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„ 111 1:1k:
WILLIAM BREWSTER, 1 EDITORS.
SAM. G. WHITTAKER, J
Years to Come.
ar CHARLES SWAIN.
A day will dawn I ne . er shall see,
A night shall set I ne'er shall know,
The wave•tide of humanity
Thus ever circle, to and fro.
The dea with gems chit bendlhe flower,
The bird make rich and morn with song,
And Mind, still climbing hour by hour,
Find worlds beyond the starry throng.
Years shall return to future years
What ages unto them have given,
And that high power which Faith reveals,
(imps the faxed hopes of earthaud Heal ,
What younger ffowatd then might feel—
What other Wilbertbree arise—
What Burke assert the general weal—
What Ross or Newton span the skies?
The joys, the hopes, the interest,
That animate the booms now,
Shall lend their glow to other breasts—
And Hush the young enthusiast's brow.
The majesty of manhood then
May aim at some diviner worth,
And Progress grant to future men
A wider brotherhood on earth.
What theory shall then succeed ?
What deeper power—what newer theme—
What fresh discovery supersede
The electric flash—the steam 1
Who'll he the bard of England dear.
When centuries have ailed and fled ?
Or who the statesman crowds will cheer,
Worthy the Peels or Chatham dead?
The Tr:lesions thnt distract mankind—
The pride—the envy—the mistrust—
Shall they be scattered on the wind
That lifts the bitterer of the just?
Shall Christina 53115 C e'er sheath the sword,
Shall simple Justice rule the land,
Shall Law its shield of right afford,
A right that all may understand ?
LIFE OR DEATH
BY EI,IIIU EVERITT
The scene opens with a view of the
great Natural Bridge of Virginia. There
are three or four lads standing in the chan
nel below, looking up with owe to the vast
arch of unhewn tocka with the almighty
bridge over their everlasting abutments,
when the morning stars song together -
The little piece of sky, spanning h tse
measureless piers, is full of stars thutigh
it is midday. It is almost five hundred
feet from where they stand, up these per•
pendicular bulwarks of limestone, to the
vast arch, which appears to them only the
size of a man's hand. The silence of
death is rendered more impressive by the
little stream that runs from rock to rock,
down the channel. The sun is darkened
and the bays have unconsciously uncover
ed their heads, as standing to tho pros.
ence chamber of the Majesty of the whole
earth. At lust, this feeling begins to wear
away.-.they begin to look around them.—
They see the names of hundreds cut in
the limestone abutments. A netv feeling,
come over; their knives are in hand in an
instant. , 'What titan has done, man can
do," is the watchword, while they draw
themselves up, and carve their names a
foot above those of a hundred full grown
men who had been there before them.
They are all satisfied with this feat of
physical exertion except one, whose exam.
pie illustrates perfectly the forgotten truth
that there is no royal road to intellectual
eminence. This ambitious youth sees a
name just above hie reach--•a name that
shall be green in the memory of the world
when those of Alexander, Cassar and
Bonaparte, shall rot in oblivion. It was
the name of Washington. Before he
marched with Braddock to the fatal field,
he liad been there and lett his name a foot
above all his predecessors. It was a glo
rious thought of a boy to write his name
aide and side with that of the great father
of his country. He grasps his knife with
a firmer hand--•and clinging to a little jut
ting crag, he cuts into the limestone, about
a foot above where he stands; but as he
puts feet and hands Into these gains, and
draws himself carefully to his full length,
he finds himself a foot above every name
chronicled on that mighty wall. While
his companions are regarding him with
concern and admiration, he cuts his natne
in huge capitals, large and deep, into the
flinty album. His knife is still in his
hand, and strength in his sinews, end a
new oreated aspiration in his heart.
Again he cuts another niche, and again
he carves hie natne in large capitals. This
is not enough. Heedless of the entree
ties of his companions, he cut and climbs
again. The graduation of his ascending
scale grew wider apart. He measures his
length at every gain he cuts. The voice
of his friends grow weaker, till their words
are finally lost on his ear. He now, for
the first time, casts a look beneath him.--
Had that glance listened a moment, that
moment would have been his last. He
clings, with a convulsive shudder. to his
little niche in the rock. An awful abyss
awaits his almost certain fall. He is faint
from severe exertion, and trembling from
the sudden view of the dreadful destina
tion to which he is exposed. His knife is
worn half way to the haft. He can hear
the voices, but not the cries of his terror
stricken companions below What a mea
gre change to escape destruction. There
is no retracing his steps. It is impoisible
to put his hands in the same niche with
his feet, and retain his hold a moment.--
pis companions instantly perceived this
new and fearful dilemma, and await his
fall, with emotions that “freeze their young
blood." He is too high, too faint, to ask
for his father and mother,-his brothers
and sisters, to come and witness or avert
his destruction. But one of his compan
ions anticipated his desire. Swift as the
wind, he bounds down the channel and
the fearful situation is told upon his fa
Minutes of almost eternal length roll on
and there were hundreds standing in the
rocky channel and hundreds on the bridge
above, all holding their breath, and awai
ting that fearful catastrophe. The poor
boy hears the hum of new and numerous
voices both above and below. He can just
distinguish the tones of his father's voice
who is shouting with all the energy of
despair: •'W ! William ! don't look
down-- your mother, and Henry, and H-tr
rict, are all here praying for you. Keep
your eyes towards the top."
The boy didn't look down—his eyes are
fixed like a flint toward heaven; and his
young heart on him who reigns there .....
He grasps again his knife. He cuts an
other niche is added to the hundreds that
removed him from human help below.—
How carefully he uses his wasting blade.
How anxiously he selects the softest place
in that pier. How he avoids every flinty
grain How he economises his physical
powers—resting a moment at each grain
he cuts. How every motion is watched
Ir,m below. There stand his huller. and
mother brother and on the very spot where
if he fol. he will not fall alone.
The sun is 'mildew!' in the West. The
Lid had mode fifty additional inches in the
mighty wall, and now finds himself direct.
ly the middle of the vast arch of rocks,
earth and trees. He must cut his way
in a new direction to get over this over
This inscription of hope is dying, in his
bosom. its vital feeling is fed by the in
creased shouts of hundreds perched upon
cliffs and trees, and others who stand with
ropes in their bands, on the bridge above
or with the bidder below. Fifty grains
more rtoi,t be cut, before the longest rope
can reach him. jibs wasting blade again
strikes into the limestone.
The boy is emerging painfully, foot by
foot, from under the lofty arch. Spliced
ropes are ready in the hands of those who
are leaning over the other edge of the
bridge. Two minutes more and all will
be over. The hlade is worn to the last
half inch. The boy's head reels, and his
eyes are staring from their sockets. His
last hope is dying in his heart. That
niche is his last. At the last feint gash
he makes, his knife---his faithful knife—
falls from his hand and ringing along the
precipice, fell at his mother's feet.
An involuntary groan of despair runs
a death•kneli through the channel below,
and all is as still as the grave. At the
great height of near three hundred feet,
the devoted boy lifts his hopeli-ss heart
closing eyes, to commend his soul to God.
'Tis a moment---there!—One foot swings
off--he is reeling—trembling—toppling
over into eternity ! Hark ! a shout falls
on his ear from above ! The men who is
lying with half his length over the bridge
has a glimpse of the boy's head and shoul
ders. Quick as thought. the noosed rope
is within reach of the sinking youth. No
one breathes. With a faint covulsive ef
fort the swooning boy drops his arms Into
the noose. Darkness came over him with
the words, God ! Mother ! whispered on
his lips, just loud enough to be heard in
heaven, the tightening rope lifts him out
of his last shallow niche. Not a lip
moves while he is dangling over the fear.
ful abyss; but when a :Purdy Virginian
reaches down, and draws the lad up, and
holds him in his arms before the fearful
breathless multitude, such leaping and
weeping for joy, never greeted the ear of
human being so recovered frost the yaw
ning gulf of eternity.
Tim Two Plertntes have subdued
the nations of the earth; is there other world
to conquer ?"—.4l,rand , r the Grp at.
‘ , l have fought the good fight—l have
finished my course, henceforth there is laid
up for me a crown of righteousness."—Sl.
" LIBERTY AND UNION, NOW AND FOREVER, ONE AND INSEPARABLE. "
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNEsDAY, JUNE 4, 1856.
A PRIVATE ROOTI;
THE EFFECTS OF PUNCH DRINKING,
One particular dark. damp, dull, driz
zly and disagreeable day, in the latter part
of Novemher, a tall, gaunt, queer-looking
customer. dri-s.ed in a blue coat with yel.
low buttons, with "valler" striped pants
loons, and calf skin terminate ins, sat "sol
itary and alone" in a little room, situated
in a certain little tavern, in street,
Before him was a little round table, on
whose marble top was -not a little,' pitch
er of smoking punch, .screechen hot,' and
a wine glass. The solitary individual was
York—nothin' else, dear child—and that
was his second pitcher full—nigh his sec
ond empty. One minute after and you
couldn't—fact you see—have squeezed a
drop out of either pitcher or glass by a
forty-two power hydraulic press.
York rang the bell. 'T he waiter pop
ped his head in the door.
'Of course I did.' Is it clearing off ?'
'No,sa—damp, sa—fog so thick, sa. you
could ladle it out 'II a spoon, sa. Have
anything, sa 1'
'More punch, and strong.'
'Yes, sa—imine,liately, so.'
The waiter withdrew, and in a few sec
onds returned with a third pitcher of punch
and York was beginning to feel glorious,
when, on raising up his eyes, he saw his
Own figure in a pier glass, directly o, posit,
He rubbed his eyes again.
'By thunder!' said he. here's sent- fel
low sitting right before net I'll swear th , re
is impudence fur you! This is a partite
room, for my sole accommodation '
He waited a minute, expecting an an
swer, but his reflectioi. only stared at him
and held its peace.
.1 was saying, sir, that this is my privitie
room—none, sir cried York, fetching
his voice an o,lltre higher than it so, be
fore. No answer was roil :o. and he rubs
the lull Cu e,
, Yes, I did ring, Didn't lack for a pr,
vale room r
•Yes, Sa, this is a privaie room, sa.'
•ft is? Why there's n fellow sitting
right opposite me now, on the other side
of he table. Rot his impudence.
'ruble. sa—fellow, sa ?'
'Yes, there is • Well. just never mind
Bring on some more punch nod a couple
In a very short time, the fourth pitcher
with two glasses, mode ill] appearance.
York filled one of the glasses, and then
shoved it over the table.
.Will you drink ?' said he, addressing
the figure in th.. glass.
'Oh, you won't eh 1 Well, I—l will."
And so he did•
'Better drink, old fellow,' continued he,
'Your liquor is getting cold, and you look
as if you was fond of the thing.'
No answer boing returned. York fin
ished the pitcher. and rang the bell again.
In popped the waiter.
be sure I did. Didn't you hear the
Didn't I order a p p private room, eh I'
'Yes, so, this is a private room, sa '
.A pretty private this is, " ith a 1-t fel•
low sitting right op, osite that won't Luke a
glass of punch when it's offered him, and
ar r red nosed man at that. 0, well never
mind, bring more punch, and t•t•tumblers.
t'll try him again.'
Presently pitcher number five with glas.
sea to snatch, was borne in with duo state.
'Better try some, old boy,' said York,
coaxingly, to his double. The reflex
mi•rely booked good natured but said nu.
Well,' continued York, with a sigh, •if
this isn't the most infamous. Never mind,
I'll drink the punch.
And so he did, every bit of it About
five minutes sufficed to end the , itcher.—
York rang the bell superluriously. The
waiter clone tigain.
, Iting, sit 1'
'Why certain. Why Fhould ' nt Il—
—here's the 11111 n-w ho ku ups the—place?'
.11oss, ea 1 I 11 see 'its, au.'
Shortly alter (nine host, a quiet-looking
little titan, with a mottled, calico pattern
face and a shining bald head, made his ap
'W-w-what's to pay V demanded York,
rising and assuming no air of dignity.
'rive punches—five levies, sir
iThere a the money, air,' said York, fur
king over the coin. 'And now I want to
know why, when I call In a private room,
you should put me in with s•s somebody
'There's nobody bare but you and I,
'Nobody ! Do you s-s spore I can't see ?
Do you think I'm drunk ? There, look
there ! two of 'em, by jingo !'
'Well, sir, I must confess, I can't see
but us two.'
.You can't, eh And York driirrred
the landlord to the table. 'Look there.'
continued he, pointing to the gloss Th.
th there's the rascals now One of "ms
enough like you to be your brother, and
the other is the most Lord forsaken, mean
est looking white man ever I saw.'
A country schoolmaster, who found it
rather difficult to make his pupils observe
the difference in reading between a corn
ma and a full point, adopted a plan of his
own, which, he flattered himself, would
make them proficient in the art of punct
uation; thus, in reading, when they came
to a comma, they were to my tick, and
read on to a colon or semicolon, lick, tick,
and when a full point. tick, tick. tick.—
Now it so happened that the worthy Do
mime received notice that the parish min•
ister wits to pny a visit of examination to
his school, and as he was desirous that his
pupils should show to the hest ndvantazo,
he gave them an extra drill the day before
the examination. Now,' en d he, addri,s-
lug his pupils when von recd before the
minister tomorrow you leave out the licks
though you must think than as von go a
long, for the tot ko of elocution.' So fur on
good. Nest day cams and with it the min
inter, ushered into the scholi loom by the
Domain te, who with smiles and bows. ho•
pod that the training of the scholars would
meet his approval. Now it so
that the first boy called up by the minis
ter had been absent the day previous, and
in a hurry, the roaster had forgotten to
give him instructions how to act The
minister asked the boy to rend n chapter in
the Old ' etrnment, Which he pointed out
The boy complied. nod in
.bin best no
ceet bz , gan to reail OW Lord sdal,
unto Moses saying fir*. speak unto the
'Children of Israel. saying lick, irk. am!
o , as shalt thou soy unto theta 'irk. /irk.
lick' The unfortunate sally. in his own
style, acted like tr showerlatth on the poor
whit,' the minister mid his friend.,
almost died of laughter —Conn Scbool
Ramuto lots performed many wonders,
but the greatest of all is the following:—lt
consists in nothing less than passing down
the Niagara cataract ie a vessel construct
ed for this purpose. The vessel is a ball
of gotta percha, thirty feet in diameter,
supported in its interior by hoops, riegs of
steel, and wood. Strings of gum, percha
coining from four points of the rinse, meet
in the centre of the sphere, where they
are fixed to a seat of mail of the seine nia
traria! This is so fixed that a m u m buck
led in It hangs, supported by four strings,
safe in the middle of the ball At the low•
er end of the ball, where the lower part
of the mail is directed, some lead is put,
so that swimming in the water the head
side will be turned upwards. In this up.
per part there is a hole which may be op
erred by the person in the interior The
ball is so strong as to sustain, without dan
ger, the shock of the fall. On account of
its size it cannot sink, nor can the person
buckled in the coat of mail suffer any harm
from the violence of the fall. As soon us
the ball, after its fall. has found its centre
of gravity, its inhabitant unbuckles him
self, opens the flap, and gets out of the
hold, swaying the United States colors tin
der the applause of some 50.000 or 100,-
000 spectittors, whom liart,um lotends to
assemble, one dollar each, upon the occa
sion of his first perfortnamm From eve
ry such performance a gain of 820.000 or
1130.000 is to 6 counted on, since from till
parts of the Union spectators will flock to
the caiaract of Ni agora Barnum is about
to stake an experiment with a dog. If that
animal arrives till right below a nigger will
be engaged for the next experiment. If
that one arrives equally safe, the Yankee
undertakes the serious passage himself.
CORN STALKS FOR lls:AvEs gen.
tlentan, in the American Agriculturist,
states that he thoroughly cured a fine
young mare afflicted with the heaves, by
feeding her on corn stalks and that the dis
ease never returned. The writer quotes
Judge litters opinion as to corn stalks be
ing a remedy, that distingui.•ltrd itgricul
tu riot having a horse afflicted with that
disorder, which disappeared after being so
wag proposes to publish a new
paper to bo called the Comet, with an ori
ginal talc every weak.
SPEECH OF MR. SUM R.
Tile offensive Us rda and aileged cam of
the attack of AB. Brooks.
There is no doubt that the lang:ne,e of
Mr. Sumner was severe—bold and per.
hops, offensive. But that is a mere mitt.
ter of- opinion, and no justification what
ever for the brutal outrage perpetrated not
only upon hitn, bat upon the whole coun
try. The following is on extract from the
speech, showing precisely what he did
« * *
With regret, I come again upon the
Senator front South Carolina (Mr. Butler)
who. omnipresent in this debate, overflow
ed with rage at the simple suggestion that
Kansas had applied for admission as a
2:ate; and with incoherent phrases, dis
charged the ; 'uose expectoration of his
speech now upon her Representative, end
then upon her people. There was no ex
travagance of the ancient parliamentary
debate which he did not repeat ; nor was
there any pocsible deviation from truth
which he did not make, with so much of
passion, I sin glad to add, as to save him
from the suspicion of intentional aberra
But the Senator touches nothing which - 1
he does not disfigure—with error, some
times of principle; sometimes of few. Ho
blsows an incapacity of accuracy, whether
in slating the Constitution or in stating the
City, whether in the details of statistioa or
he diversions of scholarship. He cennot
aspen his mouth but out the e flies a blun
der. Surely he ought to be fornitiar with
the lute mil Franklin ; nod yet he ttdurred
to this; household character, while acting
tof our fathers in England a.- above
susiamon ; and this wan drone that he might
girt point ton false conthast with the agent
Of Kar,sas—mist knowing that, however,
they may difler in genius and fame, in this
experience they are alike ; that Franklin,
when entrusted with the petition of Massa.
olturcu, Bay, was ai:suttlted by a foul-mouth
ea speaker. where he could not be heard
;•.nd denouncd as a utLief,"
,r,i as tho agent of Kansas has been as
on this flour, arid denounced as a
Anal let not the vanity of the
Senator be inspired hy the parallel with
the British statesmen of that dsy ; for it is
only in hostility to Freedom that any par
idlel cull be recognised.
But it is against the people of Kansas
that the scoot bilines of the Senator are par
ticularly aroused. Comiug, ns he announ.
ces,"lrcan a :state"—aye, Sir, front South
Carolina—he turns with lordly disgust
front this newly formed coin:nattily, which
will not recognize even as ~ a body pol
itic " Pray, Sir, by what title does he
indulge in this egotism ? Has ht. read the
history of "the State" which he repre
sents ? flu cannot surely have forgotten
its shameful imbecility from Slavery. con
fessed throughout the Revolution, followed
by its shameful assumptions for slavery
since. He cannot have forgotten its caret•
cited persistence to the slave trade as the
very apple of it, eye, and the condition of
its participation in the Union. He enema
have forgotten its Constitution, which is re
publican only in name, confirming power
to the hands of the few, and founding the
qualifications of voters on "a settled free- •
bold estate and ten negroes." And yet
the Senator, to whom that "State" . ltas in
part committed the guardianship of its
good name, instead of moving, with back.
ward treading steps, to cover its nakedness,
rushes forward in the very ecstasy of triad ,
stens, to expose it by provoking a contpari•
son with Kansas. South Carolina is old ;
Kansas is young. South Carolina counts
by centuries where Kansas counts by
years. Hut a beneficent example may be
born in a day ; and I venture to say that
against the two centuries of the older
"State," may be already set the two years
nt the younger community. liitt,the one is
the long of Slavery; in the other hymn's
of freedom. And if we glance at special
aehi.•ventnts, it will be difficult to find
anything in the history of South Carolina
which presents on much of heroic spirit in
a heroic cause as rep ears in that repulse
of the Vlissouri invaders by the belengured
town of Lawrence, where even the women
gave their effective efforts to freedom. The
matrons of Mane, who poured their jewels
into the treasury for the public defence—
the wives of Prussia, who, with delicate
fingers, cl thed their defenders against
b'rench invasion—the mothers of our ow•n
Revolution, who sent forth their sons, cov
ered wick prayers and blessings, to c imbat
for Human Rights (lid nothing of self sac
rifice truer than did these women on this
occasion. Were the whole history or South
Carolina blotted out of existence, from its
very beginning down to the day of its last
election of the Senator to his present seat
on this floor, civilisation might lose-1 do
„ ra ,. r
not ray how little ; but surely less than it
has already gained by the example cf Kan
sas. in it valiant struggle against oppres.
sins, and in !he development of a new set-
ence of emigration. Already, in Lawrence
alone, there are newspapers and schools,
including a high school, and throughout
the Territory there is more academic edu- !
cation than in all Missouri outside of St.
Louts, and far more, in proportion to its
inhabitants, than in all South Carolina.
Ah ! air, I tell the Senator that Kansas,
welcomed as a free State, will be a ',min
istering angel" to the Republic when South
Carolina, in the croak of darkness which
she hugs, "lies howling." The Senator I
from Illinois ( %Ir. Douglass) naturally joins'
the Senator from south Carolina in this
warfare and gives to it the superior inten•
sity of his nature. Ile thinks that the Na
tional Government has not completely pro
ved its power, as it has never hanged a i
traitor ; but if the occasion requires, he
hopes there will be no hesitation ; and this
threat is directed to Kansas, and even at
the friends of Kansas throughout the coun
try Again occurs the parallel with the
struggle of our fathers, and I borrow the
language of Patrick Henry. when, to the
cry from the Senator of treason," "trea
son," I reply, "if this be treason, make
the most of it." Sir, it is easy to call
nurses ; but I beg to tell the Senator that ,
if the word ' , traitor" is in any way appli
cable to those who refuse submission to a
tyrannical usurpation, whether in Kansas
or elsewhere, then must some new word,
of deeper color be invented, to desigoste
those tried spirits who would endanger and
degrade the Republic, while they betray
all the cherished sentiments of the Fathers
and the spirit of the Constitution. in order
to give new spread to Slavery. Let the
I Senator pruceed. It will not be the first
I time in history that a scaffold erected for
punishment has become a pedestal of hon
or. Out of death conies life, and the ' , lnd.
tar" whom he blindly executes, will live
immortal in the cause
Ifow to Put off tits Old Mau—A Fact.
Pars your hand over Deacon ?Xs head,
and about an inch and a hit above, and a
little forward of the ears, you find a protu
berance which phrenologists call the bump
of acquis ilivenca.
By nature the Deacon loved Mammon ;
by grace he loved God Between them
there was continual war. Both fought—
one like Michael the other like the Devil.
As there was long war between the house
of David and the house of Saul, su there
was long war in the earthly house of the
As with Giar so with the Deacon; a
troop overcame him, but he overcame at
last, as appears by the following circam-
In the same church with Deacon M.
was a poor brother. The poor gnat] had
the misfortune to lose his cow. She died.
To get him another, the good Deacon hea
ded a subscription with five dollars, and
paid it. This net disquieted Mammon.—
Nlamtnon, with true Inariw zeal, began
to rant and rave : , -Why this waste ? cha
rity begins at home ; the more you give
the more you may ; let people learn to inks
care of themselves."
The Deacon was a Baptist; but he found
that the baptismal water did neither drown
wash away, or wash clean the old man.—
The tempter backed Mammon and putting
a glass to the Deacon's eye, showed him,
not the kingdoms and glories of this world,
but the poor-house, wretchedness, poverty
and rags, and said : "All these things will
your master give you in your old age as a
reward of your charity."
To still these clamors, Deacon M. went
to the destitute mon, and told him he must
give back the five dollars. The poor man
returned it. This last act aroused the
NEW MAN, an 4 now nature and grace stood
face to face.
To give, or not to give, that was the question.
Thus stood the Deacon, poising and bal
ancing and !Ailing between two opinions.
The t .eacon spoke : "My brother, noise
men ara troubled with their old women ; I
am troubled with sty ob 1 nzan. I must
put off my old man, as the Jews put oil
their new man—crucify crucify him.'
Then unstrapping his pocket-book, he took
out a lea dollar bill and gave the poor
man. "There," said the Deacon, “my
old man ; say another word, and give
him twenty dellars.—Christian c' y.
A STUMP PULLER Mr. Luther Hamp
ton, of Woodbridge. N J., says that the
cheapest and best "stump puller" is to
cut down the tree, remove the limbs, chain
. the butt end to the stump, and then hitch
a team to tho top of the tree and drive
them round. The log lever thus obtained
will "yank" out any stump that does not
hang worse than a four pronged double
toe .h. strong chain will be needed.
VOL. XXL NO. 23.
Sinular Instance of Sagacity in alien.
MT. Philander Pierce, of Marquette ;
Wisconsin, communicates the following to
the Country Gentleman, Albany New
'A few day, since I purchased a hen of
Mr. Odell, now a resident of our 'village,
who informed me that she was one of the
first settlers of Wisconsin, and having a
particular regard for old age, I concluded
to keep Mrs. Biddy, and witness the ef
fects of age in her declining years.
Whether there is a natural respect for
age among certain animals. I will not at
tempt to decide ; but certain it is that not
a biped upon the farm ever attempted to ,
cross her inclination, or dispute her author
ity ; and if there was a fowl of whose or
gan of self esteem was prominently devel
oped, it was her.
Nothing remarkable occurred aside
from her haughty deportment, till the last
year of her life, which was in 1851, when
she became extremely decrepit, and was
able to walk but a few steps without stop
ping to rest; and it by any mishap she
was thrown on her side, she was unable to
regain her feet until some one come to her
assistance. Decrepit as she %vas, howev
er, she had a litter of eggs, and commen
ced the process of ineuhatlisn. Her health
failing rapidly, it soon became evident that
she could not survive long enough to fin
ish her tack.
One morning I observed her leaving
her nest, anti directing her course toward
the place where she received her daily
food. She proceeded a little ways distant
where she came in company with another
hen who teas walking, leisurely through
the yard. Both stopped, and putting their
heads together, as ii in close and confi
dential conversation. Having arrived
at the neat. a long conversation apparent
ly ensued, after which the young lien,
carefully placing herself on the nest, took
charge of the eggs as if they were her
own, while the old hen, as if conscious of
her inability to proceed with her task,
had provided a mother for the expected
offsprings, and bidding a final adieu to the
place where the ties of nature had bound
bur affection, she left the scene. She nev
er afterward took any notice of her cost
or exhibited any regard for her eggs.
She appeared conscious of her approach
ing end and taking her station near where
she received her food, she never left the
spot, but expired.
The step-mother reared the chickens
with all the attention and affection of an
own moth r.'
The Pitifulness of Pretence.
All men should guard against preferen
ces as they would guard against sudden
death. All culture is limited, and though
many aim at perfection nobody but a a fool
will profess to ham attained it. It is best
to make no secret of one's little attain
ments ; the keen eye of society will guage
them sooner or later. Nothing in this
world is mere ridiculous than a butterfly
man of taste, mincing phrases, out of
whose mouth perpetually flows a week
dribble of critical slaver; who says with
great pomp nothing at all; who has al
ways read the last poem, and has been en.
chanted by the admiration of others for it ;
who can tell a Titian from a Leonardo de
Vinci by the cracks in the canvas ; who
knows Just what gospell3eethoven puts in
to the vibrations of the catgut, what truth
he growls in the bassoons, or squeaks in
hautboys ; who knows more of Dante than
of Shakespeare, and not much of either.
Into this fiddle faddle may no earnest
p.rtisan, oi;.eking for the compensations e.
ven in the sincerity of confessed ignorance
of life, fall.
There is something bettor for him oven
in the sincerity of confessed ignorance....
There is something better far in agenuine
effort to make his daily life well balanced
and beautiful. The first lesson which a
contemplation truly philocophic, will teach
him, will be the folly of discoiltent. Bread
and beef may be dear ; his toil, from sun
rise to sunset hard landlord avaricious and
taxes high; but there are great enjoy
ments which nothing can take from him.
His are the brave overarching skies, his
the broad landscape, his the first gentle
breath of spring his the luxurious deliquim
of autumn. Men of imagination have
sung. men of science have catechised the
earth and wrested from her ameliorating
secrets, men of research have written the
experiences of the race, MCI) of specula
tion have classified the powers of the
mind, end all for him ! And ewe all, is
this rich land to hint and his fellow crafts
men hes been confided power to divert the
treasuries of the State into fertilizing chan...
eels. At his call great galleries of art
may rise, fine gardens, bloom, and fibre.
ries grow a pace, for the people; only let
hi,iii know his chance, feel the power of
cultivated,character, and appreciate .his
responsibiities. if not to lfilskind, at Wei
to him e 1f,... To ,ton .Ithrs.