The Wellsborough advertiser. (Wellsborough, Tioga County, Pa.) 1849-1854, May 15, 1851, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    . . •
. ..... ... .
11' , l.
... ; ; - -- . f - - 1- -,: - 2 • -; '", ;"'
.; . i i" , ; " i ;",-.; f . , t e C . ! if :- . 1. 7 .. "! ' 7 - .1 ":. '7 •-"'
. •
i:
. .
, . .
•
1
. .
4.: .
. .
-,. •...
' . .7.. 2, " i—• F - i' ,, ,.•.;. :::: ._., ,•..% i ,-..,..•.. !::..I"..i_i c .: : . .,r."? ii ' :,-• - _ ~.' - 7; -,.: ,"‘..,`.,, '..:••-: •'S c' ~ ;• ..- • ' e•—•• : .7•- .7 .: ,'5 i,.•-:41 ' 1 :1'1,•,.
. , ,
L T o . ...-
• •' :••• :.
' ' 1 : 1 :_ 1 -•
1 11 L., . :, .-..1 , . _ ' ' 1
• '. • : .. 1
..... : .:__' • " .t. ..
..
. . .
........: . . - .
•-•• ' • '
.";;;,•' .'• '•
1 , ... . , ~
.. : ^ :', - ... :
.
. - - 4 t ' - ..
. ... .
•:
-'. ' - .- - - - .:.-i , ,iit . ., , ,,:;1 , :.1..:*-- ,
r:.•
~ •-
.. .
. :.: .. I :., .. .
. ~.
.. . .• .
~ .. . .
• 5".,!f.. - ; ?
, •
_ , - •
_
~ _ ...._.
._ c. . . ....
_ ...... ;
. .. _ . . _
. ,
. ,
. .. .
• .
.. . .
....,..... _ . ,
. . .. . ,
.... •,
.. ,_
- .• _... - ... ,
. . . . _. .
. .
..
. . ..
. . .
. ,
. . .
BY WILLIAM D. BAILEY,
VOL: - 2.-NO. 41.
-For the Wellsborough Advertiser
4,. /r . The Snow and Flowers.
DV LYDIA JANE PIEDSON
Woe to the flowers, I said,
The early blooming flowers;
For cold on every fragrant head
Descends the frozen showers.
Woe to the lovely buds
That never now may bloom; •
The storm has crush'd them in their beds,
And built their anew white tomb.
Move the silent earth,
The snow has wrought a shroud,
And he'aven bends mournful o'er the scene
Veil'd with a sable cloud. , ; .
Thus o'er the_heartS young bloom
The shroud of sorrow lies, ! •
And Hope's sweet buds, and Joy's faii flowers
Are erush'd, no more to rise.
While thus I mused, the snow
Where melting where it lay,
And thin and bright .4ie floating clouds
Were vanishing away,
And gloriously the suh
Shone o'er. the radiant seene,l
And green and fresh the glad earth - smiled
The snowy wreath - between. I
Then one sweet daffodil
Rais'd nii . her golden head,
Shook from her crest the icy dew,
And thus in seeming, said:
Sister—the snow of heaven,
Falls harmless on the flower, •
That lays its cheek upon the earth,
And wails the sunny hour. •
Thus harmless are life's woes—
Thus quickly they depart—
Thus joy's bright sun shines out again,
Upon the pious heart.
The pure are always meek—
The meek are jilways strong;
Pride, only weak and; Selfish pride,
Accuseth heaven With wrong.
The God that bade uS
And loveth all his flowers,
Made not the world for us alone,
And we must bide the showers
Select *torten.
THE TIILEI4 1 1 WARNING.
A THRILLING
My father, after ail absence of three
years, returned to the home so dear to him.
He had made his last voyage, and rejoiced
to have reached a haven of rest from the
perils of the sea,. During his absence I
had grown from a mere child and baby of
my mother's, (for I was her youngest,) into
a rough, careless, head -strong boy. , Her
gentle voice no longer restrained me.
was often wilful, and sometimes disobe-:
I thought it indicated manly supe-i
riority to be independent of woman's in-!,
thence. My father's return, was a fortu
nate circumstance for me., I
,saw by his
manner that it displeased him, aliliough for
a few days, he said nothing,to me about it.
It was an afternoon in October, bright
and golden, that my father told me to get
my hat, and take a walk with him. We
turned down a narrow lane into a fine open
field—a favorite play ground for the chil
dren in the neighborhood. After talking
cheerfully op different topics for a while,
my father -asked me if i observed that
huge shadow, thrown by a mass of rocks
that stood in the middle of the field. I re
plied that I did. , _
" My _father owned this land," said he.
" It- was •my play ground - when a boy.
That rock stood there then. To me it is a
beaccui; and. whenever. I look at it, I recall
a dark spoth my life--an -event so painful
to thiell
you,
that irit were not as a warn
ing to you, I should, not speak of it. • - Listen
then, my char hoy, and learn wisdom from
your father's;errois. ' •
-
"My. father -died when was,a
_mere
child. I was the only son. -My 'mother
was a gentle, loving woman, devoted to •her
children,-and beloved by every body. I
remember her pale, -beautiful face—her
sweet; 'affectionate' Stifile=her 'kind and
tender Voice.- - In my childhood I loved her
intensely; I was never happy from -her;
and-'she,-fearing that I was tietoining ton
much or-a 'baby, sent -- me- to the high
school in the 'village: After: associating a
time with rude, rough • boys, I lost,in;,
measure,_mr foOness - for heme;.and 'tny
-reverence for- My niother;-and it became'
mine -anti more tiffioult for:her- to restrain
my impetuous"-nature:. I thought it an in
dication of Manliness-to resisi her authority, - :
or - to. appear to 'Teel f • - penitentj'aithotigh- I
knew that - my , :cenduct - pained, her:' The
epithet . mest - - dreaded : was 'girt:l , 6lk If
could-net - bear to hear' itSaid. by my con,
pan - lona- that 4at;tied - to:rriy_-niother's
apron-strings. Freya a quiet, ,home . -inving
cbildj soon became; a syild i boisteraut
My dear :mother 'used . every persuasion • to
induce Me tneeek haPpiness4ithiti the pre;;
chicit: of.home:: She exerted herself -to
male: our fireside ittractivei-and My' sit.
teryjfdllowitig ` tier self-stiorifioing - -"example,,
souglirto entice- me, by planniiit gimlet and;
diversions 'entertainment,'' i saw all
this but Arne! fieed it,.•' •
"It was en an aftnincion like thip that,
as I was abont reeving' the Olin - V.41% to
spend the intermission - b,reen morning
a nd eYening• - sollo4,intlie - street, as - Casual,
my mother laid her, band ob rayshoulder,
and said mildly, but firml, RTy eon, I
wish you, to come with me.' I would have
rebelled, but something in, her manner awed
me, She put on her bonnet and said to
We will take a little walk together.'
f followed her, in silence ; and, as I was
pas Sing out the door, I observed one of my
rude, companions skulking about the'house,
and I knew he was waiting for me. He
sneered as 1.-went past him: My pride
was wounded to the quick. He was a very
bad boy, but being some years older than
myself, he exercised a great influence over
me. 1 011 owed my mother sulkily, till we
reached the spot where we now stand, be•-
neath the shadow of this huge rock. 0,
my boy,• could that hour be blotted from
my memory; which has cast a shadow ever
my whole life, gladly would I exchange all
that the world can otTer me for the quiet
peace of mind I should enjoy. But 'no !
like: this huge, unsightly pile, stands the
monument of my.guilt forever.
" My mother, being feeble
_in
,health, sat
down and beckoned me'to — sit beside her.
Her look, so full of ten4er sorrow, is pre
sent to me now. I woulWnot sit, but con
tinued standing sullenly beside.. Alfred,
my dear son,' said she, have you lost all
love for your mother?' I did not reply.
I fear you have,' she continued, and may
God help you to see your own heart, and
me to 'do my duty !' She then talked to
me of my misdeeds, of the dreadful conse
quences of the course I was pursuing. By
tears, entreaties, and prayers, she tried to
make an impression upon me. She placed
before me the lives and examples of great
arid good men ; she sought to stimulate my
ambition. I was moved, but too proud to
show it, and remained standing in dogged
'silence beside her. I thought What ital
my companions say, if, after all my boast
ing, I yield at last and submit to be led by
a.woman?'
" What a.'gony was visible on my mo
ther's face when she saw that all she had
said and suffered, failed to move me ! She
rose to go home, and I followed at a dis
tance. She spoke no mere to me till we
reached her own door.
" It is school time now,' said she. 'Go
my son, and once more let me beseech of
you to think upon what I have said.'
" ' I shan't go to school,' said I.
" She looked astonished at my boldness,
but replied firmly, certainly you will go,
Alfred ; I command you.'
"' I will not,' said I, with a tone of de
fiance.
, " One of two things you must do, Al-
Xred—either go to school this moment, or I
will lock you in your room, and keep you
there, till you are ready to promise implicit
obedience to my wishes in future.'
" I dire you to do it,' said I, you can't
get me up stairs.'
" Alfred, choose now,' said my mother,
who laid her hand upon my arm. She
trembled violently, and was deadly pale.
"If you touch me,- I will kick you,'
said I, in a terrible rage. God knows I
know what I said.
you go, Alfred?'
" ' No,' I
.replied, but quailed beneath
her eye. •
" Then follow me,' said she as she
grasped my arm firmly. I raised my foot—
oh, my son, hear me ! I raised my foot,
and kicked her—my sainted mother I How
my head reels as the, torrent of memory
rushes, over me! I kicked my mother—a
feeble woman—my mother! She stag.
tiered back a few steps, and leaned against
the wall.. She did not look at me. saw
her heart beat against her breast.: 0,
heavenly Father;' she cried, forgive him,
be knows not what he does !' The gar
.derier juSt then passed the door, and , seeing
my mother pale -and 'almost unable to sup
port-herself, he stopped; she beckoned him
in.. ',Take this boy op stairs and lock him
in his own room,' said she, dad turned from
me. Looking - back, as she was entering
her room, she gave me such a look—it will
forever follow_me—it was a look of agony,
mingled, with intense love—it .was the last,
'unutterable pang
,from !a heart that was
broken.,
. 4 . 4 In ,& moment I found. myself &prisoner
in my own room. I thought, for a mo
ment, I ,wpuld . fling myself from the open
whitlow:and. dash my brains out, but felt
afraid
,ta die. I was 4lot penitent. At
times- my heart was subdued,- but my stub
boO, pride rose in: an, instant and bade , me
not to yield.. .The pale ,face of rny- mother
ha_imied me.; ; • I flung 7fayself_the; bed
,and fell. asteep...-I awoke, at midnight still
felled ; by, the dainp Air, terrified withlright
fuldreams. I would have sought my: me-.
that., at that - moment, lorl trembled with
fear;l:iut my'doar Was That: Witlilhe day ;
right my terrors were; dissipated; and I be
' eoMa'beld'ie reSisting . :alr.
The servant'; brought my. meals, but I did
not: taste them; thought '" the' day'Weuld
never at4Wilight I heard ". , a light,
footstep approach the';door.:
sister; who tailed ine by name. •
'",Whitt r fell, mother troth ."-year
id ie asked: '
1 ' I.lied - „ ,
!.. • '
Y''o, Alfr6d,-lor,
_qqke, for, ; ,o ur:
salies,,eay th4t yci? {ire
,ery—let rne. ,
motheilhat you' are : isorry, 1)p 14N5.10
BEE
t I won t, be dri v en o
to scw - against
ray -will,' said • = -
'l3ut -shesWishe' it; dear
Alfred,?,taid - iny sister pleadtngly.
‘‘‘No,,l,w4net said. I,fgoadiyou
say a 'word more abollt_
" 4 0, brothtr, you will kill her, you will
[SELF-DEPENDENCE AND SELF-TAFROVRAENT--- 7 EIID7FIRST . ii.G4T, AND THE FIRST
_ DUTY. OF EVERY NA'
"*ELLSBORoUGH, Tl - OGA coUNTY; -PA., THURSDAY HORNING, 15,
..1:651.
My father ceased•spebking, and buried
his face in his hands. He saw and felt
the bearing his narrative had upon mrcha
racter and conduct. ' 1 have never forgotten
it. Boys who spurn a mother's control, who
are ashamed to own that they are wrong,
who think it' manly -to resist her authority,
or yield to , her influence, bewari ! Lay
not, up for yourselves bitter memories for
your future 'Years.
A Dutch widower, out west, whose bet
ter half departed on, the long journey to the
spirit land some twelve months ago deter
mined, the other dayop,consult !he" Rap
pers," and e 6 ndeavered . to obtain a Spiritual
communication, feelingarixiinis respecting
the future state of
,hia wife. These " rap
pers," be it ,knouipor* not the genuine
" mediums," bui . 'of a bogus kind-;-adven•
tures endettioring to reap a haryest out' of
the . late - mysterious' ifevelopmentg. Mier
the usual ceremonies,' the spiiit,of i Mrs.
flatintz" . Manifested:by nips its 'willingness
to.eonierse wiih her discOnsolaie 'spouse
" Ish dat'yoU,' Mrs. Alituritzl"
the Dutchman. `
" You ' tetra - a:ghost," interrupted
Hauntz, starting from his seat," "inine'rriiti
speak nothing but :Deitch;---and .'she never
'said P. tearest"..in •ber lire. It. was always
" Haunts, you, tief,", or Elaunti,- you tirty
skhamp 1" and the Dutchman hobbled frOm
the room well swished :that the " rapping
spirits'-were all humbug, and that he was
safe:from a iiy„, furthe r .communicatioll, with
his shrewislifrau cutthis earth.-
::itnitourcoltAnit,- iy4oo:nnute' svin, 1)143A
den, having marriedl'it tentieninn called
Mudd; gave,iisii to tie followin
Lot's - wife. ttis'said e in 'deo of old;
• ,4'or one rebellianie tudt,l. •• -
; .has turned, ear gre.Piainly
nto p himp,or .salt.: -p •
We* eatne'propeneity oecnencii.
t rune in women's blood
,For b - eie,we 1;eo & caso-es.etrnpgq
'A SiiiITEN turned to Dion.
COOL.--:A; soldier,' inank c yeiri:ioO,'WOs'
sentenced fo 'desernini to havofils ears cut.
was escorte off. - After u dergoitig this' biutafardeali he .
; .,1
.: out of the courtyard: to the
tune
.of the "rrogue's: march). .:
.11e' then
thrned, in& otnock dignity thus addressed
the mueicians; - ,".GenttemeNi.chtink you t
but I have nip farther need of your services,
for I bovine) ear for music."
kill her! .and then you can never have a
happy mom'ent again.' • .
" I niade tno reply to. this. My feelings
welo touched, but still I resisted their in.
flucnce. My - sister called me, but ..I . would
not answer ; I heard. her footsteps - slowly
retreating,and again I flung myself on the
bed to pass• another wretched and fearful
night. 0 God ! how wretched, how .fear
ful I did not know !
" Another footstep, slower and feebler
than my sister's, disturbed me. A voice
called me by name. It was my mother's.
" Alfred, my. son, shall I come in
Are you sorry for what, you have done?'
she asked.
" I cannot tell what influence, operating
at that moment, made me speak adverse to
my feelings. The gentle voice of my mo•
ther that thrilled through me, melted the
ice from my obdurate heart, and . I longed
to throw myself on her neck, but I did not.
No, my boy, I did not. But my words
gave the lie to my heart, when I said I was
not sorry. J heard her withdraw, I heard
her groan. I longed to call her back, but
I did not.
" I was awakened from an uneasy slum
ber by hearing my name called loudly, and
my sister stood by my bedside.
"' Get up, Alfred. 0, don't wait a
minute,/ Get up and come with me. Mo
ther ist dying P
" I'thought I was 'yet dreaming, but I
got up melancholy, and followed my sister.
On the bed, pale and cold as Marble, lay
my mother. She had not undiessed., She
had thrown herself on •the bed to rest; ari
sing to go again to me, she was seized with
a palpitation of the heart, and borne sense
less to her room.
" I cannot tell you my agony as I looked
upon her—my remorse was ten-fold more
bitter from the thought that she would never
know it. I believed myself to be her mur
derer. I fell on the bed beside her, 1 could
not iveep. My heart burned in my bosom ;
my brain was all on fire. My sister threw
her arms around me, and wept in silence.
Suddenly we saw a slight motion of mo
ther's hand—her eyes uncloied. She had
recovered consciousness, but not speech.
She looked , at me, and moved her lips.
' Mother, mother,' I shrieked, ' - say only
that you forgive me.' She could notsay
it with her lips, butler hand pressed mine.
She smiled 'upon me, and lifting her thin,
white hands, she clasped my own within
them', and t eas( her eyes upwards. She
moved - her' lips in prayer, and thus she
died. I remained still kneeling beside that
dear form, ; till my sister gently removed
me; for she'knew the heavy load of sorrow
at my heart ; heavier than grief for the
loss of a mother, for it was a load of sor
row for sin. The joy of youth had left me
forever.
"My son, the suffering such memories
awake must continue as long as life. God
is merciful ;' but remorse for past misdeeds
is a canker-worm in the heart that preys
upon it forever."
.11appings.
. .
"-Yei,"doilrest, it is yotitl/4-wife,
seittt flatotetianß.
From the Philadelphia Inquir e r.
The Temptations of Social Life,
YOUN.G MEN.
1 , What war so cruel, or what siege so sore. -
As that which strong temptation cloth apply."
How fearful are the tempations of social
life, especially to the young in years, the
buoyant in disposition, the confiding in
spirit, the 'credulous, the sanguine, and the
self-confident ! How few who rush wildly
and recklessly into the fascination of plea.
Sure, and the delusions of society, " know
themselves," or understand their weakness,
their tastes, their infirmities! How few
can realize the full force and power of
habit, especially if their experience has
been limited, if their .. physical organization
be imperfect:if their =pukes are warm
and rash, and if; with the ability to please,
and the disposition to enjoy, they see onry
the bright flowers, and are unconscious of
the thorns and brambles that beset the
wayside' of life ! Social re-unions, con
ducted on correct principles, are every way
commendable. They cheer and gladden
existence—they call forth the better quali
ties of the human heart—they promote
friendships'and associations that often last
for years and years. But how many young
men have been tempted to their ruin, by
scenes, habits, and amusements, whiCh at
first, seemed perfectly harmless, and every
way unexceptionable ! How many have
thus been won to extravagance, dissipation,
intemperance, and its many kindred vices !
They rush on, step by step, unconsciously
to themselves—first neglect one duty, then
are remiss in another—first exercise the
surprise and regret, and then lose the confi
'tience and respect of their employers, and
thus are thrown upon the world, compelled
to bommence a new struggle, and under
circumstances requiring extraordinary ac
tivity and superhuman energy. How few,
so situated, are able to wrestle witlr'and
overcome the trials of such a time, and to
regain the foothold that they so recklessly
threw - away. We recently had occasion
to allude to the dangers of infidelity, and
the perils of criminal association. May
we not with equal propriety, utter a word of
admonition in relation to the fascinations of
social life,, the pleasures and• temptations of
impulsivi conviviality, the dangers oratimu
-tants and excitements; however insiduous,
plausible,ancifipparently innocent they
may at first appear? Are - there not arthis
moment, hundreds of active, intelligent,
and promising young men, with bright and
golden prospects, before them, -gradually
yielding the better and higher principles of
their nature, first to the seductions of' evil
companionship, and second,, to the subtle
fascinations of the wine cup, and its- kin
dred excitements ? Our attention has been
directed to this subject by more than one.
' kind-hearted but watchful employer. A
reckless spirit is abroad among the young.
Many are .sadly mistaken as to true pro
priety, gentility, and manliness. They seem
f to imagine that a species 'of foppishness,
if not rowdyism—together with smoking,
drinking, chewing, swaggering and blas
phemy, constitutes not foibles, but accom
plishments ; and that, instead of detracting
from the polish and finish of refined and
intellectual character, they embellish' and
adorn it. The error,is sad, deplorable,and
its consequences are often fearful. The:
I first duty of a young man, especially if
dependent upon his own efforts for success,
is to secure for.himself a good moral repu
tationa reputation.for truth, integrity and
sobriety. His,itext is to win, deserve and ,
retain the. !confidence of his :employer:
:And hows i an all this,be, accomplished ?
AsSuredli pot by theTcourse;of folly - and
'dissipation to which.4e have referred-by
-assuming d' i flasll.4aracter, and affecting ••11
retie ; confidence,_ based upon recklessness,
emptiness and: imprudence.:: Some of, our.
'young men, fancy that_ they era accomplish,
ink quite a feat, when with, cigars :in; their.
'mouth, 'and hats placed, jauntily
,upoa, their,
= heads, they swagger tfter,nightfall, arm in;
anti, througlcsorne'leadin khoroughfare
the',town,
,indnlge in
..silly or impertinent
remarks at the' top.a,:,their'veice, and .as
'stinie an air_ at oncepf e insolence and auda
city. ,
They believe, oiaisinne tO believe
that 'they excite admiratiOn:if net enyy,,
when infaet tfiey only tbeiricpu
, tatien, exhibit' their iblly,:axo prev,o4 con
• We speak now in,a general sense,
:and it is Unnecessary. to specify particular ,
cases. 'The fOible widely :Spread::
.amObrits to a ' kind,.
of Monornania . 'Let us,
not be'inisundeiStoOd. •Wifirbuldnot have.'
.the Young- ; {ofin ; - sullen; Morose, aMI . Cheer:.;
leSs. Exercise and activity ,are essential to
'health,. whileanitontion - , gaiety and recrea
'don are commendable. But 'We litiVeieen
so , manytelter:-anancuiL, through inexpe;
rienee, good,:nature and,sthe seductions of ,
'pleasure, associated,,iwith • vicern,we.have:...
seen qoirnanY ,fino. , Youag Aneni who:, com- -
iritencecl,,life, with ,buoyant., hopes And; bright
expectations, front.: the • right • path, 1
PP& druttkardg,garrtblers, or :worse-,that:
we.have deemed a "gentlehint" absolutely. -
essential: habitfis : rapiAly;nei
.rjuired, alas,!phovmlifficnlt-to-abantlon
Youth ductile fincti)lastici. a thus'impies ion's tire, pd
es
are'easity'graien:nnd !deer 'den
gra`dpiid;abSoibed - and Melia. • '.The dupe
knows not That he is a victiniuritiV his' merat
liaturci-As , Tweakened , and-depraVed. His
- character developes and' changes' scr'-'gra.. - -
dually, that lie is not aware of the fearful
progress, or, if aware, turnswith, weakness
or with fearfrom its painful. contemplation.
He endeavors - to _persuade. himself that
what, is vice is only fashion, and to lull
" the still, small voice of conscience," by
some sephistry,or deception. He sees the
abyss before him, and feels that - he is ap
proaching its dizzy edge ; but he resolves
that M-inorroto*alas for the weakness of
procrastination—he will make a vigorous
effort, and retrace his footsteps. He fan
cies, too, or feigns to fancy, that his follies
and infirmities have escaped the eye of the
world, that no one has observed his down-.
ward course, - that ho has adroitly managed
to lull all suspicion, and that he will ,yet
amend, reform, and recoveithe'early path
of rectitude, lght and virtue: And this is
ever the delusion of the erring. : They feel
that they are descending, they"know , that
they are wrong, they hope to pursue a bet=
ter course--nay, they resolve 'to do' so.
But the tempter again tomes. The_ wine
cup, the old associates, the reckless com
panions, the jest and the laugh, the sneer of
the world, the scoff of self-confidence—and
thus, fold after fold, the'serpent coils of vi
cious habits are bound round the victim,
until at last ho sinks a yielding and despair
ing prey ! Young men, who hdve but en
tered upon the -path of temptation,. who
have tasted of the delicious but-bewildering
Circean cup, who, in the flush of excite
ment, and in the vigor.of fresh existence,
not only mistake your own moral strength,
but your physical power and physiological
conformation—be warned in time—BE
WARE! . •
Dreams and Dreaming.
Dreams were once believed to have a
supernatural origin.; and interpreters of
visions were common at that period.
Among many savage tribes this idea of
dreaming still prevails. Weak minded
people, in civilized society, not unfrequently
hold the seine opinion. We-need not say,
however; that all such notions of visions,
are superstitious and ridiculous.
The true origin of dreaming is to be
sought
_principally in physical causes. A
healthy parson is little apt to driiam. Vigo
rous, though not excessive exercise through
the day, a good digestion, and a mind free
from care, are the surest preventives from
dreams. But when the intellect has been
overworked, whgn the stomach is filled to
repletion, and when the veins are consumed
by; fever, then visions haunt the sleep,
otteli . or - the most •hortible - oharacter.= Ly.;
-ing On the back induces dreams with many
persons. Hot suppers, just before retiring,
are almost' sure to cause dreams. Anger,
in the evening, is another certain provoca
tive of visions, mostly of a troubled cha
racter.' It - is rare, however, that • persons
dream when they ivish to ; strange to - say,
the effort to dream seems to prevent dream
ing altogether..; :
Purely physical causes appear -to exer
cise the greatest. influence in producing
dreams, Dr. James Gregory records,-that
having retired to bed with a jug of hot wa
ter at his feet, he dreamed immediately of
walking on hot cinders in the crater of Et
na.. We have ourselves dreamed of suffer
ing from intense cold.in Arctic regions, and
waking tip, discover that we had thrown off
the bed clothes in our sleep ; and a similar
incident •is told by Dri-Gregory also. , Dr.
Reid relates of himself that the dressing of
a blister on -his . head bepoming disturbed,
he dreamed. -that he had .fallen into the.
handS of. North American Indians, and um : -
dergone tho proce.ss.of, scalping. In all
these cases the . visionsLwere evidently sug
gested, by sensations,
,receiv . edby the,body,
and conveyed ,. through the. medium of the
neries, the mind ; ...There . are some per,
sons, who
,may be made to dream, by whis=
pering in their ear. A curious caw of this
kind is told by Dr. Abercrombie, of an of
ficer, - who- was made- in' this syliy'to dream
that• hd. - had a quartel,'ending in aTduel ;
and on another occasion,That he lindlallen
overheard; from-it ship . at sea, and was . pur.
suede by shark. Sometimes, irony the.
same causes, numbers of - persorii have
the: samavigion. Thus a' whole regiment
of soldiers; ileeping in tr•rnonastery::which
became filled-with -deletcrioiregns dreamed
that rt , black 'dog 'jumped'vpon-:-their
breas% - and all simultaneously - arose, in
alarm:
7 . 1 •
.The events of, the day frequeutly oxen:
eisegm influence ever dreams, Dr.,Beattie .
relates that, once, lifler riding thirty Miles in
,a
_high wind, he:passed .a night full'of ter
' rible .visions. Franklin 'often, dreamed. at:
night of affairs in ,which be had. been en
gaged during the.dayvand Occasionally oh! ,
:taine,divnluable hints in this:manner, ; Ng,
oUrselyes . are acquainted with a ..aovelist
whqdreanied, in 4:single night,. the outline
of ,a-livh9fa flotion:,2Pr.lohnsun once. had
P? , t! l Pl Witt.),solps Oiler
t69.0 1 e,* 18 .,1 33 . Pch "IMP!
bfqauge, 111 ;9 pininent gok,the ,hetter,AC
.Plier 'l 4iqdre(aTed , clo t!PliP:PeOlin
but COukt opfy remember a
portion Of it on awaking, which ; hp:wrote
idown and -published- under the -title of
!labia Kuhn" -- -"Valtairei Fonfaiire,.
indiithei'lieetS also Mir - Tate : l4 fact altar:
big •cenipeeid.:Veraei '-'o.iiidoeet,'
frequ'ently on , calCulatioif
Unfinished,- Completed it in' his'ileeN se
that,' on iawitkint, he had :only ririte it'
down7frism.. Memory.. -In' till • thei,6 cages
.the c sleep is invert:ea: 9 over•tvearied
brain -refuses'- entire -retinae, bur-continues
working at intervals,' - 1 Stith "sliiinberd,.`of
course, lire comparatively unrefresliing. •
F f DITOR AND PROPRETOR.r
WHOLE NO: 93
'ln dreaming, time .ceases,• as. it, t
exist. Visions, that seem •to continue,.frl)
years, frequently tako place' .in a 0106
Dr. Abercrombie relates a story - of: man
who, if ho fell from a sittingposture•durin t
sleep, would dream of enduring almost end;
less sufferiagS. A servant accordingly,
ways watched while he slept; to raise hi.
up if he fell over ; and frequently; irftb
second of time that he was occupied in re.
storing him to a sitting posture, the invidi
would, in dreams, undergo days Of, 'eXe,o'
ciating torture. Dr. Quincey,lhe
eater ' says that while under the intim!!
of that drug, he would sometimett seeni
live) seventy or a hundred , yenie
night. - On one occasien he•dretimed - tha
he was transformed - -into a ,Chinese"
and remained for centuries, in a - temple
among the mast hideous Objects.' Ai. Ma
nish relates that in a dream, he 'Made
voyage to Calcutta, where he , remains
several_ days, and returning. by the over
land route, visited the Cataracts of the Nite
Cairoomd the Pyramids. We havi'attr
selves often had dreams ivitich - seemed t.
endure for months, or men yeare--.and .We
suppose that there are hundreds of perion_
whose experience has beep .
There are a few cases on. record
which •individuals' have. had propheti.
dreams, that is, have dreamed of :event
which have afterwards happened.,
authenticated visions of this character an
however, extremely rare, and perhaps% d
Oct occur once in a million .of drearas
They may be set - down, therefore, as coif(
cidences. To give
.the;rri`t deeper sigaift,
cance we have no warrant either,
sophy or religion. •
House Cleaning.
The Scientific American says; as ibis is
about the -season when gond honsei4ves
clean their houses from garret to cellar . , i
may be well to say a few words on the sub
ject. When you wash paint, - dkn't
,use so
Soap acid waim , water, for that wilt take
the paint as well as• the dirt. "'Use
water and hard - soap. Scrub the floors wi '-
soft soap,-and don't put down the - carpe
until the floor is perfectly dry:, Alyeys
put down some fine linen (mind clean) Otto
under the carpet an d, lay-it smooth
level. Carpet may be cleaned by pounding
them in strong soap suds abd. washinethem
out , well of the soap. The - suds muit..he
very strong and cold. This is denef by
cutting the hard soap and dieeolving if to
warm water.. The suds should feel:slip
pery between-the fingers. Bedsteads should_
receive a complete-scrubbing with .soap and
water, and should not bo put up until:per
fectly dry. The seams'and holes should
then be annointed with corrosive subliinOte
dissolved in alcohol, or sulphur mixed .
cainphine, or a solution of the . chloridenf
zinc. No person should go 'to sleep
damp bed-roorn. • Many 'people,• by-oier
looking this caution during house-cleaning' ,
season, catch severe colds k and-rnike.their
beds with the-clode of tho valley before . the;;
subsequent Christmas... Always
.cortypenqe
to clean at. the, top of the , hou.seontl.,4*
tend by steady and regular , Stages.. foots
people can ciean their houses with quiet. 4
ness and scarce. any, disorder; others ds;i,
not any more work, but make :4 great dettk
of noise. - If there is a'dOg a. cat 4)4
the house; it generally, disappears Jilt the,.
squall is over.. The grand rule for &Oita-.
ting`worli is system. _ Arrange -0 -die work
be done
_before cemmencing.,:f P00,q0,.. 1 `
of system many a job has,ta dale over
and . over . • '
7C6e. Chiatiney. Sumo:,
' A poor chirniley'sweeper's h O Y mitt'',
ployed at the house of a lticly - ot
cleanse the chimney" of the lady's dressing I
- roorn,' , and %perceiving no 'one there,“
Waited ft moment i.to lake a view•:of.tlie-!
beautiful things in -the apartment.' -A gold
watch, richly set witbdiamondekparlicOigt
caught his aue,ntipa,und
bear
,taking ' it
.the Wish arose in ;mind; "Ay, if,thott,,i,
'hadsl such . l one." After a pause he.irrik,
to hiMself," But 41 .olie
thi6f." And Yet," soiiiinued ",po
seas me. No One? Does iliit'dod sea :111 9 ,1,
who: is present every wherel--ShOld'
then' *bit able to' any my' prayers''to
afterl- had"committed this thekl - ' ) cOuld
die in Peeee ?" OvercOme by . :tifeeti thoughleo l
'a add ShiVerina 'Seized bim::" -4 11Nei,'"Otiht
l'hc, - laryingdown file Watch,
rather be. poor ~
and keep. Conseraniti;
ft 'a ,
thew rie
nd' nine:
words he hastened back Into Ate
,The . Countesa; , Who was rooml - ad;' ,
joining, sent for hini• the-aext inornibg,-aad'4
thus accosted him:- ally. little friond,-whir.i,
did•••you : - not take- the' watch yestt:rdtiyt;i,
The boy fell citi kriceskapeeohless'andA
:astonished. •a I: heard : - eiory;:thing-lottz
Ildadyship ;,'29 thank
.God , for enabling you to teSistk
and be .wateltfultairer..yoUrself ,forlito
Tature4 from ,this, moment ~you, a b,all..betia',l
lnyserviee. I willbotirmaintain andolOthe q :
you:. naYi. , more, I will procure yott - ,40054i
instructida that shall ever guard „you 11;11,1
the , danger , ..oftsiniilail tesnplotions:,!,4,T,ll,l7
:boy buratAoto tears; be:Wee 4. o ;i94kitt
prefAlhis:,gratiiutle,!bot: ,014010l•I
.Countes,l strictly kept' bcr prorriteoi - ottat.Mio:; .
the-plerowe to see him grow upli piopo, and
,sensible man. ,
Tula iurnbet.business,has
ved since it has become so fashionibletftticl
every politiCal man to have- a platfOrm.
EMI