t a*
et
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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."