was prepared, and in a week not a
hut, a domestic utensil, a war club, or a gar
ment, but what was as white as snow; not an
inhabitant but had a skin painted with the
most grotesque figures not a pig but what was
similarly whitened, and oven mothers might ho
seen in every direction with extravagant gest
ures, and yelling with delight at the superior
beauty of their white-washed infants."
Improvement in Building,
A valuable improvement has been introduced
in the construction of the now Pacific Mills, in
Lawrence. Wooden pillars or supporters are
used in the buildings. A hole is bored through
the centre of each of these supporters, about an
inch in diameter, connecting at each end with
the outer air, by means of a small perforation
in the side of the post. This admits of a free
circulation of air on the inside as well
. as on the
outside of the wood; it allows the sap to escape
and the post ccasequently grows harder and
harder with years. In this manlier the wood
is rendered much muro durable, without any
sacrifice of strength,
The Dead Wife.
In comparison with the loss of a wife all oil'.
er berenvments are trifles. The wife ! she who
fills so large a space in the domestic heaven,
she who is so busied, unwearied—bitter, bitter
is the tear that falls on her clay. You stand
beside her grove and think of the past, it seems
an umber-colored pathway, where the nun
shone upon beautiful 9 sworn, or the stars hung
glittering overhead. Fain would the soul lin
ger there. No thorns arc remembered above
that sweet clay, save those your own hand may
have unwillingly planted. Pier noble, tender
heart lies open to your inmost sight. You
think of her as all gentleness, all beauty and
purity. But she is dead! The dear head so
often laid upon your bosom, now rests upon a
pillow of clay. The hands that ministered so
untiringly are folded, white and cold, beneath''
the gloomy portals. The heart whose every
bent measured an eternity of love, lies under
your feet. And there is no white arm over
your shoulder now; no speaking face to look
up in the eye of love; no trembling lips to mur
mur—"Oh, it is too sad !" There is so strange
a hush in every room! No smile to greetyou at
night fall—and the clock ticks and strikes and
ticks. It was sweet music when she could hear
it! Now it seems' to knell only the hours
through which you watched the shadows of
death gathering upon her sweet face. But
many a tale it telleth of joys past, sorrows
shared and beautiful words and deeds register.
ed above. You feel that the grave cannot
keep her. You know that she is in a happier
world, but felt that she is often by your side,
an angel presence. Cherish these emotions;
they will make yen happier. Let her holy
presence be as a charm to keep you from evil.
In ell new and pleasent connections, give her
place in your heart. Never forget what she
has done for you—that she loved you. Be ten-
Or to her memory.
"I Hoped on—Hoped Ever!"
Thus spoke one who had reached the peak
of victory. Storms had come upon him; shad
own dragged their heavy skirts over the hills
and mountains of life; cares and sorrows lashed
their burdens on his shoulders; trials and vicis
situdes assailed him—but amid them all, lie
had kept his hope; and now, crc the middle
watch was passed, the angels had set their seal
upon him, and dropped upon his brow the
wreath of triumph. The gloom was gone for
ever; rind as ho stood with his feet within the
goal, the sunshine from the "Eden hills" fell
around him, and far out in the valley of the
Futnre, lie saw the "fadeless laurel trees" with
in whose shade his evening days should ebb
away, softly and gently, as a dream of Heaven.
"Hope on—hope ever;" this is the true phil•
osophy. If life is chilled by passive woe, or
dimmed by care, Hope is as a song-bird in the
heart, breathing hymns continually. Yea, it
runs through all the weary years as a golden
chain let down from Heaven, to lead the soul
to holy thoughts and the pure communion of
the Immortals.
When Alexander, as he was about to under
take his expedition against Persia, distributed
the'estates of the crown among his countrymen,
he was asked what he had reserved for himself?
Ho answered, "Hors: I" So every soldier in
life's battle-fields should reserve his Hope, for
it shall lead him on, no matter what opposes,
to lime and conquest.
Brother, give all else you have, if you will,
but, like Alexander, keep your Hopel
The Newspaper.
How lonesome the fireside where there is no
newspaper! Ask the latest news, good stories,
the useful lessons, and the witty sayings of the
newspaper—ask him its valise. Let him be
deprived of it for a few weeks, and then asked
to put an estimate upon it. Will lie sny that
two or three dollars are too much No, no;
ho will esteem it one of his greatest treasures,
and value it accordingly.
We were led to those reflections the other
day, by an industrious, worthy man, who called
at our office to subscribe for a paper. Said he,
"I was taking it, but times were so hard, I paid
up and quit; and I cannot get along without it.
I have not the money to pay now, and I have
called to sco if I could get it on credit till fall;
for I must have it on some terms—l would not
be without it for ton dollars."
Of course we placed his name on our list
with great cheerfulness. Such men are the
best subscribers in the world, (except those
who pay down.) They will always pay at the
time it falls due.
Every family ought to have a paper; it is a
duty they owe to their children, if nothing else.
Who wishes their children to grow in perfect
ignorance, in order to save the price of a news
Sure Recipe for Happiness.
One of the wealthy merchants of our city,
whose death the past year was universally
mourned, often told his friends an anecdote
which occurred in his own experience, and
which was recommended to all those who de
sire to enjoy a serene old age, without allowing
their wealth to disturb their peace of mind. He
said that when he had obtained a fortune, he
found he began to grow uneasy about his pecu
niary affairs, and one night, when he was about
sixty years of age his sleep was disturbed by
unpleasant thought respecting some shipments
he hail just made. Is the morning he said to
himself. "This will never do; if I allow such
thoughts to gain the mastery over me, I must
bid farewell to peace all my life. I will stop
this brood of care at once, and at a single
blow." Accordingly, he went to his counting.
room, and upon examination found he had 30,-
000 is money on hand. • He made out a list of
his relatives and others he desired to aid, and
before he went to bed again, he had given
away every dollar of the 30,000. He said he
slept well that night, and fur a long time his
dreams were not disturbed by anxious thoughts
about his vessels or property.
04- Knowledge is the parent of dominion,
The Slanderer,
The slanderer is a pest, a disgrace, incubus
to society, that should be subjected to a slow
cauterization, and then lopped off like a disa•
greenble excressence. Like the viper, he
leaves a sliming trail in his wake. Like a tar
antula, le weaves a thread of candor with a
web of wiles, or with all the kind mendaeitpof
hints, whispers forth his talc, that, "like the
fabling Nile, no fountain knows." The dead
—aye, even the dead—over whose pale sheeted
corpse sleeps the dark sleep no venomed
tongue can awake, and whose pale lips have
then no voice to plead, are subjected to the
scandalous attacks of the slanderer—
Who wears a mask the Gorgon would disown,
A cheek of parchment, and an eye of stone!
I think it is Pollock who says the slanderer
is the foulest whelp of sin, whose tongue was
set on fire in hell, and whose legs were faint
with haste of propagate the lie his soul had
He has a lip of lies, a face formed to conceal,
That, without feeling, mocks at those who feel.
There is no nnimal I despise more than
these moths and scarabs of society, these ma-
ciour censurors—
These ravenous fishes who tbllow only in the wake
Of great ships, because perchance they're great.
Oh, who would disarrange all society with
their false lap-wing cries. The slanderer
makes few direct charges and assertions. His
long, envious fingers point to no certain locali
ty. He has an inimitable shrug of the should
ers, can give peculiar glances,
Or convey a libel in a frown,
Or wink a reputation down!
He seems to glory in the misery he entails.
The innocent wear the foulest impress of his
smutty palm, and a soul pure as "arctic snow
twice 'bolted by the northern blast," through
his warped and discolored glasses, wears a
mottled hue.
A whisper broke the air—
A soft, light tone, and low,
Yet barbed with shame and woe 1
Nor might it only perish there,
Nor further go 1
Al, me I a quick and eager car
Caught up the little meaning sound;
Another voice then breathed it clear,
And so it wandered round,
From car to lip, from lip to ear,
Until it reached a gentle heart,
And that—il broke!
Vile wretch I ruiner of fair innocence by foul
slanders in thine own dark, raven-plumed soul
Blush—if of honest blood a drop remains
To steal its way along thy veins!
Bluelt--if the bronze long hardened en thy cheek
Sae left one spot tchere that poor drop con speak!
" Stop my Paper."
The following remarks are too good to be
thrown aside, without at least a passing notice.
They are true to the letter, and suitable to all
localities. We are of opinion that the weakest
capacity cannot fail to understand then,
It is astonishing what exalted notions some
persons have of their own importance. They
I seem to imagine they are altogether necessary
to the onward roll of our little world, and that
if, by any means, they should be shoved out of
the way, the screws would be so loose that the
' old machine would no longer hold together; and,
of course, if such important personages only
say to an editor, "stop my paper," the whole
establishment must go to pot instanter. We
have often laughed in our sleeve—though out
wardly we looked as grave as an owl—when one
of these regulators of the world has marched
into our editorial sanctum, and ordered a dis-
continuance of his paper. And it always does
ns good to see how the starch is taken out of
him, while the editor smilingly replies, "Cer
tainly, sir, with the greatest pleasure, just as
soon as the clerk has entered a hundred or
more names, which have just been sent in."—
The mighty man wilts down, like the narrative
of a whipped spaniel, and he shrinks away
muttering to himself, "Well, I am afraid that
stopping my paper has not ruined him after
These swells, who stop their papers on ne•
count of some miff which has found its way in•
to their cranium, are sure to watch the time of
the next issue, thinking that another number
will make its appearance; and they are sure to
borrow their neighbor's copy to see if it does
not contain the editor's farewell address to his
We once knew a minister, who, in describing
the Christian's character, and the circumspec
tion of his walk, said the way to heaven requi•
red as much care as it did for a cat to walk on
a wall covered with broken bottles. It is some•
thing so with an editor, if he is to please every
The Squire's Story,
"Oh I" says the Squire, "I wish% I was mar
ried and well of it, I dread it powerful. I'd
like to marry a widow, I alters liked the wid
ows since 1 knowed ono sown in Georgia that
suited my ideas edzactly.
"About a week after her husband died, she
started down to the grave-yard : where they
planted of him, as p she said, to read the pre
scription unto his monument. When she got
there, she stood looking at the stones which
was put at each end of the grave, with an epi.
taph on 'em that the minister had writ for her.
"01 boo hoo," said she, "Jones—he was one
of the best of men; I remember how the last
time he come home about a week agog 'to
brought down from town some sugar and tea,
and some store goods for me, and lots of little
necessaries, and a little painted horse for
Jeems, which that blessed child got his mouth
all yuller. with noticing it, and then he kissed
the children all round, and took down that good
old fiddle of his'n and played up that good old
"Rake her down, Sal: oh rang dang diddle,
Oh I rang Bang diddle dung, dung, dung de
'llere;' says the Squire, "she began to dance,
and I just thought she was the greatest woman
ever I see."
The Squire alwnye gives ft short laugh after
telling this uneednte, nod then; filling and
lighting his pipe, subsides into nn armchair,
in front of the •liacchang,e; and indulges in
calm and dreamy reflections.
NO. 8.
Advice to Housewives,
Britanna should be first rubbed gently with
woolen cloth and sweet oil, then washed in
warm suds, and rubbed with soft leather and
whiting. Thus treated it will retain its beauty
to the last.
New iron should be gradully heated at first;
after it has become inured to the heat it is not
likely to crack.
It is a good plan to put new earthen ware in.
into cold water, and let it beat gradually until
it boils—then cool again. Brown earthen ware,
particularly, may be touiihened in this way.—
A handful elm or wheat bran thrown in while
it is boiling, will preserve the glazing so that
it will not be destroyed by acid or salt.
Clean a brass kettle before using it for cook
ing, with salt and vinegar.
The oftener carpets bra shaken the longer
they will wear. The dirt that collects under
them grir.ds out the threads.
If you wish to preserve fine teeth, always
clean them thoroughly after you have eaten
your last meal at night,
Woolens should be washed in very hot suds,
and not rinsed. Lukewarm water shrinks them.
Do not wrap knives and forks in woolens.—
Wrap them in good strong paper. Steel is in•
jured by lying in woolens,
Barley straw is the best fur beds; dry corn
husks slit into shreds are better than straw.
When molasses is used in cooking, it is a
prodigious improvement to boil and skim it be
fore you use it. It takes out the unpleasant
raw taste, and makes it almost as good as su
gar. When Molasses is used much for cook
ing, it is well to prepare ono or twe gallons ill
this way at a time.
Never allow ashes to be taken np in wood,
or put into wood. Always have your matches
and lamp ready for use in case of suddetr
alarm. Have important papers all together,
where you can lay your hand on them at once,
in case of fire.
Use hard soap to wash your clothes, and
soft to wash your floors. Soft soap is so slip
pery that it wates a good deal in washing
It is easy to have a supply of hotse•radish
all winter. Have a quantity granted whilr the
root is in perfection, put it in bottles, fill it with
vinegar, and keep it corked tight.
The Ungrateful Son,
"The eye that mocked' at his father, the ra
vens of The valley shall pluck it out.-"—Prov.
xxx., 17. This is a terrible denunciation
against ingratitude to parents, and even in the
present clay is sometimes virtually fulfilled.
Sonic years ago, an Irish gentleman, who
was an extensive contractor on our public
works, was reduced to poverty by the profliga
cy and dishonesty of an ungrateful son. The
old man lost his wife, and to add to his calam
ity, his health failed; and to fill his cup of sor
row, he lost his sight. Thus, poor, friendless,
blind and forsaken, lie found an asylum in the
Franklin county alms-Louse, Pennsylvania.
While an inmate of this refuge for the af
flicted, his wicked and ungrateful son travelled
that way; lie was informed of his father's situ
ation, and that his parent wished to see him;
and although he passed within two hundred
yards of the alms-house, he refused to stop and
see the kind father lie had ruined. Now, mark
the result.
The very day he passed the alms•hcwse on
his way to Gettysburg, in an open carriage, ho
was overtaken by a storm and took a severe
cold that resulted in the destruction of his
eyes. He lay in Gettysburg in a critical situ
ation until his funds were exhausted, and those
who had him in charge took him to the Frank
lin county alms-house.
The very day he was brought in, his Editor,
having died the day before, was carried out.—
He was put in the same room, occupied the
same bed, and in a short time followed his ne
glected and broken-hearted father to the judg
ment seat of Christ. It is a fearful thing to
fall into the hands of an angry God,
The Crystal Palace,
The Directors of the Crystal Palace publish
in the New York papers a statement of its af
fairs. The low price at which the stock is sel.
ling is accounted for in the fact that the com
pany is in debt for $125,000, notwithstanding
the liberal outlay of capital in advancing the
enterprise. The expenses have been pretty
nearly as large as the receipts, and the latter
are found to be no mean item. The fallowing
will show the condition of the company in
Capital paid in,
Total, 5878,709
Construction and fixtures, $634, 880
Expenses, 368,828-4,203,700
Deficit represented by debts, $125,000
The debt is secured by a mortgage on the
building. The Directors say, in commenting
upon this exhibit of the financial condition of
the association, that the disappointment in re
gard to the financial results of the enterprise
is due mainly to the fact of the bantling not
being completed at the time for which it was
intended, viz, the first of May, 1863. In regard
to the future, the Directors are very confident
of success, if the importance of tho object is
properly regarded by our people. As an In
dustrial Exhibition, they regard the result of
the enterprise as far beyond any thing that
could have been expected. The report con
cludes by announcing the determination of the
Directors to make the Exhibition permanent,
provided the stockholders consent, and regard
the enterprise as certain to produce favorable
financial results ander its present:greatly rodu.
eed (Scale of expenditnre.
An eloquent and sentimental loafer
leaning against a friendly /amp post for sup•
port, lifted up his voice and cried. "How are
the mighty fallen I" A voice at his feet repli
ed "Lengthwise in the gutter:'
The first law of gravity—Never laugh at
Tour own joke.