Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, March 04, 1857, Image 1
t a* et A , 1/11 tivantil. WILLIAM BREWSTER, 1 EDITORS, SAM. (1. WHITTAKER, t etittt Vottrg. From the Christian Enquirer. ST. ANTHONY'S FISH SERMON. Translated from the German by C. T. Brooks. St. Anthony, one day, Found the church empty, Sunday. So he goes to the river A discourse to deliver; They ready to listen, Their tails flap and glisten. The Carps, the old spawners, Come out of the corners, Their mouths widely reaching To swallow the preaching ; :No sermon had ever With carps found such favor 'The Pikes, sharp•nosed °miters, Who love to be fighters, Came swimming and squirming, In schools, to the sermon; No preaching had ever With pikes found such favor. Then those Fantasts, whose pastime Is mostly in feast time, Came to sermon—those odd fish The people call codfish— No preaching found ever With codfish such favor. Eels and sturgeons, best livers Of all in the rivers, E'en they condescended, And the sermon attended ; No preaching had ever With eels found such favor. Crabs and miulturtles also, Who generally crawl so, From the bottom did hasten Por this once to listen No sermon had over With crabs found such favor. Both great fish and small fish, High, low, in short, all fish, Their heads were seen rearing, With God's will, and hearing Like rational creatures, The greated of preachers. When sermon was ended, To his business each wended; The pikes to their thieving, The'eelii to good living; The sermon found favor, They rsinaisied just as ever. The crab still walks crooked, The codfish is stupid, And carps love good eating, The sermon forgetting ; The sermon finds favor, They remain just as ever. *elect *traits. 1331611WAAND ZEBUSIVIAN. "The summers dawn's reflected hue . To purple changed Loch Katrine blue; Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees, And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, Trembled, but dimpled not fur joy." [LADY OF TIII: 'LAKE. It was midsummer when we reached the Highlands. 'Three hours riding from Ster ling brought us to the borders of that syl van lake of which the Scottish bard has given such inimitable descriptions. Hav ing spent an hour on its calm, sunny wa ters, our peal' landed and proceeded to Loch Lomond ; some in carriages, whilst others preferred to walk through the coun try which once was the abodeNf those proud maintainers, the Macgregors. Along the pastoral slopes and mountainous ridges of Benvue. I descried the wild goats cropping the fresh herbnge, while here and there, along the base of the ravine, half hid by the foliage of the oak and the birch, stood the hamlets of the Highland shepherds. From the lips of these sim ple herdsmen the stranger may gather, if he choose, many incidents of local and traditionary interest, and which serve also to throw light open the ethographical his tory of the people, 'T he following narra tive shows the truth of the remark appli ed by a 'German author to the Scotchman : "He is as grave as a Spaniard, as sly as a fox, and as slippery as an eel." Several years :Tool brave, hardy High• lander, whom we will Duncan, left his home among the glens and hills of Argy leshtre with a large herd of cattle, des tined for the summer fields and more fer tile meadows of Yorkshire. With his uniform success, he soon dis posed of his stock to the English graziers, and with a a well-filled purse ho started on his return. He had nearly reached the confines of Scotland, when, quietly walking along the highway, accom,utnied by his faithful dog, he was overtaken by rn Englishman, well-dressed and of plea sing appearance. He drew near Duncan, and familiary accosted him. my good fellow, whither are you bound 1— You're a herdsman, I see." ..Yee, from Argyleahire, sir," . . "And do you not fear to travel alone, with your wallet well filled, I doubt not, with English gold 1" "Not quite alone," the brave Highlan der replied, drawing his dirk; "for there's a real Scotch blade that never failed me yet; and here, too is as fine a dog as ever roamed Highlands or Lowlands." noble fellow, indeed; but is that re ally a true Scotch blade" inquired the gentleman, as he approached still nearer. to examine it. "Sure man, it is, take it in your hand," said the unsuipecting drover, as he gave it to the stranger, who as they walked a long, examined its curious workmanship with apparently great interest. Watch ing his opportunity, the gentlemanly high wayman plunged the dagger into the neck of the dog beside him, and at the same in stant sprang upon the astonished Duncan, threw him upon the ground, and planting his knees upon his breast, held him firm ly by the throat. "Now," cried the robber, "give up your money or I'll take both your money and your life !" adding, with cruel sarcaqm,- 1"you see how even a Highlander may be 1. outwitted." i?oor fellow, he was in a fix. His faith ful dog had expired without a groan, and his trusty steel was now in an assassin's hand. It was all the work of a moment. Seeing no alternative, he very reluctantly gave up his gold, and was suflered to arise the highwayman still holding him fast. "Who'll believe," said the crest-fallen Scotchman, "that such a man as I, with such a dog, and with that good blade could have been robbed by an Englishman 1" "Don't give yourself any uneasiness upon that score, old-fellow," retorted the other; for you are not the first one of your countrymen that have formed my acquain tance. Besides, I always give them a mark to remember me by." At the same timikhe drew his sword, and leading him to the stump of a decayed old oak, near by,,bade him lay his hand thereon. Now, the idea of losing this useful and important member, and especially by such an unnecessary and unscientific amputa tion, was peculiarly disagreeable to the worthy Scotchman. A bright thought just suggested itself to his mind. Without saying one wurd, he did as he was ordered, and very meek ly placed his hand an the stump, calmly awaiting the blow. . The robber drew himself up to his full length, and lifting his sword high into the air brought it down with a thundersng stroke. But the cun ning Highlander, at the very instant, had slipped aside his hand, and while the en raged Englishman was vainly trying to withdraw the blade from the wood into which it had deeply penetrated, he rushed upon him, and looking his sinewy arms about the robber's whist, hurled him down, and held him with a fierce a gripe as Rod. erick held Fitz James nt Coilantogle Ford. "Now gallant Saxon, hold thy own I No maiden's hand is around the thrown That desperate grasp, the frame might feel Through bare of brass and triple steel." Tho brave Duncan soon had his foe completely in his power; but he would not take his life. He, however, se curely bound him, took back hie purse of money, in spite of the impotent threats and curses of the robber, and hastened back to the nearest magistrate. There he in. formed the police where they might find 'a rogue that richly deserved the gallows.' It is unnecessary to add, that the honest herdsman received ample justice, and the highwayman soon after incurred the pun. ishment due unto his crimes. DIARY ANN'S WEDDING, --- o ff AS RELATED BY MSS. JONES. 'We are all preparing,' said Mrs. Jones, 'to go to the wedding. I was going, fa ther was going, and we were going to take the baby. But come to dress the baby, couldn't find the baby's shirt. I'd laid a clean one out of the drawers on purpose. I know'd jist where I'd put'it ; but come to look for% 'twas gone. 'For :nercy's sake !' says I; 'gals,' says I, 'has any one seen that baby's shirt 1' 'Of course, none on 'em seen it ; and I looked, and looked, and I looked again, but 'twant nowhere to be found. It's the strangest thing in all natAr,:, says I, here I bad the shirt in my hand not more'n ten minutesrago, and now it's gone, and nobo dy can tell where. I never seed the beat. Gals, says I, 'do look around, can't ye ? But fretting wouldn't find it, so I give up, and 1 went to the bureau and fished up a nother shirt, and put it on the baby, and at last we were ready for a start.' 'Father harnessed up a double team— we drove the ould white mare then, and the gals and all was having a good time, going to see Mary Ann married; but some how I couldn't get over the shirt ! "!'want the shirt so much, but to have anything '" LIBERTY AND UNION, NOW AND FOREvER, ONE AND INSEPARABLE." HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 4, 1857. spirited away right from under my eyes so 'twas provoking.' 'What ye thinking about, mother ?' says Sophrony, 'what makes ye look so sober ?' says she. 'l'm pestered to death, thinking about that are shirt. One of you must have took it, I am sartain,' says I. 'Now, ma,' says Sophrony, says she, 'you needn't say that,' says she, and as I'd laid onto her a good many times, she was beginning to get vexed, and so we had it back and forth, and all about that baby's shirt, till we got to the wedding.' 'Seeing company kinder . put it out of my mind, and I was getting good-natured again, though I could not help saying to myself every few minutes, 'what could be come of that shirt 1' till at last they stood up to be married, and I forgot all about it. Mary Ann was a real modest creature, and was morn half frightened to death, when she came into the room with Stephen and the minister told them to jine hands, She first gave her left hand to Stephen. 'Your Other hand,' says the minister, says he, and poor Steve, he was so bashful too, he didn't know what he was about; he thought 'twas his mistake, and that the minister meant him, so he gave Mary Ann his left hand. That would'ut do any way, a left handed marriage all around ; but by this time they didn't know what they was a bout, and Mary Ann joined her right hand to his left then her left was his right, then both their left hands again, till I was all of a fidgit, and thought they would never get fixed. Mary Ann looked as red as a tur key, and to make matters worse she began to cough, to turn it off, I suppose, and call ed for a glass of water. The minister had just been drinking, and the tumbler stead right there, and I was so nervous, and in such a hurry to see it all aver with, I ketch ed up the tumbler, and run with it to her, for I thought to goodness she was going to faint. She undertook to drink—l dnn't know how it happened, but the tumbler I slipped. and gracious me if between us both we didn't spill the water all over her collar and dress. .1 war dreadfully flustered, for though it looked as though 'twas my fault, and the fast thing I did was to out with my hand• kerchief, and give it to Mary Ann ; it was nicely done up and she took it and shook it, the folks had held in putty well up to this time, but then such a giggle and laugh as there was I didn't know what had gi ven them such a stint, till I looked and seen that I'd give Mtry Am& that baby's shirt Here Mrs.,. Jones, who is a very fleshy woman, undulated and shook like a mighty jelly, with her mirth, and it was some time before she could proceed with her earns. tive. 'Why,' said she, with tears of laughter running down her cheeks, I'd tucked it into my dress for a 'kerchief. That came from being absent minded, and in a fidgit.' 'And Mary Ann and Stephen—were they married after all ?' 'Dear me, yes,' said Mrs. Jones, 'and it turned out to be the gayest wedding that I ever 'tended.' lind the baby's shirt, Mrs. Jones V tne,' said Mrs. Jones, •how young folks do ask questions. Everbody agreed I ought to make Mary Ann a present on't. •Well, Mrs. Jones V 'Well, said Mrs. Jones, 'twant long 'fore she had n use for it. And that's the end of the story.' THE NOBLE REVENGE. The coffin was a plain one—a poor mis erable pine coffin. No flowers on its top —no lining of rose white satin for the pale brow—no smooth ribbons around the coarse shroud. The brown hair was laid decent ly back, but there was no crimped cap, widi its neat tie beneath the chin. The sufferer from cruel poverty smiled in her sleep ; she had found bread, rest and health, 'I want to see my mother,' sobbed the poor child, as the city undertaker screwed down the top of the coffin, 'You can't—get out of the way, boy ; why don't somebody take the brat 1' 'Only let me see her one minute,' cried the homeless orphan, clutching the side of the charity box, and as he gazed into that rough face, anguished tears streamed rap idly down the cheek on which no childish bloom ever lingered. 0! it was pitiful to hear him cry, 'Only once, let one see my mother, only once !' Quickly and brutally the hard-hearted monster struck the boy away, so that he reeled with the blow. For a moment the boy stood panting with grief and rage ; his blue eyes distended, his lips sprang apart a fire glittered through his tears, as he rai sed his puny arm, and with a most unchild rah accent screamed, 'When I'm a man, I kill you for that !' There was a coffin and a heap of earth between the mother and the poor forsaken child, and a monument stronger than gran ite, built in his boy-heart to the memory of a heartless deed. * * * * * * * * The court-room was crowded to suffoca tion. 'Does any one appear as this man's counsel ?' asked the judge. There was a silence when he finished, until with his lips tightly pressed together, a look of strange intelligence blended with haughty reserve upon hts handsome fea tures, a young-man stepped forward with a firm trend and kindling eye to plead for the erring and friendless. He was a stran ger, but from his first sentence there was silence. The splendor of his genius en tranced—convinced. The man who could not find a friend was acquitted. • 'May God bless you, sir, I cannot.' want no thanks,' replied the stranger, with icy coldness. believe you are unknow to me.' 'Man, I will refresh your memory. A bout twenty years ago you struck a brok en-hearted boy away from his mother's poor coffin. I was that poor boy.' The man turned livid. 'Have you rescued me then, in order to take my life ?' , No,I have a sweeter revenge ; I hate saved the life of a man whose brutal deed has rankled in my breast for twenty years• Go ! and remember the tears of a friendless and forsaken child.' The man bowed his head in shame, and went out from the presence of a magnani• mity as grand to h;m as the incomprehen sible, and the noble young lawyer fel t God's smile in his soul forever after. Viudlany. An American GirL Two or three weeks ago, several deser- tern from the British troops ~stationed at Kingston, made the' y across Wolf Is land and the rence to the United States. SOM em ware badly frozen on the way, an one was taken in and ca red for by Mr. Pinches, o 4ton Island within the jurisdiction ... he Unite . States. On the 2 9 th til ', itish offic er with a tile of men, c , , , , the island, and endeavored to pe i .e e deserter to go back to Kingston, pronlifing that he should not be punished. lie refused, and the officer determined to take him by force. , Mr. Pinches, with one of his hired men, was absent. Another man was chopping wood at the door, and Mrs. I'luches and two daughters Are re in the house. The women sent the man off after Mr. P. and his companion, and soon afterwards the officer ordered the deserter to be brought out. Five soldiers rushed into the house, but the others were prevented from enter ing by the eldest daughter, who dashed the fifth man back as he entered and he rolled upon the griund outside. She then closed the door, and locked it, and ta king her position before it, declared that if the four who were left inside tonic the deserter out, they would have to pass over her dead body. By this time Mr. Pinches and his men were seen returning, and the officer out doors called for his men to come out and run. The thing was ea sier said than done, however, as the brave girl maintained her post, and it was only on a solemn prmise given by them to ob serve the laws ana respect the soil i efilhe United States in future, that the imreon ed soldiers were released, and, with 'their officer, allowed to beat a hasty retreat. A Remarkable Discovery, Dr. Benjamin Hartlinge has announced to the world through the columns of the Tribune, that he has discovered a process for the liquificatiou of quartz rocks, the extraction of all the gold or other pteeious metal, the holding of solid rock in a liquid form in cakes, and then can ro•controver t. the liquid into solids of any shape or form with the most beautiful color and polish for a less cost than common brick. He is backed up by Prof. John L. Moffat, late U, ' S. Assayist, and other eminent chemists. If this alleged discovery should prove genuine, it would revolutionize architec ture and the arts generally. All the gold in the quartz rocks in California con be ob , tained free of Cost as the rocks will more than pay for the labor. Mr. H.,•gives his modus operendi, which appears plausible. The rocks aro broken up by inachinery and acted upon by steam at a high beat, and a small quantity of the cheapest solvent salts rendered caustic by lime. Mr. H. says "the solution is perfect with a large quan tity of silica in excess. There is not a par ticle of quartz to be found in sediment, while the gold precipitates and I get it all. I use no amalguim," The Baby is Dead. A long, black scarf trimmed with broad white ribbon, hangs upon the door•knob.— A deathlike stillness pervades the entire mansion ; all within moving ... with the soft- , est tread, and speaking in softest whispers as if fearful of disturbing the repose of some loved one. Those passing along the street observe the sombre scarf, and the in stant change in the countenance betrays the thought, '•the baby is dead! , ' Yes, the baby is dead, and nat only these who have been familiar with its sparkling eyes, but the stranger, who received the intelligeuce solely from the scarf on the door, feels that a home has been robbed of a precious idol. , How deep was the love that had clustered around the innocent babe ; and oh ! how terrible is the blow its death inflicts. The babe is dead ! It no longer clings 1 in innocent love to its mother's bosom, or stirs with fondest joy its father's heart.— Its prattling has ceased forever, and its once laughing eyes are closed in an eter nal sleep. But even in death it seems to , have lost none of its sweetness. It lies so i calmly in its silken-cushioned coffin, pre- pared . with so much care ; it has been ar rayed il i ; costliest garments, its pure brow tri d with a fragrant wreath, and flowers have been scattered over its lovely form, As it is thus arrayed the babe only seems to be sleeping ; but, alas ! it is that sleeping which bath no waking. The baby is dead! Around it are gath ered many whose sympathies it has arous• ed and whose love it has excited. The minister leans over the cold form and tou ' eked with the sight, tears trickle down his cheeks, while he exclaims : "Titus saith the Lord, 'Suffer little children to,come un to me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven.' " The baby is dead 1 It is about to be shut forever from the sight of those who loved it as no others could. Oh! how the mother clings to the lifeless form, and as she imprints the last fervent kiss upon its cold cheek, how her very heart strings seem to break. And the father, though he has manfully braved toils, cares and dangers, now feels unmanned, and weeps like a ohild, as he heads over the corpse of is lost one. Sympathy, at other times consoling, is now of no avail, and the heart 1 of both suffer the deepest anguish. The babel is dead! The tears hove wet its grave and crushed hopes lie buried with it. Though its mortal existence may Lave been brief its death has desolated a joyous home. Sweet babe ? 'Orators may an nounce a natton's loss in death of patrtots great and true, and poets sing to touching strains the memory of the dead, who have accomplished mighty things—none but un gels of heavenly birth will record the life, so pure and beautiful, so early lost ! How to do It.—Republicanism Only. The Lebanon Courier, a paper which had a decided leaning to the factionists who defeated Fremont at the late election, is not willing to submit to their dictation in the approaching Gubernatorial campaign. It has learned from sad experience that it has been following but a shadow, and thus ad vises the Republicans to rut all entangling ollkwces, and fight the next battle under their own flag. We endorse the sentiment and conuuend the remarks to the attention of our readers : "4n election for Goi%ernor is approach ing, and it deserves our attention. We can carry the Statg next fall if we are true to ourselves, to our principles and to our par ty. In the future we want no more trod• mg with intrigues, no more attempts to con ciliate the leaders of factions. Let broad, liberal, national principles be laid down, let us stand boldly upon them, and at once declare that he who is not fot us is against us. Pennsylvania is ready for this. Our people are sick of the swaggering of "lea den" who can't control a corporal's guard and who are eternally up for sale. We know very well that there are still a few men in the State who will try to keep up a faction so that they can sell out to the Ili-ghost bidder. We want to see such re ceive no consideration from the party with which we act. If we can't succeed with out them, we can't with them. If they are permitted to stand in the relation to us of 'a wing of the party,' they will do infin itely more harm than good. If they are not willing to be embodied in our organi zation, let them be told frankly and plainly to seek other mark lyx for their wares.— Such men carry no7interial strength with them. Their importance is only magnifi ed by deference. Their selhshness and want of principle entitle them to no consi deration ; and they should receive none. This class of nten sacrificed Pennsylvania at the last election and lost us the President Let us be careful not to have their treach ery repeated upon us." The Task of Time. This was the picture, as the poet saw it in a dream : "A seer•like man Upon the rocky verge 01 a wide stretching ocean But was this all he saw like man" whom fancy shapes to our mind's eye as one old with nge, white haired by reason of many winters, and —no, not trembling with weakness, for he was not—but with tad eyes that seem ed to look alike upon the past and the fu ture while his tongue, whispered of the present. This "seer• Yes, there was something else— " And oft he dropped from out his hand A pebble in the surge." The pebble was lost to the rush of the angry waters and never diver, be he skill full as the one who—for love of ihe king's daughter—surled himself down from the Sicilian cliff for the cup the proud mull arch had thrown into the seething cauldron of the sea beneath his feet, could recover it. Yet in it was a history stranger far than any of the world's greatest historians had ever penned. 'l'here was in it a rec ord eventful, wonderful and passing be lief; wierd in ita unloldings, dark its sur roundings and terrible in its effects. But just then, as the poet asked the old man his name and his mission and heard no answer from his lips; just then, the clock told the exodius of the old year and lo ! "Another pebble fell.” The story is all told now. One needs not now to hear the voice the poet heard borne to his startled ear by unseen winds telling him that the old man was Time and the pebbles," years;—for the dying '.cry of the poor old year as the peoble , sank in the surge, told all. Only think of it. 'rime holding peb bles in his hand and now and then, all the while mute and motionless, drepping one into the ocean of eternity. And then to think, too, that "Ever will that aged form Besides those waters stand ; earthly things revealed, The pebbles that he holds concealed Him fallen from his hand, But we go a step further than the poet went. But the questions we ask. may not be answered :—How many pebbles has he in his hand for us ? for you, the reader, and for us, the writer. Can you unclasp that hand and count the pebbles that re main for us? If so tell their number.— Ye soothsayers, astrologers and wise men, what answer can ye gt;e us to this re quest? Are ye dumb, like, your chalde an brethern of old, as, with shaking joints they gazed upon the handwriting upon tin wall ? Even so ! As no man bath, so no man con, uplift the veil. We only know that vow the "last of 'Time" is uncompleted— but oh ! how long ? A New Version of an Old Hymn. The Portsmouth Gazette tells the fol• lowing good one: "A friend related to us a few day' sioce, an incident which oc• curreu at Chicago, which has not been printed in the Enickerboker chapter of smart children: Mr. -and his little son Charley, were sitting by the fire listening to the music of a piano, upon which the child's mother was playing. After she concluded, it be• ing about the child's bed.titne, Charley was told to say his prayers and to go to bed. As was his custom he kneeled down beside his 'pother, and with folded hands and his head full of music he had heard, repeated the well-known child's hymn "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my saul to keep, If I should die before I wake nip ;foes the weasel! As may be imagined, the solemnity of the occasion was sadly interrupted by the peals of Ir ughter from father and mother• The Vegetable Food of Man. Dr. S. L. liana, a man noted for his sci• entific knowledge, particularly in Chemis try and Physiology, makes some important statements in regard to the most nutritious kinds of food, &c. He says: ' , Food contains flesh, blood and tissue formers, in proportion to their amount of nitrogen.. When Chemistry, therefore, determines the amount of nitro gen in any kind of food, it expresses the relative value of that food for these purpo ses. The starch, gum, fat, sugar and wa ter, and occasionally a portion of woody fi bre rarely ministers to the wants of nutri tion. The substances are the fuel formers, out of which fat may bo formed, which is as essential as blood. Ten parts of fat are equal to twenty-four parts of starch, grape and milk sugar in heating power." Ho goes on to say that nn animal re quires both kinds of food. He makes milk the type . of our food, containing as it does Ist. 'lurd, which is a blood former; it coo ! tains all the nitrogen and all the sulphur. 24. Butter, which is fat :Id. Sugar. which VOL. XXII. NO. .9 is a fuel former or heater. 4th. The salts —soluble and insoluble—the earth of bones potash, soda and phosphoric acid. Dr. Dana in referring to the use of the different kinds of grain, used in this coun try, affirms that wheat flour deprived of its bran holds the highest place in theaarket; hut this cherished flour—the costrest—is actually the least valuable for food. The fat and salts of wheat reside chiefly to the bran, and the flour deprived of these, does not contain well-mixed nutrient mat- Dr. Dana places Inciian corn and rye a bove wheat for food, and oatmeal above all of them. A Proposed Negro Law in Pennsylvania. We have before referred to a movement among a few fanatics in Bucks county and Philadelphia, affected with a peculiar spe cies of insanity called colorphobia. Mr. Ely some time ago presented a memorial to the Senate from citizens of Bucksconn ty and Philat elphia, asking for a law to prevent the settlement of manumitted ne groes in Pennsylvania. Mr. Wright pre sented another memorial (or the same one revamped) to the Senate on last Thursday from the same source, and asking for the same thing. What do these wretches want? It is not enough to persecute the poor negro, be cause God has given him a darker hue than he has to some of us ; it is not en ough to make him follow menial employ menu, keep him from learning trades, and scout him from our genteel railroad cars and steamboats, to disfranchise him, and if he has property make him pay tax but give hint no voiee in the enactment of the laws which govern him, but he must be banish ed front our State and sent to the frigid re gions of Canada for a home and a country. Shame on the scurvy hypocrites, who claim themselves to be lovers of liberty, yet are willing to annoy and distress a perse cuted and down trodden people. Illinois is now disgraced by such shameless laws, wo trust Pennsylvania has not fallen so low. These selfish, cynical, snarling ap ologies of men who reside in Bucks coun ty and Philadelphia, are a disgrace to the whole State of Pennsylvania, and we hope they will hereafter cease to make them selves not only ridiculous but infamous. Corks. Many persons see corks used daily with out knowing whence come those useful materials. Corks are cut from large slabs of the cork-tree, a species of oak, which grows wild in the southern countries of Europe. The, tree is stripped of its bark at about sixteen years old ; but before strip ping a off, the tree is not cut down, us is the case with the oak. It is taken while the tree is growing, and the operation may be repeated every eight or nine years; the quality of the bark continuing each time to improve as the age of the tree increases. When the bark is taken off it is singed in the flames of a strong fire, and being soak ed for a considerable time in water, it is placed under heavy weights, in order to render it straight. Its extreme lightness, the ease with which it can be compressed. and its elasticity, are properties so peculiar to this substance, that no efficient substi tute for it has been discovered. The val uable properties of cork were known to the Greeks and Romans, who employed it for all the purposes for which it is used at the present day, with the exception of stop- pier. The ancients mostly used cement for stopping the mouths of bottles or ves sels, The Egyptians are said to have made coffins of cork, which being spread on the inside with a resinous substance, preserved dead bodies from decay. Even in modern times, cork was not generally used for stopples to bottles till about the se venteenth century—cement being used 'un til then for that purpose. Interesting. Tell me not in idle jingle, • Marriage is an empty dream, For the girl is dead that's single, And iitinga are not wbat titeiseent Married life is real earnest, Single blessedness a fib, Taketi s from man, to man re turnest, Has been spoken of the rib. A little girl had been playing in the street until she had become pretty well covered with dust. In trying to wash it off. she didn't use enough water to pre vent the dust rolling up in little balls up on her arms. In her trouble, she appli ed to her brother, a little older than her self, for a solution of the mystery. It was explained at once—to his satisfaction at least. cis, you're made of dust, and if you don't stop, you'll wash yourself away !" "This opinion, coming from an elder brother, was decisive and the washing was discontinu ed."